As Rāma, Lakṣmaṇa, Sugrīva, and their band of monkeys journeyed onward, they beheld a wondrous sight: towering trees, their canopies shrouded in curling smoke, rose before them like mountains of beryl hidden beneath thick clouds. Hanumān, ever wise, turned to Rāma and said, “O Rāghava, with joined palms and a focused mind, offer your salutations to these trees along with your brother Lakṣmaṇa. For these are not ordinary trees—they are sages of purified souls. Those who bow to them, O Rāma, are shielded from all misfortune.” Heeding these words, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa folded their hands in reverence and bowed deeply to the ancient sages. Their hearts uplifted and spirits joyful, Rāma, Lakṣmaṇa, Sugrīva, and the monkeys continued their journey. After traveling a great distance from the hermitage of the Seven Sages, their eyes fell upon the formidable city of Kiṣkindhā, ruled by the mighty Vāli. Weapons in hand, their brilliance evident, the party pressed on toward the city—protected by the strength of Sugrīva, son of the lord of the gods—intent on the destruction of their enemy. Arriving swiftly at Kiṣkindhā, Rāma, Lakṣmaṇa, Sugrīva, and their monkey allies concealed themselves among the dense trees of the forest. Sugrīva, broad-necked and at home in the woods, cast his gaze all around, his heart swelling with fury. Surrounded by his retinue, he let out a terrible roar—a sound so fierce it seemed to split the very sky. Roaring like a storm-driven cloud, Sugrīva strode forward, his gait proud as a lion, his radiance like the rising sun. Turning to Rāma, he declared, “We have reached Kiṣkindhā, adorned with golden gates and encircled by a net of monkeys. O hero, this is the city of Vāli, rich with banners and defenses. Fulfill now the vow you made before to slay Vāli. Fulfill that promise quickly, like Time itself that has come due.” Rāma, destroyer of foes, replied, “Sugrīva, the garland called Gajasāhvaya, which Lakṣmaṇa placed around your neck as a sign of recognition—by this garland you shine all the more, O hero. Just as the sun is set apart in the sky by a garland of stars, so today you are distinguished, your fear and enmity with Vāli apparent. With a single arrow, I shall strike in battle; show me, Sugrīva, the one who is your enemy, though he appears as a brother. If Vāli, struck down, yet manages to turn back alive after coming within my sight, then you may find fault with me. But remember: before your eyes, I have pierced seven mighty sala trees with a single arrow. Overcome by the desire for righteousness, I will never speak falsely—I will keep my promise. Cast aside your hesitation. Just as Indra brings forth ripened grain with rain, so too, for the sake of your challenge to Vāli, I am prepared.” “Now, Sugrīva, make the call that will bring forth the monkey who boasts of victory and whom you have provoked before. Vāli, eager for battle, will emerge without delay; hearing that his enemies have challenged him, he will not tolerate it.” Hearing Rāma’s words, Sugrīva, golden-hued and confident in his strength, especially before the watching eyes of the city’s women, roared again with a sound so fierce it seemed to tear the sky asunder. The cows, terrified, lost their luster and fled; animals scattered like noble women in distress, and birds fell to the earth as if their merit were spent. With a thunderous cry, Sugrīva, son of the sun, his valor and radiance swelling, called out with urgency, his sound like the lord of rivers stirred by the wind. Within the splendid city, Vāli heard the great-hearted Sugrīva’s roar. His pride vanished in an instant, replaced by surging anger. His body, shining like gold, seemed to dim as if the sun itself were stained. Eyes blazing with fury, fangs and hands clenched, Vāli shone like a lake filled with blooming lotuses and upright stalks. Unable to tolerate the challenge, Vāli leapt from the palace, his swift steps striking the earth as if to tear it apart. At that moment, his wife Tāra, trembling and anxious, embraced him with affection and friendship. She spoke for his welfare: “O hero, restrain this anger that surges like a river. Rise in the morning and cast it off as you would a garland that has been worn. You will meet him in battle tomorrow; there is no multitude of enemies nor any weakness in you, O hero. But your sudden advance does not please me—listen, and I will tell you why I restrain you. Previously, driven by anger, Sugrīva challenged you to battle, but when you went forth and struck him, he fled in all directions.” Thus, the stage was set for the fateful encounter between brothers, as the city of Kiṣkindhā held its breath.