Rama, filled with a deep desire for righteousness, spoke with unwavering resolve: “I will never utter a falsehood. I shall fulfill the promise I have given—set aside your doubts.” He assured Sugriva, comparing his own commitment to that of Indra, who brings ripened grain to the fields with timely rain. “Just as Indra nourishes the earth, so too, for the sake of this challenge with Vali—the one adorned with the golden garland—I will stand by you.” Rama then urged Sugriva, “Call out in that way which will summon the monkey who boasts of victory, the one you have provoked before.” He explained that Vali, ever eager for battle, would emerge without delay upon hearing that his enemies had challenged him; such an affront would not be tolerated by Vali in combat. Sugriva, golden-hued and aware of his own strength—especially in the presence of others—listened intently to Rama’s words. Then, mustering his courage, Sugriva let out a fierce, sky-splitting roar. The sound was so powerful that the cows nearby, terrified, lost their luster and scattered in fear. All the animals, struck by the king’s offense, fled like noble women in distress or like horses broken in battle, while birds fell from the sky as if their merit had been spent, descending to earth like fading planets. With valor and brilliance swelling within him, Sugriva, son of the sun, released another thunderous cry—urgent and deep as a rain-laden cloud, like the lord of rivers stirred by a mighty wind. Meanwhile, within the palace, Vali heard the mighty roar of his brother Sugriva. It was a sound that shook all creatures, and at that moment, Vali’s pride vanished, replaced instantly by a surge of great anger. His body, usually radiant like gold, dimmed as if the sun itself had been stained. With fangs bared, hands clenched, and eyes blazing like fire, Vali shone fiercely, resembling a lake filled with blooming lotuses and stalks—beautiful, yet dangerous. Unable to tolerate the sound, Vali leapt up, striking the earth with such force that it seemed he might tear it apart with his swift steps. At that moment, Tara, his devoted wife, embraced him with affection and friendship. Trembling with anxiety for his well-being, she spoke gently but urgently: “O hero, restrain this anger that surges within you like a swelling river. In the morning, rise from your bed and cast aside this wrath as you would a garland that has wilted.” She continued, “You may face him in battle at dawn, O mighty one. You have no shortage of strength or valor, and no enemy can stand against you. But your sudden rush into battle does not please me. Listen as I tell you why I urge restraint.” Tara reminded him, “Previously, when Sugriva challenged you in anger, you went forth and defeated him soundly, causing him to flee in all directions as you struck him. Now, after suffering defeat and humiliation at your hands, his return to challenge you again is suspicious to me. The arrogance and agitation in his cry are not without cause.” She reasoned further, “I do not believe Sugriva has come alone. He must be relying on a steadfast ally—that is why he dares to call you out. By nature, Sugriva is both skilled and intelligent; he would not seek friendship with someone whose strength he has not tested.” Tara then revealed what she had learned: “Young prince Angada has gone deep into the forest, and the spies have reported all he discovered. The two sons of the lord of Ayodhya—renowned Rama and Lakshmana, born of the Ikshvaku line—are valiant and unconquerable warriors. They have come here, difficult to approach, to fulfill Sugriva’s cherished desire. Rama, famed as your brother’s ally in this war, is a destroyer of hostile forces, arisen like the fire at the end of an age. He is a sheltering tree for the virtuous and the supreme refuge for those in distress.” She praised Rama further: “He is a refuge for the afflicted, the sole vessel of fame, endowed with knowledge and wisdom, and unwavering in his devotion to his father’s command. Like the lord of mountains is to minerals, so is Rama to virtue—an inexhaustible source. Therefore, it is not fitting for you to be in conflict with such a great soul.” Tara, seeking her husband’s welfare, continued, “With Rama—unconquerable and immeasurable in battle—by Sugriva’s side, let me speak for your good. Quickly and properly anoint Sugriva as crown prince. Do not engage in conflict with your younger brother, O king; I consider friendship with Rama to be wise and fitting for you.” She pleaded, “Make peace with Sugriva, casting away all enmity. Your younger brother is to be cherished, for there is no other relative on earth equal to him. Welcome him with gifts, respect, and hospitality, and let him remain by your side as your ally. Sugriva, broad-necked and great-hearted, is your chief support; rely on the bond of brotherhood, for you have no other path.” Tara concluded with affection, “If you wish to please me and believe in my goodwill, kindly heed my advice. Be gracious and listen to my wholesome words. Do not let anger alone guide you. You are capable, O son of the king of Kosala, and there should be no conflict with one whose brilliance equals Indra’s.” Though Tara spoke only what was beneficial, her words did not please Vali. Overtaken by fate, he was now at the threshold of his destruction. Thus ends the sixteenth sarga of the glorious Valmiki Ramayana, in the Kishkindha Kanda.