Tāra, wise and perceptive, gazed at Vāli and spoke with gentle urgency, “It troubles me that Sugrīva, whom you once defeated and tormented, has returned now to challenge you again. Such boldness after his past humiliation fills me with suspicion. His roaring and the agitation in his cries are not without reason—there must be something significant behind his confidence. “I do not believe Sugrīva has come alone. He must be relying on a steadfast ally, someone whose strength gives him the courage to bellow so fearlessly. By nature, monkeys are clever and discerning; Sugrīva would never seek alliance with one whose power he had not first tested. “Moreover, young Aṅgada has ventured deep into the forest, and the spies have brought back news of what he discovered. The two sons of the lord of Ayodhyā—Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa—scions of the Ikṣvāku line, famed for their valor and unconquerable in battle, have come here. They are difficult to approach and have come for the sake of fulfilling Sugrīva’s cherished desire. Sugrīva is now renowned as their ally in this cause of war. “Rāma, destroyer of hostile forces, has 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. He is the hope of the afflicted and the sole vessel of fame, endowed with wisdom and devoted to his father’s command. Just as the lord of mountains is the source of precious minerals, so is Rāma the fountain of all virtues. It is not fitting for you, O Vāli, to be in conflict with such a great soul. “Rāma is unconquerable and immeasurable in battle. O hero, forgive me, but let me offer you counsel for your own good: quickly and properly anoint Sugrīva as crown prince. Do not engage in conflict with your younger brother; I believe friendship with Rāma would be most fitting for you. Make peace with Sugrīva, casting enmity aside—he is your kinsman, your own brother, and on this earth, you have no other relative equal to him. “Welcome him with gifts, respect, and proper hospitality; let him be your ally, and let all enmity be abandoned. Sugrīva, broad-necked and great-hearted, is your chief support—rely on the bond of brotherhood, for there is no other path before you. If you wish to please me and believe in my goodwill, then, out of affection, follow my advice. Be gracious and heed my wholesome words; do not be led by anger. You are capable, O son of the king of Kosala, and there should be no conflict with one whose brilliance equals Indra’s.” Tāra spoke only what was beneficial, addressing Vāli with words of wisdom and love. But her counsel did not please him; fate had overtaken Vāli, and his time of destruction was near. Thus ends the sixteenth sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Kiṣkindhā Kāṇḍa. Vāli, hearing Tāra’s words, rebuked her, his face set with resolve. “Why should I, for any reason, tolerate the furious roaring of my brother, my enemy? For brave warriors, unassailable and unyielding in battle, to endure insult is more bitter than death itself. I cannot endure Sugrīva’s challenge, nor the roar of that weak-necked one, when he desires combat. “Do not worry about Rāghava on my account—he knows righteousness and gratitude; how could he commit a wrongful act? Turn back with the women, Tāra; why do you follow me further? You have already shown your friendship and devotion. I will go and confront Sugrīva. Cast off your anxiety. I will humble his pride, but I will not take his life. Whatever he seeks in battle, I will grant. Struck by my fists and the blows of trees, he will retreat. “That wicked one, swollen with pride, will not withstand me. Tāra, you have fulfilled your duty as a helper and shown your affection for me. I swear by my life and by our people—enough! After defeating him in battle, I will return, bringing back my brother.” Tāra, full of kindness, embraced Vāli, her heart heavy. Weeping softly, she circled him to the right in a gesture of blessing. Then, after performing auspicious rites and seeking victory for her husband, the wise Tāra entered the inner chambers with the women, her heart weighed down by grief. Once Tāra had entered her palace, Vāli, burning with rage, emerged from the city like a great serpent hissing with fury. His anger intense, he exhaled deeply and scanned the surroundings, eager to lay eyes on his enemy. There, he saw Sugrīva, golden-brown in hue, well-adorned and girded, blazing like fire. Vāli, tightly girded and full of strength, raised his fist and strode toward Sugrīva, ready to fight that very moment. Sugrīva, too, his fist clenched and his fury rising, advanced toward Vāli, who gleamed with golden ornaments. As Vāli rushed forward, his eyes reddened with anger, he addressed Sugrīva, skilled in battle, with these fierce words: “This great fist of mine, tightly clenched and with well-aligned fingers, will be released with force and take your life away!” Thus, the fateful encounter between the brothers began, their destinies hurtling toward a decisive moment.