As the tension mounted, Tara, wise and perceptive, observed the fierce arrogance and determination in Sugrīva’s roar echoing through the forest. She noted the agitation in his cry and sensed that such defiance did not arise without a significant reason. Turning to Vali, she spoke with gentle caution: “I do not believe Sugrīva has come here alone. His boldness must rest upon the support of a steadfast ally, one whose strength gives him the confidence to bellow so fearlessly. By nature, monkeys are clever and discerning—Sugrīva would never seek alliance with anyone whose power he had not already tested.” Tara continued, her voice steady and clear, “Prince Aṅgada, your own son, has ventured deep into the forest. The spies have already reported all he saw and heard. Know this: the two sons of King Daśaratha of Ayodhyā, the renowned Rāma and his brother Lakṣmaṇa, both scions of the Ikṣvāku dynasty, have come. They are valiant, unconquerable in battle, and they are here to fulfill Sugrīva’s dearest wish. Sugrīva, your brother, is now allied with them in their quest for war.” She pressed on, her words full of urgency: “Rāma, the destroyer of hostile forces, has risen like the fire that ends an age. He is a sheltering tree for the virtuous and the supreme refuge for those in distress. He stands as a sanctuary for the afflicted, the sole vessel of fame, endowed with wisdom and knowledge, ever devoted to his father’s command. Just as the lord of mountains is the source of all minerals, so is Rāma the fountainhead of virtues. Therefore, it is not wise for you to enter into conflict with such a great soul.” With deep respect, Tara added, “O hero, let me offer you counsel, not to offend but for your own good. Listen and act accordingly: swiftly and properly anoint Sugrīva as crown prince. Do not, O king, engage in strife with your younger brother. I believe friendship with Rāma is the path you should choose. Cast away enmity and make peace with Sugrīva; cherish him as your kinsman, for I see no other relative on earth equal to him. Welcome him with gifts, respect, and proper hospitality. Let him stand by your side as your ally, and let all hostility be set aside.” Tara, her affection clear, continued, “Sugrīva, broad-necked and great-hearted, is your chief ally. With the bond of brotherhood, there is no other path for you. If you wish to please me and trust my good intentions, then, out of affection, kindly heed my advice. Be gracious and listen to these wholesome words; do not act in anger. You are capable, O son of the king of Kosala, and there should be no strife with one whose brilliance rivals Indra’s himself.” Having spoken only what was beneficial, Tara addressed Vali with these wise and caring words. Yet, at that moment, fate had clouded Vali’s heart, and her counsel did not please him, for the time of his destruction had drawn near. As Tara, her face radiant like the moon, finished speaking, Vali rebuked her sharply: “Why should I, for any reason, tolerate the furious roaring of my brother—my enemy, O beautiful-faced one? For brave warriors, unyielding in battle, to endure insult is more bitter than death, O timid one. I cannot bear in battle the challenge of Sugrīva, who craves combat, nor the roar of that weak-necked one.” He continued, “Do not worry about Rāghava on my behalf; he knows righteousness and gratitude—how could he commit a wrongful act? Return now with the women; why do you follow me further? You have already shown your friendship and devotion to me.” Vali’s resolve was unshaken. “I will go and confront Sugrīva; cast off your anxiety. I will humble his pride, but I will not take his life. Whatever he desires as he stands ready for battle, I will grant. Struck by trees and the blows of my fists, he will retreat. That wicked one, swollen with pride, will not withstand me. You, Tara, have fulfilled your duty as my helper and shown your love for me. I swear by my life and by the people, you are forbidden to follow; enough—after defeating him in battle, I will return, that brother of mine.” Tara, her heart heavy, spoke kindly to Vali, embraced him, and wept softly as she circled him in a gesture of blessing. Performing auspicious rites for his victory, she entered the inner chambers with the other women, her spirit burdened with grief. When Tara had withdrawn into her palace, Vali, inflamed with rage, emerged from the city like a great serpent hissing in fury. His breath came hard, his gaze swept everywhere, eager to find his foe. There, he saw Sugrīva—golden-brown, well-adorned, and girded for battle—blazing like fire itself. Vali, girded tightly and brimming with strength, raised his fist and strode toward Sugrīva, ready for combat at that very moment. Sugrīva, too, advanced with clenched fists, his eyes fixed on Vali, his foe adorned with gold, equally fierce and determined. As Vali rushed forward, his eyes red with anger, he spoke to Sugrīva, skilled in battle: “This great fist of mine, tightly clenched and with well-aligned fingers, will strike with force and take your life away.” But Sugrīva, burning with rage, replied, “Let this fist, taking your life, fall upon your head!” Thus, the two brothers faced each other, their enmity and pride poised to erupt in a mighty battle, as destiny watched over them both.