Tāra, wise and compassionate, approached Vāli with words full of care and foresight. “Listen to me and act as I advise, for it is for your own good,” she urged. “Quickly and properly anoint Sugrīva as crown prince. O mighty king, do not engage in conflict with your younger brother. I believe that friendship with Rāma is what is best for you. Make peace with Sugrīva, casting away all enmity; cherish your younger brother, this monkey, as he deserves your affection. “Whether he is here or elsewhere, Sugrīva is your kinsman in every way. I see no other relative on earth who equals him. Welcome him with gifts, respect, and proper hospitality—make him your ally at once. Let this hostility be abandoned, and let Sugrīva remain at your side. Sugrīva, broad-necked and great-hearted, is, in my view, your chief ally. Rely on the bond of brotherhood, for you have no other path here. “If you wish to please me and if you consider me well-intentioned, then, out of affection, kindly follow my advice. Be gracious and listen to these wholesome words; do not simply follow 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, her words full of wisdom and kindness. Yet, these words did not please Vāli. Overtaken by fate, he was now at the time of his destruction. To Tāra, whose face shone like the moon as she spoke, Vāli responded with harshness. “Why should I, for any reason, tolerate the furious roaring of my brother, my enemy, O beautiful-faced one? For brave warriors, unassailable and unyielding in battle, to endure insult is more bitter than death, O timid one. I cannot bear to endure Sugrīva’s challenge in battle, nor the roar of that weak-necked one who desires combat. “Do not grieve about Rāghava on my account; he knows righteousness and gratitude—how could he commit a wrongful act? Turn back with the women; why do you follow me further? You have already shown your friendship and devotion to me. I will go and confront Sugrīva; cast off your anxiety. I will subdue his pride, and he will not lose his life. Whatever he desires as he stands ready for battle, I will do; struck by trees and blows of my fists, 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 the people, you are forbidden—enough. After defeating him in battle, I will return, that brother of mine.” Hearing this, Tāra, ever gentle, embraced Vāli, her eyes brimming with tears. She walked around him to the right, performing the auspicious rite, and then, seeking his victory, she entered the inner chambers with the other women, her heart heavy with grief. When Tāra had entered her own palace with the women, Vāli, his anger blazing, emerged from the city like a mighty serpent hissing. His breath was harsh, his gaze searching everywhere, eager to find his enemy. Then, Vāli caught sight of Sugrīva, golden-brown in hue, well-adorned and tightly girded, shining like fire. Vāli, equally girded and full of strength, raised his fist and strode toward Sugrīva, ready to fight at that very moment. Sugrīva, his own fist clenched, advanced even more furiously, aiming at Vāli, who was adorned with gold. Vāli’s eyes, reddened with anger, fixed on Sugrīva as he rushed forward with great speed, and he spoke: “This great fist of mine, tightly clenched and with well-aligned fingers, will be released with force and take your life away.” Sugrīva, enraged, replied, “Let this fist, taking your life, fall upon your head!” The two brothers, fierce and mighty, clashed. Vāli, furious, struck Sugrīva swiftly, and blood gushed forth from him, like a mountain struck and wounded. Sugrīva, undaunted, uprooted a mighty śāla tree and struck Vāli’s body with all his might, as a thunderbolt strikes a great mountain. Vāli, reeling from the blow, was overwhelmed by the weight, like a ship with its cargo tossed in the sea. The two vanaras, mighty in strength and valor, grew to terrifying forms, swift as Garuda, and stood facing each other like the moon and sun in the sky. Both intent on the other’s destruction, seeking out each other’s weaknesses, Vāli’s strength and power only grew. Sugrīva, son of the sun and of great valor, was overpowered by Vāli; his pride broken, Sugrīva’s strength began to wane. Sugrīva, still burning with anger, signaled to Rāghava, fighting with trees, mountain peaks, and nails sharp as thunderbolts. Their battle raged fiercely, with fists, knees, feet, and arms, again and again, like that of Vṛtra and Indra. The two vanaras, covered in blood, roared at each other with the thunder of clouds. Then Rāghava saw Sugrīva, lord of the monkeys, growing weaker, his eyes searching in all directions, desperate for help.