In the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, within the Kiṣkindhā Kāṇḍa, the tale unfolds with the mighty monkey king, Vāli, lying wounded and silent. Though addressed with reasoned words, Vāli—his limbs shattered by stones and struck severely by trees, overwhelmed by Rāma’s arrows—gave no reply. At the end of his life, consciousness slipped away from him. News of this calamity reached Tāra, Vāli’s wife. She heard that her husband, the tiger among monkeys, had been slain in battle by Rāma’s arrow. Distressed beyond measure, Tāra, together with her son Angada, rushed out from the mountain cave, grief-stricken by the cruel death of her beloved. The mighty monkeys who attended Angada, upon seeing Rāma with his bow, were terrified and fled in all directions. As Tāra emerged, she saw the frightened monkeys scattering swiftly, broken from their troop like deer whose leader had been killed. Approaching these sorrowful ones, she too grieving, addressed the monkeys who fled in fear of Rāma, their ranks shattered by arrows. “You monkeys, foremost followers of the lion among kings—why do you abandon him and flee in terror and distress?” She continued, “If, for the sake of the kingdom, a brother has been struck down by his own cruel brother, by Rāma’s far-flying arrows sent from afar—” Hearing Tāra’s words, the monkeys, who could assume any form at will, replied to her in timely and appropriate words. “Return while your son still lives; protect Angada. Death, in the form of Rāma, has slain Vāli and is taking him away. Though he hurled trees and massive rocks, Vāli was struck down by arrows as hard as thunderbolts, as if felled by the thunderbolt itself. This monkey army has been overcome and scattered, now that the tiger among monkeys, radiant as Indra, has been slain.” They advised further, “Let the city be protected by heroes, and let Angada be installed as prince; the monkeys will serve Vāli’s son, who stands in his father’s place. Or, O lovely-faced one, if you prefer another place here, let the monkeys quickly enter the fortresses even today. Here dwell forest-roaming ones, both with and without wives; from those greedy and deceitful ones, we have great fear.” Hearing the words of the woman standing very near, Tāra, she of the beautiful smile, replied in a manner befitting herself. “What use have I for a son, or even for the kingdom itself, when my husband, the lion among monkeys, the greatly fortunate one, is lost?” Having spoken thus, she ran off, weeping, overcome by grief, striking her head and chest with her arms in her sorrow. As she hurried onward, Tāra saw her husband fallen on the ground—the slayer of the lords of demons, who never turned away in battle. He who hurled great mountains like Indra does his thunderbolts, now seized by a mighty wind, roaring like a mass of great clouds. Equal in valor to Indra, now fallen like a rain cloud that has ceased, the terrible one among those who roar, the hero struck down by a hero, like a lion among beasts felled by a tiger for the sake of flesh. Honored by all the world, with banners and platforms, Vāli lay like a shrine destroyed by Garuda for the sake of a serpent. Tāra saw Rāma, holding his mighty bow, and Lakṣmaṇa, and also her husband’s younger brother, standing nearby. Passing by them and reaching her husband slain in battle, she saw him and, distressed, fell to the ground in confusion. Rising again as if from sleep, crying out “Noble prince!”, she wept upon seeing her husband bound by the noose of death. Her wailing, like that of a curlew, brought intense sorrow to Sugrīva, especially upon seeing Angada arrive. As the twentieth sarga begins, Tāra beheld Vāli, with a face like the moon, struck down on the ground by the death-dealing arrow released from Rāma’s bow. Approaching her husband, the radiant one embraced Vāli, who resembled a great elephant, seeing him struck by the arrow. With a mind tormented by grief, Tāra, like a creeper uprooted, lamented over the monkey who resembled a great mountain. “O hero, mighty in battle, foremost among the vanaras, why do you not now speak to me, who stand before you? Rise up, O tiger among the monkeys, and take to your excellent bed; for such noble kings do not lie upon the ground like this. O lord of the earth, the ground is indeed dear to you; even after your life has departed, you abandon me and seek her with your body.” “O hero, by your righteous conduct today, it is clear that the beautiful city of Kiṣkindhā has been fashioned upon the path to heaven. Those delightful times we spent together in the honey-scented forests, you and I—now you have put an end to them. Devoid of joy and hope, I am plunged in an ocean of grief, now that you, the great leader of the mighty hosts, have met your end. My heart must be truly steadfast, seeing you fallen to the earth; for though scorched by sorrow, it does not shatter into a thousand pieces today.” Tāra recalled, “Sugrīva’s wife was taken by you, and he was exiled; now, O lord of the monkeys, the retribution for that act has come upon you.” Thus, in the presence of all, Tāra lamented over her fallen husband, Vāli, pouring forth her grief as the mighty king lay silent, his life’s journey ended.