First, I bow to Ganesha's feet,
Then sing of Jatayu's deed, so sweet.
Empty hut without Ram and Lakshman,
A false guise, a cunning plan.
Ravana steals Sita, across the sea,
A princess stolen, for all to see.
The Queen's cries reach the eagle's ears,
Jatayu rages, fueled by fears.
He swoops in anger, a feathered dart,
To challenge evil, tear it apart.
He sees Ravana upon his throne,
And with a mighty cry, he's known:
"Stand and fight, you wicked soul!
While I live, you'll reach no goal!"
He pleads and warns, but Ravana's cold,
Then strikes him down, a story told.
Like lightning striking, a fearsome blow,
The eagle falls, his body low.
He pulls the hair, casts him to ground,
Then wounds his eyes, all around.
For a moment, darkness takes hold,
As the eagle's story must unfold.
Ten-headed tried, but could not win,
The sword is drawn, the fight begins.
Wings are severed, the body falls,
A plea for help, the hero calls.
"Ram, Ram," he cries, "Lord of all!
Grant me your sight, lest I fall."
The Lord protects the faithful true,
Ram arrives, and sees him through.
He hears the tale, the eagle's plight,
And Raghuvir touches with light.
Pain is gone, fear takes flight,
The bird receives a form so bright.
Those who help, who give and share,
Are heroes, beyond compare.
Those touched by Ram, with grace so deep,
Shall never drown, in slumber sleep.
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