Prince I was, a man born to be a king,
Of the Ishavaku race, the sun-gods heritage,
Beside the Sarayu we ruled.
Ayodhya the city, famed capital
Lording over the lands all around.
Rich and beautiful, Strong and bountiful,
Favoured by nature and the gods alike.
Dasrath was the king, my dad too
And wives he had a-plenty.
All of them barren, he prayed to the gods
And did Aswamedha-the horse sacrifice
And the gods responded, no longer stingy,
Four of us born, bro’s I had three.
The lands all around were happy,
The harvest was plenty,
The weather that year was mild
And only my step-moms were wild.
And there was the rub-
My problems began- as soon as I was begat
Of Kausalya- the queen- consort- dear mom.
As heir to the throne, the rightful Prince
And so incensed was Kaikeyi, da’s favorite
She begat strife on behalf of her son,
Beloved Bharat, my verbose bro.