When the moon rises at night,
Water-lily to open up at its light.
Kairava also known as the lotus white,
Rama like this, in assembly shining bright.
Was the moon of King Raghu’s line,
Which opened up at His shine.
Eyes of the rivals like the Chakora bird,
By Rama’s presence their emotions stirred.
Lord contest to win, pleasure to give,
With devotion in your heart He’ll always live.
Devotion to Supreme Lord keep,
For greatest reward to reap.
Wanted to win contest did every king,
But from Shiva’s bow all to feel defeat’s sting.
Vision of Rama and Lakshmana to appreciate,
Saintly kings having respect appropriate.
Rivals who stayed obstinate then admonished,
Abandoning shame, their lives needlessly finished.
Shame is sometimes good,
With humility God understood.
To Janaka’s kingdom came,
Royal families of worldwide fame.
But accomplish their work they would not,
Bested by bow, vision of Rama they got.
Respect that form, your chance don’t squander,
Else through reincarnation’s cycle you’ll wander.
Vishvamitra to Ayodhya went,
His two sons then Dasharatha sent.
Sacrifices in forests ascetics did,
Rakshasas brothers then to rid.
Holding contest Janaka did his part,
Proved to be a decision very smart.
In love sage put hands on each head,
Like Kamadeva with flowers red.
To their dharma all parties thus true,
That Rama to win the wise knew.
Lotus opens up at sight of the sun,
And then closes when day is done.
The day the sun makes,
Its light earth’s creatures take.
Spiritual master the same,
Vedic wisdom from him gain.
As disciples Rama and Lakshmana took the role,
To Vishvamitra did as they were told.
Bringing them to Janakpur the day was made,
Vision of blue and yellow lotuses with people stayed.
Upon food’s sight,
Animals charge and fight.
Any better they don’t know,
Towards instant pleasure they go.
Human being can discriminate,
Can understand world’s cyclical fate.
Chance to see God is most rare,
So at His beautiful form stare.
Chance of human birth won’t always come,
So chant holy names and with misery be done.
How in this human form shall I live?
My sentiments to whom shall I give?
Of Supreme Lord we are meant to think,
His nectarean beauty the eyes to drink.
Of some onlookers in Janakpur this was the opinion,
Not happy with King Janaka’s oath decision.
A match for Sita Rama was ideal,
His lifting of bow destiny to seal.
Competition in maya’s fever now forget,
And in worshiping Supreme Lord your mind set.
Rather than in maya’s pool sink,
Nectarean beauty of Shri Rama drink.
Sins from many past births salvage,
Of this human birth take advantage.
Sacred contest in Janaka’s land,
In eyesight the future winner stands.
Invest your full faith and trust in Him,
And against enemies of life you will win.
When your pride with shame displaced,
Like having raw egg on your face.
The bow contest kings’ pride to take,
In embarrassment their noses to break.
Shiva’s bow in Rama’s hands to shatter,
This to finally settle the contest matter.
To be embarrassed by God is good,
Individual’s subordinate position understood.
Join God, giving up your opposing voice,
Be His devotee and over His triumphs rejoice.
For hand of Sita many assembled princes contested,
But by weight of Shiva’s bow all were bested.
To boast of prowess then just gums to flap,
And fall further into embarrassment’s trap.
Kings from bow had their confidence shook,
Now at Rama were not worthy even to look.
Dasharatha’s eldest son both strong and silent,
To fulfill destiny to Janakpur He went.
To His devotees He offers His strength,
So to chant His names go to any length.