Now, O king of birds, I tell you the story of Rama’s kindness and my own stupidity; listen attentively. Whenever Rama appears in human form and plays his many parts for his votaries’ sake.

I always betake myself to the city of Ayodhya and delight to watch his childish pranks. I go there and witness his birthday rejoicing and, fascinated (by the charm of his childish sports), stay there for full five years.

The child Rama is my patron deity, who sums up in his person the beauty of a myriad Loves. Ever gazing on the face of my Lord, I satisfy the desire of my eyes, O Garuda!

Assuming the form of a little crow, I keep close to Hari and witness his manifold childish sports.

Wherever he roams in his boyish play, I flutter about close to him and pick up and eat whatever crumbs he lets fall in the courtyard.

One day Raghubira played all the merry pranks of his early childhood.’ As soon as Kakabhushundi recalled the Lord’s playfulness, the hair of his body bristled with rapture.

Bhushundi continued: ‘Listen, king of birds, the acts of Rama are ever the delight of his servants. The king’s palace (at Ayodhya) was altogether beautiful, for it was all of gold studded with precious stones of every kind.