Whatever form I assumed, whether brute or divine or human, I retained therein the practice of worshipping Rama; but one thing ever stung my conscience – the remembrance of the guru’s tender and amiable disposition.

Finally I was born in the form of a Brahman, a form which – as the Vedas and Puranas declare – even the gods find it difficult to attain; and when in that incarnation I joined in play with other children, I would enact all Raghunatha’s boyish sports.

When I grew up, my father gave me lessons (in secular subjects), but though I tried to understand things and listened to his lessons and turned them over in my mind, they failed to attract me. All worldly cravings clean deserted my soul, for I was utterly absorbed in my devotion to Rama’s feet.

Tell me, O king of birds, would anyone be so foolish as to abandon the cow of plenty to serve a she-ass? With my soul flooded with love, I had no charm left for anything, and my father was quite tired of trying to teach me.

When my father and mother passed away, I withdrew to the forest to worship Rama, the protector of his servants. Wherever I discovered any great sages living in the woods, I visited them in their hermitages and made obeisance.

I would ask them to tell me stories of Rama’s excellences and would listen, Garuda, with delight to what they told me. Thus I roamed about, listening to the recital of Hari’s virtues, for by Shiva’s grace there was no check to my movements.

The threefold passionate concern (viz., desire for a son, for wealth and for fame) left me and one solitary longing grew to inordinate proportions in my heart, that I shall deem the purpose of my life fully accomplished when I shall behold Rama’s lotus feet.