is dhara pe ek sundar
desh karna natak jaha par
ek tha kalingwala hai usi ki ye katha
ped niche baith jata
jhum kar bansi bajata
nam lele kar bulata
prem se har gaay ko
aa ri ganga gauri aaja
tung bhadra tu bhi aaja
punay koti maa aaja
aa ri shyama tu bhi aa
bol sun gwale hat
sab aa khadi hoti nikalt
wo dudh duhane baithta
to pal me bhar jate ghade
ek thi maa punya koti
hai usi ki ye katha

pas parvat ki goofa me
us ghane jungle me koi
bagh rahta tha bhayanak
bagh tha bukha bada
ghath me tha wo jhapat ke
bich kuda jo garaj ke
dar gayi gaay achanak
aur bhagi pran le
lad bachde ko ladau
dudh jate hi pilau
laut kar ghar ja rahi thi
punay koti sochti
lo mila aahar mujhko
soch man me bagh usko
gher aadhe raste me
ho gaya giri sa khada
ek thi maa punya koti
hai usi ki ye katha

bhukh se bola tadap ke
mai padunga tut tujhpe
aur tujhko niche girake
phad khaunga abhi
jodti hu hath tere
lal bhukha raah dekhe
dudh fauran mai pilake
laut aaungi yaha
pran du na vachan jaye
satya hi maa bap bhai
jo vachan tode us par
parbhu nahi karti kripa
ek thi maa punya koti
hai usi ki ye katha

lal baitha bagh bhukha
mai vachan de lautne ka
isliye aayi ke tujhko
aankh bhar kar dekh lu
dudh mai kiska piunga
bola kisko maa kahunga
mai anath sa jiunga
kaun dega aasra
o mere bachpan ki sakhiyo
ek vinti meri suniyo
ye hua bemaa ka
isko lal apna janiyo
sing aage taniyo na
lat piche mario na
is abhage ko tum apne
lal jaisa janiyo
ek thi maa punya koti
hai usi ki ye katha

der na ho soch man me
gay bachde se bichad ke
jhat gufa ke dwar pahuchi
aur boli bagh se
pesiya lo maas bhi lo
lo jigar ka khun pee lo
lo mita lo bhukh apni
aur bhai khush raho
bhukh bhula zindagi me
bagh pahli bar roya
mai agar maru ise
to mujhe dhikkar hai
dhanya hai tu bahan meri
mai na lunga jan teri
ye kaha upar se kuda
pran usne tjag diye
ek thi maa punya koti
hai usi ki ye katha
nam hari har karishan ka le
har makar shakaranti ko
vansh dhar puje jo mujhko
puran ho har kamna
jo bhi sun le is katha ko
puran ho har kamna

Upon this earth, a play unfolds,
A nation's heart, a story told.
A cowherd's tale, a gentle soul,
In Kalinagvala, taking hold.

Beneath the trees, he'd find his ease,
A flute's sweet song, carried on the breeze.
He'd call aloud, with loving plea,
To every cow, so gracefully.

"Oh Ganga, Gauri, come to me!
Tungabhadra, set yourself free!
Punya Koti, mother, heed my call,
Shyama, dear one, answer all!"

At his voice, they'd gather near,
As he began, to quell all fear.
The pails would fill, in moments bright,
A miracle, a pure delight.
This is the tale of Punya Koti,
A story etched in memory.

Beside the mountain's shadowed keep,
Within the forest, secrets sleep.
A fearsome tiger, hunger's call,
Awaiting prey, about to fall.

He leaped and roared, a sudden fright,
The cows all scattered in the light.
"I must return, my calf to see,
And give him milk, so tenderly."

Punya Koti thought, as homeward bound,
"Now I am food, upon this ground!"
The tiger rose, a looming threat,
Blocking her path, she could not forget.
This is the tale of Punya Koti,
A story etched in memory.

"From hunger's grip, I must break free,
I will devour you, violently!"
She clasped her hands, "My calf awaits,
My milk to him, I now relate.

I will return, my promise kept,
Truth, the compass, I have now accepted.
For in a broken vow, no grace,
No divine mercy, finds its place."
This is the tale of Punya Koti,
A story etched in memory.

"My calf is hungry, I must confess,
To honor my vow, my true address.
So I return, to look upon,
My calf, my boy, before you're gone.

Whose milk will he drink? Who will he call?
An orphan's plight, before the fall.
My childhood friends, I implore,
A single plea, and nothing more.

This tiger, treat him, as your kin,
Embrace him, let forgiveness begin.
Do not kick, do not attack,
This wretched soul, bring him back.
This is the tale of Punya Koti,
A story etched in memory.

"No time to waste," she thought with dread,
Leaving her calf, the words she said.
She reached the cave, the tiger's den,
And to the beast, she spoke again:

"Take my flesh, my blood to drink,
Quench your hunger, on the brink.
Be at peace, my brother dear."
The tiger wept, for the first time near.

"If I should kill, a life I'd take,
Cursed I'd be, for goodness sake.
Blessed you are, my sister true,
I'll not take your life, nor bid adieu."
He leaped aside, and ceased to be,
His earthly bonds, set gently free.
This is the tale of Punya Koti,
A story etched in memory.

Chant the names, of Hari, Krishna, all,
Each Makar Sankranti, heed the call.
Those who pay homage, in this way,
Their every wish, will come to stay.

And those who hear, this sacred lore,
Their every wish, forevermore.