It was because in protecting Big-Brother Jattayu whom he loved, from the rays of the sun, poor Little-Eagle Sanpati’s wings had all been scorched away.
The Throne of Justice
Long before time as we count it, there lived in India a great and just King whose name was Vikramaditya. When he died, his beautiful palace and city of marble fell into ruins: and people remembered nothing but his name, and that he was great and good, and wise and gentle.
One day, some boys who were minding cows led them near a green mound among the ruins: and while the cows cropped the grass, the boys played.
And one of them invented this game.
“I shall be the Judge,” he said, “and you shall bring your quarrels to me. I will do justice.”
So he sat on the mound; and the boys ran away and whispered, and made a tale of wrong, and brought it to the boy on the mound, who did justice.
But the odd thing was, that the “justice” was such wisdom, that even through their play, the boys felt that something wonderful had happened to their playfellow.
“He is a real Judge, not a play Judge,” was what they said.
And they told their parents; and soon all the village got into the habit of coming to the boy on the mound to settle disputes. And everyone was always sure that his judgment was right.