In the ancient land of Bharat,
Where warriors fought with heart,
Lived a man of mighty might,
Bheem, the hero shining bright.

Born to Kunti and Vayu, the wind god,
He was blessed with strength so odd,
With muscles strong and arms so wide,
Bheem stood tall, a warrior's pride.

His hunger never seemed to cease,
Feasting on food, his favorite piece,
But his appetite was a mere shadow,
Of the immense strength he would show.

Bheem, the wielder of the mace,
With each strike, enemies would face,
A force that shook the battlefield,
His enemies, his strength would yield.

In the great war of Kurukshetra's might,
Bheem fought with all his fiery spite,
Defending justice, against all odds,
His blows shattered even the gods.

But amidst the clash of sword and spear,
Bheem remained calm, his vision clear,
He fought not for glory or mere fame,
But to uphold righteousness, his only aim.

Yet, beneath his mighty warrior's guise,
Lay a heart as gentle as the skies,
He loved his brothers, true and deep,
Protecting them, their secrets he'd keep.

Bigger than life, with a spirit so grand,
Bheem stood tall, his courage never banned,
His valor echoes through history's voice,
As a hero, he always made the righteous choice.

So, let us remember this legend's name,
Bheem, the warrior, his bravery aflame,
In the great Mahabharata's tale,
He shines bright, a hero who'll never fail.