In ancient times, the sacred grass flourished, its many roots reaching deep into the ocean, while its blades rose from the earth, known to all as the great pacifier of anger. With reverence, people would lay aside their weapons of harm, casting away destructive tools and leading away the chief instruments of strife, seeking peace and mastery over their own minds, so that no harsh words would be spoken. From the vast sky, from the rich earth, and from all that exists in the world, the trees stood upright in silent dreams, steadfast in their places. Just as the trees endured, so too did the people pray that all disease would depart from them. They invoked the power of a hundred remedies, and a thousand more gathered together, asking that the best, most excellent healing force would flow forth—one that could destroy every ailment. Among these remedies was one revered as the urine of Rudra, the very navel of immortality, known as Viṣāṇakā. Arising from the ancient roots of the forefathers, this remedy was famed for vanquishing afflictions caused by the winds. In their quest for well-being, the people would address their own minds: “Depart, evil mind! Why do you speak these harmful things? Go away, for I do not desire you. Wander instead among the trees and forests; let my mind remain in homes and among cattle, where peace dwells.” They expelled all that was hostile, whether it was apparent or hidden, awake or asleep, and invoked Agni, the purifier, to remove all evil deeds far from their lives. Even if they faltered or acted wrongly, they called upon Indra and the Lord of Speech, trusting that the wise Āṅgirasas would deliver them from misfortune and sin. In the mysterious world of dreams, they recognized a being neither living nor dead, the immortal embryo among the gods, known as Araru, with Varuṇānī as mother and Yama as father. They understood the origin of dreams, calling them the sons of divine mothers, agents of Yama, and even Death itself. Knowing this, they prayed for protection from evil dreams, gathering them as one would join together parts of a body, and sending all harmful visions away from themselves and towards their enemies. At dawn, they invoked Agni, the universal protector and creator, seeking his guardianship as they pressed the morning soma. They asked the purifier to grant them wealth, long life, and the joy of sharing food together. At the second pressing, they prayed that the gods—the Maruts and Indra—would not abandon them, but instead favor them with long life and happiness. At the third pressing, the wise filled the cup with nectar, and they called upon the radiant, unaging Saudhanvanā to bring the most excellent offering. In the rituals, they grasped sacred objects—one a falcon with the Gāyatrī meter, another an Ṛbhu with the Jagatī meter, and a third a bull with the Triṣṭubh meter—each time invoking prosperity on the upward path of sacrifice, sealing their prayers with the sacred word, Svāhā! They revered Agni, whose form no mortal could harm. Agni was likened to a monkey, consuming his own offspring as a cow does her afterbirth. Like a ram, Agni was praised, his jaws devouring above and below, striking the waters and consuming their fibers with green flames. In the fields, winged ones uttered speech, and the black ones cried out, carrying away the uppermost portions and sowing many seeds, all resting under the sun. When pests threatened their crops—tarda, samaṅka, ākhuma—they called upon the Aśvins to strike them down, to crush their heads and backs, and to grant safety and abundance of grain. They named the pests, likening them to moths, and prayed that, like protected sacrificial offerings, their barley grains would remain untouched. To the lords of these pests, they offered words of power, subduing all forest creatures that threatened their harvests. Soma, purified by the wind, moved swiftly, yoked in friendship with Indra. The people asked the waters, their mothers, to cleanse them, and those rich in ghee to purify them further, for the divine waters washed away all defilement. They approached the pure ones, cleansed and purified, and called upon Varuṇa to forgive any offense committed, whether through ignorance or intent, so that they would not suffer for their transgressions. As the sun rose from the womb of heaven, it drove away the Rakṣasas, the unseen beings, from the mountains. The Āditya, visible to all, destroyed what was hidden. The cows returned safely to their pens, wild animals withdrew, rivers subsided, and the unseen vanished. Bringing with them life, wisdom, and the renowned plant of Kanva, they gathered all-healing remedies to pacify any lingering unseen forces. They sought the protection of Heaven and Earth, both wise and shining, asking that Soma, Agni, Vāyu, Savitṛ, and Bhaga would guard them in proper order. They prayed for the return of breath, self, sight, and life, and invoked Vaiśvānara, the unfailing one dwelling in their bodies, to drive away all misfortune. They wished to unite with brilliance, strength, health, and auspiciousness, and asked Tvaṣṭṛ to grant them greater power and to wipe away all defects from their bodies. For victory, they glorified the supreme power yoked for Indra, praying that his sovereignty and prosperity would flourish like grass nourished by rain. They asked Agni and Soma to establish sovereignty and wealth for their chosen one, and to destroy all who opposed them, whether kin or stranger. They recognized the many paths of the gods stretching between heaven and earth, and prayed that anyone who strove to follow these tracks would be granted protection by all the gods. They asked for blessings from all seasons—summer, winter, cold, spring, autumn, and rains—so that their whiteness and purity would be shared with their cattle and offspring, and that they might dwell in shelter and well-being. They offered homage for the present year, the next, and all years, seeking always to remain in the gods’ favor, with good thoughts and happiness. They prayed for protection from serpents, asking that the gods would prevent any snake from striking themselves, their households, or their companions. They saluted all divine beings—black, striped, long-living, and tawny snakes—offering repeated homage. They declared their power over any who would harm them, binding the tongues of their enemies and closing their mouths, ensuring safety and peace for their people. Thus, through these prayers and invocations, the ancient seekers aligned themselves with the divine forces of the world, seeking health, prosperity, forgiveness, and protection, ever striving toward harmony with the seen and unseen realms.