In the midst of uncertainty, a heartfelt longing arose among the people for what had been lost. Whether it was in the mid-air, stirring with unseen presence, or carried by the wind, hidden among the trees, or echoing from the hollows—whatever it was that the cattle heard rising and departed with, they prayed for the return of the Brāhmaṇa, the knower of sacred wisdom, to their midst. With this yearning, they called for the restoration of their strength, their spirit, their wealth, and above all, the Brāhmaṇa. They desired that their sacred fires, once set in their rightful places, be rekindled and established anew, bringing order and sanctity back into their lives. Turning to Sarasvatī, the divine goddess of wisdom and speech, they offered their reverence, appealing to her in her heavenly abodes. “O Sarasvatī, accept our humble offering and, in your grace, grant us the blessing of offspring.” The offering, rich with ghee, was presented to her and to the Fathers, the ancestors, as food for their mouths. These gifts, the most auspicious, were laid forth with hope that, through them, sweetness and prosperity would fill their lives. They prayed further for harmony with the elements: “May the wind blow gently for us, may the sun warm us with kindness. Let our days and nights be filled with auspiciousness, and may the dawn bring us light and fortune.” Yet, they were wary of those whose intentions were untrue. They prayed that whatever offerings such a person made—whether in mind, speech, sacrifice, or sacred utterance—be destroyed by Nirṛti, in accord with Death, before ever reaching the realm of truth. They invoked the powers of the Yātudhānas and Nirṛti to strike down falsehood and untruth, and called upon the gods, led by Indra, to crush the sacrifices of those who wished them harm. Like two swift kings or eagles descending, they wished for the ghee, poured from the vessel, to destroy those who acted against them. With the wrath of Agni, the fire god, they bound the arms and mouths of their adversaries, striking down the oblations of the wicked, ensuring that only the righteous offerings would ascend to the heavens. Around Agni, the wise and mighty one, they moved in devotion day by day, honoring him as the destroyer of those who break the sacred order. Turning to the officiant, they urged, “Rise up, let us witness Indra’s share. Tell us if the cooked oblation has been offered, or if it remains undone.” As the sun reached its zenith, they called to Indra: “If the offering is ready, come forth. Your companions gather treasures around you, as householders surround their lord. Drink, O Indra, at the midday pressing of soma, delighting in the gifts we present.” For Agni, the kindled fire, and for the two strong charioteers of heaven—the Aśvins—the sacrificial drink was prepared, sweet as honey. The singers called upon the Aśvins in their assemblies, inviting them to partake of the milk drawn from the cows, rejoicing in their presence. The sacrifice, pure and offered with svāhā, was fit for the gods, and the immortal ones tasted it in turn. They poured out ghee and milk, offering the Aśvins their share, inviting them to drink the sweet, heated milk from the honeyed cow. With each act, they followed the path revealed by Savitar, the inspirer, who brought forth the dawn and illuminated the sky. The people called upon the well-yielding cow, to be milked with good hands, praying that Savitar grant them the best strength. The mistress of riches, longing for her calf, approached, and they milked her for the Aśvins, wishing for her to thrive in good fortune. Agni, as the honored guest, was invited to the sacrifice, asked to bring forth the foods that would defeat their enemies and unite their households in harmony. They wished the cow good pasture and pure water, knowing that her well-being was tied to their own. “Eat the grass, O uninjured one, and drink the clear water as you go.” Amidst this, they remembered the ancient knowledge: the black one is the mother of the reddish ones, and by the root of the divine sage, all are pierced and subdued. With the speech of Tvaṣṭṛ, the craftsman god, they dispelled jealousy and calmed all anger. They honored the lord of vows, adorned by his own vow, asking him to shine always with a good mind, surrounded by all who approached him, full of offspring. They prayed for the waters—bright, pure, and life-giving—not to be seized by thief or ill-wisher, and for Rudra’s weapon to be kept far away. They invited the goddesses, skilled and joyful, to enter their cattle-pen and seat, and to let ghee be poured for them. Desiring abundance, they wished that the most flowing streams would flow even more, that the richest saps would be even richer, and that anything easily melted would melt all the more. They sought to drive out every kind of skin disease, whether it clung to the neck, sides, joints, or hump, and to heal both the well and the wounded. Knowing the origin of disease, they asked: “How can you survive when we make the offering in the house?” They called upon Indra, slayer of Vṛtra, to drink the soma and grant them strength and wealth in the contest for riches. To the Maruts, fierce bringers of affliction, they offered their gifts, asking them to be on their side. If any mortal harbored hostile intent or plotted against them, they prayed to the Maruts and the Vasus to release them from snares and destroy their enemies with powerful heat. Finally, they implored the Maruts, shining and dwelling in spacious abodes, together with their hosts and human followers, to free them from all bonds of sin. “O afflicting, jealous, and gladdening ones, set us free,” they pleaded, seeking release and the blessings of the divine.