With the power of the Srāktya jewel and the wisdom of the ancient seers, I have triumphed over all hostile forces, crushing and destroying the demons that threaten peace. The harmful actions of the Āṅgirases, the Asuras, and all self-made or externally imposed enmities—I cast them far away, beyond the reach of ninety ships, so they may never return. May the gods themselves bind this radiant jewel as armor: Indra, Viṣṇu, Savitṛ, Rudra, Agni, Prajāpati, Parameṣṭhī, Virāṭ, Vaiśvānara, and all the sages. This jewel is the foremost among plants, steadfast and unyielding, like a tiger among creatures or a wild beast among animals. I have sought and found this ultimate defender. Whoever bears this jewel becomes as mighty as a tiger, a lion, a bull—a relentless tormentor of rivals. Neither Apsarases, nor Gandharvas, nor mortals can harm him; he shines in every direction, radiant and invincible. Kaśyapa created and established this jewel, and Indra himself, fearless among men, wore it and conquered his foes. The gods fashioned this thousand-powered gem as unbreakable armor. Should anyone seek to harm the bearer—by hostile actions, rituals, or sacrifices—may Indra strike them down with his hundred-ribbed thunderbolt. This is the mighty, victorious, ever-turning jewel, a protector of offspring and wealth, a guardian bringing auspiciousness in every way. Let there be no rival from below, none from above, and none from behind. Indra, O hero, place the light before us, so that we may walk in safety. Heaven and earth are my armor, as is the sun; Indra and Agni shield me, and may Dhātṛ establish this armor firmly for me. The fierce and abundant Indra-Agni armor, which even the gods cannot pierce, may it protect my body everywhere, granting long life and vigor as it always has. May the divine gem of the gods, shining brilliantly, grant us safety from harm. Let all the gods approach this woman together, providing her with the threefold protection of body and spirit. May Indra establish strength and manliness in her companion; may the gods unite for her sake, that she may live a long, full life—one hundred autumns, growing old with her teeth intact. O mother, whatever you have wiped away from the newborn—the marks and signs of birth—let no evil name cling there, neither from the slime nor from the afterbirth. Straw, chaff, husk, the shell, the sticky residue, the membrane, the covering, the wrinkled skin, the neck of the placenta, even the one who closes the eyes—let none of these surround or approach the child, nor come between. I prepare a remedy, a charm to drive away evil names. Both evil names and good names—whichever people seek to attach—we drive away the hostile ones, preserving the good name for those who desire a husband. Those who are black, hairy, demonic, who dwell in stumps or have beak-like noses—all such enemies, by the power of her body and words, we drive away. Those who sniff, touch, eat flesh, or lick—the barking, the yellow, the toothless—these hostile ones we banish. Whoever lies with you in dreams, as a brother or father, let this charm endure against them—the impotent, the crested. Whoever pursues you in sleep or desires you while awake—may the ever-moving sun drive them away, as a shadow is chased by light. Whoever causes this woman to be like one whose child has died, or like a widow—O sacred herb, destroy that darkness, that withered, lifeless state within her. Those who dance around the house in the evening, braying like donkeys, the hunchbacked, pot-bellied, crooked, dark, or lean—O herb, with your fragrance, destroy those who bring disease. Those who are hunchbacked, crooked, wearing torn garments, who dance about like impotent men, making noise in the forest—we drive them far from here. Those who cannot endure the sun shining in the sky, who dwell in goat-skins, foul-smelling, red-mouthed, and fly-like—we banish them. Those who carry excessive flesh, who strike at the loins of women—O Indra, destroy those demons. Those who, like the former ones, go about with horns in their hands, who dwell in refuse, who laugh loudly, who make light in the stump—we drive them away. Those with feet behind and heels in front, faces forward; the bald, the smoke-born, the swollen, the muttering, the pot-bellied, the iron-testicled, the gluttonous—O Brahmanaspati, destroy them with awareness for her. Let those with drooping eyes, the crippled, the impotent, be powerless; O remedy, cast down those who seek to separate this woman from her true husband. Strike down the one who rises up, the wild-haired ascetic, the yawning, the one who touches impurities, who approaches the fig tree, the tufted bird, or the crested fowl; let the vessel be struck with your foot, as a cow kicks the milk-pail. Whoever harms or destroys your embryo, whether already formed or just conceived, may the tawny, fierce-bowed one strike him with a blow to the heart. Those who kill the unborn, who lurk around the birthing woman, who seize the portions of women—the tawny Gandharvas—may the wind drive them away like a cloud. Let what is scattered be held together; let what is beneficial not fall away. May the fierce twin healers guard your embryo. From the one with a broken penis, the one with a mutilated head, the naked—may the tawny Kimīdin protect you, for offspring and for your husband. From the two-mouthed, the four-eyed, the five-footed, the fingerless, from the one creeping forth from the stalk—may you be protected from the one who encircles. Those who eat raw flesh and those who devour human meat, those hairy ones who consume embryos—we drive them away. Those who creep forth from the sun, as a daughter-in-law from her father-in-law's house—may the noose and the tawny one pierce their hearts. Tawny one, protect the one being born; do not turn the woman into a man; do not crush embryos from the egg—repel these Kimīdins. Let barrenness, the evil of spring, and the curse of ancestors not seize us. As one removes a garland from a tree, so release us from all that is not dear.