In a time of need, the people of the village gathered and invoked the sacred and powerful plants, offering praise and entreaty that these blessed herbs, summoned with devotion, might protect all beings in their care—cattle, horses, men, and every creature dwelling among them. They celebrated the sweetness of the plants: sweet was their root, their tip, their very middle; sweet were their leaves and their blossoms. Born of honey, these herbs were hailed as the very food of immortality, yielding ghee and nourishment for the cow and the bull, sustaining all with their bounty. The people called upon all the herbs upon earth, as many and as mighty as there are, especially those with a thousand leaves, to release them from the bonds of death and harm. Among these, the tiger-stone of the plants was invoked for its power to protect from curses, warding off all disease and casting dangers far away. Just as the roar of a lion scatters its foes or fire crackles and clears its path, so too, the people prayed, would the plants drive away every illness afflicting cattle and men, sending the flow of sickness far off, to be carried away by the river. They remembered how the herbs, once released from the universal fire, had spread across the earth under the sovereignty of the Lord of the Forest, growing in abundance. They especially honored the Angirasa herbs, which grew on mountains and level ground alike, wishing them to be rich in milk, auspicious, and bring well-being to every heart. Whether the herbs were known or seen, or unknown and learned of, or known together by the community, all were called upon. The people pleaded that all the herbs, in their fullness, would heed their words as they led one among them across the waters of misfortune. They invoked the sacred fig, the darbha grass, all the plants, Soma the king—the immortal offering—rice and barley, and all remedies, children of heaven, immortal in themselves. The people called to the herbs to rise up, thundering and crying aloud, when their variegated mother, the rain-bearing cloud, poured down her seed, awakening new life. From the immortality that dwelt in the plants, the people wished to impart strength to the afflicted, preparing remedies so that he might live a hundred autumns. They recognized that the boar knows the plants, the mongoose knows the remedies, and even the serpents and Gandharvas who possess this knowledge were called upon for help. The winged ones, the Angirasa plants, those known by the Raghaṭa, the birds, the swans, and all flying creatures who know the herbs, as well as the wild animals, were all summoned to aid in healing. As many herbs as the cows and goats eat, so many gathered herbs were asked to grant protection. As many remedies as the physicians among men know, so many universal remedies were brought forth for healing. The people honored all flowering, blossoming, and fruit-bearing plants, and even those without fruit, praying that, like nurturing mothers yielding milk, they would grant freedom from harm. From the afflicted one, they declared, they had removed the fivefold and tenfold fetters, the snare of Yama, and all divine transgressions, freeing him from every binding. In another moment of crisis, the people called upon mighty Indra, the heroic and city-breaking Shakra, to grind down their enemies, just as they themselves would strike down thousands of hostile armies. They wished that the foul cord and swelling would make the enemy’s army foul, that the smoke would reveal the fire, and that fear would fill the hearts of their foes. They invoked the Ashvattha to cut off their enemies, Khadira and Arjuna to devour them, so that the foes would be broken like brittle reeds, struck down by the slayer’s weapons. Let the harsh ones be made harsh by those named Harsh, and may the slayer swiftly shatter them like arrows bound in a great net. The people envisioned a net spread in the sky, with net-staves reaching to every direction and the earth, with which Shakra struck down the armies of the Dasyus. For great indeed was the net of mighty Shakra, possessor of horses, and with it, all enemies would be subdued, none escaping. They praised Indra’s net, great and powerful, with which Shakra struck down hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, and even a hundred thousand Dasyus, attacking with his army. The world itself became the net of great Shakra, and with this net, the people enveloped all their enemies in darkness. They cast upon their foes fever, fierce growth, distress, banishment, fatigue, weariness, and delusion, enveloping them with these afflictions. The enemies, bound with the snares of death, were delivered to death itself, handed over to the messengers and agents of destruction. Let the messengers of Yama lead the foes away; let thousands upon thousands be slain, reduced to grass by the might of the Slayer. The Sādhyas, Rudras, Vasus, and Ādityas each raised a net-staff with power, and all the gods above spread the net. The Angirases were called to strike the enemy army in the middle and on the earth. The forest trees, woodland beings, herbs, and grasses; the two-footed and four-footed creatures—all were sent forth to strike down the enemy army. The Gandharvas, Apsarases, serpents, gods, blessed beings, ancestors, the seen and unseen—all were summoned to join in this task. These were the snares of death which, once seized, never released, and the people wished that this thousandfold pitfall would destroy the hostile army. The heated libation was kindled with fire, and the offering was made a thousand times, calling Bhava, Pṛśnibāhu, and Śarva to strike down the enemy. Let the foes fall into the grasp of death, into hunger, decay, slaughter, and fear. Indra, with his twin thunderbolts, and Śarva were called to strike down the hostile army. Let the enemies, defeated, flee in terror, driven away by the sacred word, and of those whom Bṛhaspati had repelled, let none be able to capture the people. May the weapons of the enemy fall useless; let them not aim an arrow, and as they tremble, may their own arrows strike their vital parts. Let them cry out together, with heaven and earth, the midspace, and all deities set against them. Let them not recognize their kin or their place; let obstacles rise between them, and let them draw near to death. The four directions became the horses of the divine chariot, the sacrificial cakes its foreparts, the hooves the midspace, the upper space the yoke. Heaven and earth were its wings, the seasons its reins, the regions between were its attendants, and speech itself was the path around the chariot. Thus, through prayer, invocation, and offering, the people sought the protection of the plants and the gods, healing for the afflicted, and victory over their enemies, trusting in the power of the divine and the gifts of the earth.