In the ancient days, when the world was young and vibrant, the herbs of the earth were called to awaken. With thunderous cries, they rose up, rejoicing as their variegated mother—the rain-bringing cloud—poured down her life-giving seed. The strength of immortality was imparted to humankind through these herbs, as remedies were prepared so that people might live a hundred autumns. The boar, wise in the ways of plants, and the mongoose, knowing the secrets of remedies, were summoned. Serpents and Gandharvas, masters of herbal lore, were called upon for their help. Birds, swans, and all winged creatures who knew the Angirasa plants, along with the Raghaṭa and the wild animals who roamed the forests and knew the herbs, were invited to lend their aid. As many herbs as the cows and goats grazed upon, so many gathered herbs were asked to grant their protection. All the remedies known by physicians among men were brought forth, universal in their healing power. Flowering, blossoming, and fruit-bearing plants, and even those without fruit, like mothers offering milk, were invoked to grant freedom from harm. From the afflicted, the fivefold and tenfold fetters were removed, along with the snare of Yama and all divine transgressions, freeing them from the bonds of suffering. Then, the attention turned to conflict and the protection of the people. Indra, the powerful, heroic Shakra, the breaker of cities, was invoked to grind down the enemy, just as thousands of hostile armies were struck down. A foul cord was cast upon the hostile army, swelling up and making them foul, while smoke revealed the fire within them, causing fear to grow in their hearts. Sacred trees—Ashvattha, Khadira, and Arjuna—were called to cut off the foes, to devour them, and break them like brittle reeds. The slayer was summoned to strike them down with weapons, binding them together in a great net and shattering them like swift arrows. This net, spread in the sky and anchored to the earth and directions, was the weapon with which Shakra struck down the armies of the Dasyus. The net of mighty Shakra, possessor of horses, was vast and powerful, subduing all enemies so that none escaped. Indra's net was invoked to envelop the world and all adversaries in darkness. Fever, fierce growth, distress, banishment, fatigue, weariness, and delusion were sent to envelop the enemies. Bound with the snares of death, they were delivered to the messengers of Yama, agents of destruction, to be led away. Thousands upon thousands were slain, reduced to grass by the might of the Slayer. The Sādhyas, Rudras, Vasus, and Ādityas each raised a net-staff with power, spreading the net with the strength of all the gods above. The Angirases were called to strike the army in the middle and on the earth. The forest trees, woodland beings, herbs, grasses, and all creatures—two-footed and four-footed—were sent forth to strike down the hostile army. Gandharvas, Apsarases, serpents, gods, ancestors, and all beings, seen and unseen, were summoned to aid in the destruction. The snares of death, once seized, would not release, and a thousandfold pitfall was set to destroy the army. A heated libation was kindled with fire, offerings made a thousand times. Bhava, Pṛśnibāhu, and Śarva were invoked to strike down the hostile army. The enemies were cast into the grasp of death, hunger, decay, slaughter, and fear. Indra, with his two thunderbolts, and Śarva, were called to strike down the foes. The defeated enemies fled in terror, driven away by the sacred word. Bṛhaspati repelled them, ensuring none would release the faithful. Their weapons fell from their hands, arrows could not be aimed, and in their trembling, their arrows struck their own vital parts. They cried out together, and heaven, earth, and the midspace, with all the deities, stood against them. Disconnected from kin and place, obstacles arose between them, and they approached death. The divine chariot was described: its horses were the four directions, sacrificial cakes formed its foreparts, hooves were the midspace, and the upper space was the yoke. Heaven and earth became its wings, seasons its reins, regions between its attendants, and speech its path. The year was the chariot, half-year its seat, shining ones its fires at the front. Indra was the left shaft, and the Moon served as charioteer. From this chariot, victory was sought—conquer, surpass, unite, and be victorious! The blue-red one was invoked to subdue adversaries, and the prayer was offered: “May these win, may my adversaries be overcome!” The narrative then turned to cosmic mysteries. Questions were asked: From where did those two calves of Virāj arise? Which world, which part of the earth, gave birth to them? The two calves of Virāj arose from the waters, and the inquiry was made—by which one were they milked? He who made the waters cry out in greatness created the womb, lying with three bends. The wish-fulfilling calf, Virāj, made his forms hidden away. Three great ones were spoken of, with the fourth dividing speech; the wise, through sacred knowledge and austerity, understood where the one is yoked, where the one resides. Around the great one, the Sāmans were arranged, five above the sixth. The great arose from the great one; the source of the great meter was questioned. The great meter was measured by the measure, made above the mother's measure. Māyā was born from Māyā, with Mātalī around Māyā. Upon the likeness of Vaiśvānara, heaven pressed down upon both worlds, restrained by Agni. From the sixth, the hymns proceeded, moving toward the sixth day. Six questions were asked of sage Kaśyapa, fit to answer and having yoked what is to be yoked. Virāj was called the father of Brahman, and a share was sought among friends. That which, when fallen away, sacrifices follow, approaching her who is being approached—by whose vow and impulse the yakṣa moves—she is Virāj, known to the seers in the highest heaven. Thus, in reverent invocation and deep questioning, the story unfolds: from the awakening of the herbs and the healing of humankind, to the divine net cast against enemies, and onward to the cosmic mysteries of creation and speech, all is woven together in the tapestry of Sanātana Dharma.