In the Atharva Veda, a seeker lifts his voice in prayer, yearning for release from sin and misfortune. He reflects, “If I have approached one who is unfortunate, or one who has bathed, or one who has lost a child, let all my sin depart from me, and let wealth remain.” He invokes the healing power of plants, praying that whatever name was taken from him—whether given to ancestors or offered in sacrifice—may the herbs release him from every sin and harmful message. He calls upon the divine, asking that the herbs, by their power, by the Brahman, by the sacred Ṛks, and by the milk of the seers, deliver him from divine sin, ancestral name-taking, every message, and all expiation. He likens his plea to the wind that scatters dust from the earth and the clouds from the sky, asking, “O Brahman, drive away all my misfortune.” He addresses the spell itself: “Depart, crying not, bound like a she-ass; go to your makers, released by the Brahman who possesses power.” He recognizes the path of witchcraft, saying, “By it we lead you; sent forth, we send you back. Go by this path; break, as a barren woman’s procession, manifold and cunning.” He urges the spell to go far away on the path of light, to make its dwelling elsewhere, to cross difficult places and not linger. He asks that, like the wind uprooting trees, all harmful forces be cast down, but not touch cow, horse, or man. He calls upon the spell to turn back to its makers and awaken them to childlessness. He prays that whatever spell has been buried—in sacrificial grass, cremation ground, field, or invoked in the household fire as a cooked offering—may the wise and guiltless overcome it. He declares, “We have discovered and recognized the enmity that was brought, awakened, and buried—let it return from where it came, like a horse, and let the doer of the spell not harm our people.” He proclaims, “We have iron axes in our house; we know your many forms in the spell. Rise up and depart, stranger—what do you seek here?” He threatens, “I will cut off your neck and your feet, O spell. Run away! May Indra and Agni protect us, those who have offspring among people.” He seeks mercy from Soma, king and lord of beings, Mitra, and the Bhūtas. He calls upon Bhava and Sarva to be gracious for any evil done, for the spell cast, and for wrongs committed, wishing the divine weapon to strike like lightning. Whatever form the spell takes—two-footed, four-footed, many-formed, or eight-footed—he asks it to depart to a distant place. Marked and bearing all misfortune, he urges it to recognize its maker as a daughter knows her father. He commands, “Depart, O spell, do not remain; go as if following a wounded track. You are the prey, and the hunter is after you; he should not cut you down.” He observes that one strikes the former dweller, taking back what was given, and another, striking the first, is struck in turn by the next. He calls out, “Hear my word; come here from wherever you are. Let it return to the one who made you.” He laments, “The killing of the innocent is truly terrible, O spell—do not slay our cow, horse, or man. Wherever you are hidden, we raise you up; become lighter than a leaf.” If the spell is covered in darkness, wrapped in a net, he prays for all such spells to be destroyed and sent back to the maker. He calls for the destruction of the spell, the snare, and the one who sets it against his people, wishing the spell to perish and not remain, and that those who make spells be struck down. He seeks freedom, “Just as the sun is freed from darkness, as night abandons the signs of dawn, so do I cast off all evil and the spell, as an elephant shakes off dust.” Turning from these prayers against misfortune, the seeker contemplates the mystery of creation. He wonders, “By what was the heel of man brought forth? By what was the flesh gathered? By what were the ankles made, the fingers, the joints, and the hollows? By what were the insteps formed, and what supports them in the middle?” He asks, “From what did they make the lower and upper ankles, both having bones? The shanks they placed with Nirṛti; where are the joints of the knees, and who knows that?” He observes, “The fourfold is joined, ending in union; above the knees is the loose trunk. Who created the hips and thighs, forming the strong foundation?” He ponders, “How many gods, and which among them, fashioned the chest and neck? How many breasts did they assign, who made the shoulders, and how many backs did they construct?” He asks, “Which god gathered his arms, saying, ‘Let us make them strong and capable’? Who placed his shoulders and set them firmly?” He wonders, “Who pierced the seven openings—head, two ears, two nostrils, two eyes, and mouth? By whose greatness do all beings, four-footed and two-footed, move everywhere?” He reflects, “The tongue was placed between the jaws, speech set upon the earth. Dwelling within the worlds, who, wearing forms, truly knows this?” He asks, “Who made his brain, forehead, crown, and first skull-bone? Having constructed the jaw, which god ascended to the sky?” He ponders pleasures and pains, abundant dreams, crowded sleep and weariness, and wonders why a person bears fierce joys and delights. He asks, “From where do pain and relief, destruction and folly arise? From where do success, prosperity, decline, intelligence, and cries come?” He wonders, “Who placed the waters in him, enveloped in brightness, flowing in many streams, born to run like rivers—fierce, reddish, blood-red, coppery, smoky, rising upward, downward, and across the person—who made them?” He asks, “Who gave him form, greatness, and a name? Who set forth his movement, his sign, and his behaviors?” He wonders, “Who established breath in him, who the outgoing and diffusive airs? Which god placed the equalizing breath within the person?” He asks, “Who placed sacrifice within him, which god is established in the person? What is truth in him, what is falsehood, whence comes death, and whence immortality?” He wonders, “Who clothed him, who allotted his lifespan? Who gave him strength and swiftness?” He asks, “By whom did the waters spread, by whom was the dawn made to shine? By whom was the morning kindled, and by whom was evening given?” He wonders, “Who placed the seed in him, saying, ‘Let the thread be stretched’? Who poured wisdom into him, who set the arrow and the dancer in him?” Thus, the seeker’s prayers move from the banishment of misfortune and spells to the deepest mysteries of the human form and the cosmos, seeking to know the divine powers that shaped every aspect of existence.