The ritual begins with a profound act of purification. The impurity is removed from the head, the crown is strengthened, and the cleansing waters of the boundless river flow over the one who seeks to be made pure—thus, they become fit to participate in the sacred sacrifice. A solemn invocation follows: Death is addressed directly and commanded to depart, to take a path separate from that which leads to the gods. The speaker, aware and attentive, bids Death to go, wishing that many heroes accompany him on his way. Now, the living consciously turn away from the dead. On this day, the invocation of the gods brings auspiciousness. The living step forward, ready for dance and laughter, confident in their strength, and prepared to speak in the assembly. A boundary is then established for the living, ensuring that none from the other side may cross over for this purpose. The wish is for the living to enjoy a full span of life—hundreds of autumns—separated from death by a mountain’s breadth. The ritual calls upon the participants to rise, choosing old age as their allotted share. Through ordered striving, they are to stand firm. The builder—one who ensures thriving offspring and harmonious relations—is invoked to guide their lives toward longevity. Just as days proceed one after another and the seasons follow their ordained course, so too should the latter not abandon the former. The Creator is asked to arrange the lifespans of the people in this same orderly manner. A challenge lies ahead: a stony river must be crossed. All are urged to join hands, gather their strength, and cross together. Here, those who are evil are left behind, and the wish is for all to reach the farther shore, healthy and victorious, bearing their rewards. Again, the exhortation comes: rise up and cross this flowing, stony river, leaving behind the inauspicious. In the company of the auspicious, may all reach the further shore and claim their prizes. The journey is blessed by the radiance of the universal gods. The people, pure and shining, step over the tracks of evil. Victorious, they pray to rejoice together for a hundred winters. The sages of old are remembered—they crossed over by the northern paths, filled with air, leaving behind the lower ways. Thrice seven times, they departed, stepping over death and repelling it with their feet. Those who cross over the place of death establish a longer life. Sitting together in assembly, they drive away death, so that, alive and united, they may speak again in the gathering. A special blessing is invoked for the women: let them remain unwidowed, good wives, anointing themselves with ointment and clarified butter. Free from tears, free from sickness, rich in treasures, may they be the first to ascend to the womb of birth. With offerings and sacred words, the ritual sets apart the living and the dead. The ancestral portion for the fathers is kept undiminished, and the living are released together to enjoy long lives. Attention turns to the fire—the immortal flame placed in the hearts of mortals by the ancestors. The wish is to receive this god within oneself, desiring neither to harm nor to be harmed by it. Any flesh-eaters—those who consume what is forbidden—are to be removed from the household fire. The departed are directed to the right side, and what is dear to the fathers, the self, and the priests is made dear once again. If the fire of the eldest son is not freed from flesh-eating, he consumes only what is left, taking a lesser share of wealth. Whatever he ploughs, wins, or gains does not truly belong to him until the flesh-eater is removed. Those who follow the flesh-eater become unfit for sacrifice; their splendor is destroyed, and they cannot partake of offerings. They lose the produce of the field and the milk of the cow. Again and again, mortals, driven by greedy desires, speak of distress. The wise, knowing the dangers of flesh-eaters, keep them far from the sacred fire. When a woman’s husband dies, the house is to be seized and rebuilt. The knower of sacred words is called upon to remove the flesh-eater. For any impurity or evil deed committed, the waters are invoked to cleanse, washing away all that is unclean—even what is near the fire. These waters, rising from below, flow northward, carrying creatures along divine paths. On the back of the bull-like mountain, the ancient rivers move anew. Agni, the sacred fire, is called to drive away the flesh-eater, the devourer of flesh, and to bring the offering to the gods. If the flesh-eater has entered and followed, they are transformed—made like two tigers—so that the inauspicious one may be removed, leaving only the auspicious. The divine enclosure lies within, while the boundary of men is outside. Agni, the householder’s fire, stands between the two realms. Agni is asked to carry away the life of the living, to let the dead go to the world of the ancestors, and, having driven away the enemy, to grant the departed the better path. Agni is further invoked to endure all rivals and to place their strength and wealth among the living. The Indra-fire is grasped, carrying the participants away from harm and blame. With it, they strike down the falling arrow, and with it, Rudra’s protection is sought. A bull, a raft, is also taken up to carry all away from harm and blame. Ascending the boat of Savitar, the wish is to cross safely by six broad paths. Day and night, the fire seeks, bearing the home, standing firm as a bridge, heroic. It brings the healthy, cheerful bed, and is wished to become fragrant, like a yoke that unites. Those cut off from the gods live always in sin. Agni, like a horse, chases the flesh-eaters away, as one drives reeds from the field. The faithless, greedy for wealth, who gather as flesh-eaters, always fill the vessels of others. Though the mind may seem to fall, it returns again and again. The wise, recognizing flesh-eaters, keep them away from the fire. To the animals belongs the black ewe; to the flesh-eater, lead is their share, and the moon is theirs, it is said. For yourself, offer ground beans as the oblation, and join with the forest. Indra once worshipped with a bundle of reeds, sesame husks, a stick, and a reed. That became the kindling, and the Agni of Yama was kindled with it. When the sun returns facing west, the wise one enters the path. He assigns the breaths elsewhere, and with long life, releases the living here. Now, the focus turns to the union of man and woman. One stands over the other with skins; here, the beloved is summoned, the one who strives. As they first met in the beginning, may that same span of life be theirs together in Yama’s realm. May their sight, strength, radiance, and vigor be as before. When Agni is kindled, he joins with the body, and as food is cooked, the pair become united. Together in this world, together on the path of the gods, together may they meet in Yama’s realms. Purified by purifiers, they are to call upon this union, if the seed has arisen between them. Finally, the sons of the Waters are invoked to gather and surround the living one, for they are life-giving. Assembled together, they are to share the immortal food, which their mother prepares for them. Thus, the ritual journey is complete: purification, separation from death, the upholding of sacred boundaries, the removal of impurity, the honoring of fire, the union of loved ones, and the blessing of long, harmonious life under the watchful eyes of the gods.