Journeying onward, the departed soul is guided past the two four-eyed, mottled dogs of Yama, the Sārameyas, who stand vigilant upon the good path. Once beyond these guardians, he approaches the Fathers, those ancestors who rejoice in the company of Yama during the sacred feast. These two dogs of Yama, O King, ever watchful and stationed along the path, observe all who pass. Entrust this soul to their care, O Yama, and grant us who remain safety and freedom from harm. The messengers of Yama, with their wide noses and fig-wood hue, ever eager for offerings, roam among mortals. May these emissaries return us to the world of sunlight, restoring us to life and well-being. Some ancestors receive Soma as their libation, others clarified butter, and for others still, honey flows in abundance. May the departed join those blessed ones, O gods, and partake of their offerings. Let him also join those who, in ages past, were followers of truth—seers born and grown from truth, ascetics born of austerity, who have attained to Yama’s company. May he go as well to those invincible through their penances, who by their austerity reached heaven and performed great deeds. Let him join the heroes who fell in battle for their people, those who gave a thousand gifts, and the mighty warriors who laid down their bodies for others. May he also reach the thousand-guided sages, the seers and ascetics who guard the Sun, born of austerity and wisdom. O Earth, be gentle and unshaking beneath him; grant him a secure and broad resting place. Lay him down in your vast, unconfined embrace, and let the offerings he made in life flow sweetly for him now. I call to you with my mind and heart—come, dwell in these homes once more. Go forth together with the Fathers, together with Yama; may gentle winds bring you here favorably. May the Maruts bear you upward, may those who lift souls help you ascend. Be cooled and refreshed, O child, as rain moistens the earth, and may the gentle goat soothe you. Rising up, may your essence be restored to life, strength, skill, and vitality. Let your mind return to its source, then run joyfully to the Fathers. Let not your mind be drawn away to the lunar cycles, nor your senses, nor your vital sap. Let no part of your body or limbs remain behind; let all be whole. Let neither tree nor the great divine Earth weigh upon you. Find your place among the Fathers, among the kings of Yama. Should any part of you—breath, life, or other essence—have wandered far, may your gathered ancestors restore it, piece by piece, to wholeness. The living ones mourned as his journey began, carrying him from house and village. Death, the wise messenger of Yama, led his life-breaths to join the Fathers. If any evil ones have mingled among the Fathers, moving as kin but unoffered, let them—who snatch away offerings and bear fire—be driven far from this sacred rite. May the Fathers themselves enter here, making a pleasant resting place, bestowing long life. May we, offering our oblations to them, live many autumns, never waning in strength. The cow, whose milk nourishes all, is pressed for you; by her, may the one who sat here in life become the sustainer of his people. Cross over now, whether by the well-horsed, well-served path, or by the newer way of the bearers. Let only the one who struck you and is to be slain find that fate; let him not take any other share. Yama lies farther, Vivasvat nearer; beyond that, nothing more is seen. On Yama’s sacrifice you have been placed for me; Vivasvat has stretched you upon the earth. They separated the immortal from mortals, making a distinction for Vivasvat. The two Ashvins carried away what was given, and Saranyu abandoned her twin children. Whether buried, placed above, burned, or left exposed, let Agni bring all these Fathers here to partake of the oblation. Those burned by fire and those untouched by it, who rejoice in heaven by their own power—O Jātavedas, you know them if any do. May they graciously accept the sacrifice and offering. Do not burn him too fiercely, O Agni; do not scorch his body. Let your force remain in the logs; let what is bright rest upon the earth. I offer him this resting place; let him who has come here be counted as mine. Yama, knowing, affirms: let this one stand by my wealth here. Let us measure out the span of our lives, so that we do not fall short of what is due. May we reach a hundred autumns in fullness. Let us measure out this span of life, again and again, always striving not to fall short, so that we may reach a hundred autumns before our time is done. May I not be separated from my mother; may I attain the realm of heaven and be blessed with long life. May I not depart before my allotted time, nor fall among a hundred arrows, nor die before my hour. Breath, outgoing breath, diffused breath, life, and sight for seeing the sun—by the unerring path, may you go to the ancestors under Yama’s rule. Those who were foremost, who rejoiced and transcended, casting aside hatred and childlessness, discovered the world of heaven, shining at the summit of the sky. The sky is full of water, the middle region abundant, and the third—the highest heaven—is where the ancestors dwell. To those who are the fathers of our fathers, our grandfathers, who entered the vast midspace and watch over earth and sky, we offer our reverent homage. Now, you will not see the sun in the sky again. As a mother wraps her child, so may the earth enfold you in her gentle embrace.