With gentle hands and sacred intent, the healer began his work, invoking the power of ancient mantras to draw away disease from every part of the afflicted one. He moved from the eyes, nostrils, ears, and chin, from the head and brain, and from the very tongue—removing the blight that troubled these places. His prayers continued, drawing out illness from the neck, the crown of the head, the cough and throat, from shoulders, flesh, and arms, so that no part would remain touched by suffering. He did not stop there. From the heart, from the coverings of the lungs, from the sides, sinews, spleen, and liver, he called upon the healing power to remove every trace of disease. Even the hidden places—the intestines, rectum, inner parts, belly, flanks, and navel—were not forgotten, as the healer’s words swept away all that consumed the body. Down to the thighs, bones, heels, feet, hips, and buttocks, he continued, determined to remove the consuming disease entirely. He invoked healing from the urine, the generative organs, from the hair and nails, and from the entirety of the person—leaving no corner untouched. In every limb, at every hair, at every joint, wherever disease might hide in the skin, he called upon the healing of Kashyapa to cleanse and restore, banishing all affliction. Turning then to the mind itself, he addressed the lord of thought, bidding him depart, asking desire to move elsewhere, and to look far from misfortune, so that the mind of the living one might become manifold and free. Having thus prepared the body and mind, the people approached the mighty one, the wielder of the thunderbolt, Indra. With united hearts and minds, they pressed the Soma and offered it in sacrifice, adorning the renowned Indra with their devotion. Even the wolf, restrained, was adorned in his path, and Indra, accepting their praise, was invoked to come near, radiant with insight. They marveled at Indra’s deeds, asking, "What has not been done by him? What is his manliness?" For Indra’s fame as the slayer of Vritra was known through all generations; there was none who had not heard of his heroic acts. They called upon Indra, the bringer of wealth, the lord of men, the true sovereign in battle, whom all call upon from every quarter in times of need. They praised him as wondrous, mighty, thunderbolt in hand, destroyer of foes, and asked him to scatter for them cattle, horses, and chariots, granting them the prize that cannot be defeated. To Indra, the ancient drinkers offered their praises; the skillful ones, in harmony, sang together, and even the Rudras extolled the primordial one. Indra’s strength and heroic power had grown through the exhilarating pressed Soma, and as in former times, the mighty ones praised his greatness today. With longing for greatness, they approached Indra, offering their desires and prayers, hoping they would rise and ascend with their offerings. The hero was exalted by their prayers, his glory increasing day by day, even when he was already great. They yoked the two steeds to the broad-charioted song, drawing Indra forth with words of inspiration. In their rites, they chose Agni as their messenger, the wise priest who knows all things, to preside over the sacrifice. With offerings, they invoked Agni, lord of the people, beloved bearer of oblations. They called upon Agni to bring the gods to the well-laid altar, for he was the priest most worthy of praise. Agni was praised and honored, shining and dispelling darkness, powerful and kindled like a mighty bull or a swift horse bearing the gods. Those with offerings sought him always, and they kindled Agni with mighty ones, his light shining greatly. With songs, radiant in brilliance, they invoked Agni for help, for wealth, and as a shield for good guidance. They invited him with the other fires, offering him the seat prepared for the most worthy priest. To Agni, son of strength, Angiras, the ladles moved at the sacrifice, seeking the ancient child of nourishment, his hair anointed with ghee. They prayed that their hymns would increase Agni, praising his brightness, purity, and wisdom. Agni, honored by thousands, had spread like the ocean, his greatness true, his power praised in sacrifice and sovereignty. They asked Indra to grant them all offerings in every assembly, that prayers and libations might approach him, the supreme slayer of Vritra, the most praised. Indra was hailed as the foremost giver of wealth, established in truth and lordship, chosen for the greatness of the powerful son. Victorious in all contests, destroyer of curses, creator of universal triumph, he surpassed all hostile challengers. His force, swift and powerful, moved across the earth like a child to its mother, and with his wrath, he shattered all opponents, conquering Vritra. They invoked for Indra the ageless, unerring leader, the swift victor and guide, the unconquered charioteer, the mighty Tugrya. He was king of peoples, chariot-rider without blemish, conqueror of all battles, eldest, and slayer of Vritra. Indra, the wise, was adorned for help, unmatched in power, the thunderbolt in his hand radiant as the sun in the vast sky. Indra’s strength was vast, his power and wisdom great, the thunderbolt sharpened by his intellect. Heaven grew strong through his manliness, earth increased his fame, and the waters and mountains urged him onward. Vishnu, the mighty, praised him; Mitra and Varuna honored him; his host rejoiced, following Marut. For his wrath, all peoples bowed, just as rivers bow to the ocean.