Listen now to the tale woven through these ancient verses, a story of gods and mortals, of offerings and wisdom, of kings and their people, all under the vast gaze of Indra, the surpasser of all. Indrani, consort of mighty Indra, spoke of her distance from Vrishakapi, declaring she had found no delight in his friendship. Though Vrishakapi’s offerings were dear among the gods and went forth with devotion, Indra stood above all, his greatness undiminished. Revati, wife of Vrishakapi, blessed with good sons and daughters-in-law, witnessed Indra, the bull among gods, consuming some beloved, well-prepared oblation, a sign again that Indra surpasses all. Abundance was present: fifteen oxen cooked together with twenty, and the fullness of the feast satisfied both bellies, a symbol of prosperity under Indra’s favor. Like a bull with sharp horns bellowing among the herds, Indra, the churner, brought joy to the hearts of those for whom the inspired one prepared the sacred offering. In every act, Indra’s supremacy was clear. There were signs and mysteries in the world of men and gods. Some, whose thighs quivered within, never lay down to rest, while others, whose hairy part stretched forth as they sat, did find repose. These riddles, too, pointed to Indra’s surpassing nature. Indra and Vrishakapi together knew the one who had been slain, the possessor of wealth. With a new, sharpened knife, Indra took up the offering placed upon the kindling, presiding over the sacred act. He came searching, observing, seeking both Dasa and Arya, drinking the pressed Soma, drawing near to the steadfast and unshaken. In all directions, Indra surpassed all. Whether in desert or forest, no matter how many yojanas stretched between, the call was sent: “Come closer, Vrishakapi, as the sun sets, enter the house.” The invitation was for good fortune, for the return home along the path, even for the one who eats dreams. Indra’s presence was ever above all. Questions lingered: when Vrishakapi journeyed northward to Indra’s house, where was the spotted deer, and what path did the mother take to birth her calf? Parshurha, a woman by name, bore twenty children, her womb and belly swelling in fortune. Indra’s greatness echoed through all these wonders. Now, hear this, O people: Narashansa is to be praised. Sixty thousand and ninety Kauramas were placed among the Rusamas, a testament to abundance and order. Pravahana’s camels, twelve in number, carried brides, and the chariot’s body soared, touching the sky, never descending. For these riches—hundreds of necklaces, garlands, horses, and thousands of cows—desire and striving arose. The wise Rebha was called to speak, like a bird upon a ripe tree, his words chattering when the tongue was lost, sharp as a razor on a whetstone. The Rebhas, thoughtful and strong like bulls, protected their cows and sons, ensuring safety and prosperity. Rebha, wise in the ways of wealth and cattle, was urged to bring forth thought and utter speech before the gods, as a skilled sailor crosses the waters. To the king of all peoples, to the immortal god Vaiśvānara, Parikṣit was to offer well-composed praise. Boundaries were set and security established, the highest seat was claimed, and the Kauravya lord spoke with his wife, making a household. In King Parikṣit’s realm, the wife asked her husband about the missing curds, while ripe barley withdrew to its hole, and the people prospered. Indra awakened the poet, urging him to rise and move among the people, asking not to praise the fierce one, but instead to fill every enemy. In this land, may cows, horses, and men be born, and may Pūṣan, giver of a thousand gifts, take his seat. Indra was beseeched to protect the cows and their herdsman from harm and from the power of hostile men or thieves. With auspicious hymns and speech, the people prayed for delight and for their voices never to falter, whether in forest or at any time. Among mortals, the one skilled in assemblies, wise in councils, a sacrificer and a man, was first established by the gods as the devourer of hosts and as the Sun. He who surpasses kin and seeks to overcome companions is watched, for when the eldest lacks wisdom, he is deemed the lowest. When the steadfast son of a noble man rises, the sage speaks and the Gandharva utters his desired speech. Among men, the swiftness of the Paṇi and the godless Dāśuri is noted, yet the wise and eternal remain distant from such as these. Some gods did not sacrifice and gave away to others, yet having gone to heaven like the Sun, Maghavan—another name for Indra—never abandons his devotees. Among the priests and chanters, those whose eyes are unwashed, unadorned, without gold or necklace, are recognized in ritual, as are those who are well adorned, golden, and noble. Maidens with broad palms, adorned and splendid in every direction, are also counted among the worthy chanters. Even the queen, who goes to battle with well-being, and the tireless and strong, are honored as ritual chanters. The queen is blessed to go forth to battle with favoring winds and well-being, with harmony between her and her in-laws in the assemblies. All that Indra has done for the king—dividing mankind, performing wondrous and diverse deeds—is fit for sacrifice. Indra, the bountiful, made the bull strong and the mortal radiant as the sun; he shattered the head of Vritra and drove away the demon Rauhiṇa. It was Indra who set the mountains in place, who entered the waters, the great slayer of Vritra. To Indra, the mighty, homage is ever due. Thus, in all these deeds and mysteries, in the prosperity of kings and the blessings upon the people, in the rituals and the very order of the world, Indra’s surpassing greatness shines forth, eternal and supreme.