In ancient times, when the threat of poison and weapons loomed, the sages invoked powerful words to render them harmless. They declared: “The arrow has lost its sap, the dart is drained, and your poison is now without vigor. Even the bow, carved from a sapless tree, is powerless.” Those who had loosed arrows, those who had struck, those who had merely sat with malice, and those who had released their weapons—all were rendered impotent. The very mountain of poison, once fierce and potent, was now subdued and made harmless. The diggers who unearthed the venom, the herb that contained it, and the mountain or hill from which it was born—all these, too, were rendered powerless. To restrain the poison, the sages gathered the water-retaining plant that grows upon the Varana tree, sprinkling it with nectar, and with this sacred act, they stilled the poison’s fury. They proclaimed: “The poison from the east is sapless, the poison from the north is sapless, and now, with nourishing gruel, even the southern poison is rendered harmless. Prepare the gruel, drink it sideways, hot and abundant. It is hunger that has harmed you; eat, and you will be safe.” To those intoxicated by poison, they cast down the intoxication like an arrow. With words, as with a potent charm, they restrained all agitation. They spoke: “We bind you with words, as one encircles a village. Stand firm and unmoved, like a tree, and you will not be harmed. Purifiers surround you, distant and unblemished. Though scattered, O herb, remain unmoved and you will be safe. Let not those first ones who acted without reaching their aim harm our heroes; let their power be set aside.” Turning to the king, the sages invoked protection and strength. “The being who placed milk among all creatures became their lord. Death itself moves within his royal consecration; let the king approve this. Go forth, do not falter—be fierce and wise, and slay your rival. Stand firm, O increaser of friends, for the gods have spoken on your behalf.” All beings adorned themselves around the steadfast one, who shone with splendor and radiance. This was the great name of the mighty Asura—immortal, of manifold forms, standing firm. “Stride forth among tigers like a tiger, traverse the great directions. May all the waters—celestial and milky—desire you. The heavenly waters that rejoice with milk, whether in the sky or on earth, I sprinkle upon you with their radiance. May Savitar make you the increaser of friends.” With these blessings, they embraced the tiger and urged the lion toward great fortune. Like the ocean, the strong one stood firm, and the panther was cleansed in the waters. They called forth the living one to the imperishable mouth of the mountain, protected by the enclosure that all the gods provided for the sake of life. “You are the protector of men and cows, you stand guard over horses and the weak. You are the guardian, the spell against sorcery, the healing ointment. You know the nectar, you are the food of the living, the green medicine.” The ointment’s touch, spreading limb to limb, drove away disease as a fierce tooth would. “No curse, no witchcraft, no lamentation, nor spreading poison, can touch the one who bears you, ointment. Protect us from evil incantations, bad dreams, misdeeds, filth, and the fierce pain of the eye.” Knowing the power of the ointment, the sage spoke truth, not falsehood: “May I keep the horse, the cow, myself, and your man safe. Fever, consumption, and burning are your servants, O ointment; and Trikakud, the eldest of mountains, is your father. When you arose from Trikakud, beyond the Himalaya, you subdued all sorcerers and their works. Whether you are of Trikakud or called Yamuna’s, by both auspicious names, protect us, ointment.” The sages then invoked the conch, born from the wind, the atmosphere, the lightning, and the light: “May the golden-born conch, slender and bright, protect us from harm. Born before the shining ones, from the ocean, the conch struck down demons and helps us overcome all obstacles. With the conch we drive away disease, ill will, and perpetual enemies. O conch, universal medicine, protect us.” They continued: “Born in heaven, from the ocean, carried by the river, may the golden-born conch, jewel that crosses over life, shield us. Born from the ocean, the jewel; born from the slayer of Vritra, the sun—may he protect us everywhere from the weapons of gods and demons. You alone among the golden ones, born from Soma, visible in the chariot, radiant in the quiver—carry us across to long life. The slender bone of the gods moves in the waters by its nature; I bind you for life, brilliance, strength, and long years. May the slender one protect you.” The tale then spoke of the bull, who supported earth, sky, and the broad atmosphere, upheld the six directions, and entered all worlds. “Indra is the bull; he watches over cattle. The triple wheel measures the paths, milking the past, the future, and the worlds, following all vows of the gods. Indra, born among men, moves within as the heated Gharma, burning and glowing. Let him not depart from the noble house with good offspring, nor eat, nor milk the Anaḍuha, being wise.” The Anaḍuha, who is not to be milked, yields the world of good deeds. The purifying one fills him, rain is his stream, the Maruts his udder, sacrifice his milk, and the fee his milking. “He whose lord is not master of sacrifice, whose sacrifice is not his own, who has neither giver nor receiver, who conquers, supports, and does all—tell us of that Gharma, striving, whether four-footed.” By the power of Gharma, by vow and austerity, the gods ascended to heaven, leaving the body and reaching the navel of immortality. “With that, let us attain the world of good deeds, by the renowned vow and austerity of Gharma.” Thus, through sacred words, acts of healing, and the invocation of divine powers, the sages ensured protection, well-being, and the triumph of life over harm for all beings.