In the beginning, a wondrous being placed milk among all creatures, becoming the lord and protector of life itself. Even Death, in its solemn majesty, moved through the rites of royal consecration, and the king was urged to accept this sacred truth. The call rang out: “Go forth boldly, do not falter! Be fierce and wise, conquer your rivals, and stand firm. The gods have spoken in your favor, O one who increases the circle of friends.” All beings, adorned in their own splendor, gathered around the steadfast one, radiant and resplendent. This was the great name of the mighty Asura—immortal, of manifold forms—who stood unwavering. Like a tiger among tigers, the chosen one was urged to stride forth, traversing all directions, drawing the desire of all waters—celestial and milky alike. The heavenly waters, rejoicing with milk whether high in the atmosphere or flowing on earth, were invoked. With their radiance, the king was sprinkled, consecrated anew. Thus, the increaser of friends was blessed, and Savitar was called to make him so. Embracing the tiger’s might, the people urged on the lion for great fortune. As steadfast as the ocean, the strong one stood firm, and the panther was cleansed within the waters. Then, a living one was invited, protected, to the imperishable mouth of the mountain—an enclosure granted by all the gods for the sake of life itself. This protector stood vigilant: guardian of men, cows, horses, and even the weak. The ointment, too, was invoked as a shield against sorcery—a healing balm, knowing the nectar, the food of the living, and the green medicine. When this ointment, spreading from limb to limb, touched even the harshest wounds, it was asked to drive away disease as fiercely as a tooth bites through. No curse, witchcraft, lamentation, or poison could reach the one who bore this ointment. It protected against evil incantations, bad dreams, misdeeds, filth, and the fierce pain of the eye. Knowing these truths, the speaker affirmed: “I speak truth, not falsehood, O ointment. May I keep safe horse, cow, myself, and your man.” Fever, consumption, and burning were said to be the three servants of the ointment, whose father was Trikakud, the eldest of the mountains. Born of Trikakud, rising beyond the Himalaya, this ointment subdued all sorcerers and their works. Whether called Trikakud’s or Yamuna’s, both auspicious names were invoked for protection. From the winds, atmosphere, lightning, and light itself was the golden-born conch created—a slender, radiant shell, invoked for protection from harm. Born before the shining ones, from the ocean’s depths, the conch struck down demons and overcame all obstacles. With its sound, disease and ill will were driven away, perpetual enemies scattered, and the conch was praised as a universal medicine. Born in heaven, from the ocean, and carried by rivers, the golden conch was hailed as a jewel that ferries one safely through life. It was born from the ocean’s heart, from the sun who slew Vritra, and was called to protect from the weapons of gods and demons alike. Among the golden ones, the conch alone shone, born from Soma, gleaming on the chariot and radiant in the quiver, carrying its devotees to long life. This slender bone of the gods moved in the waters by its own nature. It was bound for life, brilliance, strength, and longevity—a hundred autumns of protection. The slender one was invoked for steadfast guardianship. The mighty bull, too, was celebrated: he upheld the earth and sky, the broad atmosphere, and all six directions, entering every world. Indra was this bull, watching over cattle, measuring out the paths with his triple wheel, and milking the past, the future, and all worlds, keeping the vows of the gods. Indra, born among men, moved within as the heated Gharma, burning and glowing with energy. He was entreated not to leave the noble house where good offspring dwelled, nor to partake of the Anaḍuha, the cow not to be milked, with wisdom. The Anaḍuha, which must not be milked, yielded the world of good deeds, filled from the front by the purifying one. Its rain was the stream, the Maruts its udder, sacrifice its milk, and the fee its milking. If one’s lord was not the master of sacrifice, if the sacrifice was not his own, if there was neither giver nor receiver—yet if he conquered and supported all, he was asked to reveal the nature of Gharma, whether four-footed or not. By Gharma, the gods had ascended to heaven, leaving their bodies and reaching the navel of immortality. With this, the aspirant sought the world of good deeds, through the vow and austerity of Gharma. Indra, as form, Agni as carrier, Prajapati as the supreme, and Virāj—all entered the universal fire, the Vaiśvānara, and the Anaḍuha, making firm and upholding all. At the middle of the Anaḍuha, the carrier was placed, stretching from east to west. One who knew the seven milking places of the Anaḍuha, in their proper order, would gain progeny and the world, as the seven seers once knew. With their feet they pressed, with their shanks they dug for food; by their toil, both Anaḍuha and the ploughman drew near the sap. These twelve nights were called the vow of Prajapati; whoever knew that Brahman, understood the vow of the Anaḍuha. It was milked in the evening, morning, and midday, all around; one who knew the correct times knew the fullness of its gifts. And finally, to the healer: “You are the healer—even of the broken and the cut. Let the undeceiving one bring healing. Whatever is injured, shattered, or crushed in your body, may the Creator, with good fortune, unite and bind together, part by part. Let your marrow join with marrow, your joints with joints, and what has fallen from your flesh, together with the bone, grow again. Let marrow join with marrow, skin with skin; let bone grow with blood, and flesh with flesh.” Thus, through these sacred invocations, the beings, the elements, the medicines, and the gods themselves were called upon to maintain the order, health, and protection of the world and all who dwell within it.