In the ancient days, when healing was sought, the sacred herb was invoked to restore what was broken. Hair was arranged with hair, skin fitted to skin, and bone grew with blood, as the herb united what was cut. The call went forth: rise up, move ahead, stand upright—the chariot, well-wheeled and well-yoked, awaited the journey. If the chariot had fallen from its axle and broken, or if a stone had shattered it, the Ribhus, divine craftsmen, were entreated to join its parts, uniting joint with joint, just as they once assembled the chariot. The gods themselves were invoked for healing. They had placed down and raised up again; they made whole and revived anew. The winds, coming from distant shores of the river, were summoned—one to bring skill, the other to drive away harm. The Wind, universal healer and messenger of the gods, was asked to bring healing and dispel all that was harmful. Prayers were offered that the gods, the hosts of the Maruts, and all beings would protect the afflicted, keeping him free from harm. Blessings and safety were brought, along with fierce and powerful strength, to drive away disease. The healer’s hand, blessed and auspicious, was laid upon the patient; it was the universal healer, the touch that brings health. With both hands, ten fingers, and the tongue that leads speech, the healer touched, bringing health and wholeness. From the heat of Agni, the unborn one was born; he saw his begetter at the beginning. With him, the gods first attained divinity and the pure ones grew strong. Advancing with Agni to the highest heaven, bearing the leaders in their hands, the gods touched the summit of heaven and ascended together. From the earth’s surface, ascension was made to the midspace, then to heaven, and from heaven’s summit to the radiant world. Those who seek heaven do not look back; they ascend to the two worlds. The wise, who have spread the all-supporting sacrifice, rise upward. Agni, first among the gods, the eye of gods and men, was sent forth. Those who worship, united with the Bhrigus, were called to attain heaven and prosper through sacrifice. The divine, unborn one was eaten with milk and ghee, abundant and great-winged. With this offering, the world of the righteous was reached, ascending to the highest heaven. The fivefold rice was lifted with five fingers and the ladle; the head of the unborn was placed in the east, the right side in the south. Ashes were placed in the west, the left side in the north; the back was placed upward, the foundation in the fixed direction, and the middle in the center of the midspace. The cooked unborn, covered with skin, complete in all limbs and forms, was poured with clarified butter, so he might rise to the highest heaven and stand in all four directions. Then, the regions of the sky arose, the cloud-bearing winds went forth, and the mighty, roaring, cloud-born waters satisfied the earth. The powerful and generous ones looked with favor; the juices of the waters united with the plants. Showers of rain made the earth great, and various plants of all forms were born. The singer looked favorably upon the heavens; the swift currents of water arose separately, and rain poured down, giving birth to herbs of all forms. The Maruts sang forth, resounding with thunder, each in their own way, as streams of rain poured upon the earth. The Maruts raised up waters from the ocean, the mighty sun ascended the sky, and waters, driven by the bellowing of the great bull, satisfied the earth. Thunder cried out, shaking ocean and earth; rain, created by thunder, came in abundance, nourishing both lean and stout in its proper season. The generous ones, wells, and deep pools protected all; clouds, driven by the Maruts, rained upon the earth. Hope shone forth, winds blew from every direction, and clouds united over the earth. Waters, lightning, clouds, and rain protected all; the generous ones, wells, and deep pools filled the earth as clouds, driven by the Maruts, spread across the land. Agni, united with the waters and lord of the plants, was invoked so that Jātavedas might grant rain, breath, and immortality for the offspring from the sky. Prajāpati moved the waters from the ocean, stirring the sea, and let the seed of the mighty stallion swell forth, so the thunderer could make it rain. The Asura, father of all, poured down the waters; deep pools breathed, Varuṇa and the waters released the streams, and the croaking frogs spoke in the dry land. For a year, the Brahmins, observing their vows, had remained silent; now, enlivened by rain, the frogs began to speak. The frogs called for rain, swimming in the middle of the pond, spreading their four legs. Khaṇvakhā, Khaimakhā, and Tādurī called for rain, desiring the favor of the Maruts. The great vessel was poured out, wind blew with lightning, offerings were made in many ways, and herbs became joyful with water. Yet, above all, the great overseer watched as if from nearby. Whoever thought he was hidden while moving, all the gods knew him. Whoever stood, moved, deceived, went to his dwelling, or traveled abroad—even when two sat together and plotted, King Varuṇa, the third, knew it. The earth belonged to Varuṇa, as did the vast sky; the oceans were his wombs, and even one hidden in a small pool was within him. None could escape Varuṇa, not even those who crossed beyond the sky; his thousand-eyed spies moved about, seeing all the earth. King Varuṇa saw all between heaven and earth and beyond; he counted the blinking of people, just as a gambler counts his dice. Thus, the cycle of healing, sacrifice, rain, and divine oversight continued, linking earth and heaven, mortals and gods, in the eternal order.