Hear now the sacred narrative woven from these ancient verses: In a time of need, the people called out to Wrath, the mighty and ever-victorious force, urging him to come near and wield his thunderbolt on their behalf. “Turn towards us, O Wrath,” they prayed, “so that together we might strike down the Dasyus, our adversaries. Be attentive to our call.” With reverence, they invited this power to advance from the right, to stand with them in battle, to sweep away many obstacles and foes. In gratitude, they offered the foremost portion of the sweet drink, proposing that both they and Wrath share the first libation together in secret, sealing their alliance. Turning then to Agni, the radiant fire, they implored, “Drive away from us the burning sin—cast it far off, and in its place, grant us wealth. For the sake of good fields, safe paths, and prosperity, we worship you. Let the burning sin depart from us.” They prayed for the blessings of their own lords and the deities, asking that Agni’s favor manifest in their lives, and that with Agni’s blessings, they might be born anew, free from the consuming heat of sin. As Agni’s mighty rays spread in all directions, so too did they wish their burdens to be scattered and dissolved. They invoked Agni, who faces all sides and encompasses all things, to carry them across the sea of hatred and enmity as a boat ferries travelers over a river, ensuring their well-being and deliverance from all that burns and afflicts the soul. Their worship turned to the sacred Odana, the sacrificial porridge, which they described with reverence: “Brahman is its head, Bṛhat its back, Vāmadeva its belly, Odana its sides; the metres are its wings, truth its mouth. Born from austerity, the sacrificial porridge is spread forth upon it.” Those who partake of this offering, pure and cleansed by wind, ascend to the pure world beyond, untouched by fire, where in the heavenly realms, abundant feminine grace awaits them. For those who cook and offer this spreading Odana, there is no return to the mortal cycle; they sit with Yama, the lord of death, mingle with the gods, and rejoice with the Gandharvas and Soma-drinkers. Yama does not take away their seed; instead, they become charioteers, soaring by chariot or as birds to the sky. The most excellent of sacrifices, the spreading Odana, grants entry to heaven. Its blessings are likened to lotus ponds encircling the soul, streams swelling with honey, and lakes of ghee and banks of honey, filled with milk, water, and curds. Four jars, divided and filled with these nourishing essences, are offered, all swelling with honey in the heavenly world. The Odana is placed among the Brahmins, a conqueror of worlds, leading souls to heaven and never diminishing, full of its own essence. The wish-fulfilling cow of all forms is invoked, that its abundance may be theirs. They remembered Yama’s own Odana, first-born of truth, which Prajapati cooked for Brahman through austerity. By that Odana, the support and navel of the worlds, one crosses over death. The makers of beings crossed death’s threshold with it, as Yama discovered through effort and asceticism, and Brahman first cooked for Brahman. He who upheld earth, nourished all, filled the midspace with sap, and propped up the sky—by his Odana, one crosses death. From him, the months and the year were fashioned, and day and night revolve without end. He is the giver of breath, for whom the worlds flow with ghee, and the shining regions belong to him. From him arose the cooked nectar; he became lord of the Gāyatrī, and in him are established all the Vedas. By that Odana, one crosses over death. The people prayed, “Drive away those who hate, who are hostile to the gods, and all our rivals—let them be cast down. We cook this all-conquering sacrificial rice; may the gods who heed devotion listen to us.” To protect themselves, they invoked Agni Vaiśvānara, the mighty bull, to burn up with true strength any who wished them harm or sought to attack. “Whoever seeks to harm us, whether by intent or action, let him be placed between the jaws of Agni Vaiśvānara.” They stood firm against those who hunted them, who shouted in enmity, or who attacked as flesh-eaters; with force, they withstood all such threats. Demons were overpowered and struck down, and wealth was granted in their stead. The gods who laughed at thieves, who measured speed with the sun, and who dwelled in rivers and mountains—all these beings were their allies. Among demons, they declared themselves as fierce as a tiger among cattle; like a dog before a lion, demons found no refuge when confronted. They could not be overcome by demons, thieves, or forest-dwellers; wherever they entered, demons perished and no evil could approach. Those who provoked them with words were like flies to an elephant, evil-doers of little consequence and short life. Destruction would seize anyone hostile to them, as a horse-catcher seizes a horse; those angry with them would not escape the snares. They called upon the sacred herb, remembering how the ancient Atharvans, as well as Kaśyapa, Kaṇva, and Agastya, had used it to slay demons. With this herb, they drove away Apsarases and Gandharvas, and invoked the goat-horned one to destroy all demons with its fragrance. They sent the Apsarases to the rivers and streams, to uncertain fords, naming Gulgulū, Pīlā, Naladyu, fragrant with ox-balm, and Pramandanī, asking that these Apsarases, now departed, be awakened. Wherever the great aśvattha and banyan trees stood, with their crested tops, or where the green swings of Arjuna hung and the striking posts resounded, there too the Apsarases were called to be awakened. Thus, through prayer, sacrifice, and alliance with the divine, the people sought protection, abundance, and liberation, trusting in the power of Agni, the sanctity of Odana, and the aid of ancient sages and sacred herbs to drive away all harm and lead them to the heavenly realms.