In ancient times, when the sacred fires were kindled and the hymns resounded, the wise invoked Indra, the mighty conqueror of cows, wealth, and horses. They called upon him to hear their sacrifice, longing for his leadership and delight, especially in horses, to guide them forward. Turning to the healing powers of nature, they addressed Kuṣṭha, the strongest among plants, born upon the mountain and famed as the destroyer of fever. They pleaded for Kuṣṭha to drive away fever from their midst. This plant, born on the heights as the offspring of the eagle beyond the Himalaya, heard their call and came bearing wealth, for it knew well how to destroy fever. In the third heaven, the aśvattha tree stood as a divine abode. Here, the gods discovered the essence of immortality—the Kuṣṭha plant. A golden ship, with golden bindings, moved across the sky, and within it the gods found the flower of immortality, Kuṣṭha. The paths, the oars, and the ships themselves were golden, and by these means Kuṣṭha was brought forth. The supplicants implored the plant: “Carry away this Kuṣṭha of mine, O plant—remove it, make it a remedy for me.” Kuṣṭha, born among the gods and a friend of Soma, set apart and holy, was asked to be gracious, to protect breath, life, and sight. Though born north of the Himalaya, Kuṣṭha was led to the eastern people, where its highest names were distributed. The highest name belonged to Kuṣṭha, as did the highest name to its father. The plant was entreated to destroy all disease and render fever powerless. It struck down the diseases of the head, the fluids of the eyes and body, and removed all ailments, bringing divine strength and virile power. Then, the story turned to Silācī, whose mother was Night, whose father was Sky, and whose grandfather was Aryaman. She was called Silācī, sister to the gods. Whoever drank of her lived; she protected and nourished people, supporting them. She grew from tree to tree, flourishing like a maiden, victorious and steadfast, known as the touch-healer. Whatever harm had been done—by staff, by arrows, or by force—Silācī was the remedy, releasing the afflicted from guilt. From the auspicious fig tree, the sacred fig, the acacia, and the banyan, from the leaf itself, Arundhati came forth. She was golden-hued, fortunate, sun-colored, and most beautiful; proceeding with truth, she was called Remedy. Golden-hued and powerful, with shaggy hair and a sharp glance, Silācī was the sister of the waters or of lac, and the wind had become her soul. Her name was Silācī, O Kāninī; her father was Ajababhru. She had yoked the bridle of Yama’s dark horse. The bridle, fallen, clung to the trees; transformed into a flowing, winged being, Arundhati arrived. The narrative then shifted to the origins of creation: Brahman was born first, before all, spreading forth with radiance. Vena followed, modeling deep foundations. From existence and non-existence, offspring were brought forth. Those who were once unattainable, who performed the first deeds, were invoked to not harm the heroes present, as was established from the beginning. With a thousand streams, they sounded together in the sky and heaven, their tongues honeyed. Their spies never closed their eyes, always watchful at every step, binding the paths. The supplicants called for strength, asking to break through obstacles, invoking the thirteenth month, the house of Indra, for victory. With these prayers, they sought to drive away hostile ones, offering svāhā, and called upon Soma and the Rudras—sharp-weaponed, sharp-pointed, gracious—to grant happiness. Repeatedly, they invoked Soma and the Rudras to remove hostility and bring joy. They asked to be released from evil and blame, for their sacrifice to be accepted, and for immortality to be placed among them. The missiles of the eye, mind, speech, and austerity—their intentions and thoughts of those who wished harm—were to be turned back. Whoever sought to harm with eye, mind, thought, or intention, Agni was invoked to turn those intentions back, with svāhā. They surrendered to the house of Indra, entering it with all that was theirs, recognizing its all-encompassing nature—man, soul, body. To Indra’s protection and armor, they dedicated themselves, joining fully with all that was theirs. They sought Indra’s shield and protection, entering and joining with it completely. Finally, they prayed to be brought forward, not left behind in hostility, and for the right-hand path to remain with them. They offered homage to prosperity, to non-failure, and to the absence of enmity. Reverence was given to enmity, to the sacrificer, and to the binder, begging not to be destroyed or distressed. They prayed that destruction made by the gods, by day and night, be averted, so they might pass beyond enmity, honoring the absence of hostility. Seeking Sarasvatī, Anumati, and Bhaga, they called upon these deities to grant words that were favored, sweet, and pleasing in the invocations. With speech and mind yoked to Sarasvatī, they sought the favor of faith, granted by tawny Soma, for whomever they approached. They prayed that neither destruction nor speech be taken from them, and asked Indra and Agni to bring wealth. They wished that all who were willing to give would turn away enmity, ensuring peace and prosperity for all.