In the ancient days, it is said, seven beings who are half-born uphold the very seed of the world. They stand firm in all directions, their places established by Viṣṇu himself. By the power of their thoughts, their minds, and their wisdom, they encircle and comprehend all things, embracing the world from every side. Yet, amid this cosmic order, a seeker confesses: “I do not truly know myself. Hidden and bound, I wander with my mind in search. But when the first-born of truth came to me, I gained a share in the sacred speech.” The immortal and the mortal are united in their origins; the immortal draws near and departs, compelled by its own nature. Ever diverging and separating, these two recognize one but not the other—such is the mystery of existence. The sacred verses, it is told, are set in the imperishable highest heaven, where all the gods have taken their seat. If one does not know this truth, what use are the verses to him? But those who do know, they are gathered together in wisdom. A prayer rises: “May the bountiful one be yet more bountiful through good pasture, and may we too become fortunate. Eat the grass, O uninjurable one, giver of all, and drink the pure water as you move.” Gaurī, the radiant one, measured out the waters—she who is one-footed, two-footed, and four-footed. Becoming eight-footed, then nine-footed, she finally became a thousand-syllabled being in the highest heaven. From her, the oceans flow forth; by her, the four directions live. From her, the imperishable streams forth, and by her, all things are sustained. A vision appears: smoke is seen from afar, as if from a fire, blown by the wind to both the far and near sides. Heroes milked the spotted cow—these were the first ordinances, the first laws. Three with braided hair are seen at their appointed times; within the year, one of them is shorn. One, with his powers, beholds all; the other’s form is unseen, though he is adorned. Speech itself is measured in four steps, but only the wise Brāhmaṇas know them. Three steps are hidden in secrecy; only the fourth is spoken by men. The wise declare: “They call him Indra, Mitra, Varuṇa, Agni; he is also the splendid-winged Garutman. Though the One is spoken of as many, they call him Agni, Yama, Mātariśvan.” The black, the tawny, the splendid-winged ones, clothed in waters, fly up to the sky. Having circled, they leave the seat of truth, and then the earth is made bright with ghee. There is a wheel with twelve spokes and one rim, three naves—who can understand this? Upon it are set three hundred and sixty pegs, unmoving though they seem to move. A prayer is offered to Sarasvatī: “That breast of yours, full and delightful, by which you nourish all desirable things—bringer of treasures, knower of wealth, bestower of good—O Sarasvatī, grant that here for our sustenance.” With sacrifice, the gods performed sacrifice—these were the first ordinances. The mighty ones attained the heaven where the ancient Sādhyas, the gods, reside. This water is the same, rising and falling with the days; the earth is quickened by rain-clouds, the heavens by fire. A call goes out: “I call for help upon Sarasvant, the divine, splendid-winged, mighty one, most visible among plants, embryo of the waters, who, approached with rains, brings satisfaction.” The Maruts are invoked: “By what beauty, by what kinship, by what common bond do you, Maruts, wish to unite? By what thought, from where have you come, shining forth, eager for wealth?” “Whose praises have delighted you, O youthful ones? Who, at the sacrifice, has turned the Maruts? Like falcons rushing through the midspace, by what great mind do we find delight?” A question is posed to Indra: “From where, O mighty Indra, have you come alone, O lord of truth? Why is it so? You ask together with the splendid ones; tell us, charioteer, what is yours for us.” “My praises and thoughts are well-pressed; my strength is aroused, my stone is ready. The Maruts command, eager for the hymn; two steeds carry you—may they bring you to us.” “We, shining in our own power, adorn ourselves and approach you, Indra, with these great ones, for you have become our own by your nature.” A challenge is remembered: “Where was your own power, Maruts, when you set me alone in the serpent-slaying? For I am fierce, strong, mighty, unconquered by the enemy, unbroken by all weapons.” “You have done much for us with your yoked ones, your united, bull-like powers. Let us do many mighty deeds, O Indra, by wisdom, when we are in your command, O Maruts.” “You slew Vṛtra, Maruts, with your own power; by your brightness you became mighty. I, wielder of the thunderbolt, made all these paths easy for Manu, shining for all.” “Unsurpassed are you, O generous one; there is no other god who knows as you do. Neither birth nor rebirth is lost to you; do as you will, O ever-growing one.” “Even with the power of one, I could accomplish what I set my mind to, if I dared. For I am fierce, knowing the Maruts, and whatever Indra desires among these, I can do.” “My praise has gladdened the Maruts, when the men made a worthy hymn for me—for Indra, the strong, the bountiful, for me, the friend; friends with their bodies and selves.” “These here shine forth before me, bearing undiminished fame. The Maruts, bright in form, will come together; may you cover me and protect me.” “Who among you, Maruts, will be my helper here? Come forth, friends, as friends to a friend. Let your wondrous thoughts flow forth; be among those who know the truths.” “When the poet invokes for the day, he makes us worthy of honor by his wisdom. Now, Maruts, let the inspired one approach; let the singer praise you with these hymns.” “This is your praise, Maruts, this song of the poet, worthy of honor, of the singer. May this one go forth for his own self; may we know this people, long-lived.” Let us now speak of that ancient greatness—for the eager one, for the birth of the bull, for the sign. Like fire kindled, like the Maruts, strong in force, like warriors in battle, do mighty deeds, O powerful ones. Ever bearing sweetness for the son, the Maruts play joyfully in assemblies. The Rudras do not harm the reverent one with their favor, nor do the self-powerful injure the sacrificer. To him whom the immortal attendants have granted wealth and nourishment, who offers oblations with devotion, the Maruts pour forth blessings like friends, with abundant waters across many regions. They have stretched out the realms with their might; their own strength moves forth, unrestrained. All beings and dwellings tremble before them; their approach is wondrous in the streaming showers. With their force, they cause the mountains to resound or shake the lofty sky; all their actions make the trees tremble, and the herbs flee as if driven by chariots. The mighty Maruts, with wise counsel, protect the unharmed and bestow good favor. Where their lightning flashes, the storm roars, and the cattle are scattered as if by a well-made shelter. With firm strength, unwearied in giving, praised in the assemblies, they sing to the sun for the joy of the intoxicating drink. They know the foremost deeds of the heroic one. With a hundred arms, let the Maruts protect from harm; let them guard whom they favor. Fierce, powerful, radiant, they defend the people, bringing blessings and prosperity to their offspring. Thus, the wisdom and power of the gods, the mysteries of speech, sacrifice, and the unity of all, are revealed for those who seek and honor the divine.