Saramā, the swift and perceptive one, discovered the broken, hidden path through the mountain—a way ancient and long forgotten. With her kin beside her, she became the guide for the well-footed, leading the way, her voice rising in song as she first discerned the trail. Inspired companions journeyed as friends, and the mountain itself yielded its hidden treasure for the doer of good. The youthful hero prepared the sacred offering, and in that moment, the Angiras shone forth in brilliance. He who is ever-present set the example for those who came before, knowing all beginnings and destroying the demon Śuṣṇa. He praised the heavenly paths for us, seeking the cows and freeing the friend from reproach. Yearning for the cows, the seekers pressed on with focused minds, composing hymns in pursuit of immortality. This, truly, was the place of their abundance, where, through truth, they served the cycles of the months. When they beheld the cows, joy filled their hearts as they approached their own. The ancient ones, the milkers of the seed, let forth their milk freely. The two worlds resounded with their voices, and at the cows’ birth, the heroes were established in their stalls. Indra, the slayer of Vṛtra, sat among the newborn with the offerings. With hymns, he released the cows. For him, the broad, ghee-bearing, desirable cow yielded sweet honeyed milk. Even for the Father, the skilled ones fashioned a dwelling—vast and radiant—which they proclaimed aloud. The mothers, supporting all, sat measuring upwards with their strength. When the great intelligence established the ever-growing, all-pervading, virile one between heaven and earth, all pure, harmonious, and powerful songs gathered within him for Indra, unassailable. With devotion, the people sought Indra’s friendship, calling upon the mighty slayer of Vṛtra and his many advancing bands. They arrived to offer great praise to the sun, beseeching Indra—generous and mindful—to be their protector. Knowing the vast and splendid field, Indra shared it, distributing the chariot equally among his companions. Shining among men, he brought forth the sun, the dawn, and the fire to illuminate the path. Even those who lagged behind, Indra, the all-pervading householder, brought forward, all shining. With the poets, he purified the honey through filters, and with the days, they shaped their gifts through righteous acts. After the darkness, the earth’s riches were revealed; both earth and sun, in their greatness, are to be worshipped. Around Indra’s vastness, his friends strove to encompass the desired and praiseworthy one. “O slayer of Vṛtra,” they prayed, “be lord of true words and all speech, bull among givers of strength. Come to us with auspicious friendships and mighty, generous aids, O swift one.” With reverence, they honored the Angiras, composing new hymns for the ancient one. They prayed for the removal of abundant, godless deceits, and for the generous bestowal of blessings. The shining rains spread forth, bringing well-being. “Protect us from dangers, Indra,” they pleaded, “be our charioteer and swiftly grant us victory and cattle.” Indra, protector of cattle and slayer of Vṛtra, approached. Entering the darkness with the red lights, he spoke true words and, by truth, opened all difficult paths and the way for the good. Thus, they called upon generous Indra in the contest, the best among men in gaining prizes, the mighty one who hears, helper in battle, slayer of adversaries, and conqueror of riches. At the midday pressing, Indra, lord of Soma, was invited to drink the delightful Soma. With loosened hair, generous and mighty, he was called to rejoice and release his steeds. They offered him the bright, churned Soma, prepared for his joy, with the cow’s head, and invited him to drink in the company of the Maruts and Rudras, growing strong in threefold measure. It was the Maruts who increased Indra’s power and might, magnifying his strength. At the midday pressing, he drank with the Rudras, surrounded by his troop. These honeyed, wise hosts—the Maruts—were present with Indra when, at his urging, he discovered the joints of Vṛtra, the arrogant one, striking at his vital spot. Like a man delighting in the pressing, Indra drank the Soma for ever-renewed strength. Swift-horsed, he came with helpers and sacrifices, driving away the flowing waters. When Indra slew Vṛtra, he released the waters like racing steeds in a contest. With his weapon, he struck the moving and the resting, driving the godless away from the gods. With reverence, all worshipped mighty Indra—the great, lofty, ageless, and ever-youthful one—whose beloved greatness neither heaven nor earth can contain. Indra’s deeds are manifold and well-performed; even the gods do not transgress his commands. With wise intent, he upheld earth and heaven, creating the sun and the dawn. Indra’s greatness is true and without falsehood. Newly born, he drank the Soma at once. Neither the breadth of heaven nor the strength of days, months, or years can reach its limit. Newly born, Indra drank the Soma for delight in the highest heaven. Entering the realms of heaven and earth, he became the ancient one for the seer’s work. He struck down the serpent encircling the waters, growing in might. Not even the sky matched his greatness, as, with support, he held the earth firm. For Indra, the sacrifice brings increase and delight. By sacrifice, he supports the sacrifice, and from sacrifice, he brought forth the thunderbolt to slay the serpent. Men, with help, brought Indra near by sacrifice, seeking his new favor—the one who has grown with ancient, middle, and new hymns. When inspiration gave birth to the hymn for Indra, the ancient one, it became a song of praise, a deliverance from distress, as if rescuing those who call upon him, like voyagers in a boat. His vessel brims with Svāhā, as a cup is filled for drinking. The beloved ones gather for exhilaration, and the Somas encircle Indra, moving to the right. Neither deep rivers nor encircling mountains can confine Indra. Urged by his companions, he broke even the firm enclosure to win the cattle-rich expanse. Again, they called upon generous Indra in contest, the foremost among men in winning prizes, the mighty one who listens, helper in battles, slayer of adversaries, and conqueror of riches. Swiftly, like horses released, the waters hastened to the lap of the mountains, rejoicing. Like two bright cows longing for their calf, Vipāś and Śutudrī flowed with nourishing waters. Urged by Indra, seeking their course, these two rivers flowed toward the ocean like racing chariots, their waves swelling and striving, each surpassing the other. They came to the most motherly Sindhu, to the wide and blessed Vipāś. Like two mothers caressing their calf, the rivers moved together, following the same channel. With these rivers, filled with their waters, the people moved along the path made by the gods. The current, set in motion, did not turn aside. The inspired priest called upon the rivers for favor. “O righteous ones,” he sang, “delight in my words for Soma, come for a moment. To the great Sindhu, I, the son of Kuśika, offer lofty praise, seeking your favor.” Indra, with his thunder-armed might, cleared a path. He struck down Vṛtra, the barrier of the rivers. The god Savitṛ, with fair hands, led them onward—by his impulse, they journeyed to the wide lands.