At the dawn of time, when Indra was born, he scattered the enemies that threatened the world. Generous and mighty, he sought out the hidden cows, gathering wealth for his people. It was then that he confronted the Dasa Namuci, turning his head aside and opening a path for Manu, so that passage could be made where none existed before. Indra, in his power, yoked his devotee to his purpose and crushed Namuci, the Dasa’s head. For the Maruts, Indra revealed even the stone, making it shine and move as though he had shaped the two worlds anew. The Dasa, thinking himself cunning, had fashioned weapons as powerless as those of women; his armies, weak and ineffective, could do nothing against Indra. The Dasa hid his cows away, but Indra stormed forth into battle and destroyed the Dasyu, reclaiming what was concealed. All around, the cows bellowed in distress, separated from their calves. But Indra, delighted by the well-pressed Soma, gathered them together again with his might. When the tawny, trembling Somas brought him joy, Indra, the bull among gods, roared from his seat. Having drunk deeply, the destroyer of cities returned the cows to those who worshipped him. Auspicious indeed was the act of the Rushamas, who gave four thousand cows in gratitude. For the generous one who pays his debts, the gifts of the most bountiful among men were accepted. The Rushamas, O Agni, sent forth a splendid offering with thousands of cows, and the strong Soma gladdened Indra at the dawn of Paritakmya’s day. That night shone brightly, for the Rushamas’ king, Rnamcaya, was present; like a swift horse urged on, the brown one gained four thousand. From the Rushamas, four thousand cows and cattle were accepted, and even the heated vessel set down was proclaimed as theirs by the wise. Indra, ever the path-maker, cleared the way for the chariot, for the one standing in the midst, striving for the prize. Like a herdsman separating cattle, the uninjured one moved ahead, eager for victory. Indra, drive forward with your tawny steeds, do not delay—come near to us. For there is no wealth apart from you; among all people, only you accomplish such deeds. Born mighty, Indra displayed his strength, setting in motion the ever-yielding cow within the enclosure and dispelling the gathered darkness with his light. The artisans fashioned a chariot for the horse, and Tvashtar made the brilliant thunderbolt for Indra. Priests, praising Indra with hymns, helped him grow in might so he could strike down the foe in battle. To the mighty one, let the strong sing hymns, together with Aditi and the stones. Even those without horses or chariots, when driven by Indra, turned back the Dasyus. I have recounted your former deeds, O bountiful one, and now your recent acts: you bear both heavens, conquer the waters, and grant wondrous gifts to humankind. This, too, is your wondrous deed, Indra, praised by the wise: when you measured your strength by slaying the foe, you seized the illusions of Shushna and drove the Dasyus from the waters, restoring their ancient flow. You made the waters flow for Yadu and Turvasha, making them rich and abundant. You brought Ayu and Kutsa safely across fierce perils, and the gods rejoiced with you. Indra and Kutsa, borne by the chariot, let their songs be heard; Indra, drive away the silent ones and those who sit apart, and remove the darkness from our hearts. Even the well-yoked horses of the wind and the wise have come to seek your favor. All the Maruts, your friends, have increased your strength with their hymns. The sun itself circles your chariot, first making it ready, then urging it onward; the wheel, swift and sure, sets forth in front, establishing our resolve. People look to Indra as he approaches; he seeks his friend who has pressed the Soma. The stone proclaims, “Let the altar be filled,” and the priests move about in service. Let those who have praised you, O immortal, and those who praise you now, be free from harm; accept our worship and place your strength among us, so we may dwell with you. Indra shattered the barriers, opened the channels, and released the streams. He broke through all obstacles with unrestrained force, splitting the great mountain so the waters could flow forth, and in doing so, slew the Dānava. With his thunderbolt, Indra broke the mountain’s barriers at the proper time, releasing its udder; even the mighty serpent with countless coils was slain by Indra’s strength. Of that wild beast, Indra struck down the slayer, and from the one who thought himself unrivaled, another, even more powerful, was born. Among them, one who delighted in his own strength, the offspring of the mist, grown strong in darkness—him, too, Indra struck down with his thunderbolt, destroying the fierce Shushna, the Dānava. Even the cunning one, hiding in darkness, Indra found his weakness and, filled with the strength of the draught, cast him into the darkness of the house. Swelling in the sunless gloom, the foe was struck down from above by Indra, rejoicing in the pressed Soma. Indra raised his weapon high, seeking a sure blow against the great Dānava; when he took up the bolt, he made the lowest of all creatures. He struck down the roaring, honey-drinking foe who lay in the hollow. Footless, handless, Indra cast him into darkness, his speech stilled by a mighty blow. Who can withstand Indra’s force? Alone and unconquered, he wins the riches; even the swiftest now flee in fear of his strength. Divine favor chooses Indra, as a swift woman chooses a husband; when his strength unites with all, the worlds bow before his power. Among all people, only Indra, lord of truth, born of the Panchajanas, is renowned. The eager ones have seized him for me, calling upon him at night and at dawn. Thus I hear of you, Indra, who moves with purpose, giving riches to the priests. What use are those companions who have set aside their desire for you? Only those who seek you with longing are favored. For the great and mighty Indra, I kindle praise among men. In the wilds, he is the friend in battle, recognized when wealth is contested. Inspired by thought and hymns, Indra never tires of the yoke of his bay steeds. Gladly advancing, worthy of praise, he protects the people. Those who have not praised Indra have never surpassed us; when they were faithless, they became nothing. Stand upon your chariot, O thunderbolt-holder, grasp the reins, and drive your own horses. Many are the praises for Indra, who fought for the cows in the broad fields. He made a place for the Sun in its abode and, in battle, brought the name of the Dasa to light. We are yours, Indra, as are all born hosts and chariots that set out. Come to us, O serpent-slayer, with your strength, delightful in offerings and contests. With your might, Indra, you have surpassed all—immortal, most heroic in manly deeds. Grant us this wealth, O giver of riches; we praise the gift of the most generous one.