Hear now a tale woven from the ancient hymns, a story of Indra’s might and generosity, as sung by the seers of old. Indra, the mighty and renowned, displayed his formidable power when he vanquished the last of Varaśikha’s kin. With his thunderbolt, he struck a blow so great that a mighty sound echoed, splitting even the farthest reaches. Indra pursued the remnants of Varaśikha, chasing down the one who returned and resisted him. In the battle at Hariyūpīyā, for the sake of Vṛcīvant, he struck down the foremost half of the foe, who trembled in fear. At Yavyāvat, three hundred armored Vṛcīvants gathered for fame, but they fell beneath Indra’s arrows, their bowls shattered, coming to rest at last. The one whose cows, reddish and bountiful, wandered restlessly within his lands—he, for Sṛñjaya’s sake, gave Turvaśa away, and for Vṛcīvant, he strove for Daivavāta. A generous lord, a sovereign, gifted twice twenty chariot-fighters, along with cows and brides, to the singer. The one who both returned and resisted gave these gifts, the share of the Parthavas, the southern portion. Fortune came with the cows, who entered the stable and bellowed for the people. Let them flourish, of many forms, yielding rich milk for Indra at each dawn. Indra himself provides for the sacrificer and the generous, giving freely, never withholding his own. Time and again, he increases the wealth of those who honor him, storing god-loved treasure in their unbroken stores. Such cows are never lost, nor do thieves or enemies overpower them. With them, the gods are worshipped, gifts are given, and the lord of cattle prospers. No predator, near or far, reaches them; they avoid the snares of those who lay traps. These cows roam freely, following the fearless one, belonging to the sacrificing mortal. Cows are fortune, cows are Indra himself; they are the first portion of Soma. These cows, O people, are Indra, and with heart and mind, the people long for him. The cows make even the thin one thrive, the unlovely handsome, and the home auspicious. Their voices bring goodness, and their fame is spread in every gathering. Grazing on rich pastures, drinking pure water, full of offspring, may no thief or ill-wisher rule over them; may they avoid Rudra’s weapon. Let offerings be made among the cows, let inquiry be among them, and let the strength of Indra be found in the seed of the bull. Men, seeking friendship, have chosen Indra, the great, who delights in their favor. He is the great giver, wielder of the thunderbolt; to him, the mighty, let sacrifice be offered for help. In his hands, eager for heroic deeds, are golden chariots, the strong reins, and mighty stallions yoked for action. For splendor, Indra’s feet hasten; bold and skillful, he wields the bolt, wearing fragrant garments, pleasing to behold. He has become the leader of men, golden and resplendent. Soma is pressed for him, the meal is prepared, and grains are present. Men, inspired by the gods, recite hymns in his praise. Indra’s might knows no end; his greatness is not confined by heaven or earth. The sun fills them, moving swiftly, like a leader assembling his troops in the waters. Thus is Indra: easily invoked, exalted, praised and unpraised, with tawny beard and mighty strength. Born unequaled, he slays many foes and casts down the Dasyus. Ever more Indra has grown in strength, dispensing treasures alone and undecaying. He has expanded over heaven and earth, taking half of both worlds for himself. His lordship is unchallenged; what he upholds, none can diminish. Day by day, the sun appears, and Indra has established wide dwellings for all. Even today, Indra makes a path for the waters, leading them forth. The mountains, like guests at a feast, did not stand firm before him; by his wisdom, the solid regions were opened. Truly, there is no other god or mortal greater than Indra. He slew the serpent lying in the waters and released the rivers to flow to the sea. Indra divided the waters, parted barriers, shattered the mountains’ firmness, and became king of all peoples. Together with others, he generated the sun, the sky, and the dawn. Indra alone has become the master of wealth, placing the peoples in his two hands. In offspring, waters, sons, and the sun, the peoples utter many words. Because of Indra’s might, all things on earth, even the immovable, tremble. The heavens and earth, mountains and forests—all that is firm fears his birth. With Kutsa, Indra fought against Shushna and Kuyava in the contest for the cows. For ten generations, he has divided the sun’s treasures and shattered the fortresses of the thieves. He has destroyed hundreds of forts of Shambara, the unconquerable Dasyu. With his power, he has brought riches to Divodāsa, the Soma-presser, and to Bharadvāja, who praises him. O mighty one, mount your chariot for great battle; come with new riches to our aid, and let our praises be heard among the peoples. For Indra, the mighty, the heroic, the strong, the wielder of the thunderbolt, new and pleasing words are fashioned, honoring the ancient one. With the sun, the mother of the wise, he broke open the mountain, releasing the cows from their dwelling places with joy and song. Ever victorious with fire and hymn, Indra, with the wise, accomplished many deeds. Breaker of forts with his friends, he shattered strongholds with wisdom. With bands of heroes, bull among men, he approaches the singer with great prizes and mighty strength, loving song and bringing good fortune. With his rush and might, Indra drove away southern foes, sending forth seekers of unassailable wealth, day by day, unwearied. O Indra, strongest one, grant us strength and desired gifts; may the horse-rich, the conqueror, overcome enemies in battle. For Indra, peoples call in rivalry for help in contests. With the wise, he scatters the Panis and wins the prize. Indra has slain both Dasyus and Vritras, and the noble ones; with sharp weapons, he strikes down foes and sees the best of men in battle. So may Indra, with unfailing aid, be our friend and protector of all life, granting increase. When we call upon him for sunlight, we do not falter in battle. Now, may Indra be gracious and helpful to us and our descendants, that we may dwell in the shelter of his greatness, in the highest heaven, rich in cows. To Indra, many songs and thoughts have come together, ancient and new, as seers have vied in hymns of praise to the mighty one. Thus the story of Indra’s greatness and generosity is sung, echoing through the ages.