The sacred Soma, pressed with stones by devoted hands, was poured forth into the waters, its journey marked by careful purification. Like a garment washed clean, the men strained the Soma from vessel to vessel, ensuring its clarity and readiness for the gods. Whether drawn from the depths of the earth or the vast, shining heavens, this Soma was offered to increase the god’s strength and to enrich the song of the worshipper. The prayer was clear: “Fill, O skillful one, all that is born of me, and grant fullness to my praise.” For mighty Indra, the most exhilarating and choice Soma was pressed out. Śakra, the wise and powerful, was invited to drink, urged on like a champion racer striving for victory. The singer pleaded that his constant prayers not weary the god, for just as a restless beast cannot help but seek its rightful lord, so too does the devotee seek Indra’s favor, yet never wishes to trouble him unduly. Empowered by the potent Soma, Indra surpassed all others, pouring forth the intoxicating draught. In his own exhilaration, he shared gifts with his worshippers. The god, generous and renowned everywhere, granted many desirable things to mortals who served him—especially to those who poured the Soma and sang his praises. Indra was called to delight in this splendid bounty, to be filled to overflowing like a lake swelling with drink. The prayer continued: “Let a thousand and a hundred tawny-maned steeds, yoked to your golden chariot by our prayers, bring you swiftly for the drinking of Soma. Let your two bay steeds, with peacock-like tails and dappled backs, draw your golden chariot to us, O Indra, so you may enjoy the sweet, exhilarating Soma prepared for you.” Indra was invited to drink as the foremost lover of song, the honored guest for whom the flowing draught was made. Mighty and fierce, adorned with his beard, he was called to come like a husband to his wife, a steadfast friend who never forsakes. The singer recalled Indra’s deeds—how, with his weapons, he struck down the moving fortress of Śuṣṇa, followed Bhāna, and, when invoked, became the helper of those in need. At every moment—sunrise, midday, night, and sunset—the hymns of praise went forth to Vasava, Indra. The call rang out: “Praise him! These are your most glorious benefactors. Let neither the horse on the road nor the honored guest at the feast be blamed.” When the horses were harnessed, the singer, filled with devotion, ascended the chariot, contemplating the wealth and cattle that belonged to Indra and the Yadus. The one who had given the shining golden hide, together with his own strength, now possessed a chariot that surpassed all others in prosperity. Then, Plāyoga, the leader Agni, with ten thousand followers, outshone the rest. Ten bright ones, like reeds in the water, stood unyoked, waiting. The singer saw before him a massive form—its thigh resting, knee bent down—and heard the ever-seeing woman declare, “O noble one, you bear excellent food.” Again, the call was made: “O generous Indra, drink this pressed Soma, your full draught. Let us gladden you, O fearless one.” The Soma, pressed by men, purified with stones, and filtered through fine cloths, flowed forth like a horse released into the rivers. As sweet barley and cows were prepared for him, Indra was praised in the gathering. Indra alone was declared the drinker of Soma, pervading all life, both gods and mortals. No one—neither the brilliant, nor the greedy, nor the satisfied—could drive away this wide-ranging friend. When others, seeking with cows as hunters seek game, pursued the worshippers with their herds, the prayer was for protection and favor. Three pressed Somas were prepared for Indra in his own abode, three vessels pouring forth, three jars filled to the brim, all set upon the same support. Soma, pure and established in many places, mixed with milk, was most exhilarating for the hero. The strong Somas, pressed for Indra, drew the bright ones who sought the invigorating draught. The worshippers prepared the invigorating Soma together with the sacrificial cake, for Indra was known to be rich in gifts. Those who drank were intoxicated, fighting in their hearts like men with strong drink, leaping into the vessel as if stripped bare. The prayer was for the praiser to be rich in gifts, possessing Indra’s favor. “Come forth, O tawny one, for the renowned.” Yet even the praised hymn of the cow was sometimes unnoticed, as was the Gāyatra song, though sung. The plea was made: “O Indra, let not our strength be diminished, nor our gifts taken away. Grant us, O Lord of power, strength with your powers. We, your friends, approach you for this very purpose. The Kanvas praise you with their hymns.” The unwise never gained anything, only those who truly praised Indra were recognized. The gods desired the one who pressed Soma, turning away from the slothful and seeking the diligent. The prayer continued: “Come forth now with prizes, do not withhold from us, as a mighty youth among the young. Let not the one who brings trouble today harm us in the evening, like an unwelcome son-in-law.” The worshippers knew well the generous favor of this heroic one, born in three places, and understood his thoughts. They poured forth for the Kanva and the singer, declaring: “We do not know any strength greater than that of the hundredfold-aided one.” Thus, with reverence and devotion, the story of the offering, praise, and blessings of Indra and the sacred Soma unfolded, woven together by the voices of those who sought the god’s favor and strength.