In the sacred dawn of creation, Agni, the fire-god, stands at the heart of all, his brilliance stirring joy among other flames and delighting the immortals themselves. Known as Vaiśvānara, he is the navel of the peoples—a pillar honored among tribes, the very center from which life and ritual radiate. Agni wears the crown of heaven and anchors the earth, becoming the delight of both realms. The gods fashioned him as a divine light for the Arya, a beacon to guide and inspire. Like the steadfast rays of the sun, treasures are gathered in Vaiśvānara Agni—those hidden in mountains, flourishing in plants, flowing in waters, and thriving among men. Over all these, he reigns as king. The two worlds sing to Agni as to a beloved son, while the human priest, skilled like Dakṣa, praises him with ancient hymns, honoring his true strength. Jātavedas, Vaiśvānara, his greatness stretches from the heights of heaven, ruling over peoples and humankind, forging paths for the gods in battle. The Purus follow this mighty Bull, the slayer of Vṛtra, whose fiery power shakes forests and splits open the strongholds of foes like Śambara. Vaiśvānara’s glory shines among all peoples, especially among the Bharadvājas, his worshippers. In the house of Śātavaneya, his sharp flames grow strong, celebrated with praise in many abodes. Agni, resplendent, is the banner of the assembly and the swift envoy, the twice-born, renowned wealth, the precious gift Mātariśvan brought to Bhṛgu. Both rulers and subjects, those bearing offerings—the Uśijs and mortals—seek him. From heaven, he was first established as Hotar, the wise lord of clans, questioned by all, revered among tribes. With new praise, people approach Agni, born in their hearts, his tongue sweet and his fame shared. Priests and zealous men generate him among the people, striving with devotion. Pure and shining, Agni is the treasure-giver among men, the most excellent Hotar, established in every tribe. As householder and lord of the home, he is the master of riches for the wealthy. The Gotamas praise Agni, lord of riches, with their thoughts, wishing for his swift arrival, bringing wisdom and prizes at dawn. Turning now to mighty Indra, the people offer praise to him, the generous one. Inspired poets, the Adhrigavas, send forth hymns for Indra, honoring his greatness. With heart, mind, and thought, they adorn their prayers for the ancient lord, raising their voices in abundant song. With splendid hymns and wise words, they magnify Indra’s radiant deeds. Their hymns are joined together like a craftsman fitting a chariot, songs for the splendid, song-loving Indra, the wise one, for all to hear. Like a victorious troop, they honor the heroic, bountiful Indra, famed for his ancient deeds and the upholder of law. Tvaṣṭṛ, the divine artisan, fashioned the thunderbolt for Indra, fit for glory and battle. With it, Indra struck Vṛtra at the vital spot, shattering the stronghold with his weapon. At his mother’s urging, Indra drank his father’s strength in a single draught. Swiftly aided by Vishnu, the stronger one cooked the offering and pierced the boar that hid the mountain. Even the goddesses, wives of the gods, sang hymns for Indra after his mighty deed. The vast heavens and earth embraced him, yet his greatness could not be contained. Indra’s glory spread from heaven, earth, and midspace, shining in all abodes as he took up his strength for battle and victory. With his thunderbolt, Indra cut apart the withering Vṛtra, releasing the imprisoned waters like cows, winning glory for the eager one. At his mighty roar, the rivers delight, their courses confined by his thunderbolt. Indra, granting favor, bestows abundance to the eager Turvani, swift and generous. For Indra, the thunderbolt is brought forth to slay foes, splitting ridges and driving apart waters so floods may flow for the people’s dwelling. His ancient deeds are spoken of in new hymns—armed for battle, he scatters enemies, fiercely striving. At Indra’s terror, mountains, heavens, and earth tremble at his birth. Approaching the wise one’s seat, the inspired poet gains strength. Indra, the lord of abundance, is followed among the worthy, even alone in the forest. Striving with the Sun for the prize, he gains the swift horses of Suvaśva. For Indra, the Harijanas and Gotamas compose splendid hymns, seeking all-encompassing insight and swift arrival at dawn with understanding. The story continues with hymns offered to the mighty, the strong, the singer descended from Angiras. With well-formed verses, people praise the ancient, renowned hero. Great homage is brought to the powerful one, for by such praise, the Angirases, knowing the path, found the cows through their hymns. In the striving of Indra and the Angirases, Sarama discovered the cattle for her offspring. Brihaspati split the rock, revealing the cows, and men rejoiced with the dawns. Using Suṣṭubh and Stoma, with seven wise ones and nine singers, the strong one broke the rock. With ten singers and his roar, Indra shattered Vala. Praising with the Angirases, Indra, wondrous one, dispelled darkness with the Sun and the cows. He spread out the earth’s surface and held up the sky, keeping it unshaken. His most manifest deed is visible—the wondrous one’s powers revealed as four rivers, rich in honey, overflowed at the meeting place. Twice, he opened the ancient, hidden enclosure with hymns sung by eager ones. Bhaga did not consider in the highest heaven, but the mighty ones supported earth and sky. From ancient times, the vast earth and diverse heavens have circled, ever renewed in their own forms. The dawns, dark and red, move with shining and varied forms, each following the other. The son, observing friendship from of old, upheld with might and wisdom. Among them, he placed the ripe milk in black and red, fertile ones. From ancient times, lowlands and heights, winds, and immortal ones uphold the laws with their might. Many thousands, like wives, sisters, unwearied, honor the unaging one. From ancient times, youthful ones with reverence and new hymns approach the wondrous one, desiring wealth. Like wives to a lord, the shining, radiant ones touch him with might and thought. O wondrous Indra, your riches in your hands do not diminish nor are they exhausted. You are resplendent, wise, steadfast—grant us skill like your own, with your powers. Thus, the story of Agni and Indra unfolds, their greatness celebrated in ancient hymns, their deeds remembered and praised, their blessings sought by all who honor the divine.