Indra, the mighty one, grew in strength, his power swelling as he joined with the Maruts, the storm gods, as his friends. Together, they overcame Vritra, the great obstructer, and released the imprisoned waters of the sea, letting them flow freely once more. It was Indra, with the Maruts by his side, who won the radiant light for the world, and for the joy of drinking the sacred Soma. With reverent songs, the people called upon Indra, accompanied by the Maruts—mighty, powerful, and all-seeing. They invoked him with the ancient wisdom, inviting him to partake in the Soma, that sacred drink of the gods. “O Indra,” they sang, “gracious one, come with the Maruts, drink the Soma offered in this sacrifice. You who possess a hundred powers, you who are much praised, accept our offering.” For Indra and the Maruts, the pressed Soma was prepared with care. The singers called out to him with devoted hearts, “Drink, Indra, friend of the Maruts, the Soma among the offerings, wielding your thunderbolt with might.” When Indra rose up with strength, having drunk the Soma, he shook his beard in delight, his vigor renewed by the sacred drink shared among his companions. As Indra advanced, both heaven and earth followed him. He became the slayer of foes, and his strength was unrivaled. From Indra, the inspired poet drew forth the eight-footed speech—new and radiant, touching the essence of truth—for his own use. When Indra, the hundred-powered one, was born, he turned to his mother and asked, “Who are the mighty ones? Who are those whose names are known?” She spoke to him of his own strength, comparing it to a surging wave, to a great arrow in flight. “Let them, my son, be your sons—the fierce and formidable ones.” Thus, Indra, the slayer of Vṛtra, joined with his allies and struck down his foes with unstoppable force, like spokes shattered in a wheel. Grown strong, he became the destroyer of all who opposed him. With a single draught, Indra drank the Soma from thirty lakes, consuming all the portions with ease. He crossed the vast and bottomless spaces where the Gandharva dwelled, growing stronger through the sacred chants sung in his honor. From the mountains, he pierced forth and brought cooked food for his people—Indra, ever swelling in might, self-extended and generous. Indra’s arrow was a marvelous weapon: single yet with a hundred rays, a thousand feathers, which he made his constant companion. With it, he brought gifts to the singers, to men and women even in the forests—O newly born Indra, steadfast with the Ṛbhus, the skilled artisans of the gods. All these abundant deeds, surpassing and wondrous, Indra accomplished and held firm with his wise heart. Viṣṇu, the wide-striding, brought many gifts for Indra—hundreds of buffaloes, milk-cooked food, and a boar—offered eagerly. Indra’s bow, mighty and well-made, imbued with Soma, shone with golden brilliance. His arms, splendid and well-fashioned, grew ever stronger, the marks of his divine power. “O Indra,” the people prayed, “bring us a thousand portions of nourishment and hundreds of cows, for you are strong. Bring us cattle and horses for anointing, and wealth adorned with gold. Bring us many delightful things, O powerful one, for you, O Vasu, are attentive to our prayers.” Never did Indra fail to give; he was never slow nor miserly. No other hero matched his generosity. He never withdrew nor turned away; Śakra, the mighty, heard and saw all. Unassailable, Indra directed his wrath against mortals who opposed the divine order, ever seeking to strike down evil from the beginning. By his resolve, Indra’s belly was filled; swift in action, he was the slayer of Vṛtra and the drinker of Soma. In Soma, all treasures and prosperity were gathered; generous gifts were never withheld. To Indra, the people turned with wishes for cows and gold, for horses and wealth. With hope, they offered gifts into Indra’s hand, praying, “Grant us, O Maghavan, the fodder of the day or whatever has been gathered, O shining one.” The Soma itself was skillful and unconstrained, conquering all and bursting forth with wisdom and poetry. It covered what was naked, healed even the strong, and became renowned, though blind and earless. Soma was a wide shelter for those who fashioned bodies, protecting against hatred and harmful deeds. With swift thoughts and skill, Soma moved from heaven to earth, driving away even the hatred of the wicked. Those seeking gain pursued their desires, and the generous giver granted gifts, while the selfish turned away from the thirsty. Soma restored what was lost, led mortals to life, and extended the days of those who crossed over into danger. Gracious and merciful, Soma, with bold resolve, was invoked to be favorable, to be auspicious for the heart. The people prayed, “Do not, O Soma, confuse or frighten us; do not strike our hearts with your brilliance, O king. In your abode among the gods, when you see evil thoughts, drive away the hostile, the malicious, and the deceitful.” Thus, the hymns celebrated Indra and Soma, their powers and generosity, their protection and blessings for all who honored them.