When the mighty Indra, endowed with a hundred powers, was born, he turned to his mother with earnest wonder and asked, “Who are the truly great ones? Who are spoken of as mighty among all beings?” His mother, recognizing the strength surging within him like a vast wave or a powerful, loosed arrow, replied, “Let those fierce ones, my son, become your own sons. Let them be yours to command.” Thus inspired, Indra, the slayer of Vṛtra, gathered his allies and, with overwhelming force, struck down his enemies as if breaking the spokes of a wheel. Growing ever stronger, he became the destroyer of all who opposed him. In a single draught, Indra drank the contents of thirty lakes filled with the sacred Soma, taking for himself all their portions, and so his might was magnified. He traversed the boundless spaces, crossing even the realm of the Gandharva, and his strength swelled further through the chants and hymns offered to him. From the mountains, Indra pierced forth, bringing out the cooked food, and he, ever-expanding, stood as the self-extended one. Indra’s arrow was wondrous indeed—a single shaft with a hundred rays and a thousand feathers, which he fashioned as his companion in battle. With this arrow, he brought blessings to singers, to men and women dwelling even in the forests, for Indra, newly born and steadfast, dwelled among the Ṛbhus, the skilled ones. The deeds he performed were abundant and surpassing, held firm in his wise and discerning heart. Viṣṇu, the wide-striding, impelled all these great acts, bringing forth a hundred buffaloes, milk-cooked foods, and a boar, all for Indra, who was ever eager for strength. Indra’s bow, well-crafted, imbued with Soma, golden and swelling with power, was always ready; both his arms were splendid and ever-growing in might. The people called out to Indra: “Bring us, O strong one, a thousand portions of nourishment, and hundreds of cows! Bring us, for anointing, cattle and horses, wealth adorned with gold, and minds shining with brilliance. Bring us many delightful things, O attentive Vasu, for you are ever generous. Never do you fail to give, O Indra, nor are you slow or miserly; there is no hero as generous as you. You never withdraw, nor do you turn away; you see and hear all things. Unassailable, you direct your wrath against mortals, always seeking to strike down from the very beginning. By your resolve, your belly is filled; you act swiftly, slayer of Vṛtra, drinker of Soma. O Soma, in you are gathered all treasures and all prosperity; you never withhold generous gifts. To you, our wishes turn, desiring cows, gold, and horses. To you, Indra, we offer our gifts with hope—grant us, O Maghavan, the fodder of the day or what has been gathered. You, shining one, are our benefactor. Soma, skillful and unconstrained, conquers all and bursts forth in wisdom and poetry. He covers what is naked and heals the strong; he became renowned, even though blind and earless. Soma is a wide shelter for those who fashion bodies, a refuge against hatred and the deeds of others. With swift thoughts and skills, he moves from heaven to earth, driving away even the malice of the wicked. Those who seek gain pursue their purpose; let the giver grant the gift, for they have turned away from the desire of the thirsty. Soma restores what was lost before and leads mortals to life, extending the days of the one who has crossed over. May he, gracious and merciful, with bold resolve, be favorable to us—may Soma be auspicious for our hearts. Do not confuse or frighten us, O king Soma; do not strike our hearts with your brilliance. When, in your own abode among the gods, you behold evil thoughts, O king, drive away the hostile, the malicious, and the deceitful. Indra, wielder of a hundred powers, there is no other who brings strength and grants favor as you do; be gracious to us. Since ancient times, you have always been our unfailing helper in the pursuit of wealth—be gracious to us, O Indra. Why, then, do you not protect the one who pours the Soma? Surely, Indra, you are able to help us. Protect our chariot, even when it lags behind, O crusher of foes; make it advance before us. Come now—why do you delay? Make our chariot the foremost, O bringer of prize-winning glory. Bring down for us the prize-winning chariot—what is difficult for you? Make us victorious over our rivals. Indra, stand firm at the front; good fortune comes to you at the appointed time, accompanied by inspired thought and ritual. Let not the blame of others reach us; let the wealth set aside for us not be lost; let not the unkind ones bar us from the prize. Whenever you perform the fourth sacrificial act, you are most powerful, and from then on, you are our lord. The immortal gods and ever-joyful goddesses have increased your strength, O Indra; therefore, grant us splendid favor—may the wise, generous one come to us swiftly at dawn.