In the midst of a glorious and tumultuous battle, Indra, the mighty one, roared for victory. Where the brave strove for the prize of cattle, the clash of men blazed like fire across the field. The people, turning to Indra, called upon him to reveal for them a home overflowing with abundance—a dwelling rich in cattle and renowned for its wealth. They prayed for victory and prosperity, desiring the generous Indra to grant their wishes. They knew that, whether it was Dasa or Arya who rose to challenge them, Indra—praised by many—would help them overcome their foes. With Indra as their ally, they would pursue their enemies and triumph in battle. They invoked him with both small and great offerings, for he is the renowned and ever-near hero who brings help in times of need. Today, they called upon Indra, the hearer of prayers, to come to their aid. They remembered Indra’s generosity and strength, his reputation as the mighty bull, the inspirer of gifts. They implored him to free himself from the bonds of Kutsas and come swiftly, asking why one so strong would remain bound among the weak. At dawn and dusk, the Ashvins’ well-yoked chariot was invoked with offerings. The people called upon the ever-helpful name of the Ashvins, as lovingly as a child calls upon a father. They prayed that the Ashvins would inspire their songs, fill their minds with abundance, and stir the hearts of the inspired. They sought a share of glory from the Ashvins, just as Soma, the beautiful one, is prepared for the generous. To the Ashvins, called Nasatyas, and to Bhaga, the people looked for support: even the immature, the helpless, the blind, and the weak found help and healing through them. Those who could not speak were cared for by these divine physicians. The Ashvins were celebrated for restoring Cyavana, who was old and worn, making him young and fit for movement again; they rescued the fierce one from the waters, and all their wondrous deeds were proclaimed in the sacred rites. The people declared the ancient heroic deeds of the Ashvins among their kin, rejoicing in the joy and healing the Ashvins brought. Yet, even as they remembered these old wonders, they sought new help, placing their trust in the Ashvins as one trusts a sharp blade. With devotion, they called upon the Ashvins to hear their prayers, to instruct them as fathers teach a son, and to protect their understanding from weakness and ignorance, warding off all that is hostile. The Ashvins had brought delight to Shundhyu with their chariot, carried away the wife of Purumitra, answered the call of Vadhrimatī, and granted easy childbirth to Purandhi. They restored the youth of the aged sage, made Khela young again, guided Vandana across the river, and made Viśpalā suddenly fit for racing. They raised Rebha, hidden and nearly perished in a cave, restored the Ribhus, and granted life to the three who were heated, all for the seven Vadhris. To Pedu, the Ashvins gave a white horse of immense strength, accompanied by ninety steeds, and bestowed a swift companion who drove away foes, like Bhaga granting desired gifts to men. No king, no evil, no misfortune, nor any fear could harm the one whom the gracious Ashvins, following Rudra’s path, led forth with his wife. The people called for the Ashvins to come in their chariot, swifter than thought, the chariot crafted by the Ribhus. At its yoking, the daughter of the sky was born, and both days, the bright ones of Vivasvat, were renewed. With this victorious path, the Ashvins crossed mountains, made the cow yield her milk for the one lying down, and even freed the seized from the jaws of the wolf. Their praise was composed with care, like the Bhṛgus crafting a chariot. The people yoked the woman to the Ashvins like a maiden to a youth, supporting them as one always supports a beloved child. The people wondered: Who among men welcomes the radiant chariot of the Ashvins as they come bearing fortune? Who, at dawn, receives these all-pervading ones, bringing gifts from house to house, bestowing blessings with their thought? They asked where the Ashvins’ dawn was, where their dwelling lay, and who invited them as a maiden does a youth, or as a widow invites her brother-in-law to her seat. At dawn, the Ashvins drove from house to house, honored with offerings, like an old woman trembling but persistent. Whose guests did they become? Like princes, whose libations did they attend? Like wild animals, the people called to them at dawn, invoking them as priests to bear offerings for all, lords of beauty among men. It was Ghoṣā, the king’s daughter, who once invoked the Ashvins, asking them to be present for her by day, to bring blessings for the horseman, the charioteer, the able one. The Ashvins, wise and swift, circled in their chariot like Kutsa the singer among the people. Their honey-sweet gifts were sought after, as a woman seeks her adornment. The Ashvins had rescued Bhujyu, Vaśa, Śiñjāra, and Uśanā, their two neighing horses bound in friendship. Many sought their gracious favor for help. They delivered Kṛśa and Śayu, set free Vidhanta and the widow, and released the lowing one from her companions, opening the seven-mouthed pen. A maiden was born, her garment falling, and the plants grew up, following her teeth. For her, the rivers flowed as in a hollow; for her, the day became her falling. The living wept, scattered at sacrifices, and men strove along long courses; those who had agreed with their fathers found joy as wives embraced their husbands. The people pondered mysteries—whether the youth dwelled in the wombs of the young women, and prayed to the Ashvins to let them enter the house of the beloved, splendid, virile one, the giver of seed. To the Ashvins, bestowers of horses, gracious favor came. Desires entered the hearts, and the people pleaded for the Ashvins to become their guardians, splendid lords of couples, dear to Aryaman, so they might reach a secure place. The Ashvins were asked to bring wealth and strong sons to the houses of men, to make the crossing of fords easy, to provide a firm standing place on the path, and to destroy ill-intent. The people wondered where, in which lands, the Ashvins delighted that day, and who had invited them—whether to the home of the inspired or the sacrificing host. At dawn, the people called upon the same, much-invoked, hymn-loving, three-wheeled chariot of the Ashvins, swift at the pressings and circling at the assembly, with beautiful praises. The Nasatyas yoked their honey-bearing chariot at dawn and journeyed among worshipping peoples, attending sacrifices rich in offerings. Whether it was the priest with honeyed hands, the skilled fire-kindler, or the inspired one pressing the offerings, all invited the Ashvins to come and drink the honeyed draught. Meanwhile, the inspired ones, like craftsmen sharpening a tool, fashioned a fitting hymn for Indra. They called upon the noble to utter words of praise, directing their song to Soma for Indra. With milking, they sought the cow and awakened their friend, rousing the aged Indra like a vessel filled with wealth, ready to pour out gifts. They wondered about Indra’s many names—some called him the enjoyer, yet they heard he was not to be enjoyed. They prayed their words would bring a share of wealth, asking Indra, O Śakra, to grant them their portion. People called upon Indra in their true gatherings, standing together, offering him friendship and making him their yoke-mate. Whoever poured not Soma still desired Indra’s friendship, for all sought the company of the mighty one, the bringer of gifts and victory.