As the dawn of a sacred moment approached, a healer stood by the afflicted, invoking the ancient wisdom of the Rig Veda. With gentle hands, the healer spoke words of binding and protection, likening the act to the yoking of a chariot: “As the yoke is secured with three strong straps, so I fasten your mind for life, not for death, but for safe and unharmed continuance.” The healer’s voice was steady, drawing upon the very stability of the earth itself: “As this great earth holds the trees firm in her embrace, so I bind your mind for life, not for death, that you may continue unharmed.” Reaching deeper into the mysteries, the healer declared, “What mind I have reclaimed from Yama, from Vaivasvata, from Subandhu, I restore to you for life, not for death, for your unharmed continuance.” With a prayer for release, the healer entreated the forces of nature: “As the wind blows downward, as the sun sets downward, as the cow yields her milk downward, so may your illness descend and depart from you.” Then, raising a hand over the patient, the healer proclaimed, “This hand of mine is divine, more divine still; this hand is all-healing, auspicious to the touch.” In the glow of the sacrificial fire, the fierce and praised speech arose, a sacred utterance full of will and power, echoing between two mighty kings. Protected by generous parents, a hero struck down seven priests at the altar, his deed resounding through the ages. Striving for victory and generosity, he measured out the altar with sacrifices, pouring forth his seed with eager words, like a rushing stream or the pressing stone that releases the soma. Among the skilled, those whose minds excel in offerings, a mighty one stretched out his arms like arrows to the directions. When the dark ones sat among the cows, the singer called to the divine Aśvins, offspring of heaven, inviting them eagerly to the sacrifice and the shared meal, pleading not to be forgotten by these celestial leaders. The heroic deed, firm and well-performed, was never cast aside by men. Once, a slender daughter bore a burden, which was raised up again—the support of the bearer. In secret, a mysterious act took place: desire for the father arose within the young woman, and at the beginning, two minds parted as the well-made seed was placed in the womb. When the father, desiring his own daughter, shed his seed upon her, the self-born gods intervened. They created sacred speech and fashioned the Lord of the House, the guardian of the vow. Like a bull in contest, he cast forth foam, while others, lacking understanding, withdrew. The right hand, like a gift, turned aside, but the spotted one took hold of the singer. Swift as fire at birth, the upabdi approached, sitting beside the kindled Agni like a naked man, seeking fuel and strength, ever young and mighty. The Navagvas, speaking truth, quickly came to the friendship of Kanāyā, joined in truth, desiring to milk the ever-yielding cow. Their approach was pure, and the bright one gave her milk, the line of their coming shining clear. As separated cattle are recognized from behind, so the singer rejoiced, discerning treasures with the sons of the Vasus, always seeking wealth. Many gathered around the hero, desiring the unaging prize, and they discovered the secret of the many-born, the hidden bond of Śuṣṇa, unbreakable. This was the radiance whose name is known to the gods, the sunlight that pervades the triple realm. Agni, Jātavedas, the Hotar and true priest, was invoked to hear these prayers. The Aśvins and Indra, with fierce shining rays, were praised and worshipped, rejoicing among men on the strewn grass, delighting in well-offered libations. The wise king, the singer, crossed the waters, shaking the fire with branches like a wheel’s rim, stirring the swift and restless one. The worshipper, two-boundary Vaitaraṇa, sought to milk the ever-yielding cow, the horse, as Mitra and Varuṇa joined with hymns, and Aryaman with the eldest guardians. The sage, a kinsman, placed the devotee’s thought in heaven, at the closest navel, proclaiming it as the singer’s own. “May that navel be ours, whether far or near; may I attain it, even afterwards, in some way.” Claiming his place, the singer declared, “This is my navel, here is my seat; these are my gods, I am all this. The twice-born, the first-born of truth, this cow, newly calved, has yielded her milk.” The gentle, restless, shining one, eager for praise, would be born, and when the upright line, like a child, appeared, the mother set forth her firm, ever-growing offspring. The cows followed the guidance of Kanāyā, responding even to the bark of a dog, while the singer called for the favor of the generous, praising the horse-slayer with true words. Indra was invoked to strike for his people, to protect and guard their heroes, never failing in his favor. When kings strove for the cow, Saraṇyu ran for the poet Jaraṇyu, and the inspired, most beloved, became theirs, ready to go forth or cross over with them. In the fullness of the noble one, the people called out with loud voices, though their cries seemed vain. Saraṇyu’s son was the horse, and the sage was famed for glory. With reverence, the people offered praise for friendship and kinship, where all voices gathered harmoniously, as in days of old, for the giver and for the winning of true speech. The singer, endowed with the gods and with water, the good kinsman, grew with hymns and praise, now approaching the milk of the bright cow. The worshipful gods, united in purpose, were invoked to become strong for the aid of the people, bringing forth prizes, moving freely, standing firm, wise and unfailing. Those who, joined with sacrifice and offering, sought Indra’s friendship and immortality, were blessed by the Angirases, who accepted the gift of humanity. The fathers, who with truth broke open the enclosure for the cows in the revolving year, were granted long life by the Angirases, who again accepted the gift of humanity. Those who, by truth, caused the sun to ascend and spread earth and sky, were granted noble offspring by the Angirases, and the gift of humanity was accepted. The sweet-voiced one spoke in the house of the sons of gods, and the sages listened, receiving excellent prayers and the gift of humanity. The Angirases, of varied forms, trembling in the depths, were born around Agni, sons gathered in the sacred fire. These nine-cowed and ten-cowed Angirases, most worthy, were honored among the gods, born around Agni and the sky. With Indra as their ally, they sent forth the prize-rich herd, the Ashvins, and the eight-eared ones, givers of thousands, made their fame among the gods. Now, let Manu be born, rising as a child—he who desires to give thousands and a hundred horses at once—thus the blessings of the seers and the gods flow forth, ever renewing the world with light, wisdom, and abundance.