In the days when the gods and mortals moved close together, the tender-hearted approached mighty Indra, the great Asura, seeking his favor and strength. With each step, this gentle one drew near to Indra, bringing with him well-being, nourishment, prosperity, and vigor for all. The people, in their devotion, called upon Indra to make their wealth firm and enduring. They invited him to partake of the sacred Soma, praised and offered for their increase. Along with Indra, they invoked the protection of Savitar and the other gods, and chose Aditi, the mother of all, who bestows blessings that surpass all others. As the ritual unfolded, the offering was brought forth for the bearer and set aside for the priest. It was sent pure to Vayu, accompanied by the cry of worship. Those who had tasted the cow’s milk, in gratitude and humility, again chose Aditi, she who is the source of all blessings. The people prayed for Savitar’s inspiration to guide the sacrificer along the straight path, so that the Soma might be pressed in accordance with the divine order. As they adorned the gods, like ripe fruit ready for harvest, their hearts turned once more to Aditi, the all-surpassing. They asked that Indra be gracious, that King Soma grant them prosperity, and that the powers of Mitra and Dhiti be joined for their benefit. In all things, they chose Aditi, who transcends all. They recalled how Indra, with praise and might, spread his protection over them, and how Brihaspati prolonged their lives. They honored the sacrifices, the wisdom of Manu, and the counsel of their wise ancestors, and in all these, they chose Aditi. They celebrated the divine strength in Indra’s deeds, the presence of Agni in their homes, the wise poet, and the beauty of sacrifice in assembly—all under the blessing of Aditi. With humility, they confessed that they had not committed secret evils nor acts hateful to the gods, and prayed that the Vasus would not let the gods turn away from them for any falsehood. Again, they chose Aditi. They asked Savitar to drive away disease and misfortune, and for the waters to repel all that is harmful. Where the stone presses forth the sweet Soma, there too, they chose Aditi. They prayed that the stone, upright in the pressing, would dispel hatred and enmity, and that Savitar would be their praised guardian. In all things, Aditi was their choice. They wished for their cows to graze on rich grass and nourishment, for their bodies to be healed and whole, just as the cows dwelling in the abode of truth. In this, they chose Aditi. They prayed that the singer be endowed with enduring strength, and that Indra’s favor and wise counsel be with those who press the Soma, whose vessels overflowed with heavenly libations. Thus, they chose Aditi. They praised the splendid brilliance and fulfilling strength of the gods, whose helpers are swift and unassailable. With the best of chariots, the glory of cattle, and the singer circling the offering, they sought the gods’ favor. Then, as the dawn broke, the people called to one another, “Awaken, friends, with one mind! Kindle the fire, for many are gathered.” They called for the help of Dadhikrā, Agni, Ushas the goddess of dawn, and mighty Indra. They encouraged each other to make their thoughts pleasant and far-reaching, to prepare the boat that would carry them safely, and to ready the channel and all implements. United, they led the sacrifice forward. They yoked the ploughs, stretched the yokes, and sowed the seed into the prepared furrow. With voice and effort, the workers made ready, hoping the nearest field would yield a ripe harvest. The poets, too, yoked their ploughs and stretched out the yokes, each separately, offering their labor with favor toward the gods. They shaped the furrow and laid the yoke together, pouring water into the channel for a well-watered, unbroken stream. They prepared the channel, watered it well, made it fertile, and poured an unbroken stream into the furrow. They fed the horses and strove for the prize, fashioned the chariot of good fortune, prepared the furrow and the stone wheel, filled the vessel, and poured offerings for their leaders. They made enclosures for their leaders, sewed armor both broad and thick, and built an iron fort, unassailable, so their well-formed vessel would not be broken by the enemy. To the gods, they turned their sacred thoughts for help, worshiping the divine goddess present among them. She, like a cow with a thousand streams of milk, would grant them abundance for their sustenance. They poured the golden-hued offering into the vessel, shaping it with axes and tools of stone, binding it with ten bands, yoking both yokes, and setting the fire in its place. The fire, drinking from both yokes, moved within as a double-born being, as if in the womb. They set the wooden post and hollowed out the well. With united effort, they raised the renowned one, digging for the prize of strength. The one with the staff set the child in motion, and Indra was called to join the assembly and drink the Soma. In the contests and battles that followed, they prayed that Indra would guard their well-matched chariots with his might. In every battle, for fame and the winning of wealth, they sought his protection. The wind blew, his garment fluttering upon the chariot, as he claimed a thousand as his prize. In the contest for cattle, Mudgalānī became a charioteer, and Indra’s host scattered the enemy in battle. They called on Indra to hold back the weapons of those who sought to harm them, whether Dāsa or Arya, so that the enemy’s weapons would be destroyed. Indra drank the water of the deep pool, roaring, and broke through the stronghold, overcoming foes. Desiring fame, he bore the heavy load with swift arms, striving for victory. The enemies came, bellowing and surrounding him, urinating like a bull in a herd. With that strength, Mudgala triumphed in battle, winning a hundred, a thousand cattle in the contest. The bull was yoked in the mire, and his charioteer with flowing hair stood below. The runners of the yoked cow, swift as they were, reached the goal for Mudgalānī. The wise one, knowing the contest, struck the rival and approached the path, learning as he went. Indra, lord of the unyoked, urged on the herds with his steps, the high-crested one. The braided one moved like a goad in the contest for the prize, driven with a wooden stick. Performing heroic deeds for many, he touched the cows and gained strength. They saw the one yoked to the bull, lying in the midst of the wood, the driver at rest. By his effort, Mudgala won a hundred, a thousand cattle in the contests of battle. Far away, who indeed had seen him? Whom did they yoke or set in place? For him, they brought neither grass nor water; the upper yoke bore the load, directed forward. Like a wife seeking her husband in a deserted place, swelling like a water channel and pouring forth, with this chariot—even if old—they hoped to win, seeking good fortune and victory. Indra, the all-seeing, was the eye of all that moves, the eye of vision. As a bull, he led the contest of the strong, urging on the unyoked with his companion. Indra was swift and fierce, like a mighty bull, terrifying and a smasher of hosts, a stirrer of men. The shouter, unblinking, the sole hero—with a hundred hosts, he conquered all together. With the shouter, the unblinking, the victorious, with the war-cry, the impetuous and bold Indra led them. They stood firm in battle, men united with the mighty one who held the arrow. Indra, with his warriors bearing arrows and quivers, the mighty leader in battle, conquered with his troop. Victorious in assembled combat, Soma-drinker, strong-armed, and fierce-bowed, he stood firm with weapons drawn, ensuring victory for his people.