In ancient times, the people prepared themselves for battle and sacrifice, forging strong enclosures for their leaders and sewing thick, broad armor to shield them. They built unassailable forts of iron, determined that their well-crafted vessels would not be shattered by the enemy’s might. With reverence, they turned their thoughts to the gods, seeking divine aid. They worshipped the goddess, offering prayers that she might grant them abundance, like a cow yielding a thousand streams of milk for their sustenance. The golden-hued offerings were poured into the sacred vessel, shaped with axes and stone tools. Ten bands embraced the vessel, both yokes were fitted, and the fire was set in its proper place. The fire, nourished by both yokes, moved within as a double-born being, as if in the womb. The wooden post was placed in the wood, and the well was hollowed out. The men raised the renowned one and dug with vigor for the prize of strength. The staff-bearer set the child in motion, and Indra was called to drink Soma with the assembly. Indra, mighty and much-invoked, was asked to protect their well-matched chariot in battle, guarding them for fame and the winning of wealth. The wind blew forth, its garment upon the chariot, as Indra won a thousand. In the contest for cattle, Mudgalānī became a charioteer, and Indra’s host scattered the enemy. Indra was implored to hold back the weapon of those who sought harm, whether Dāsa or Arya, and to destroy the weapons of the enemy. Roaring, he drank the water of the deep pool and broke the stronghold, overcoming the foe. Desiring fame, he bore the heavy load with swift arms, striving for victory. The enemy came, bellowing and surrounding him, urinating like a bull among the herd. With that strength, Mudgala won in battle a hundred, a thousand cattle. The bull was yoked in the mire, his charioteer with flowing hair stood below. The runners of the yoked cow, swift as they ran, reached the goal for Mudgalānī. The wise one, knowing the contest, struck the rival and approached the path, learning there. Indra, lord of the unyoked, urged on the herds, 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 people, touching the cows and gaining strength. Behold the one yoked to the bull, lying amidst the wood, the driver at rest. By him, Mudgala won a hundred, a thousand cattle in the contests of battle. Far away, who indeed has seen him? Whom do they yoke, or set in place? For him, they bring neither grass nor water; the upper yoke bears 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 prayed for victory and good fortune. Indra was hailed as 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, swift and fierce like a mighty bull, terrifying and a smasher of hosts, stirred men to battle. He was the shouter, unblinking, the sole hero, conquering with a hundred hosts together. With his war-cry, impetuous and bold, Indra led the men to victory, standing firm in battle with his mighty arrow. Indra, with warriors bearing arrows and quivers, led his troop to victory in assembled combat. The Soma-drinker, strong-armed and fierce-bowed, stood firm with weapons drawn. Bṛhaspati was called to circle with his chariot, destroyer of demons and foes, driving them away, breaking enemy hosts, crushing in battle, and guiding and protecting the chariots. Indra, knowing strength, steadfast, supremely heroic, powerful, victorious, enduring, and fierce, stood upon the conquering chariot, bestower of cattle. Breaker of enclosures, knower of cattle, with arms like thunderbolts, triumphant and shattering with power, Indra was emulated by his companions, united together in strength. Indra, the hero, hundred-powered, plunged against barriers with force, irresistible in battle, destroyer of the wicked, leading the army to prevail. Let Indra lead, with Bṛhaspati and Right, the sacrifice and Soma going before; among the divine hosts that break through and conquer, let the Maruts advance at the front. The mighty voice of Indra the bull, King Varuṇa, the Ādityas, the fierce troop of Maruts, and the great-minded, world-moving gods arose in victory. Indra was called to rouse the weapons, stir the minds of eager warriors, and let the victorious cries of chariot-fighters, horsemen, and slayers of Vṛtra rise up. May Indra be with them among the assembled banners; may their arrows be victorious, their heroes supreme, and the gods protect them in their calls for aid. The enemies were to be confounded, their limbs seized, driven away, their hearts burned with flames, and joined with blinding darkness. The men were urged to go forth and conquer, trusting in Indra’s protection, their arms strong and invincible as they desired. Soma was pressed for Indra, and he was invited to come with his steeds to the sacrifice. Inspired songs were raised for him, and he was called to drink of the pressed Soma. He was invited to drink the Soma purified in the waters, with men, to fill his belly with the pressed juice, pressed by the stones, growing strong and bringing exhilaration and praise. The foremost draught, the true drink of pressed Soma, was offered to Indra with tawny steeds. He rejoiced with the cows, with all the hymns, praised by every song. By his aid and strength, wise priests stood firm in the homes of men, praising him in the assembly. With his guidance, people of fair speech and joy bestowed the greatest aid, offering praise with generous words. Indra was called to the hymns, to drink the pressed Soma, for the sacrifice called him, the worthy one, the giver, and wise one of the rite. The mighty, thousand-powered, foe-crushing, Soma-drinking, generous Indra, praised with splendid hymns, was adorned by the songs of worshippers, unconquered and honored by singers. The seven divine, untainted waters, with which Indra first filled the Sindhu, flowed together—ninety-nine streams and nine more—finding a path for gods and men. The mighty waters were asked to release them from the great curse, to awaken, and for Indra to nourish his whole being with the waters by which he conquered the foe. Indra was heroic, wise, and well-praised; even the nourishing cows sought the much-invoked one. He struck down the foe, created space, and overcame the hosts in battle, the mighty one victorious.