In ancient times, when men gathered to worship and offer sacrifices, the divine priests—first among speakers and wise in word—prepared the sacred rites with great care. They measured out the rituals for humankind, inspiring the singers assembled in the ritual ground, and pointed their minds toward the rising eastern light, heralding the dawn. As the sacrifice was set in motion, the worshippers invoked the presence of the goddesses. “May Bhāratī come to our sacrifice,” they prayed, “and may Iḍā, attentive and mindful as a human, be present here. Let Sarasvatī, together with her two divine companions, be seated upon this sacred grass, bestowing well-being upon us all.” The priests then turned their worship toward Tvaṣṭṛ, the divine craftsman, who, by his many forms, fills all the worlds—heaven and earth, the two great mothers. “O revered priest,” they intoned, “worship that most worshipful god Tvaṣṭṛ here today, as the sacred order directs.” At the heart of the rite stood Vanaspati, the lord of the forest and the very wood of the sacrificial fire. He, the fire well-placed in himself, arranged the offerings for the gods at their proper times, savoring the oblations of honey and ghee as the taster among the gods. Agni, the newly born flame, had measured out the sacrifice at the world’s beginning and became the leader of the gods. At the priest’s direction, with words of truth, the gods were invited to partake in the offerings, sanctified by the utterance of “svāhā.” Agni also served as a sign for those who could not see, an ornament for mortals, not for the unadorned—he was born together with the dawns, ever new and ever ancient. As warriors prepared for battle, they adorned themselves with armor, approaching the field with composure, like thunderclouds taking shape. With bodies unpierced, they prayed that the greatness of their armor would protect them and bring victory. With the bow, they sought to win cattle, to triumph in battle, and to overcome fierce contests. The bow, their steadfast ally, would frustrate the enemy’s desires and bring conquest in all directions. The bowstring, as if speaking, drew near the archer’s ear, embracing the bow as a beloved companion. Like a woman, it sprinkled the arrow forth, sending it swiftly on its way. The two, bow and string, worked together like a mother holding her child, and when loosed, their twanging sound scattered the foes. The archer, father of many and surrounded by his sons, entered the battlefield with his quiver, arrows, and all his troops fastened on his back—together, they prevailed when set forth. Upon the chariot stood the skilled charioteer, leading the horses wherever he wished. The reins revealed the power of the goads, while the mind followed behind as the traces directed. The strong-handed horses raced forward, their hooves thundering against the ground, advancing with the chariots to destroy and scatter the enemies in battle. The movement of the chariot itself was an offering, a place for weapons and armor. With joyful hearts, the warriors approached the chariot together, ready for the contest. They remembered the ancestors—strong, valiant, and wise—who once sat at the sweet drink, enduring hardships, skilled in archery, unyielding, and victorious in their many bands. The Brahman ancestors, gentle as Soma, were invoked for blessing. “May heaven and earth be auspicious and free from harm,” they prayed. “Let Pūṣan, upholder of truth, protect us from evil, and let no ill-wisher rule over us.” In the tumult of battle, the beast bore feathered wings, its tooth serving as its weapon. Bound with ox-hide, it flew forth when released. Where men gathered and scattered, may the arrows bring protection to those who called upon them. “Encompass us with strength,” the warriors prayed. “Let our bodies be as stone. May Soma speak for us, and Aditi grant us her protection.” The horses, their thighs moving and hips striking, bore the wise into battle. “Urge the horses on!” cried the warriors, eager for victory. The bowstring, like a serpent coiling around the arm, restrained the arrow until the skilled archer released it, protecting the warrior from all sides. To the tree that gave the bow its strength, they offered reverence: “O tree, be strong-limbed, our friend and passage to victory. Bound with ox-hide, stand firm—may he who stands upon you win glory.” From heaven and earth, strength was drawn; from trees, might was gathered. The thunderbolt of Indra, wrapped with ox-hide, was offered together with the chariot as a sacred oblation. Indra’s thunderbolt, the host of the Maruts, the seed of Mitra, the navel of Varuṇa—all these powers were invoked. “Accept this offering, O god, and take hold of the chariot for our invocation.” The drum sounded, making earth and sky resound, establishing the warriors’ fame everywhere. “O drum, together with Indra and the gods, drive away the enemies far off!” With strength and vigor, the drum resounded, driving away distress and misfortune, casting off evil as Indra’s own fist. Again and again, the drum sounded its clear signal, its voice returning. “Let our charioteers, O Indra, victorious in battle, ride forth with horses for us.” The animals, too, were dedicated to the gods: the black-necked to Agni, the speckled to Sarasvatī, the sheep to Meṣī, the brown to Soma, the dark one to Pūṣan, the grey-backed to Bṛhaspati, the spotted to Viśvadevas, the red to Indra, the dappled to the Maruts, the mixed-colored to Indra-Agni, the two with drooping lips to Sāvitr and Varuṇa, the black to Ekasiti, and the piebald to Petva. To Agni, the red-hoofed bull; to Anīkavat, the red-footed ox; to Sāvitr and Pūṣan, the two with drooping lips; to Viśvadevas, the silver-naved; to Tūparu, the two piebald; to the Maruts, the dappled; to Agni, the black; to Sarasvatī, the goat; to Meṣī, the sheep; and to Varuṇa, the piebald—all were offered in due order. The offerings were made with sacred chants and measures: to Agni, the Gāyatrī with three verses; to Rāthantara, the eight-cup offering; to Indra, the Triṣṭubh with fifteen verses; to Barhata, the eleven-cup offering; to all the gods, the Jagatī with seventeen verses; to the Varūpa, the twelve-cup offering; to Mitra and Varuṇa, the Anuṣṭubh with twenty-one verses; to Vairāja, the nourishing; to Bṛhaspati, the Pankti with thirty-nine verses; to Śākvara, the Caru; to Savitar, the Uṣṇih with thirty-three verses; to Raivata, the twelve-cup offering; to Prajāpati, the Caru; to Aditi and Viṣṇu’s spouse, the Caru; to Agni Vaiśvānara, the twelve-cup offering; and to Anumati, the eight-cup offering. As the rituals reached their height, the priests invoked Savitar, the divine inspirer. “O divine Savitar, inspire this sacrifice, inspire the lord of sacrifice for good fortune. May the celestial Gandharva, bearer of signs, purify our sign, and may the lord of speech grant us strength.” They contemplated the radiant brilliance of Savitar, praying, “May he inspire our thoughts.” They called upon Savitar to remove all misfortunes and bring all that is auspicious. “We call upon the distributor of splendid wealth, Savitar, who sees all men,” they chanted. In the order of the world, each role and being was assigned its place: for Brahmanhood, the Brahmin; for sovereignty, the Kṣatriya; for the Maruts, the Vaiśya; for austerity, the Śūdra; for darkness, the thief; for hell, the slayer of heroes; for evil, the impotent; for sale, the iron-worker; for desire, the courtesan; for outcastes, the Māgadha. For dance, the bard; for song, the minstrel; for law, the courtier; for misfortune, the jester; for jest, the clown; for laughter, the comic; for joy, the companion of women; for delight, the son of a maiden; for intelligence, the chariot-maker; for steadfastness, the carpenter. For austerity, the potter; for magic, the smith; for beauty, the jeweler; for good fortune, the weaver; for archery, the arrow-maker; for weapons, the bow-maker; for work, the string-maker; for fate, the rope-twister; for death, the hunter; for destruction, the dog-leader. For the rivers, the fisherman; for the bear-hunters, the Nishada; for the tiger among men, the fierce one; for the Gandharvas and Apsarases, the outcaste; for the attendants, the madman; for the serpent-deities, the one without a fixed abode; for gamblers, the cheat; for non-gamblers, the ogre; for the fiends, the one who makes split bamboo; for the sorcerers, the thorn-maker. For union, the adulterer; for the household, the paramour; for distress, the forsaken; for destruction, the betrayer; for misfortune, the husband of a barren woman; for expiation, the skilled worker; for knowledge, the memory-maker; for passionate pursuit, the lover; for color, the one who follows; for strength, the assistant. For deformity, the hunchback; for joy, the dwarf; for the door, the lame; for sleep, the blind; for unrighteousness, the deaf; for purification, the physician; for wisdom, the star-gazer; for instruction, the questioner; for further instruction, the inquirer; for boundaries, the judge. For the elephants, the elephant-keeper; for speed, the horse-keeper; for nourishment, the cowherd; for strength, the shepherd; for energy, the goat-herd; for food, the ploughman; for drink, the brewer; for good fortune, the householder; for prosperity, the treasurer; for supervision, the overseer. Thus, with every role, every offering, and every prayer, the order of the world was established and maintained. The gods, ancestors, and mortals each received their due, and the sacred rites bound heaven and earth in harmony, bringing blessing, strength, and victory to all who honored the divine order.