If, at the age of forty-eight, any affliction arose for a man who had lived the disciplined life, he would invoke the breaths, the Rudras, saying, “Breaths, Rudras, may this midday pressing, this third pressing, continue for me; may I not, among the breaths, the Rudras, destroy the sacrifice.” With this prayer, he would rise, and the illness would leave him. These forty-eight years correspond to the third pressing, for the Jagatī meter, used in the third pressing of the Soma sacrifice, has forty-eight syllables. The Jāgata hymn is also connected to this pressing. To this, the Ādityas—the solar deities—are related. Indeed, the breaths are the Ādityas, for it is they who take up all this world. If, at this age, any affliction should come, the man would again pray: “Breaths, Ādityas, may this third pressing, this life, continue for me; may I not, among the breaths, the Ādityas, destroy the sacrifice.” He would rise, and once more, he would be freed from illness. This was declared by the sage Mahidāsa Aitareya, a knower of truth: “What affliction can touch me, who will not be commanded by this?” He lived one hundred and sixteen years. Indeed, one who knows thus lives as long as he did. Now, the initiations of such a one are these: when he does not eat, when he does not drink, when he does not seek pleasure, these are his vows of initiation. When he eats, drinks, and takes pleasure, by these acts he approaches the offerings. When he laughs, plays, or unites with a partner, by these he approaches the hymns and chants. His gifts are austerity, giving, uprightness, non-injury, and truthfulness. Whether he eats or does not eat, that is his regeneration; his death is his final bath, the completion of his sacred duties. Ghora Āṅgirasa, having spoken thus to Kṛṣṇa, the son of Devakī, said: “Thirst alone remained for him.” At the final moment, one should take up these three thoughts: “You are undecaying, you are unfallen, you are established in breath.” There, these two verses are recited: “From the ancient seed, as it rises beyond the darkness, they behold the light that is highest; they behold the highest heaven, the highest deity. There, among the gods, we have reached the sun, the supreme light. Thus: the supreme light.” Let one meditate upon the mind as Brahman—this is the teaching regarding the self. And regarding the gods: let one meditate upon space as Brahman. Both are thus prescribed, concerning the self and the gods. This Brahman is said to have four feet: for the self, speech is one foot, breath is one foot, the eye is one foot, and the ear is one foot. For the gods, fire is one foot, wind is one foot, the sun is one foot, and the directions are one foot. Thus, both are prescribed, concerning the self and the gods. Speech itself is the fourth foot of Brahman. It shines and burns with the light of fire; it shines and burns with fame, glory, and the radiance of Brahman—whoever knows this. Breath itself is the fourth foot of Brahman. It shines and burns with the light of wind; it shines and burns with fame, glory, and the radiance of Brahman—whoever knows this. The eye itself is the fourth foot of Brahman. It shines and burns with the light of the sun; it shines and burns with fame, glory, and the radiance of Brahman—whoever knows this. The ear itself is the fourth foot of Brahman. It shines and burns with the light of the directions; it shines and burns with fame, glory, and the radiance of Brahman—whoever knows this. The teaching is: the sun is Brahman. In the beginning, all this was non-existent. That became existent; it came into being; an egg was produced. It rested for the measure of a year, then split open. From the two halves of the eggshell, silver and gold arose. The silver became this earth; the gold became the sky. That which is old age is the mountains; that which is wool is the clouds and mist. That which flows is the rivers; that which is moisture is the ocean. Then, what was born from the egg—that is the sun. As it was being born, sounds and cries arose; all beings and all desires followed it. Therefore, at its rising and setting, sounds and cries arise; all beings and all desires follow. Whoever, knowing thus, worships the sun as Brahman—if noble sounds were to approach him, they would come near and salute him. Now, there was a man named Jānaśruti Pautrāyaṇa, a giver of faith, generous, and renowned for hospitality. He arranged for food to be provided everywhere, thinking, “Let there be food everywhere for me.” One night, swans flew by. One swan called to another, “Ho, ho, Bhallākṣa! Bhallākṣa! The radiance of Jānaśruti Pautrāyaṇa shines equally by day. Do not surpass it; do not diminish it.” The other replied, “Who is this, whose radiance you compare to Raikva, the cart-dweller?” Who, then, is Raikva, the cart-dweller? Just as, when a chariot is won, the lower parts follow, so all this follows him. Whatever good people do, whoever knows this, whatever he knows, I have spoken of it. Jānaśruti overheard this exchange and was disturbed. He spoke to his steward, “Who is this Raikva, the cart-dweller, whose radiance you compare?” Who, then, is Raikva, the cart-dweller? Just as, when a chariot is won, the lower parts follow, so all this follows him. Whatever good people do, whoever knows this, whatever he knows, I have spoken of it. The steward searched but did not find him. He returned and said, “Wherever there is a search for a Brahmin, honor him there.” Eventually, he sat down beside a leprous sore under a cart and addressed him, “You, revered one, are Raikva with the cart yoked.” Raikva replied, “I am indeed without the yoke.” The servant recognized him and returned. Then Jānaśruti, the grandson of Pautra, took six hundred cows, a necklace, and a chariot drawn by mules, and set out. He addressed Raikva, “Here are six hundred cows, this necklace, and this chariot drawn by mules. Please, revered one, instruct me in that deity which you worship.” But Raikva replied, “Take these away, Śūdra. Let them remain with you and your cows.” So Jānaśruti took a thousand cows, a necklace, a chariot drawn by mules, and his daughter, and set out again. He addressed him: “Raikva, here are a thousand cows, this necklace, this chariot drawn by mules, this wife, and this village in which you reside. Please, revered one, instruct me.” Raikva touched her mouth and said, “Take these away, Śūdra. You will feed them with this mouth.” Those are called Raikva’s leaves among the great bulls where he resided. Then Raikva spoke to him: “Indeed, air is the absorber. When fire goes out, it merges into air. When the sun sets, it merges into air. When the moon sets, it merges into air. When the waters dry up, they merge into air. Air indeed absorbs all these; this is with regard to the deities. Now, with regard to the self: breath is indeed the absorber. When one sleeps, speech merges into breath, sight merges into breath, hearing merges into breath, mind merges into breath. Breath indeed absorbs all these. These two are the absorbers: air among the gods, breath among living beings.” Then, while Śaunaka Kāpeya and Abhipratāri Kākṣaseni were being served, a student approached them for alms, but they did not give him anything. The student said, “Among the great souls, there are four, O gods. Who is the one who is awake, the guardian of the world? Kāpeya, mortals do not see him. Abhipratāri, he dwells in many forms. To whom this food is given?” Thus, the teachings were imparted, and the mystery of the absorbers—air and breath—was revealed, as well as the highest light that is Brahman, shining in the sun, mind, and all the world.