O Indra, thou slayer of Vṛtra! Thou art the mighty one whose deeds are sung in the heavens and upon the earth. Before thy advent, the world was held in thrall by the serpent, and the waters were imprisoned in his coils. Drought reigned eternal; nothing could grow; all life withered toward extinction.

But thou didst rise up in thy fury, O Indra! Thy voice thundered across the sky like ten thousand drums beaten at once. The mountains trembled at thy approach. The demons fled before thee. With thy weapon, the Vajra, thou didst strike the serpent down. The monster fell, sundered in his very essence, unable even to gather the strength to cry out as he died.

When thou didst slay Vṛtra, the waters burst forth in torrents! The rivers rushed down from the mountains, carving new canyons as they ran. The rains fell in sheets of silver. Everywhere, the parched earth drank deep of the life-giving liquid. Grass sprang up where once was only dust. The trees put forth their leaves in frantic haste, racing to catch up on a thousand cycles of missed seasons.

And thou, O Indra, didst bathe in the waters of thy victory! Thou drank deep of the soma that the grateful mortals offered thee. The intoxication seized thee; thou staggered with the ecstasy of triumph and divine pleasure. For thou hadst accomplished what no other god could do. Thou hadst freed the world from its bondage. Thou hadst restored the possibility of existence itself.

What would we do without thee, O warrior god? We would perish with the land, our children would never know green valleys, our herds would find no pasture, our crops would never swell with grain. But thou hast secured for us the possibility of life itself through thy terrible courage and thy mighty strength.

Accept our praise, O Indra! Let thy thunder roll across the skies. Let thy rain fall upon our fields. Guard us against all threats, O slayer of Vṛtra, as thou hast guarded all the worlds.