sked
who was the principal god of the Vedic period, we should probably,
judging from the remains of that poetry which we possess, say it was
Indra, the god of the blue sky, the Indian Zeus, the gatherer of the
clouds, the giver of rain, the wielder of the thunder-bolt, the
conqueror of darkness, and of all the powers of darkness, the bringer
of light, the source of freshness, vigor, and life, the ruler and lord
of the whole world. Indra is this, and much more in the Veda. He is
supreme in the hymns of many poets, and may have been so in the
prayers addressed to him by many of the ancient septs or village
communities in India. Compared with him the other gods are said to be
decrepit old men. Heaven, the old Heaven or Dyaus, formerly the father
of all the gods, nay the father of Indra himself, bows before him, and
the Earth trembles at his approach. Yet Indra never commanded the
permanent allegiance of all the other gods, like Zeus and Jupiter;
nay, we know from the Veda itself that there were skeptics, even at
that early time, who denied that there was any such thing as
Indra.[223]

By the side of Indra, and associated with him in his battles, and
sometimes hardly distinguishable from him, we find the representatives
of the wind, called Vata or Vayu, and the more terrible storm-gods,
the Maruts, literally the Smashers.

When speaking of the Wind, a poet says:[224] "Where was he born?
Whence did he spring? the life of the gods, the germ of the world!
That god moves about where he listeth, his voices are heard, but he is
not to be seen."

The Maruts are more terrible than Vata, the wind. They are clearly the
representatives of such storms as are known in India, when the air is
darkened by dust and clouds, when in a moment the trees are stripped
of their foliage, their branches shivered, their stems snapped, when
the earth seems to reel and the mountains to shake, and the rivers are
lashed into foam and fury. Then the poet sees the Maruts approaching
with golden helmets, with spotted skins on their shoulders,
brandishing golden spears, whirling their axes, shooting fiery arrows,
and cracking their whips amid thunder and lightning. They are the
comrades of Indra, sometimes, like Indra, the sons of Dyaus or the
sky, but also the sons of another terrible god, called Rudra, or the
Howler, a fighting god, to whom many hymns are addressed. In him a new
character is evolved, that of a healer and saviour--a very natural
transi