I rose early, washing my face and dressing, plaiting my hair and putting on makeup in anticipation of her. She is coming! I thought, and having heard she was beautiful, it was difficult to wait. I wanted to see her, to experience her beauty for myself, and I hoped that perhaps in me was a reflection of her, and that she would see that, too. I checked the time, again and again, waiting for the moment when the sky would be thrown open in splendour, and she would be there, radiant.

Rather, it was a slow process, almost imperceptible, and for a brief second I doubted. Perhaps she would not come… but as the chime sounded and the words flowed from my mouth I felt her, large and bright, and there was no question that I would do this again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.

[Rg Veda, Book 7, Hymn LXXX. Dawn.]

The priests are the first awakened to welcome Dawn with their songs and praises,
Who makes surrounding regions part asunder,
and shows apparent all existing creatures.
Giving fresh life when she has hid the darkness,
this Dawn has wakened there with new-born lustre.
Youthful and unrestrained she comes forward:
she has turned thoughts to Sun and fire and worship.
May blessed Mornings shine on us for ever,
with wealth of kine, of horses, and of heroes,
Streaming with all abundance, pouring fatness.
Preserve us evermore, O Gods, with blessings.

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