Pramāṇa · Search · About · API

The Inner Conflict of Tradition: Essays in Indian Ritual, Kingship, and Society c7: 3 The Case of the Severed Head

The Inner Conflict of Tradition: Essays in Indian Ritual, Kingship, and Society c7

Language
English

Contents

3 The Case of the Severed Head

c7.1

In abler hands, the present study could have resulted in a mystery story. On the other hand, one might perhaps expect a full-scale treatment of the symbolism of the severed head. However, neither treatment is attempted here. Rather it is intended to unearth from under the weighty mass of imagery a clue to the tangible realities that seem to underly it.

c7.2

The Vedic śrauta ritual presents a highly rationalized system of abstract symbols expressing the relations governing the cosmos and purporting thereby to enable the specialized operator, "who knows thus," to manipulate the universe, or rather to make his own universe.¹ This system finds its clearest expression in the arrangement of recitation and "laud" (*śastra* and *stotra*); their effectiveness does not depend on the content of the verses recited and sung, but on their abstract numerical arrangement. In other words, the ritual is divorced from the world of concrete reality. In the śrauta ritual, man strikes out on his own, free from ties with friend and foe, creating his own abstract universe. Leaving his friends behind and overcoming his foes, he obtains heaven all to himself. The divorce from reality does, however, involve him in contradiction. He remains of necessity tied to the concrete world, which he wants to control from the abstract ritual plane.

c7.3

It stands to reason that the ritual must bear the imprint of this contradiction between abstract symbol and concrete reality. The foe is overcome by abstract means, without being bodily present; in fact, he cannot possibly have a standing on the place of sacrifice. Nevertheless, it is sometimes enjoined that he should be remunerated—without even being present—by a

c7.4

This essay first appeared in slightly different form in *Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde Süd- und Ostasiens* 11 (1967): 22–43. Reprinted by permission.

c7.5

gift (*dakṣiṇā*);² how this is to be effected is not stated. Contradictions such as these, where the system breaks, offer a chance to come nearer to the relation between abstract system and reality as well as to the development of the ritual. A case in point is that of the severed head.

c7.6

The brāhmaṇa discussions on the details of the ritual system contain many references to the “head of the sacrifice,” its being severed, the outflowing essence, and especially its being restored. It will be clear that the severing and restoration of the head in the language of the ritual system can only be an abstract expression. At first, though, one would be inclined to think of the head of the sacrificial victim. But it is exactly here that the abstract nature of the expression stands out clearest. There cannot be any question of the victim’s head being referred to; the victim is explicitly not beheaded; it is even forbidden to make offerings of the victim’s head.³

c7.7

Thus we find that standard elements and acts of the ritual are referred to as the head of the sacrifice, their installation or performance signifying the severing or restoration of the head. The sacrificial cake is called the head, the potsherds on which it is baked representing the skull bones.⁴ Similarly treated are the offering fire (*āhavanīya*);⁵ the second *āghāra* libation preceding the main offerings;⁶ the guest offering for Soma;⁷ the *havirdhāna* hut where the Soma beverage is prepared and stored;⁸ the ukthya Soma sacrifice, which has three more stotra-śastra rounds than the basic Soma sacrifice;⁹ the *āśvina* Soma cup, the Aśvins’ reward for restoring the sacrifice’s head;¹⁰ the *vaśā* cow, representing the essence flowing away when the head of the sacrifice is cut off, so that the *vaśā* sacrifice after the Soma sacrifice signifies the restoration of the head;¹¹ the *vaṣaṭ* call cutting off the head of the gāyatrī meter, the outflowing essence becoming sacrificial animals;¹² the *gharma* or *mahāvīra* milkpot, central element in the pravargya ceremony, which is explained as the joining of the head to the sacrifice.¹³

c7.8

Incongruous though this random collection, which could easily be expanded, may seem, the connecting idea is clear. The sacrifice is a cosmos which is violently broken up in order to be put together again. This is in accordance with the cyclical conception of the universe underlying the ritual literature—the constantly alternating movement between the two poles of disintegration and reintegration, death and birth, nether world and upper world¹⁴—an idea which found its clearest systematic expression in the building of the fire altar, conceived as the restoration of the disintegrated cosmic man. The pivotal point, however, is that death and disintegration have been eliminated. Abstraction enabled the ritualists—and this is the rationale and the achievement of the ritual system—to do away with the reality of death.¹⁵ Death has been rationalized away.

c7.9

Before going into the relation between abstract system and reality, it may be worthwhile first to explore the meaning of the "head of the sacrifice." In the *Ṛgveda*, the head in expressions like the "head of the universe," "the head of the bull or of the cow," seems to indicate an invisible and mysterious place where the essence, especially of Agni and Soma, is hidden.¹⁶ The head is associated with and contains a treasure or a secret that is the essence of the universe. Everything depends on obtaining the head, and the gods have to contend for its possession. This idea is graphically expressed in the myths of Namuci, Dadhyañc, Makha, and Viśvarūpa, often mentioned in the ritual texts in explanation of the "head of the sacrifice." They all have in common that their heads are or contain the priceless treasure. Without belonging unequivocally to the asuras, the rivals of the gods—they seem to be intermediary figures between the two parties of devas and asuras, in a position to grant their favor to either of them—they try to withhold the treasure from Indra and the devas.¹⁷

c7.10

Though these myths are only partially known to us in the form of unconnected elements, it is clear that the head is the main point of interest.¹⁸ By cutting off Namuci's head, Indra, with the help of the Aśvins, wins (or wins back) the fermented *sūrā* beverage. Dadhyañc similarly keeps the secret of a cultic beverage, the *madhu*,¹⁹ which he teaches to the Aśvins by means of a horse head. Another element is that Indra searches for Dadhyañc's head with which he finally crushes the asuras. Makha, whose name in the ritual literature is synonymous with sacrifice, is the holder of the head of the sacrifice par excellence. On his flight from the gods from whom he tries to withhold the preeminence or fame (*śrī*, *yaśas*) of sacrifice, he rests his head on his bow; the bow springing upward severs his head. Indra thus obtains the preeminence. Viśvarūpa is equally a representation of sacrifice; with his three heads he consumes the Soma, the sūrā, and the sacrificial cakes, thus possessing in his three heads the whole of sacrifice. Indra therefore cuts off the three heads (or has them cut off).²⁰

c7.11

In these myths, there is still another element which should retain our attention. The cosmic essence is not with the sacrificing gods; they have to obtain it elsewhere, violently breaking up the primordeal unity of the cosmos. The point I want to stress is that this act is placed in the context of an agonistic festival. *Ṛgveda* 10. 131. 4–5 tells us that Indra and the Aśvins drank together with Namuci. Makha's name became synonymous with the systematized, nonagonistic sacrifice from which the rival has been excluded. It is characteristic, however, that the ritual myth makes him participate with the gods in a contest for preeminence; preeminence comes first to Makha, who wanting to withhold it from the gods, flees, bringing about the result we saw.²¹ Similarly in Viśvarūpa's case, sacrifice and violent contest are combined. In the myth of Dadhyañc, there is no mention of a festival but only of a teacher-pupil relation, the Aśvins inducing Dadhyañc to teach them the secret *madhuvidyā*, the knowledge of the honey beverage, which is mythologically synonymous with his horse head. The secret knowledge they obtain seems also to involve the knowledge of severing and restoring the head—they cut off Dadhyañc's head to replace it with the horse head and vice versa.²² Equipped with this knowledge, they are able to restore the head to the sacrifice for the benefit of the gods, obtaining a share in the Soma as their reward.²³ Thus the element of festival, though not directly connected with the way in which the Aśvins obtained Dadhyañc's secret, is not completely absent. Moreover, it would seem that the teaching of the secret of the *madhu* is mythologically equivalent to a madhu revelry.²⁴ Neither is the notion of contest absent, though it is again dissociated. Dadhyañc himself is a great asura-slayer according to *Jaiminīya Brāhmaṇa* 3. 64: At the mere sight of him the asuras fall prostrate, and, characteristically, have to pay with their heads (*taṃ ha sma yāvanto 'surāḥ parāpaśyanti te ha sma tad eva viśīrṣāṇāś śerate*); by means of his bones Indra produces the same effect.²⁵ It would seem that it is not Dadhyañc at the center of the ritual, but the asuras, whose heads are severed. Moreover, the place where the head is found, Saryaṇāvat, is connected with Kurukṣetra, the scene of the battles of devas and asuras, Kauravas and Pāṇḍavas, as well as the place of sacrifice of the gods.

c7.12

Thus, the head is with others. In order to obtain it, one has to go to an agonistic festival to contend for it. The basic pattern of these festivals is dualistic, in principle involving two parties: hosts and guests. This pattern is also manifest, albeit reinterpreted, in the systematized śrauta ritual, which, as Thieme noted, is of the nature of a stylized banquet.²⁶ The classical systematized ritual ignores, of course, the aspect of rivalry since the rival has been eliminated from the ritual, though it is abundantly attested in ritual mythology, as we saw.²⁷ But outside the śrauta ritual, in the rules pertaining to the reception of a guest, we can discern what was involved in the host-guest relation. The host must offer a cow to the guest. This in itself shows that the *arghya* ceremony is not a casual affair but the occasion of a festival at which a great number of people are regaled, especially brahmins, as is expressly mentioned. It is the guest who has to give the order for killing the cow and preparing the meat. Though he need not be the actual slaughterer, he takes, by his order, the responsibility for the killing of the animal upon himself.²⁸ Though this is not explicitly stated—in the language of the systematized ritual this would obviously be impossible—I do not think we can be far amiss in surmising that it is in this way that the guest obtains "the head of the sacrifice."

c7.13

Elements of the mythology involved do contain indications to this effect. Indra and the Aśvins apparently are guests of Namuci, with whom they partake of the cultic beverage. Makha is himself the sacrifice or the sacrificial substance; in this he is in the same position as the sacrificer,²⁹ who as a host must furnish the “head.” Viśvarūpa, though clearly standing for the sacrifice, does not seem to be himself a sacrificer in this connection; in *Taittirīya Saṃhitā* 2. 5. 1. 1, he is characterized as an intermediary between the two parties of devas and asuras, sister’s son of the asuras and purohita to the devas, openly promising their part of the sacrifice to the gods and secretly to the asuras. In the sequel to the episode of his cutting off the three heads, Indra clearly is a guest, albeit an uninvited one. Viśvarūpa’s father, Tvaṣṭṛ, refuses to invite Indra, who then forcibly takes his part of the Soma. Tvaṣṭṛ then pours his Soma in the fire, thus engendering Vṛtra, who, enclosing Agni and Soma, is again a representation of sacrifice; in the end Indra entices Agni and Soma to leave Vṛtra and join him, after which Vṛtra is slain.³⁰ Thus finally, Indra as guest obtains the sacrifice. Dadhyañc also is an intermediary figure between devas and asuras. As already mentioned, the occasion at which his secret is obtained seems equivalent to a drinking revelry at which the Aśvins are the guests, as in the case of Namuci. It is perhaps not just an arbitrary expression when the *Jaiminīya Brāhmaṇa*, as we saw, tells us that the asuras in their contest with Dadhyañc and Indra fall down headless; it could, in my opinion, very well mean that they lose their heads to the gods.

c7.14

In this connection, it is interesting that the *Vādhūla-sūtra* tells us of a king of the Kurus who possessed the “knowledge of the heads of the victims” (used at the building of the fire altar, to be discussed below).³¹ The brahmins of the Kurupancālas want to obtain this knowledge; one of them therefore goes to the king and asks to be taught the secret knowledge. Having heard his wish, the king states that indeed Agni has given him the knowledge of the head and in the same breath engages the brahmin to officiate for him. Now the interesting point is that the way to obtain “the knowledge of the victims’ heads” is to go to the sacrifice of the one who possesses it. It would seem that here we have the dualistic pattern of exchange between host and guest couched in terms of the systematized standard ritual, where the guests and rivals are replaced by officiating priests.

c7.15

Our brief and necessarily sketchy survey of these myths, broken down under the headings of the role of the head, agonistic festival, and host-guest relations, points to an ultimately coherent dualistic pattern. In this pattern, the two complementary opposites are the devas and the asuras, bound together in a permanent contest for a third, intermediary element, the “head of the sacrifice.''³² The ''head'' attached to one party creates a gap on the other side.³³ The gap must be filled by violently severing and reconquering the ''head.'' Equilibrium can only reside in a permanently renewed contest in which the two sides exchange the head. There is no final victor, since the conqueror will again need the other party to rid himself of the death and destruction he caused. When Indra severs the head of Namuci, it rolls after him, loudly accusing him, as *Taittirīya Brāhmaṇa* 1. 7. 1. 7 has it. The contest has to be followed by a revanche in unending cyclical repetition.

c7.16

It was to break this deadlock that the classical system seems to have been developed. By excluding the rival, the need for actual death and destruction was eliminated from the ritual. The cyclical exchange between the two parties was broken and everything brought under the single denominator of the sacrificer. The single sacrificer incorporates alone the whole universe, articulating by himself the cosmic process, like his prototype Prajāpati, who is at the same time sacrificer, victim, and recipient of the sacrifice. If Makha and his like represent the agonistic festival, Prajāpati is the personification of the systematized ritual. The contradiction between system and reality is obvious if we consider that the abstract ritual has to be explained by a mythology which stresses violence. The violence excluded from the ritual is relegated to mythology. The ritual can only picture the restoration; its counterpart, destruction, can only be expressed mythologically.³⁴

c7.17

It seems characteristic that this contradiction stands out clearest in one of the achievements of the system, the building of the fire altar (*agnicayana*), viewed as Prajāpati's restoration.³⁵ This impressive ritual contains at the same time a glaring contradiction. Even though the ritual exclusively stresses the restoration of the primordeal unity of Prajāpati, the ''head'' is a pivotal element. Indeed, in the first of the five brick layers of the fire altar, in its center, five real skulls must be placed, a human skull in the middle, and west, east, south, and north of it respectively skulls of a horse, a bull, a ram, and a he-goat. The first question that arises is: How were these heads obtained? The answer seems obvious; they must be the heads of victims immolated at a sacrifice, and a human sacrifice at that. Therefore Rönnow, in his precited article, draws the conclusion that the agnicayana originally involved human sacrifice. However, the matter is more complex than that. Even apart from the question of human sacrifice, a sacrifice at which the heads of the victims are severed is completely irregular and cannot very well be made to fit the classical system. Obviously the system breaks here.

c7.18

Let us have a look at the texts; how did the ritualists react to this situation? To begin with, the White Yajurveda starts out taking the boldest and seemingly simplest line.³⁶ The five ''animals,'' including the human victim, are simply immolated according to the systematized standard ritual of the animal sacrifice. In terms of the standard ritual, this means only that an additional rule is given regarding the severing of the heads, since this has not been taught in the previous parts of the text. "Having placed a grass blade on the necks he takes the heads," which takes place after taking out the omentum,³⁷ when the victim has already been consecrated and killed in the normal way, by suffocation. Apparently the human victim gets the benefit of being killed in a separate shed. "On paper" the appearances of the ritual system are saved, since the delicate matter is couched in the normalized terms of the standard ritual. Actually the texts are not so confident as it would appear.

c7.19

The form of the system may have been saved, but the content continues to trouble the ritualist. Therefore the inverse solution is attempted: giving up the form and being free as to the content. The alternative is, then, to obtain the heads anyhow, either real ones or counterfeit ones of gold or clay, without performing an animal sacrifice.³⁸ But this alternative is again rejected in strong terms by the *Śatapatha Brāhmaṇa*; the real heads would not be ritually consecrated and the counterfeit ones would be false. No heads without sacrifice, and sacrifice means systematized standard sacrifice. Thus one has to fall back on the five sacrificial victims. *Śatapatha* 6. 2. 1. 39, however, states that this fivefold sacrifice was only the old way, and even goes so far in its historical concern as to mention the last sacrificer to perform it, Śyāparṇa Sāyakāyana, although we may doubt whether he really performed the sacrifice in its systematized form.³⁹ The text goes on to explain that nowadays only one animal is sacrificed, either a he-goat for Prajāpati or one for Vāyu Niyutvat. The head is apparently not severed, and the purity of the systematized animal sacrifice is saved. But this leaves open the problem of the heads which cannot be obtained ritually. Whichever way one turns, one ends in a stalemate, and *Śatapatha* 6. 2. 2. 15 can only state the three alternatives—"Whichever way may suit him, either those five animals, or the he-goat for Prajāpati, or the one for Vāyu Niyutvat (let him perform that)"—leaving the solution of the intractible problem to the inventiveness of the sacrificer and his officiants.

c7.20

The Black Yajurveda is less uniformly systematized than the White and is therefore less concerned with solving the problem in terms of the system. It must, however, take essentially the same position.⁴⁰ Here again we find the same alternatives. The important difference is the treatment of the human head, to which we shall presently return. The number five is completed by the addition of an extra he-goat for Prajāpati, which obviously is meant to take the place of the human victim.⁴¹ The Black Yajurveda thus offers two alternatives: the five animals, the sacrifice being either systematically concluded with all five or with the Prajāpati he-goat while the four other animals are "freed" (*utsṛjati*), i.e., let out of the sacrificial context, and beheaded;⁴² or, instead of the five animals, a single he-goat for Vāyu Niyutvat. In the latter case, the altar is built with only the head of the Vāyu victim.

c7.21

So actually nothing is solved here either, the problem is left in the air, except by Baudhāyana, the most systematic and at the same time the most explicit authority. He does not try to slur over the problem, but simply and clearly shows that here we have two different conceptions of the ritual. There is no attempt at forging a unitary solution—which we saw is unfeasible—but the two rituals are simply made to run side by side. On the one hand, there is the sacrifice of the Vāyu he-goat, completely in accordance with the classical system, without the head being severed. On the other hand, the nonsystematized ritual, which stands outside the pale of the classical system and which therefore is only briefly but clearly indicated: "They play dice, they cook a bull, a ram, and a he-goat".⁴³ If we leave for a moment the horse's head, like the human one, aside, it is this dicing and banquet revelry that delivers the heads. At the beginning of the Vāyu sacrifice, one of the officiants, the pratiprasthātṛ, is ordered to go outside and fetch the heads,⁴⁴ thus establishing the necessary connection between the two rituals.

c7.22

The words in which Baudhāyana indicates the deviant ritual, few though they are, are highly suggestive of an agonistic ritual. The dicing hardly needs comment in this connection, its agonistic character is self-evident. The verb *pacati*, "to cook," does not belong to the standard ritual vocabulary, *śrapayati* being preferentially used. It does however occur, apart from the *Ṛgveda*, for example, in the *Aśvamedha* hymns 1. 162–63, in connection with the vrātyas, whose ritual presents another breaking point in the system and who are known for their unorthodox aggressive behavior and raiding habits.⁴⁵ Thus Baudhāyana, enumerating the equivalences of the vrātya acts to the standard ritual, states: "The goat that they snatch away and cook is their animal (sacrifice)".⁴⁶

c7.23

Here at last, in juxtaposition to the standard ritual, the agonistic festival which the other texts try to rationalize away emerges. When we now turn to the human and the horse's head we shall be able to determine its nature.

7

c7.s1.1

We saw that the White Yajurveda makes short shrift of the human victim. Though the brāhmaṇa texts of the Black Yajurveda are silent about its provenance, its sūtras present a nonstandard but, as it would seem, more authentic solution. The human head should be the head of a kṣatriya (*rājanya*) or a vaiśya killed by an arrow or by lightning.⁴⁷ Seemingly the problem is solved. But how is such a head to be obtained? One hardly expects a prospective sacrificer to wait till some rājanya or vaiśya obligingly has himself killed by lightning or by an arrow. Nor does it seem likely that one actually went round searching for such casualties, which would moreover imply desecration of the ashes, unless, of course, the fire altar is interpreted as a funerary tumulus for a high-ranking kinsman. Though the connection with the funerary tumulus is obvious and deserves further investigation, the indications point in another direction.

c7.s1.2

Baudhāyana is again the most helpful. According to him,⁴⁸ the human head is the head of a vaiśya who has fallen in battle; the same rule obtains for the horse’s head. Now it seems clear that to obtain such heads, there is actually no way round going into battle oneself and fighting for it. In passing, one may recall the Homeric fights for the body of the fallen hero. In other words, the human head is the head of an enemy conquered in battle. It stands to reason that this can not be said explicitly in the language of the systematized ritual. Nevertheless, this is exactly what the texts do say, but, by disjoining the elements of the procedure, they have, one might say, taken the sting out of it. If we rejoin the elements, the complete picture emerges again.

c7.s1.3

For this purpose, we must turn to another component of the fire altar, the *ukhā*, “fire pot,” in which the fire is to be carried during the year preceding the actual building of the brick construction. This ukhā, which is identical with the milk pot used in the pravargya ritual, is also a form of the “head of the sacrifice” or the head of Prājapati.⁴⁹ Thus the *Kāṭhaka* says that when Prajāpati carried the fire in the ukhā, his head “rolled off”; then the gods exerted themselves with his head and finally restored the head under the form of the ukhā.⁵⁰ Finally when the fire altar is built, the human head is put in the ukhā in the center of the first layer.⁵¹

c7.s1.4

Before the ukhā can be formed and baked, one must fetch the clay.⁵² One may expect, considering the symbolic value of the ukhā, that this will involve an elaborate ceremonial. A solemn procession, led by a horse and a donkey (which will carry the clay), starts out toward the loam pit while mantras are recited. Which persons, apart from the sacrificer and the adhvaryu officiant, take part in the procession is not specified, but they are referred to in the plural. The lack of specification and the use of the plural in such a case is somewhat out of the common for the ritual sūtras and should put us on our guard. If we look further into the matter it appears that it is not just a solemn procession.

c7.s1.5

Thus *Maitrāyaṇī Saṃhitā*, speaking about the horse, tells us that “in the beginning the gods by means of the horse conquered their dominion; the going with the horse serves for conquest”.⁵³ Further, when they have reached the loam pit or the place where the materials have previously been put ready—the rationalized ritual wants to be free from the contingencies of place and time and organizes its own universe—the adhvaryu, while reciting mantras encouraging it to drive away the enemies and to find Agni, makes the horse step forward; then he strokes its back while reciting the next mantra, which ends in "trample on the fighters," adding: "The enemies should be down, stand like Indra the Vṛtra killer conquering waters and fields''.⁵⁴ The intention is made explicit by the injunction that at this point the sacrificer should think of his enemy. What is presented as a solemn procession seems rather to be characterized as a raid, or a battle to conquer "waters and fields."

c7.s1.6

This might still be viewed as hyperbole. We have not yet met the enemy in person; he is only "thought of" and overcome abstractly. He does, however, emerge from abstract limbo at another point during the procession to and from the loam pit. In case, it is said, an enemy is met on the way, he is addressed with the following words: "In the way of the Angirases we are going to fetch Agni hidden in the mud, Agni Purīṣya" (*agním purīṣyàm aṅgirasvád ácchemaḥ*). At last the enemy has reported in person for ceremonial duty. That this is not just a matter of meeting him by chance but an essential element in the ritual is shown by the fact that even in case the enemy does not oblige, the mantra must be uttered while "indicating" him, possibly by uttering his name or pointing in the direction where he is supposed to reside.⁵⁵

c7.s1.7

But why this solemn announcement about the purpose of the procession? The mention of the Angirases may contain a clue; it seems to refer to their role in helping Indra to break open the Vala Cave and conquer the cows. In the same way, the mantra states, the procession goes out to fetch Agni. If I am right, this can explain the statement that by this mantra the enemy is robbed of his force;⁵⁶ that is, in plain language, the enemy is robbed of his possessions, albeit in a painlessly abstract way. But the hard facts of reality do not allow themselves to be abstracted away; they keep breaking to the surface.

c7.s1.8

It is again Baudhāyana who is clearest on this point. The texts prescribe the worship of Agni at an anthill on the way to the loam pit with the words "We shall carry Agni hidden in the mud," adding a mantra honoring Agni as the sun discerning the world at daybreak.⁵⁷ Now, instead of having an enemy materialize out of the blue or having him indicated, Baudhāyana has a *vaiśya* posted south of this anthill to guard it (*tāṃ dakṣiṇato gopāyann āste*). The processionists circumambulate him (moving sunwise); the *vaiśya* then asks (or rather challenges), "Men, what are you going to fetch?" (*puruṣāḥ kim acchetha*); the others answer with the solemn announcement, which according to the other texts is addressed to the enemy. In other words, the *vaiśya* is the enemy on guard at the anthill, blocking the way to the loam pit where the materials for the *ukhā*, the treasured head of the sacrifice, are to be found.⁵⁸

c7.s1.9

We are now in a position to reconstruct the picture by simply putting together the two disjoined elements: the vaiśya guarding the treasure and the vaiśya fallen in battle whose head is taken. It may be recalled that elsewhere vaiśya and rival are also put on a par. At the vājapeya, the sacrificer has to contend—though in a strongly ritualized, that is, in a harmless, way—in a chariot race with vaiśyas.⁵⁹ *Jaiminīya Brāhmaṇa* 1. 183 equally puts vaiśya and enemy (*bhrātṛvya*) on a par. This passage is particularly interesting in that it deals with the sacrificer who has offered up all his possessions and then must recuperate. This he does by going to the enemy, that is, as we may surmise, to the enemy's festival.

c7.s1.10

The elements of the dismembered picture are all present, only the connecting link, the real contest, has been eliminated. It had to be, because it was exactly at this point that the ritualists had to break out of the deadlock of ever-renewed violent contest.

c7.s1.11

Still one more question remains to be answered. Why is it an anthill the vaiśya has to guard? Of course, one may point at its symbolic value; the ants are connected with the subterraneous waters—they are said to be able to find water—and at the same time the anthill is connected with the hidden Agni or the sun, as evidenced by the worship it receives on the way to the loam pit.⁶⁰ It is one of the materials used in making the fire places, and it is also used for the gharma or mahāvīra pot in the pravargya ceremony. But these considerations do not yet help us in establishing a connection with the underlying reality which could explain why the anthill should provide the scene for the encounter with the rival.

c7.s1.12

The answer is implied in the ritual pertaining to the human head, as given in the Black Yajurveda. When the head of the fallen rājanya or vaiśya is cut off, an anthill with seven holes is put in its place.⁶¹ Symbolically, the head and the anthill are identical, and this can explain why the contest for the head is located at the anthill. At the same time, the connection between the anthill and the loam pit becomes clear; the anthill is the head, and the trunk is represented by the clay from the loam pit in which, according to some texts, the trunks of the animals have been thrown previously.

c7.s1.13

Though the head is of course the prize trophy, it stands to reason that the contest with the rival vaiśya also involves the loam pit, where Agni Purīṣya is to be obtained. Indeed the *Baudhāyana Śrautasūria*'s list of ritual controversies records that according to Baudhāyana himself the encounter should not take place at the anthill but at the loam pit, the opinion recorded in the main text being Śālīki's.⁶² The scene of the contest is, then, the place from where the clay is to be taken. We must therefore shift our attention from the anthill and the contest for it to the clay.

c7.s1.14

The clay, referred to throughout as *purīṣa*, is rich in symbolic values.

c7.s1.15

Putting it briefly, the purīṣa is the subterranean abode of the decomposed Agni (or the sacrifice), which is brought forth again from its womb, the loam pit or, in the standard ritual, the cātvāla pit on the ritual emplacement. The meaning, symbolic ramifications, and derivation are, however, far from being clear and require a special investigation beyond the scope of this essay.⁶³ There is, however, one feature that can point to a connection with the underlying realities with which we are concerned. Purīṣa is persistently connected with cattle, and the adjective purīṣya is declared to mean *paśavya*, pertaining to cattle.⁶⁴ In one passage purīṣa is identified with *goṣṭha*, the cattle corral.⁶⁵ Also interesting is the prescription that the sacrificer who wishes to obtain cattle should cover the place where the offerings are set down (*vedi*) with purīṣa, which he has taken from elsewhere,⁶⁶ possibly with somebody who possesses *śrī*, prosperity, and whom people for that reason call purīṣya, as *Śatapatha* 2. 1. 1. 7 tells us.

c7.s1.16

Here I think we hit the rock bottom of reality. The vaiśya or rival does not so much guard an anthill or a loam pit, however weighty their symbolic value, but his own head, his cattle, and his fields.⁶⁷ When he pays for it with his head, he offers up his cattle at the same time. This is also expressed in the symbolic language of the ritual. Thus, for instance, the ukthya Soma sacrifice is considered as the head of the sacrifice and at the same time as cattle; Vṛtra, threatened by Indra, tries to appease him: "He gave him the sacrifice, cattle, the ukthya." A parallel passage calls this "the head of the sacrifice".⁶⁸

c7.s1.17

The antagonist is not just an enemy, he is related to the conquering party in a dualistic pattern. This is shown, for instance, in the rājasūya, where the sacrificer, in a ritualized raid, conquers the cattle of his relative.⁶⁹ Under these circumstances, the dividing line between agonistic festival and all-out fight must have been a very thin one, if it existed at all. Whether ceremonially contending for the treasure contained in the "head of the sacrifice" or plainly fighting each other for the resources of day-to-day life—cattle, pastures, and water—the two parties, like the Pāṇḍavas and the Kauravas in the great epic, needed each other for the agonistic exchange in which life could only be rewon out of the other's death.

10

c7.s2.1

We have come to the end of our search for the severed head. That it had to be a long-winded one is a measure of the ancient ritualists' achievement; their ritual science was devised in order to eliminate the agonistic exchange of the "head of the sacrifice."

c7.s2.2

Of course, one is entitled to speak with Rönnow of human sacrifice, belonging to a "pre-Vedic," "asuric" religion. It is not my intention to go into the correctness of this terminology. The question I am concerned with is that of the relation between the two conceptions of sacrifice. Briefly, then, it would seem to me that the “Vedic brahmanic” conception originated orthogenetically in the agonistic festival. Rather than “asuric,” the latter might be called “daivāsura”.⁷⁰ Rationalizing away the agonistic element which locked the two parties together, the ritualists were able to break the dualistic pattern of cyclical exchange and make the sacrificer independent from rivalry and cooperation with the others.

c7.s2.3

That this was an orthogenetic development is shown by the fact that the śrauta ritual is built up with the disconnected elements of the dualistic pattern which were restructured in a “monistic” system. Piecing together the elements, we can, to a reasonable extent, reconstruct the ancient pattern. It would, I think, be possible to deal with the whole śrauta corpus from this point of view; the endless variety of the śrauta ritual could possibly be reduced to a single cyclically recurring pattern, in which the disconnected elements would fall back into their original place. This paper may serve to illustrate the original pattern as well as the way in which the Vedic ritualists broke up this pattern and “recycled” its disjoined elements. A further example can show how the rejoined ritual still reveals the original cycle that turned on the winning of “the head of the sacrifice.”

c7.s2.4

In the śrauta ritual, the prestigious horse sacrifice is preceded by the building of the brick fire altar, on which the sacrifice is to be performed. In the *Taittirīya Saṃhitā*, the mantras for the horse sacrifice are inserted in a seemingly irregular way in the exposition of the fire altar. Now it is obvious that the agnicayana not only precedes the horse sacrifice, it is in its turn preceded by a “horse sacrifice” which must deliver the horse’s head for the altar. Further, the clay-fetching raid recalls the roaming of the horse before the sacrifice. This can, in my opinion, explain the lack of a separate brāhmaṇa for the horse sacrifice in the Black Yajurveda; it is already covered by the cayana brāhmaṇa, especially by the parts that deal with the clay and the heads. We have here the disconnected elements of the original cyclical pattern that was broken up into single sacrifices. Where the Taittirīyakas still indicate the original unity, the Maitrāyaṇīyas and the Kāṭhakas have completely separated the mantras for the horse sacrifice.

c7.s2.5

We can put the relation between the two concepts of sacrifice in diachronic terms: orthogenetic development of the classical ritual from the preclassical pattern. More important, however, is the synchronic relation. The traces of the preclassical pattern are not just fossilized survivals. The preclassical pattern did not cease to exist. The classical system had to take into account the “preclassical” pattern, which continued to govern reality. Thus *Mānava Śrautasūtra* 11. 1. 4, dealing with the ritual for the acceptance of gifts, gives a mantra for accepting, of all things, a (victim’s) head. The mantra (*candrāya tvā*), not recorded in the saṃhitās, does not look particularly ancient. It does not seem a survival but rather an accommodation, however contradictory, of actual religious practice, where more often than not the victim's head is severed and given away.⁷¹

c7.s2.6

The ritualists' enterprise was a bold attempt at forcing a way out into outer-worldly freedom and life untainted by death and destruction. They could not revolutionize the hard facts of reality, nor did they try. They tried instead to create a separate world, the ideally ordered world of rationalized sacrifice. Obviously the two spheres are irredeemably contradictory; the important point, however, is that in this way the ideal of freedom and life without death could be stated clearly and held out as a promise to man. Henceforth reality had to be formulated and justified with reference to this ideal.

c7.s2.7

I think here we touch the basic terms of the contradiction between "brahmanic" thought and unreformed reality, as when the Gandhian ideal of non-violence was unavoidably attended by actual violence. It is this interaction between the two contradictory poles that is the pivot of Indian civilization, past and present.

Linked texts (9)