Author: Admin

Tom Leskiw, Independent Researcher and columnist, USA

Today’s ornithologists and birders take pride in a variety of references—field guides, published scientific papers, unpublished field notes—that accurately delineate the geographic range of a particular species. Especially in the case of non-migratory species, the limits of their range are well understood. However, in some cases, little thought has been accorded to the long history of humans capturing and transporting live birds to breed them for ceremonial purposes more than a thousand miles from their natural range.

For instance, the Thick-billed Parrot (Rhynchopsitta pachyrhyncha), is one of only two parrot species whose natural range once included the United States. The earliest mention of the Thick-billed Parrot is an account written by a member of the 1582-83 Espejo expedition to northern Arizona.[1] There are two noteworthy aspects to this sighting. First, it remains the northernmost sighting of Thick-billed Parrots in the United States. Second, the sighting occurred only 45 air miles southwest from Wupatki Pueblo, where the remains of four Thick-billed Parrots were excavated by archeologists along with 53 Scarlet Macaws (Ara macao), a resident of southeastern Mexico.

The macaws’ remains unearthed at Wupatki and at least eleven other sites in the southwestern U.S. are the result of a Pre-Columbian trade network that connected southeastern Mexico to the southwestern United States.[2] Wupatki lies 1175 air miles northwest of the natural range of the Scarlet Macaw in the tropical lowlands of eastern Mexico; the ground travel distance via these ancient trade routes that traversed numerous mountain ranges was considerably longer.

However, the Thick-billed Parrot may once have naturally ranged as far north as the pine forests near Wupatki, complicating the issue of whether its remains discovered there were truly due to human action.[3] Wupatki was built by the ancestral Pueblo people that included the Sinagua. To the southeast, the Mimbres culture—a subset of the Mogollon culture—thrived from about 825-1130 A.D. in an area encompassing the upper Gila River in southwestern New Mexico and southeastern Arizona. By 850 A.D., macaws and parrots were important birds used in ceremony, display, and trade in both these prehistoric communities.

The skeletal remains of Thick-billed Parrots have been found in association with those of Scarlet Macaws and human artifacts at sites that include the Wupatki Pueblo, the Curtis site along the Gila River in southeast Arizona, and Chaco Canyon in northern New Mexico. The highest number of skeletal remains of macaws in the U.S. were excavated at Wupatki. Two factors strongly suggest that the birds were killed as part of a ceremonial sacrifice. One, archeologists discovered that the remains were a part of deliberate burial pattern, often in special rooms in the community. Two, the age of the birds when sacrificed—around 1 year old—was timed to coincide with the Spring Equinox, March 21-22. The macaws’ age when slain is consistent at widespread sites and represented a pattern that continued in the Southwest perhaps until around 1425 A.D.

Throughout history, animals commonly have been used for food and, once domesticated, for labor and companionship. However, examples of animals that have been considered deities are rare. Perhaps the most well-known are the royal cats in ancient Egypt and sacred cows in India.

In the New World, macaws have played an important role in myth and culture for thousands of years, from the jungles of the Amazon and Central America northward to the Desert Southwest. The brilliantly plumed Scarlet Macaw and turquoise were considered to have the highest value of nearly 250 trade items that were transported hundreds of miles by foot. Puebloans who lived in what is now Arizona and New Mexico mined and processed turquoise to trade with their distant southern neighbors, in exchange for captured Scarlet Macaws.

Mimbres pottery is renowned for its finely painted bowls, decorated with geometric designs and stylized paintings of animals, people, and cultural icons done in black paint on a white background. A wide range of macaw imagery on ceramics—lone birds, travelers carrying birds backpack-style in burden baskets, bird trainers—have been recovered at archaeological sites. This ethnographic evidence supports the theory that macaws were exotic trade items and objects of veneration used in ceremony.

Archeological digs at southwestern sites unearthed intriguing finds that included severed macaw heads and at least one macaw that lacked a left wing. The unique case of a macaw buried with a human child was unearthed at Grasshopper Ruin in central Arizona, puzzling archeologists to this day. At Chaco Canyon, twelve macaw skeletons were excavated from what archeologists dubbed “Room 38.” Here, the skeletons of two macaws were found close to one another in circular cavities that had been dug in the floor and then filled with adobe. One of the bird’s remains was carefully covered over to obscure its location.

The skeletal remains of the Thick-billed Parrot also have been found in Anasazi, Hohokam, and Mogollon or Mimbres period sites. These prehistoric cultures are the ancestors of modern Pueblo Indians. Thick-billed Parrots—emerald green, with scarlet forehead, eyebrow, and shoulder patches— lack the blue and yellow feathers of Scarlet Macaws. The remains of the parrot have not been encountered to the same extent as those of the Scarlet Macaw, presumably due to its more muted coloration and smaller size.

The connection between macaw feathers and a bountiful harvest is embodied by their incorporation into “Corn Mother” fetishes by Puebloan peoples: a perfect head of corn bundled within a cluster of feathers. Scarlet Macaw feathers are still used today in some ceremonies, their feathers associated with the sacred cardinal directions of modern-day Pueblo peoples such as the Hopi, Keres, Jemez, and Zuni tribes. The reverence accorded Scarlet Macaws may stem from their perceived connection to rain, bountiful crops, and rainbows, owing to their yellow, red, and blue feathers. In addition, the multi-hued plumage of macaws suggests the multicolored kernels found on Indian maize.

Scarlet Macaws were transported north from southeastern Mexico in two defined legs of  300-700 miles each. The first ended at either the ancient trade center of Paquimé (also known as Casas Grandes), Mexico, Mimbres Valley, or Chaco Canyon, and took about seven weeks. The second terminated at Wupatki in northern Arizona. Young macaws hatch in March and must be removed from the nest at around seven weeks of age so they can imprint on their trainers. Carried in baskets, they needed to be protected from the nighttime cold and fed dried corn every few hours, often directly from their keeper’s mouth after he’d chewed and re-moistened the kernels. This feeding relationship resulted in human-imprinted birds that were attached to their keeper, but often acted aggressively toward strangers. The amount of effort and care required to successfully transport live birds many hundreds of miles underscores their esteemed status.

The breeding of Scarlet Macaws away from their natural range was most extensively practiced around 1200 A.D. at Paquimé. Located about 120 miles south of the Arizona-Mexico border, more than 500 macaw burials have been found at Paquimé. Although macaw husbandry in Northern Mexico wasn’t restricted to Paquimé, macaw feces, adobe nesting cages with perches, eggshell fragments and extensive skeletal remains of breeding-aged birds unearthed there suggest that it was the dominant site in the region for this activity.[4]

The birds’ images adorn pottery and their brightly colored feathers may have been used to make masks. Kivas are underground or partly underground chambers used by the men especially for ceremonies or councils. The mural on a kiva wall at Pottery Mound, New Mexico depicts a woman holding a Scarlet Macaw in each hand while lightning flashes from a painted bowl balanced on her head. The theme of calling upon the supernatural to deliver rain is reinforced by the inclusion of insects associated with water—mosquitoes and dragonflies—surrounding her.

Although live macaws were traded, feathers were undoubtedly the more widespread prehistoric trade item. Feathers are unlikely to be preserved under most archeological conditions, with the most notable exception being a macaw feather skirt that was recovered in 1954 in near-perfect condition from a small cave in southeastern Utah’s Lavender Canyon.[5] Consisting of 2,336 feathers—1,504 red and 832 blue—this one-of-a kind artifact is estimated to be around 830 years old. The blue feathers form a thunderbird pattern that may have been a clan symbol.[6] Women are depicted on Mimbres pottery wearing a similar artifact, as is a man on a kiva mural from Pottery Mound, New Mexico. Archeologists believe the skirt was crafted in Mexico, because the technique used to tie the feathers together is comparable to Aztec shields. The skirt is the northernmost Scarlet Macaw artifact discovered to date, more than 1300 air miles from the species’ natural range.

The macaw’s esteemed position led to its motif frequently appearing in Puebloan artwork. Today’s tourists, unaware of the macaw’s history must surely puzzle over its inclusion in petroglyph sites in New Mexico such as the West Mesa Escarpment near Albuquerque and Petroglyph National Monument. Petroglyphs at Hovenweep National Monument in Utah are noteworthy, as they represent the northernmost examples of  macaws motifs being incorporated into rock art. The Hohokam people of southern Arizona fashioned parrot or macaw effigy pots, complete with head and stubby tail feathers, ca. 1300-1400. The ethnographic record of macaw images would have been far richer were it not for the custom of ritually “killing” painted Mimbres pottery by smashing it or by punching a hole in the bowl before placing it over the head of the deceased, so that he or she could gaze for eternity into the picture that was painted on the pottery’s inner surface.

With the demise of Mimbres culture around 1130 A.D., Scarlet Macaws disappeared from the Desert Southwest. However, ancient trade routes between southern and northern Mexico continued to be used to transport other goods. As late as 1895, itinerant traders conducted long-distance trade on foot, according to J. Charles Kelley.[7]

Part II

Thick-billed Parrots’ Long Journey from Cage To Cage

Following the disappearance of Scarlet Macaws in the Desert Southwest, Thick-billed Parrots continued their nomadic existence in the region. Wandering northward from their core breeding range in northern Mexico’s Sierra Madre Mountains,  the birds were observed in southeastern Arizona’s Chiricahua Mountains in 1898, 1900, 1902, 1904, 1906, 1917-18, 1920, 1922, 1935, and 1938. The 1917-18 event was especially robust, with an estimated 1000-1500 parrots noted in Pinery, Rucker, and Price Canyons.[8]

Scattered reports exist of the presence of Thick-billed Parrots in other southwestern mountain ranges. Cattlemen reported to T. Swift, supervisor of what is now Coronado National Forest, the presence of parrots in the southern end of the Pinaleno Mountains sometime prior to 1917. In 1917, parrots were seen in the Patagonia Mountains near Mowry and in the Dragoon Mountains in Cochise Stronghold Canyon. In 1918, a forest ranger reported parrots in Rattlesnake Canyon at the northern end of the Galiuro Mountains. About 150 arrived about the middle of May and remained until early fall. Despite the birds’ presence in multiple mountain ranges during their breeding season, no nest was ever found.

In fact, no Thick-billed Parrot nests have ever been found north of Mexico. However, the species’ high-elevation habitat wasn’t thoroughly searched early in the 19th century when the parrot still occurred regularly in the United States. The species was recorded many times in the Chiricahua Mountains during the early 1900s, strongly suggesting that it was breeding there. Even within the parrot’s core breeding habitat in northern Mexico, few nests have been found. Today, the Thick-billed Parrot nests a mere 56 miles south of the Arizona-Mexico border.

Although Thick-billed Parrots feed mainly on pine seeds, they also eat fruit and juniper berries and were observed feeding on acorns during the winter of 1917. Because of the parrot’s fondness for fruit, it was reviled by orchardists. Also, because various newspapers erroneously reported that the birds ate sorghum, corn, and kaffir corn—the predecessor of today’s milo and grain sorghums—the species also incurred the wrath of ranchers.

Copper and silver mining began in earnest in southeastern Arizona in 1877, drawing thousands of miners and loggers to the region. The relationship between miners and parrots was more complex than the one between fruit growers and the species. On one hand, miners believed that the flocks foretold of riches that were certain to come their way, wrote Austin Paul Smith about their 1904 appearance in the Chiricahuas:

Their appearance greatly excited the miners, who were inclined to consider it a lucky sign, with “strikes” sure to follow.[9]

On the other hand, survival of many destitute prospectors depended on subsistence hunting of wildlife that included parrots. Soldiers also hunted them, as shown by photos of parrots shot by Army personnel in the Chiricahuas around 1904. This intense hunting pressure around the turn of the century resulted in the extirpation of elk, pronghorn, bighorn sheep, and wild turkey from the region, in addition to greatly reducing the number of parrots. Most early accounts of parrots mentioned slaughter, which was the major factor in the parrots’ disappearance from the Desert Southwest. Richard D. Lusk chronicled a typical interaction between timbermen and parrots in the Chiricahuas in 1900:

They [the parrots] appeared to come up the large canon [sic], at the head of which I was encamped, to about midway of the mountains’ height, where the oaks begin to give place to pine, and there they tarried—many of them I regret to say, for aye, for the timbermen in a pole-cutter’s camp hard by, carried away by the novelty of the visitors, began slaughtering them, and captured one by a chance wounding from which it quickly recovered. And I, of course, must have a couple of specimens of this rare straggler (?). The remnant of that picturesque and interesting company, concluding perhaps, though wrongfully, that they were unwelcome to citizenship in this great republic, disappeared, returning, probably, to the land whence they came; and if they tell hard things of the inhabitants of Arizona to their fellows in that country, and to such of its human inhabitants as speak their language, they can scarcely be blamed. [10]

The parrots’ loud calls, sounding much like human laughter, could be heard more than a mile away. That, combined with their gregarious nature and inquisitive disposition, made them a ready target, such as in the winter of 1917-18, when an estimated 100 of the 300 birds in Pinery Canyon were shot. This wanton destruction of Thick-billed Parrots hindered efforts to confirm their breeding in the United States. Following the slaughter of parrots during 1917-18, ornithologists and others who cared about the parrots were reluctant to report their sightings, wrote Charles T. Vorhies:

…a number of summers ago he [F.H. Hands] ‘heard an unconfirmed rumor that a few were on top of the mountains, but it wasn’t allowed to leak out in order to protect them.’[11]

The last time truly wild flocks of Thick-billed Parrots were seen in Arizona and New Mexico was in 1938 and 1964, respectively. Between 1986 and 1993, 88 parrots were re-introduced into the Chiricahuas. The program to return these parrots to Arizona skies began serendipitously, when U.S. customs officials found themselves with 29 wild parrots that had been confiscated from smugglers. A total of 23 parrots—offspring from Mexican wild birds—were cage-raised for one to six months prior to their release. These 52 birds were augmented by an additional 36 birds later confiscated from smugglers. Breeding was confirmed in 1988, 1989, and 1993. One pair successfully fledged two young in 1988, breeding was attempted (but failed) by three pairs in 1989, and one pair in 1993.

However, most of the captive-raised birds lacked flocking instincts, which are crucial for establishing a sentry system to warn the flock of predators. Once released from their cages, several of the flocks were unable to form social bonds necessary to create and maintain a flock and some parrots took solo journeys to other mountain ranges that lacked pine cones.

Unfortunately, the reintroduced parrots were unable to overcome ongoing drought, predators such as the Northern Goshawk, and parrot wasting disease (psittacine proventricular dilation syndrome). Stands of pine trees—their primary food—were much reduced because of climate change-induced bark beetle infestation and large-scale fires. Thus, the reintroduction effort was discontinued in 1993 and members of this flock were last sighted in 1995. [12]

In 1990, I traveled to the Chiricahua Mountains hoping to encounter a flock of  Thick-billed Parrots. When our party arrived at a site the parrots were known to frequent, we were met with the most-dreaded words in the birder’s lexicon. You just missed them. They were here 20 minutes ago. The disappointment at missing this flock cut deep. My spirits were buoyed somewhat knowing that the species could still be found in Mexico and might someday again be found in the U.S., should a reintroduction program be resumed. Years later, I came across a paper written by W.H. Bergtold, who described his encounter with the species near the site of the ancient trade center of Paquimé:

It was a great surprise to see how different is a wild parrot from a tame one; one must need to get an idea from the latter that a parrot is a slow, lumbering climber, able to use its wings perhaps yet little given to prolonged and vigorous flight. On the contrary, this Thick-billed Parrot flew across deep barrancas [gorges], from mountain to mountain, as swift and strong on wing as a duck, going often in large flocks, which were noticeably divided in pairs, each couple flying one above another as closely as beating wings allowed. Its loud squawk resounded overhead, across the barrancas, and in the pines all day long, from dawn till dusk; and many and many a time a flock could be heard long before it was in sight. [13]

The parrot’s habitat preferences, as noted by ornithologists and birders between 1986 and 1993, represent critical information that would serve as a template for any future reintroduction efforts. The 2004 occurrence of a single, wild Thick-billed Parrot in a remote part of southwestern New Mexico—viewed by nearly 500 birders—suggests that the species could possibly re-establish a foothold in the United States. Although the parrot was listed as “endangered” since the inception of the Endangered Species Act in 1973, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service had taken little action, despite the agency’s policy of adopting a recovery plan within 2.5 years of a species being listed. As a result of a lawsuit filed by WildEarth Guardians, the agency completed its final recovery plan addendum for the Thick-billed Parrot on July 2, 2013.

Although the sacrifice of a Scarlet Macaw or Thick-billed Parrot a thousand years ago seems odd—even brutal—to us, it was done as a supplication to the gods. Rainbow-hued macaws, transported great distances and tended to for a year, were highly venerated. They were sacrificed in order to create favor with the gods and ensure a bountiful harvest. Viewed in this context, the apparent contradiction—a god that must be sacrificed—is explained. To present the gods with a less-worthy object was to tempt fate: a meager corn harvest and the suffering of the community that would certainly follow.

The way we view the macaw and its relative, the Thick-billed Parrot, has come full circle. Long ago, they were regarded as deities. Later, the Thick-billed Parrot was regarded by miners, settlers, and soldiers as a creature fit only to eat—or to be slain solely because of its exotic appearance, its “otherness,” in the words of evolutionary theorist Paul Shepard.

Bergtold’s lyrical description of his encounter with flocks of Thick-billed Parrots hints at what writer and conservationist Aldo Leopold considered the numenon of the Sierra Madre’s pine forests. Leopold was intrigued P.D. Ouspensky’s Tertium Organum, in which the Russian philosopher discussed the imponderable essence of material things. Leopold gave an example of Ouspensky’s theory in his paper, “The Thick-billed Parrot in Chihuahua”:

… Ouspensky has called this imponderable essence the numenon of material things. It stands in contradistinction to phenomenon which is ponderable and predictable, even to the tossings and turnings of the remotest star… Everybody knows, for example, that the autumn landscape in the north woods is the land, plus a red maple, plus a Ruffed Grouse. In terms of conventional physics, the grouse represents only a millionth of either the mass or the energy of an acre. Yet subtract the grouse and the whole thing is dead.[14]

Leopold’s introductory sentence to the paper—“The physics of beauty is one department of natural science still in the Dark Ages”—announced to readers that what they held in their hands was an experiment in the cross-pollination of ornithology and philosophy. Although he substituted the parrot in the final sentence with a species more familiar to him and his American audience, elsewhere in his paper, he wrote, “I here record the discovery of the numenon of the Sierra Madre: the Thick-billed Parrot.” In using phrases such as “the whole thing is dead,” and “the physics of beauty,” Leopold makes clear that the local extirpation or extinction of wildlife takes a massive toll on the human spirit as well.

Future prospects for the return of Thick-billed Parrots to the United States are murky. A century of fire suppression has turned out to be catastrophic for forests in the southwestern U.S. and elsewhere, spawning bigger and hotter fires when they do occur.  For instance, the Horseshoe 2 Fire in 2011 burned 70% of the Chiricahuas, decimating its pine trees. The increasing occurrence of fires casts doubt on whether its former habitat could now support Thick-billed Parrots. Nevertheless, plans are afoot to resume the program to return these charismatic creatures to southwestern skies. When the program does take flight, it can count on the support of a growing number of wildlife aficionados who acknowledge the long association between humans and birds. Throughout the world, long-term bonds we’ve forged with birds clearly illustrate that their welfare is inextricably linked with the health of the human spirit.

References

Alexis Reichert,  University of Ottawa, Canada

Introduction

The concept of sacrifice, in all its different expressions and interpretations is central to Indian traditions. Many scholars of religion believe that theories of sacrifice are at the heart of theories of religion itself, as it demonstrates human efforts to connect with, or construct some kind of sacred reality.[i] This paper therefore takes as its premise that a particular group’s notion and practice of sacrifice can tell us a great deal about their worldview generally, and their conceptualization of human/ nonhuman relationships more specifically. The broad concept of sacrifice is a fruitful area in which to examine both the physical and conceptual relationships between humans and nonhumans, particularly in India where sacrificial language dominates the religious scene. The particular focus of this paper will be on the Bishnoi, a small Hindu community most densely located in Western Rajasthan. I will explore what the Bishnoi concept of sacrifice can tell us about human/ nonhuman relationships in their community, and how this relates to broader Indian notions of sacrifice and the nonhuman.

Upon researching the Bishnoi I have come to learn that sacrifice is central to their worldview and religious self conception. Not ritual sacrifice in the traditional sense of the term, rather, they focus on their commitment to self-sacrifice in the service of protecting other species. The heading of a Bishnoi website reads “Bishnoism: An Eco Dharma of the people who are ready to sacrifice their lives to save trees and wild animals.”[ii] This theme is emphasised throughout Bishnoi literature and mythology. The story of the Khejadali Massace in which 363 Bishnoi gave their lives protecting trees is the most popular tale among the Bishnoi; but there are countless other stories of Bishnoi sacrificing their lives for trees and animals, as this community continues to engage in often risky environmental and animal activism. This willingness to die for trees and nonhuman animals has become a hallmark of their tradition, used by insiders and outsiders alike to define this distinctive group. In the following pages I will briefly outline the history and central tenets of Bishnoi dharma, and situate the Bishnoi understanding of sacrifice within the broader Indian context by exploring it in relation to Hindu sacrifice, and the practice of sallekhana in Jainism. I will focus on human/ nonhuman relationships among the Bishnoi, using the concept of sacrifice as a lens. Central to this analysis is the understanding that sacrifice is a performance of one’s worldview, which informs, and is informed by one’s understanding of the relationships between humans and nonhumans.

1. The Bishnoi- Background

As the Bishnoi are underrepresented in the literature, I will provide some necessary background information and basic tenets before engaging in my discussion. The Bishnoi emerged as a distinctive community in the early modern period (circa 1470) when Guru Jambheshwarji introduced the 29 principles that they continue to live by. They now identify as a Hindu sect, but their teachings and practices incorporate elements of many other religious traditions. The 29 principles are central to the Bishnoi way of life. Seven of these principles provide guidelines for good social behaviour, ten of them address personal hygiene and health practices, four provide instruction for daily worship, and eight of them are related to conserving and protecting animals and trees, and encouraging good animal husbandry.[iii] Guru Jamheshvara, born in 1451, lived during a 10 year drought in Rajasthan. He saw the land and animals being destroyed and stripped of resources during this time, so he established the 29 principles to encourage a better relationship between the people and their landscape in order to allow them to live harmoniously and prosperously in the harsh desert climate.[iv] Many people would now label this as sustainability, leading some to describe them as India’s first environmentalists; however within the community it is simply understood to be their dharma.[v] They use dung and dead branches as fuel so they don’t have to cut down green trees, and are strict vegetarians. Nonhuman animals live among the Bishnoi, roaming in their communities and homes. In fact, many animals seek refuge in their communities during peak hunting hours. It is also common practice for Bishnoi women to breastfeed orphaned fawns. These practices are all based on the strict adherence to the Guru’s 29 principles, which have deeply influenced the daily lives of members of the Bishnoi community.

Guru Jambheshwarji is considered to be the 10th incarnation of Vishnu. His teachings encourage being patient, nonviolent, compassionate, truthful, pure, and non-judgemental. According to Pankaj Jain, many situate the Guru between nirguna and saguna theologies, as there is no idol worship, but they still recognize the names and incarnations of Vishnu.[vi] In addition to his 29 principles, there is a set of 120 statements, or sabdas in which these and other teachings are elaborated. They demonstrate that the Guru was strictly against the cast system and gender hierarchies, and many of his teachings emerged out of a rejection of animal sacrifice, which was commonly practiced in other religious traditions. Jain explains that,

He criticised tantric yogic practitioners sacrificing the animals to Bhairav, Yogini, or other deities and asked them to understand the real meaning of yoga. Similarly he asked the Muslims to understand the real message of the Quran. In his tenth sabda, he reminded the Hindus that Rama never asked them to kill animals… In his sixteenth sabda he chastised people who follow frauds as their guru and kill animals for their rituals.[vii]

His teachings elaborate an ethic of extreme nonviolence toward other species, not just in cases of ritual slaughter, but all harmful acts. One of the Guru’s verses asks “by whose sanction do butchers kill sheep and goats? Since even a prick of a thorn is extremely painful to human beings, is it proper to indulge in those killings? Therefore, these animals should be treated as own kith and kin and should not be harmed in any way.”[viii]  This ethic applies to all creatures great and small, as he also teaches that dung and wood must be inspected for bugs before being burned.

1.1 Khejadali and Other Sacrifices

Although not a formal tenet of the tradition, self-sacrifice for the protection of plant and animal life has become foundational to Bishnoi dharma. The most commonly told story among the Bishnoi is that of the massacre at Khejadali; this event is also one of the most common themes of Bishnoi art.[ix] The story goes that 363 Bishnoi women, men, and children, led by Amrita Devi, sacrificed their lives to protect the khejari trees from the soldiers of King Abhay Singh of Jodhpur who sought to chop down the forest in September 1730.[x] Amritra Devi embraced a tree and said “Sir Santhe rooke rahe to bhi sasto jaan” meaning, “if a tree is saved from felling at the cost of one’s head, it should be considered a good deed” .[xi] She was decapitated in front of her two daughters who stoically followed her example, clinging to the trees and meeting the same end. People flocked from the village and hundreds died before the King stopped his men and ordered a decree forever protecting Bishnoi land from hunting and deforestation. Their land is still protected today, and because of their continued efforts one can go to prison for hunting or chopping down trees on Bishnoi land. The events of Khejadali are also celebrated annually at their “Tree Fair,” and the site of the sacrifice has been turned into a large monument with depictions of the event and all the names of those who gave their lives.

The Khejadali Massacre is the most dramatic and most frequently told Bishnoi story, but certainly not the only example of self-sacrifice for nonhuman others. Jain has documented several other examples from Bishnoi manuscripts and Indian newspapers. The most recent being Gangaram Bishnoi, who sacrificed his life trying to protect a chinkara gazelle from poachers in August of 2000, and Chhailluram Singh Rajput who died trying to save blackbucks in 2004. Jain lists 12 other incidents, many involving multiple people, and explains that there are dozens of other documented events such as these.[xii] The Bishnoi website that I referenced above explains that “Bishnoi themselves can be hungry & thirsty but they will never allow an animal or bird to die due to lack of fodder/ food or water.”[xiii]

In reading newspapers, websites and other media and academic sources, it has become clear that self sacrifice is the defining feature of this community; central to both their self-conception, and to the way they are perceived by others. This distinctive feature is a source of pride and the individuals who sacrifice themselves are considered to be heroes. Interestingly, this custom is not just an ideal, or a practice from myth and legend; it is relatively commonplace and has happened dozens of times in the past few centuries. It makes up an essential part of the lived tradition. I have not come across a single story of someone giving their life for another human; the focus is entirely on the willingness to sacrifice oneself for nonhuman others. This practice evidently demonstrates something profound about the understanding of human and nonhuman roles and relationships among the Bishnoi.

1.2 Self-Sacrifice and Human/ Nonhuman Relationships among the Bishnoi

This physical act of self-sacrifice demonstrates a radical reversal and rejection of common hierarchies, in which animals and trees die for man. The most useful theoretical model that I have come across for exploring this practice and what it can tell us about human/ nonhuman relationships is that of George Bataille; although I’m sure many other theories of sacrifice could be explored in relation to this. Bataille theorizes two distinct world orders, the “real” or rational order, and the “intimate”. He believes that there are moments in which we are able to break through the rational, ordered world and access the intimate. Encounters with death, chance, the erotic, and even sacrifice often allow people to do this. Bataille discusses his theory in relation to animal sacrifice specifically, but I believe that it can be extended to explore the Bishnoi practice of self-sacrifice.

Although the Bishnoi do not harm or kill animals, they do use them for milk and other material needs. Animals make up part of the Bishnoi economy, and they participate in the ordered, hierarchical, material world in which the Bishnoi live. According to Bataille, acts of sacrifice can allow people to connect with the intimate and break with the “cold calculation of the real order.”[xiv]  He explains that “Sacrifice restores to the sacred world that which servile use has degraded, rendered profane. Servile use has made a thing (an object) of that which, in a deep sense, is of the same nature as the subject, is in a relation of intimate participation with the subject.”[xv] There are of course other Bishnoi practices that demonstrate an intimate connection with the nonhuman, and the denial of objectification, such as breastfeeding fawns for example. But these acts of self-sacrifice have the potential to not only deny the objectification of the nonhuman, but reverse and break with constructed hierarchies which organize our rational world. These acts offer moments which demonstrate not only that nonhumans have value beyond material value, but that the nonhuman has value above and beyond human value. This offers a degree of intimacy beyond traditional sacrifice which, according to Bataille, allows one “to consume profitlessly,” disconnecting from the material world of profitable activity.[xvi] Not only is this act of self-sacrifice not advantageous or rational, it is utterly disadvantageous, and results in the loss of one’s life, or the loss of a friend or relative. In this way it is the entire community that participates in these acts, because death is not an individual experience, but one that is felt by the community as a whole.

Though of a different and arguably more extreme nature, the practice of self-sacrifice may therefore similarly allow access to “the intimate”, which Bataille explores in more traditional forms of sacrifice. Regular acts of self-sacrifice allow the community as a whole to detach “from the real order, from the poverty of things, and restore the divine order. The animal or plant that man uses (as if they only had value for him and none for themselves) is restored to the truth of the intimate world; he receives a sacred communication from it, which restores him in turn to interior freedom.”[xvii] This practice allows all Bishnoi people to connect with the nonhuman on a more intimate level both physically and conceptually. These acts of self-sacrifice evidently have a profound effect on human self-conception, and the conception of nonhumans in the community, as these physical acts inform, and are informed by their conceptual understanding of the world and their place in it.

2. Sacrifice and Human/ Nonhuman Relationships in the Indian Context

Now that we have explored the practice of self-sacrifice among the Bishnoi, and some of its implications for human/ nonhuman relationships in this specific community, I would like to explore how these ideas and practices fit within the broader Indian context. Sacrifice is central in all dharma traditions, though it is articulated in very different ways across the numerous groups in this diverse religious landscape. These diverse articulations of sacrifice are very telling of the nature of human/ nonhuman relationships in each individual community. This topic is far too broad to exhaust in a short essay, as there are countless communities with countless different conceptions of sacrifice. I have therefore selected just a few topics within Buddhism, Hinduism and Jainism, which will allow me to contextualise and explore the Bishnoi practice of self-sacrifice in relation to broader Indian notions.

While some Bishnoi practices and beliefs may sound fantastical to Western ears they are in fact based on many common and widely held notions within Indian philosophy.  Many Indian traditions live according what Tim Ingold defines as an “ontology of dwelling,” which he describes as “taking the human condition to be that of a being immersed from the start, like other creatures, in an active, practical and perceptual engagement with constituents of the dwelt-in world.”[xviii] Though descriptive of hunter-gatherer societies I believe Ingold’s theories present a constructive way for thinking about certain Indian philosophies as well. It is not uncommon for Indian traditions to focus on embodied perception and embeddedness in a reciprocal world. Concepts such as vegetarianism, non-violence, compassion, non-dualism, karma, rebirth and kinship have been extremely widespread since the Axial Age, particularly within shramanic philosophies. All of these concepts are deeply embedded in Bishnoi philosophy, and evidently had a huge impact on the origins and development of their tradition. It is therefore imperative to explore certain practices and philosophies from other dharma traditions in order to develop a more complete understanding of self-sacrifice and human/ nonhuman relationships among the Bishnoi.

2.1 Samsara

The deep sense of kinship with the nonhuman demonstrated by Bishnoi practices and teachings is fundamental to their worldview and their willingness to give their lives to protect other species. Kinship is central to all dharma traditions because it is intimately connected to the widespread concept of samsara. The concept of rebirth highlights the interconnectedness of life. Christopher Chapple, referring to Buddhism, explains that “in the long course of samsara, there is not one among living beings with form who has not been mother, father, brother, sister, son, or daughter, or some other relative. Being connected with the process of taking birth, one is kin to all wild and domestic animals, birds, and beings born from the womb.”[xix] He explains that in Jainism and Buddhism “Animals are regarded to be none other than our very selves.”[xx] The concept of vasudhaiv kutumbakam in Hinduism also refers to this sense of kinship, meaning that all earth’s beings are an extended family.[xxi] For this reason one of the most serious offenses that one can commit in Jainism, and some branches of Buddhism and Hinduism, is violence toward other life forms. It is widely accepted, although to varying degrees, that all living being suffer and feel pain, have a right to live and have the common goal of liberation from the cycle of samsara.

As the Bishnoi live by the same principles of karma and rebirth as these other dharma traditions they hold many similar practices and teachings. For example, Chapple explains that “in the Jataka Mala, the Suvarnaprabhasa, and the Avadana-kalpalata a story is told in which a Buddhist throws himself before a hungry tigress so that she may feed her cubs.”[xxii] This story is reminiscent of Bishnoi practices, demonstrating that both traditions emerge from a similar worldview, and the Bishnoi concept of self-sacrifice is not necessarily unique. However, the story of the tigress makes up part of Buddhist mythology, not their regular practice as it does with the Bishnoi. I am not aware of any Buddhist communities that act on this teaching, regularly sacrificing themselves to feed or protect nonhuman animals. I would propose therefore that while the conceptual relationships between humans and nonhumans may be similar in all dharma traditions, including Bishnoism, the physical relationships and concrete interactions between the Bishnoi and nonhumans may offer something unique. For now, suffice it to say that the profound commitment to nonviolence and the notions of karma and kinship among the Bishnoi are right at home in this religious landscape.

2.2 Hinduism

  2.2.1 Animal Sacrifice

From the early Vedic texts that focused on ritual animal sacrifice, to Classical Hindu ideals of internal sacrifice elaborated in the Upanishads, sacrifice has remained absolutely central in Hindu traditions. In the early Vedic period yajna rituals were performed by the Brahmins according to strict rules. These animal sacrifices were not considered to be violent and they were understood as being necessary in order to sustain the universe, as death brings forth life. Suchitra Samanta, in describing modern day animal sacrifice to the goddess Kali, explains that there is often an identification made between the animal and the negative aspects of the sacrificer. Sacrifice therefore represents the destruction of the animal/ demonic quality of the practitioner.[xxiii] This is reminiscent of the Judeo-Christian concept of the scapegoat and many other similar examples from different religious traditions. This practice can evidently tell us a great deal about the relationship between nonhumans and humans (particularly their evil/ demonic/ sinful aspects). There is certainly a sense of identification between human and nonhuman animals, but it seems to manifest strictly in negative terms. The human is seen as the superior, whose well-being and survival is worth more than that of the victim. Animal sacrifice is always done for the benefit of the human sacrificer. Bishnoi philosophy, emerging out of a strict rejection of animal sacrifice, in many ways represents the opposite approach to sacrifice. Rather than giving the other in order to save self, the Bishnoi ideal is to give the self in order to save the other. While it’s still a substitution of sorts, the roles are inverted. As discussed earlier, Bishnoi acts of self-sacrifice can be understood to demonstrate a reversal of traditional hierarchies such as those typically found in animal sacrifice.

Another common feature of animal sacrifice seems to be the concept of the voluntary victim. For example, Samanta explains that the animal is understood to go willingly, and express a desire to be reborn as a man.[xxiv] The Bishnoi reject this notion; they believe that all nonhumans suffer and want to live. Like other traditions, the Bishnoi believe that humans are the only species capable of recognizing their state in samsara; they are therefore logically the only species capable of truly being willing victims. This human willingness to sacrifice is celebrated among the Bishnoi and demonstrated in their stories. For example in the version of the Khejadali  story told on the Bishnoi website, Amritra Devi’s daughters are said to have unflinchingly followed in their mother’s footsteps; after they saw her murdered, it reads “her three young daughters were not scared and offered their heads too.”[xxv]

This history of animal sacrifice evidently had a huge impact on Bishnoism, and many other dharma traditions that emerged out of India. It seems as though the practice of self-sacrifice among the Bishnoi is not just a rejection of animal sacrifice, but a radical inversion of it, where the human becomes the willing victim, and the animal is saved. It could be however that the same mechanisms are at work in both practices; the same understanding and celebration of a sacrificial world in which death maintains life. At the very least, according to Battaille’s theories, both practices can equally be understood as attempts to connect with the intimate through “profitless consumption.”

    2.2.2. Sacrifice in the Upanishads

With the Upanishads came the internalization of sacrifice through meditation and fasting, as animal sacrifice began to be considered violent by many. The focus changed from calculated rituals to personal wisdom, with the goal of self-realization and liberation. Concepts such as ahimsa and vegetarianism gained traction in Classical Hinduism, likely influenced by Jainism and Buddhism. These changes in the conception of sacrifice reflected a transformation in the understanding of the divine, and the understanding of human/ nonhuman relationships. While in the early Vedic period the divine was understood to be distinct from the self (dvaita), the Upanishads introduced advaita philosophies in which the divine was understood to be part of everything (Atman=Brahman). Ideas about karma and rebirth also emerged at this time and brought with them a deep sense of interconnectedness as described above.

Advaita philosophies resulted in the attempt to see oneself as being fundamentally the same as others and to develop a sense of respect for all life. One of the central ideas in the Bhagavad-Gita is that the Supreme Being resides in everything; chapter 7 verse 19 states that, “Krishna is all that is.” Chapple explains that this sense of “monism, or non duality demonstrated in the Mahabharata offers a method for deconstructing the objectification of the other.” [xxvi] One example of this is the Karni Mata rat temple in Deshnoke Rajasthan, where devotees are encouraged to see the presence of the divine in everything, even the rats. According to this philosophy, everything in nature is seen as “appendages of god” and therefore fundamentally the same.[xxvii]

Bishnoi philosophy has been profoundly influenced by these widespread Hindu concepts. One of the Guru’s statements, translated by Jain, reads: “Seekers of moksha should regard creatures born of sweat, birds born of eggs, mammals born of womb, and plants born of sprouting, all of them as God.”[xxviii] This advaita philosophy not only shapes the conceptual relationships between human and nonhuman, but deeply affects their physical interactions, provoking a willingness among humans to give their lives for nonhumans. This demonstrates once again that Bishnoi philosophy is quite at home in the Indian context. This common Hindu orientation towards the world is fundamental to Bishnoi worldviews and provides the foundation for their practices of self-sacrifice. This practice can be seen as an extension of the concepts of ahimsa and advaita to their extreme, as it demonstrates such a deep sense of kinship and respect that one is willing to die for the other.

2.3  Jainism

Jainism embodies many shramanic concepts about samsara, karma, and nonviolence (with variation of course) that also form the foundations of the Bishnoi understanding of the nonhuman. In many ways the two traditions are quite similar in fact. One could easily engage in a lengthy comparison between the two, but I would like to focus on the Jain practice of sallekhana because I think it offers the most interesting and relevant comparison to self-sacrifice among the Bishnoi.

Sallekhana is a fast to death, which represents the ideal death for a Jain because they die in a state of non-consuming, and therefore non-violence. It is a nonresistant death, void of passion or desire, in which all worldly ties are severed. This is the ideal death for a Jain because they understand everything in the world to have a soul, including food and water, and they believe that non-violence to other beings is of utmost importance on the road to liberation. It is therefore noble to let the body go, rather than kill other living beings in order to survive.

The Bishnoi orientation toward the nonhuman and their ethic of non-violence, are therefore in line with many Jain teachings. The centrality of ahimsa expresses respect for individual living beings as subjects who are equal and have the capacity to feel pain. Being human is a privilege because of one’s awareness of samsara, but it does not imply greater moral worth. Like Bishnoism, Jainism therefore provides a challenge to traditional hierarchies, envisioning a more intimate connection with other living beings. Like Bishnoi teachings, the Jain Acaranga Sutra explains that no being wishes to suffer or die, and each being should be allowed to live and evolve without interference.[xxix] The nonhuman is therefore absolutely central to the construction of the ethical self in both of these traditions. Anne Vallely explains that for Jains, moral worth and enlightenment can only be attained through our embodied experience and interactions with the nonhuman.[xxx] She states that “nature is the moral theatre within which one’s ethical being is established.”[xxxi] This statement is made in reference to Jainism specifically, but it could certainly be extended to include Bishnoism as well. For both of these traditions, physical interactions with the nonhuman are of central importance, over and above conceptual relationships. It is because one can only progress towards liberation by deeply engaging with the nonhuman that we find the concept of sallekhana in Jainism, and self-sacrifice in Bishnoism. For both, these are considered good deaths worth celebrating because they demonstrate the correct engagement with the nonhuman according to each respective dharma. As James Laidlaw explains, these practices are not understood to be in tension with the ethic of nonviolence, but rather in harmony with it.[xxxii]

Though there is evidently a deep connection between these two practices, there are also some significant differences. The Jain practice of sallekhana requires a complete lack of passion; it is expressed as a path of non-action. The focus of the practice is self-effort and the goal is self-realization. It is an individual and inward looking path that requires patience and withdrawal from the world. A common name for the practice of sallekhana is samadhi-maran, which means “death while in meditation.”[xxxiii] The Bishnoi practice of self-sacrifice on the other hand is often explained in very passionate and active terms. Stories of men chasing poachers and disabling their vehicles are celebrated. These acts are often fervent and spontaneous, far from the meditative, renunciatory ideal of the Jains. Both Jains and Bishnoi are willing to die to uphold their ideals of nonviolence, but they each have a different understanding of what that interaction should look like, and how to achieve ahimsa. For Jains the answer is withdrawal, while for the Bishnoi the answer is active engagement. There is of course active engagement in the name of ahimsa within the Jain community, for example their panjrapoles (animal shelters), which are popular in India. This engagement is only demonstrated among the householders however, and does not embody the ideal of renunciation, or the spirit of sallekhana. For Jains this ideal moral state can only be attained through disengagement and isolation from the world.[xxxiv] Jains reject the idea of a sacrificial world in which death brings forth life; believing that the cycle is ultimately meaningless. However as suggested above, the Bishnoi may be more accepting of a sacrificial understanding of the world. One challenge that is important to remember when exploring these questions is the difficulty of distinguishing between the ideals of the tradition and the lived dharma of community members who engage in these practices. It is necessary to make some generalizations in order to reflect on these questions, but one must remember that there is a wide variety of ways in which practitioners might experience their traditions and practices.

Conclusion 

India provides very fertile ground for the exploration of both sacrifice and human/ nonhuman relationships which, as I have suggested, are deeply related. I have demonstrated in the above pages that one’s orientation toward sacrifice can be very telling of one’s orientation toward the nonhuman. After examining Bishnoi philosophy in relation to other Indian philosophies we have learned that their worldview is not necessarily unique, demonstrating an intimate connection to Buddhism, Hinduism and Jainism. However, I would like to suggest that although their conceptual relationships with the nonhuman represent commonly held Indian notions, their physical relationships with the nonhuman are unique. It seems as though they demonstrate a stronger sense of kinship in their concrete interactions with nonhumans than is demonstrated among other Indian religions. The Bishnoi do not only demonstrate an internalisation of sacrifice like in Jainism and the Upanishads, but a reversal of sacrifice, in which the physical sacrifice still takes place, but the roles of human and nonhuman are reversed.

Appendix A*

1. Observe 30 days state of sutak (state of ritual impurity) after birth and keep mother and child away from household activities
2. During menstrual period, keep woman away from household activities for 5 days
3. Take a bath daily in the morning
4. Maintain modesty
5. Maintian good character, be content, and patient
6. Maintain purity and cleanliness
7. Pray two times a day (morning and evening)
8. Eulogise God, The Lord Vishnu in evening hours (Aarti)
9. Perform Yajna (Havan) every morning with feelings of welfare, devotion and love

10. Filter the water, milk and firewood

11. Speak pure words in all sincerity

12. Practice forgiveness, pardon, and absolution from the heart

13. Do not steal

14. Do not condemn or criticize

15. Do not lie

16. Do not waste the time on argument

17. Fast on Amawas (last day of the dark half of a month) and offer prayers to Lord Vishnu

18. Have pity on all living beings and love them

19. Do not cut the green trees, save environment

20. Crush lust, anger, greed and attachment

21. Eat home cooked food/ Don’t eat food cokked or kept in impure conditions

22. Provide shelter for animals so they can complete their life with dignity and don’t get slaughtered

23. Don’t sterilise the ox

24. Don’t use opium

25. Don’t smoke and use tobacco

26. Don’t take bhang or hemp

27. Don’t take wine or any type of liquor

28. Don’t eat meat, remain pure vegetarian

29. Never use blue clothes or blue colour extracted from green indigo plant

*There are several different translations of these rules; this list is representative, but by no means an official translation

Appendix B

Rudrashis Datta, Raiganj B. Ed. College, Uttar Dinajpur, West Bengal.

Abstract

It is perhaps universally accepted that the horse has occupied a primal place among animals in the context of the classical Sanskrit texts right up to the puranas. Aswa, as it was so termed, was a prized creature since the early Vedic age largely because of the leverage it gave to humans in terms of its mobility, agility and resilience. In other words, the internecine conflicts of tribes since the earliest days of our history demanded that horses were to be nurtured as military assets both to maintain peace through deterrence and also to act as aid in the movement of troops in the battlefield. It would therefore be appropriate to class the aswa as an animal whose use was specialized to the ruling and the warrior class, unlike the go or cattle which was commonly associated with the nuance of domesticity or the priestly class generally as units of wealth.

A corollary of the horse as a unit of royalty and power is evident in its use as the sacrificial animal in a royal ritual meant to perpetuate the prosperity and fortune of a king. In fact, the aswamedha ¹ was one of the four most important rites in the ancient Vedic tradition, the other three being – agnikitya – building of the fire altar; vajapeya – a soma sacrifice; and rajasuya or royal inauguration. The ceremonies associated with the aswamedha were elaborate, lasting for over a year and it culminated in the sacrifice of the horse with the king as the sacrificer. Satapatha Brahmana ² required that the sacrifice could be conducted only by a king and its object was to assert territorial sovereignty as well as to pray for general prosperity of the kingdom. As such the implication of a successful sacrifice was that the sacrificer, here a king, had unquestioned domination of neighbouring kingdoms as well as material prosperity within his territory.

However, it was this markedly material side of this ritual with the aswa that brought into sharp focus a serious inadequacy of the scope of a horse as an asset of the royalty. While it stood for material power and military force, it would have hardly made a difference to the mystical traditions of the Vedic age unless it was invested with qualities which would have had a relevance to the priestly class and the sages. It is perhaps in this context that the aswa assumed a cosmologic status in ancient Sanskrit literature.

Brhadaranyka Upanishad, ³ considered as one of the most important Upanishad, begins with a passage that reinforces the cosmic symbolism of the aswa. The first chapter, titled ‘The World as a Sacrificial Horse’ begins with a sustained correlation between the physiology of the horse and the external world order and the mysticism of the correlation cannot be missed:

“Aum, the dawn, verily, is the head of the sacrificial horse, the sun the eye, the wind the breath, the open mouth the vaishvanara fire; the year is the body of the sacrificial horse, the sky is the back, the atmosphere is the belly, the earth the hoof, the quarters the sides, the intermediate quarters the ribs, the seasons the limbs, the months and the half-months the joints, days and nights the feet, the stars the bones, the clouds the flesh; the food in the stomach is the sand, the rivers are the blood vessels, the liver and the lungs are the mountains, the herbs and trees are the hair. The rising (sun) is the forepart, the setting (sun) the hind part, when he yawns then it lightens, when he shakes himself, it thunders, when he urinates then it rains; voice, indeed, is his voice.”⁴

While the correlation between the horse in its parts and the external nature can be understandable, the intricate detail of the aswamedha takes this physical correlation further and stretches it into the realm of the mystical. Yajur Veda ⁵ mentions that among the rituals of the horse sacrifice one involves the chief queen lying with the corpse of the sacrificed horse till the next morning when the priests raise her from the place. With very few Vedic rituals requiring the physical presence of the queen, the need of the queen to undergo a rather macabre rite of having to lie with the sacrificed horse for the night takes the horse’s role clearly beyond the merely symbolic. Even as a fertility rite the presence of a dead animal can be considered a rarity in comparative mythology, and it is this problem that points to the role of the aswa as a symbol of life force or prana with the ritual implication being that the prana of the sacrificed horse goes to the chief queen as it dies, and permeates through her to the subjects of the kingdom with the expectation of ‘manly offspring’. In fact the aswamedha rituals concluded with the following prayer:

“May this Steed bring us all-sustaining riches, wealth in good kine, good

horses, manly offspring.

Freedom from sin may Aditi vouchsafe us: the Steed with our oblations gain

us lordship!” ⁶

Incidentally, Monier-Williams defines prana as ‘the breath of life, breath, respiration, spirit, vitality’. ⁷ If the theme of the Vedic prayers are any indication, advancement or perfection of the spirit and its vitality, was a basic concern of the sacrificers. In other words, when the Taittiriya Upanishad ⁸ maintains that ‘from prana alone are these creatures born and being born they live by prana and to prana they go hence and return’ ⁹ If prana is taken as the force that governs life, clearly, it is mired in imperfection in case of the person who is yet to attain Brahman. Effectively therefore, all human beings operate through imperfect prana-s. This perhaps explain why aswa, when taken to imply prana often have physical features which are strictly not of perfect horses. The Rig Veda refers to Ashwins, twin sons of the sky and brothers of Usha, the dawn. They are described as gods with heads of horses. Again, the first prototype of the aswa was the Uchchaihshravas who arose from the churning of the ocean of nectar – amrita. Literally meaning either ‘long ears’ or ‘neighing aloud’ or even both, the mythical animal had seven heads and could fly. The legend has it that Indra took it to heavens and returned the prototype after robbing it of the ability to fly. The fact that the animal could fly, unlike a normal horse, would in itself symbolically signify an imperfection or at least incompleteness. Interestingly, horses with unnatural physical features have been a common motif in most myths across the world. Examples include ‘hippocampus’ which has the foreparts of a horse and the hind part a scaly fish; Pegasus, white in colour and winged; the eight-legged Sleipnir of Norse mythology and the Centaur or Hippocentaur with the head, arms and torso of a human and the body and legs of a horse. All such myths ascribe certain powers to the unnatural or paranormal horses which are beyond the scope of either individual human beings or individual horses with natural features. As such when a rishi prays for a gift from Agni that has the form of a horse with a cow –go – in front, he is effectively asking for a great body of spiritual power or prana led by light or wisdom, since the word go often meant ‘light of wisdom’ in Vedic hymns.

Be that as it may, an interpretation of the aswa as a symbol of life’s energies, though perhaps inevitable in the context of the Vedas and the sandhya-bhasha – the twilight language ¹⁰ – of its hymns, has its own special set of problems. For a contemporary reader of the classical Sanskrit texts, the greatest challenge is not of comprehension but of relevance. While ‘meanings’ of the hymns can be generated independently, relating the semantics to a wider practical nuance poses issues which are not easily resolved. Added to this is the evolution that concepts underwent in the course of centuries of use in the Vedic age. A classic example of such a problem lies in a query as to how many horses pulled the chariot of Arjuna in the battle of Mahabharata. While the Bhagavad Gita is silent on this issue, commentators have traditionally ascribed Arjuna’s chariot as having five horses. The source of the number is the Kathopanishad, 1.3.4 which says: ‘The senses they say are the horses; the objects of sense the paths (they range over); (the self) associated with the body, the senses and the mind – wise men declare – is the enjoyer.’ ¹¹ Clearly, since the number of senses normally attributed to humans are five, it was naturally assumed that Arjuna’s chariot had five horses. Again, when Surya is described as having a sapta-vahana, the semantics of the ‘senses’ give way to the days of a week, the implication being that the sun is a witness to us for all the days of the week.  Interpretations of convenience often face similar ambiguities, especially in the context of literal comprehension of what the hymns ‘mean’.

Sri Aurobindo, while interpreting the hymns of the Vedas was acutely aware of the ambiguity that some of the hymns might generate in the minds of the modern reader. In his Foreward to ‘Hymns to the Mystic Fire’ Sri Aurobindo asserts:

“We must take seriously the hint of Yaska, accept the Rishi’s description of the Veda’s contents as ‘seer-wisdoms, seer-words’, and look for whatever clue we can find to this ancient wisdom. Otherwise the Veda must remain forever a sealed book; grammarians, etymologists, scholastic conjectures will not open to us the sealed chamber.” ¹²

Sri Aurobindo was referring to Yaska, an almost forgotten Sanskrit commentator who preceded Panini and is traditionally known to be the author of the treatise Nirukta. ¹³ Though not explicitly stated, Sri Aurobindo might have been referring to the naigama aspect of Yaska’s thesis wherein he developed an elaborate structure of interpretation involving terms and symbols special to the Vedas. Unlike those of other commentators, Yaska’s position was holistic, his stress being on the collective meaning of hymns seen in contexts rather than a grammarian’s isolationist approach.

That Sri Aurobindo adopted Yaska’s approach to the interpretation of the Vedas is evident from his reading of what the elaborate horse symbol at the beginning of the Brhadaranyaka Upanishad might have implied. Having individually analyzed the physiological metaphor of the horse, he says, by way of making a contextual, collective meaning:

“We are reminded that it is some Force manifesting in matter which the Horse symbolizes; the material manifestation constitutes the essence of its symbolism. The images used are of an almost gross materiality…. The first image is an image of knowledge expressing itself in matter, the second is an image of power expressing itself in matter. The third, the image of the rain, suggests that it is from the mere waste matter of his body that this great Power is able to fertilize the world and produce sustenance for the myriad nations of his creatures. Speech with its burden of definite thought, is the neighing of this mighty horse of sacrifice; by that this great Power in matter expresses materially the uprush of his thought and yearning and emotion, visible sparks of the secret universal fire that is in him – guhahitam.”¹⁴

By leaving out specific connotations and instead focussing on the collective holistic implication of the horse symbol at the beginning of the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad, Sri Aurobindo was effectively generating a nuance of the aswa that sustained his arguments at greater length in his epic Savitri.

The story of Savitri narrated by Rishi Markandeya to Yudhisthira appears as a minor episode or upakhyana  in seven Cantos (291-297) of the Vana Parva (Book of the Forest) of Vyasa’s Mahabharata.  The immediate purpose of the narration seems to be the alleviation of grief of the eldest of the Pandavas, Yudhisthira, who was afflicted by the plight of Draupadi, as she was sharing the hardships of exile of the Pandavas. During their wanderings in a forest, the Pandavas meet a rishi named Markandeya. Yudhisthira,  asks the Rishi, ‘O mighty sage, I do not so much grieve for myself or these my brothers or the loss of my kingdom as I do for this daughter of Drupada….Hast thou ever seen or heard of any chaste and exalted lady that resembleth this daughter of Drupada?’¹⁵ In answer, Markandeya narrates the story of Savitri and says that just as her husband Satyavan was saved from Death through the virtues of Savitri, the virtues of Draupadi is going to carry the Pandavas through all their difficulties.

It is the ‘symbol’ aspect of the tale that carries the importance in Sri Aurobindo’s interpretation of the Mahabharata episode. Each of the main characters of the tale is re-created by Sri Aurobindo and they become vehicles of his philosophy concerning the status of man and nature. For example, Satyavan literally means ‘one who possesses or carries the Truth-satya’. ¹⁶ In man it is his soul which carries the truth, since Indian philosophical systems consider each individual soul as a part of the Supreme soul or paramatma. As the soul descends to earth in a body, it comes in contact with death. In other words, since Satyavan is born, he has to die. The etymology of ‘Savitri’ has two meanings, both equally significant in Sri Aurobindo’s epic. In one, Savitri is a puranic God-the wife of Brahma, the divine Creator, and as such she carries the power of a creator herself. Sri Aurobindo says that Savitri is the ‘Divine Word’, i.e., the word of Divine command that brings the universe into existence. The other association of the word ‘Savitri’ is one of the names of the Sun-traditionally considered in Indian traditions as the source of all energy and existence. Specifically, Savitri’s name refers to the sun before it has risen above the horizon, and symbolically it indicates new possibilities of power, with the added significance that there is an element of inevitability in the descent of power and truth on earth. Indeed, one can detect in this association, an idea of a flame- agni-that has been considered by Sri Aurobindo as a Vedic symbol that acts as a bridge between the human and the Divine. Aswapati – Lord of the Horse – and Savitri’s human father is described by Sri Aurobindo as the ‘Lord of Tapasya, the concentrated energy of spiritual endeavour that helps us to rise from the mortal to the immortal planes’. Clearly, they have an element of restlessness in them. Aswapati, as the name signifies, is the lord of energy, i.e., one who has full control of his energy and makes them carry him in the path of spiritual endeavour from the normal human level of consciousness to higher planes of existence. We see in the epic how Aswapati travels from one plane of consciousness to another higher plane, until at last he reaches the Supreme Divine Mother and begs her to come down to earth. The spiritual efforts of Aswapati, Savitri’s human father are rewarded as the ‘Divine Mother’ (as Sri Aurobindo refers to ‘Truth’ in the epic) descends on earth to be born as Aswapati’s daughter. Almost half of the twenty-four thousand line epic is taken up by Aswapati’s spiritual pursuit in quest of a successor and the fact that he has been rewarded is an evidence of his ‘Lordship’ over his prana or life energy as the root of his name – aswa – suggests.

It is significant that Sri Aurobindo makes Aswapati take the rigours of the spiritual travel and we find Aswapati experiencing, much as in Dante’s famous work, both the bliss of the ‘Truth-world’ as well as the agony and suffering of the nether world. Since he had mastered his prana or life energy, Aswapati could remain agile, active and perceptive. The fact that he could easily realize that the bliss of the ‘Godheads of the Greater Mind’, however complete they may seem, is not the highest level of ascension available to a spiritual quest, and decide to move on, is evidence of the power that mastery of prana can give to a being. Aswapati finds his quest complete as he encounters and recognizes the ‘Divine Mother’ and takes from her the promise of Savitri’s birth in human form.

It is therefore appropriate that Aswapati forms the central character in Sri Aurobindo’s epic both in terms of the space that he occupies as well as in terms of being a pioneer in a spiritual quest that his daughter, the earthly Savitri would undertake later as she followed the God of Death to reclaim Satyavan’s soul and reverse his mortality. What marks Sri Aurobindo’s interpretation of the symbolism of the aswa or horse is a consistency that is carried over into his epic both for an artistic recreation of the Savitri legend as well as for an illustration of the might that comes to a man who has mastered the powers which a horse stands for in Vedic parlance.

Notes

¹ Literally, ‘sacrifice of a horse or steed’.

² Satapatha Brahmana (lit. ‘one hundred paths to Brahmana’) is a prose text, elucidatory in nature, dealing with the Vedic rituals mentioned in the Yajur Veda.

³ Brhadaranyaka Upanishad (lit. ‘great forest of knowledge’) is one of the older Upanishads and is ascribed to the sage Yagnavalkya.

⁴ Translation of S Radhakrishnan, p. 149.

⁵ Yajur Veda (lit. From yajus – ‘sacrificial formula’) contains details required to perform sacrifices, including the mantra-s or hymns to be chanted in the process.

⁶ Ralph T H Griffith’s translation of the Rg Veda, titled ‘The Hymns of the Rgveda’, 1896, p. 87. A copy of the Second edition is available at www.sacred-texts.com/hin/rigveda/index.htm.

⁷ M Monier-Williams, p. 705.

⁸ Taittiriya Upanishad is one of the primary Upanishads, dealing with the various degrees of bliss enjoyed by beings. A Mahadeva Sastri ascribes the name to Tittiri, a pupil of the Vedic commentator Yaska.

⁹ Radhakrishnan translates the lines as ‘For truly, beings here are born from life, when born they live by life, and into life, when departing they enter.’ Clearly, when he translates ‘prano brahmeti vyajanat’ as ‘he knew that life is Brahman’, he takes ‘prana’ to mean ‘life’, p. 554. For the present hymn from the Upanishad, I go by M P Pandit’s rendering in his Gleaning’s from the Upanishads, p. 153.

¹⁰ The concept of the ‘twilight language’ has been studied at great length by Bucknell and Stuart-Fox. Though their work was meant specifically for Buddhist texts, the concept can be used with equal validity in the context of the Vedas.

¹¹ Trans. S Radhakrishnan. p. 624.

¹² Hymns to the Mystic Fire, Foreward. p. 5.

¹³ Nirukta, literally meaning ‘etymology’, is one of the earliest Sanskrit texts dealing with semantics in general and the methodology of the interpretation of the Vedas in particular. It is commonly assumed that Yaska, its author, preceded Panini and lived in the 6^th century BC.

¹⁴ Kena and Other Upanishads, p. 283.

¹⁵ The author followed Kisari Mohan Ganguli’s translation of the Mahabharata.

¹⁶ Sri Aurobindo’s ‘Note’ on the epic Savitri has comments on the symbolic significance of the main characteristics of the epic.

References

Bucknell, Roderick and Martin Stuart-Fox. The Twilight Language : Explorations in

Buddhist Meditation and Symbolism. London : Curzon Press, 1986.

Ganguli, Kisari Mohan (trans.) The Mahabharata. (in four vols.) New Delhi : Munshiram  Manoharlal Publishers, 1993.

Mahadevan Sastri. A. The Taittiriya Upanishad. Mysore : GTA Printing, 1903.

Monier-Williams, M. A Sanskrit English Dictionary. New Delhi : Motilal Banarasidass,  2005. First Edition – Oxford University Press, 1899.

Pandit, M P. Gleanings from the Upanishads. Pondicherry : Dipti Publications, 1969.

Radhakrishnan, S. (trans.) The Principal Upanishads. New Delhi : Harper Collins, 1984.

Sri Aurobindo. Hymns to the Mystic Fire. Pondicherry : Sri Aurobindo Ashram, 1998.

—. Kena and Other Upanishads. Pondicherry : Sri Aurobindo Ashram, 2001.

Rudrashis Datta is Assistant Professor in English, Raiganj B. Ed. College, Uttar Dinajpur -733130, West Bengal, India. E-mail – rudrashisdatta@gmail.com