Rites of the God-King: Santi and Ritual Change in Early Hinduism 0190862912, 9780190862916

Table of contents :
Cover
Series
Rites of the God-King
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Preface
Acknowledgments
Abbreviations for Major Primary Sources
Introduction
1. The Inception of a Ritual Category
2. The Ritual Culture of Appeasement
3. Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism
4. Kingship in a Portentous Age
5. Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots
6. Ritual Change and the Problem of Presence
Conclusion
Appendices
Glossary of Sanskrit Terms
Bibliography
Author Index
Subject Index

Citation preview

i

Rites of the God-​King

ii

OXFORD RITUAL STUDIES Series Editors Ronald Grimes, Ritual Studies International Ute Hüsken, University of Oslo Barry Stephenson, Memorial University THE PROBLEM OF RITUAL EFFICACY Edited by William S. Sax, Johannes Quack, and Jan Weinhold

A DIFFERENT MEDICINE Postcolonial Healing in the Native American Church Joseph D. Calabrese

PERFORMING THE REFORMATION Public Ritual in the City of Luther Barry Stephenson

NARRATIVES OF SORROW AND DIGNITY Japanese Women, Pregnancy Loss, and Modern Rituals of Grieving Bardwell L. Smith

RITUAL, MEDIA, AND CONFLICT Edited by Ronald L. Grimes, Ute Hüsken, Udo Simon, and Eric Venbrux KNOWING BODY, MOVING MIND Ritualizing and Learning at Two Buddhist Centers Patricia Q. Campbell SUBVERSIVE SPIRITUALITIES How Rituals Enact the World Frédérique Apffel-​Marglin NEGOTIATING RITES Edited by Ute Hüsken and Frank Neubert THE DANCING DEAD Ritual and Religion among the Kapsiki/​ Higi of North Cameroon and Northeastern Nigeria Walter E. A. van Beek LOOKING FOR MARY MAGDALENE Alternative Pilgrimage and Ritual Creativity at Catholic Shrines in France Anna Fedele THE DYSFUNCTION OF RITUAL IN EARLY CONFUCIANISM Michael David Kaulana Ing

MAKING THINGS BETTER A Workbook on Ritual, Cultural Values, and Environmental Behavior A. David Napier AYAHUASCA SHAMANISM IN THE AMAZON AND BEYOND Edited by Beatriz Caiuby Labate and Clancy Cavnar HOMA VARIATIONS The Study of Ritual Change across the Longue Durée Edited by Richard K. Payne and Michael Witzel HOMO RITUALIS Hindu Ritual and Its Significance to Ritual Theory Axel Michaels RITUAL GONE WRONG What We Learn from Ritual Disruption Kathryn T. McClymond SINGING THE RITE TO BELONG Ritual, Music, and the New Irish Helen Phelan RITES OF THE GOD-​KING Śānti and Ritual Change in Early Hinduism Marko Geslani

iii

RITES OF THE GOD-​K ING Śānti and Ritual Change in Early Hinduism

z MARKO GESLANI

1

iv

1 Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and certain other countries. Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America. © Oxford University Press 2018 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by license, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reproduction rights organization. Inquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above. You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Geslani, Marko, 1982– author. Title: Rites of the God-King : Śānti and Ritual Change in Early Hinduism / Marko Geslani. Description: New York : Oxford University Press, 2018. | Series: Oxford ritual studies | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2017030139 (print) | LCCN 2018005574 (ebook) | ISBN 9780190862893 (updf ) | ISBN 9780190862909 (epub) | ISBN 9780190862916 (online content) | ISBN 9780190862886 (cloth : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Atonement (Hinduism)—History. | Hinduism—Rituals—History. | India—Kings and rulers—Religious aspects. Classification: LCC BL1226.82.A85 (ebook) | LCC BL1226.82.A85 G48 2018 (print) | DDC 294.5/38—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017030139 1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2 Printed by Sheridan Books, Inc., United States of America

v

For parents and teachers: Mila, Nestor, Phyllis, and Koichi

vi

vi

Contents

Preface 

ix

Acknowledgments 

xv

Abbreviations for Major Primary Sources 

xix

Introduction 

1

1. The Inception of a Ritual Category 

20

2. The Ritual Culture of Appeasement 

72

3. Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism 

123

4. Kingship in a Portentous Age 

156

5. Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots 

196

6. Ritual Change and the Problem of Presence 

230

Conclusion 

254

Appendices 

267

Glossary of Sanskrit Terms 

281

Bibliography 

283

Author Index 

301

Subject Index

303

vi

ix

Preface

Indology’s Untrod Paths Over and above such gains, is the fact, that the Pariśiṣṭas are in themselves important documents for the history of the development of Indian civilization, because they give an outline of the whole religious life of the later Vedic period from the point of view of the Atharvan priest. To what extent this may be true, may be seen from the following sketch of the contents of the collection, and of their bearing upon some wider problems of Indic Philology. —​ g eorge melville bolling, “A Contribution to the History of Religion in India”

In 1910, in an obscure issue of the Catholic University Bulletin, the American classicist and comparative philologist George Melville Bolling published a brief lecture, modestly titled “A Contribution to the History of Religion in India.” Among other things, it presents a compelling picture of the tenuous relationship between the study of Sanskrit and the study of religion in early twentieth-​century America. Once described as “an unapproachable Sanskrit scholar,” Bolling had studied with the noted American Sanskritist Maurice Bloomfield at Johns Hopkins University, earning his PhD in 1896.1 Immediately hired as a Greek instructor at the Catholic University of America in Baltimore, he “donated” his expertise in Sanskrit until 1905, when he was appointed head of the newly inaugurated Sanskrit Department.2 It was likely in an attempt to promote this

1.  This is the assessment of the one-​time chair of the English Department, Maurice Francis Egan, in Recollections of a Happy Life, 188. The hardships of Bolling’s prolonged associateship prior to his promotion in 1905 are detailed in Barry, The Catholic University of America. 2. Klingshirn, “Early History of the Department.”

x

x

Preface

newfound institutional enclave that he addressed his article to “the authorities of the University, and to its friends” as “a statement . . . of part of the work that has been carried on in the Department of Sanskrit.” The work in question here, which Bolling insists would contribute to Indian religious history, was a seemingly arcane bit of philological labor. Just a year earlier, in partnership with the German Sanskritist Julius von Negelein, Bolling had published a critical edition of a collection of texts known as the Pariśiṣṭas of the Atharvaveda, a miscellaneous set of ritual, phonetic, and astrological “appendices” (pariśiṣṭas) belonging to the last and somewhat marginal member of the four Vedas, India’s most venerable scriptural and priestly traditions.3 How exactly did Bolling intend that such texts might contribute to the history of Indian religion? Sketching the contents of the text collection, he presents several topics of potential interest to be illuminated by the Appendices: the interpretation of Vedic hymns, the origin of the lunar zodiac, the history of Atharvan priestly institutions, the duties of the royal chaplain, the details of the ritual apparatus, the system of atonements for ritual errors, and the early development of Indian astrology. Seemingly content with this piecemeal account, he declines to generalize further: the “wider problems of Indic Philology” speak for themselves. Pivoting abruptly from this review of the myriad delights of the Appendices, Bolling instead describes his plan to publish, in continued partnership with Negelein, two additional volumes of interpretive work on these and other related texts.4 Then comes the following plea: A practical difficulty that will confront us, will be the securing of the funds necessary to defray the costs of publication. The work, in spite of its importance, appeals necessarily to a very limited audience, and there is not the slightest possibility of the returns from its sale equaling the cost of publication. After ten years of labor we were compelled to begin the printing of the first volume at our own risk. From the certainty of loss we were

3. Negelein published a similar article, “Zur Religiongeschichte Indiens.” 4. “In conclusion I will speak briefly of the further work that we have planned, and to a considerable extent begun. Our first effort will be to gather and digest the metrical, grammatical, and lexical facts presented by these texts. In the next place we shall bring together as completely as possible the available evidence that throws light upon the subject matter of the Pariśiṣṭas. As much of this evidence is found in still unedited manuscripts, this will involve the publication of a number of texts, among which will be included the Vṛddha Garga Saṃhitā. This portion of the work will constitute a volume of about 600 pages, which we hope to be able to print without delay. The final volume of the work will consist of a translation and a commentary explaining our constitution and interpretation of the text” (Bolling, “A Contribution,” 126).

xi

Preface

xi

rescued first by the generosity of Rt. Rev. Bishop Dennis J.  O’Connell, then Rector of the University, who contributed from his own means the sum of five hundred dollars towards defraying the cost of publication, and afterwards by the liberality of the German Academies as already mentioned. From none of these sources have we any right to expect further assistance, but we do hope that the merits of the work will appeal to the liberality of those who believe in the importance to mankind of the study of the history of religion.5 Bolling’s appeal to the history of religion to garner patronage for his textual project evokes Max Müller’s well-​known vision of the privileged place of philology in the “science” of religion, the broad appeal of the latter requiring the specialized work of the former.6 Yet perhaps in 1910, a generation removed from the heyday of European Indology—​and a century after what Thomas Trautmann has termed the “Indomania” of the early colonial era—​such an appeal could no longer generate sufficient interest. For whatever reason, it seems that Bolling’s solicitation came to naught:  the proposed volumes on the Appendices were never published. Bolling left the Catholic University in 1914 to take up a post at Ohio State University, and upon his departure, the fledgling Department of Sanskrit, after a brief, nine-​year span, was eliminated for good.7 Bolling himself appears to have returned his attentions to Greek and would become a noted expert in Homeric philology. Though he remained productive until his death

5. Ibid. The two German academies mentioned here were the Koeniglich Preussische Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin and the Koeniglich Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Muenchen. 6.  Recall Müller’s famous “Chips from a German Workshop,” intended to engage a general audience incapable of accessing his long-​delayed edition of the Ṛgvedasāṃhitā. Müller attributes the notion of the “chips from the workshop” to Baron Bunsen, to whom he dedicates the first volume of the series, as his “friend and benefactor.” By Müller’s own account, Bunsen first suggested the “chips” twenty years earlier, in 1875, after having informed him that the funds for the publication of his edition of the Ṛgveda had been secured from the British East India Company: “At last his efforts had been successful, the funds for printing my edition of the text and commentary of the Sacred Hymns of the Brahmans had been granted, and Bunsen was the first to announce to me the happy result of his literary diplomacy. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘you have got a work for a life—​a large block that will take you years to plane and polish. But mind,’ he added, ‘let us have from time to time some chips from your workshop’ ” (Müller, Chips from a German Workshop, vii). See also Masuzawa, In Search of Dreamtime, chap. 3. 7. Klingshirn, “Early History of the Department.” The Department of Sanskrit had formerly formed part of the Department of Comparative Philology and Sanskrit (1898–​1905), which was also run by Bolling, from 1900 to 1905, before being split into two departments. Thus the entire career of the Sanskrit program at the Catholic University coincided with Bolling’s tenure (1896–​1914).

xi

Preface

xii

in 1963, he seems never to have returned seriously to the study of Sanskrit literature and Indic religion—​deflated, it would seem, by the failed promotion of his craft.8 What I find lamentable about this pedestrian footnote of academic history is not the decline of American Orientalism that it might—​misleadingly—​have portended but rather the dead end of a train of thought, a path not taken in the history of South Asian religion. For Bolling and Negelein’s long engagement with the Appendices arose not from spontaneous scholasticism but from an impulse that first motivated their respective teachers, Maurice Bloomfield and Albrecht Weber, two late nineteenth-​century pioneers in the study of the ancillary literature of the Atharvaveda.9 Taking care to chronicle the generation-​ long growth of scholarship in this field, from the discovery of the manuscripts of the Appendices to the publication of the first preliminary articles, Bolling allows himself a momentary air of satisfaction when he comes to the publication of the critical edition: The work that had been done up to this point (i.e. 1906) was all fragmentary, nor could it claim to be final, because it was based upon only a portion of the available manuscript material. It served, however, to show the value and importance of the work, and so no one doubted the soundness of Bloomfield’s judgment, when in his Atharvaveda, p. 19, he claimed for these texts a degree of interest “that calls for a critical edition of the entire collection.”10 Yet though the critical edition of the Appendices was successfully published in 1909, the “degree of interest” claimed for them by Bloomfield a decade earlier was never fully realized. The edition has remained shelved in university libraries among other well-​bound curiosities of the Orientalist age, unjustified, as it were, as data for the history of religion. This is not, of course, the book that Bolling and Negelein would have written, but I fancy that it shares a similar set of conceits. Most substantive, as we shall see, is the sense that a rather limited group of ritual texts merits “canonical”

8. Biographical details for Bolling can be found in Hoenigswald, “George Melville Bolling.” See also Briggs, Biographical Dictionary, 51–​52. 9. Bolling dedicated the critical edition of the Pariśiṣṭas to Bloomfield “as a token of affection and respect.” 10. Bolling, “A Contribution,” 116.

xi

Preface

xiii

status in the history of South Asian religions. My central argument is that the ancillary literature of the Atharvaveda—​Bolling and Negelein’s Pariśiṣṭas and a closely related text called the Śāntikalpa, also edited by Bolling—​offers a distinctive contribution to our understanding of the ritual formation of Hinduism and its relation to Vedism. To demonstrate this claim, I  focus in particular on the career of a single ritual category, innovated and elaborated in these texts, known as śānti (appeasement). The essential contribution of these texts, the śānti ritual category, and ultimately the priestly institution that produced them was to propose—​largely in ritual terms—​a compelling vision of kingship for early India, one that reverberated in later religious canons and ultimately bequeathed some unexpected aftereffects to the “Hindu” cult of the image, among other realms of ritual practice. Thus, picking up a few of Bolling’s potential “contributions” to Indic religious history, I hope to clarify, in part, the “degree of interest” that so animated our venerable Indological predecessors. By following the career of a single ritual category that begins in these manuals, we may appreciate with greater, perhaps surprising detail the development of some mainstream ritual modalities of the Hindu tradition. Second, in making the case that a few dusty texts should interest a broader, non-​Indological audience, I hope to do my part to promote text-​based modes of argumentation in the study of Indian religions, which might seem to some to have lost a measure of verve in this, the post-​Orientalist era. Seemingly minute matters of interpretation, interpolation, and comparison are of course highly consequential for any text-​based history. But they are perhaps even more pressing for the task of writing the “biography” of a Hindu ritual. For, contrary to popular assumption, ritual practice in Vedic-​Hinduism has long been a highly exegetical affair. Even in the ethnographic present—​whatever improvisations might occur during a given ritual performance—​the ritual prescription, often in the form of a printed manual (paddhati), is rarely far from the scene. And while we can no longer interview the medieval priests who performed these rituals, surviving manuals at least preserve their “ideal” ritual forms, while illustrating the conceptual relations among ritual terms and categories, many of which live on in modern Hinduism. So while some might assume that the realm of texts has little to do with the “practice of everyday life,” in the arena of Hindu ritual the text may yet prove to be a preferred medium of praxis. At the very least, the study of medieval ritual texts should be relevant to students of contemporary South Asian religion and anthropology, if only for its capacity to illuminate the possible lines of development underlying current Hindu ritual life and, hence, the alternative interpretive resources that can be derived from within the emic tradition. I will insist, then, that our texts be taken as more than ancient priestly

xv

Acknowledgments

Whether as diversion or dissertation, musing or manuscript, this book belongs where it is sure to lie hereafter: to the libraries—​the quiet study carrels—​of many universities and colleges. The first—​seemingly always there for me by right of birth—​were public and Canadian. Some were distant, majestic in their benevolent indifference (Robarts); others were local, windowless, and serene (UTSC). In others still I met a career: McMaster, Yale, UBC (Vancouver), Occidental, and Emory. In all of these institutions—​from their students and teachers, in their classrooms, and especially in their departments of Asian and religious studies—​I have found corners of intellectual freedom: to read what I felt I should and to write a book to which my reading had led. For all of these precious gifts of place, I thank especially “Dr.” Alan Mendelson, Annette Yoshiko Reed, Richard Mann, Jonathan Geen, and the professors of the Arts & Science Programme (2001–​ 5); Adam Barnett, Christina Laffin, Tom Hunter, Anne Murphy, Fran Harlow, Adheesh Sathaye, and the Aklujkars; Kristi Upson-​Saia, Keith Naylor, and Dale Wright; Gary Laderman, Joyce Flueckiger, Sara McClintock, Jenn Ortegren, Paul Courtright, and the amartyamahāpuruṣa himself, V. Narayana Rao; Dianne Stewart and John Dunne (for timely mentorship); Jim Hoesterey (for productive mischief ). The roots of this project were nourished by those most formative conversationalists at Yale: Luke Moorhead, Brent Nongbri, Dylan Burns, Layne Jacobs, Sara Koenig, and Yii-​Jan Lin; Jinping Wang, Lang Chen, Jay Ramesh, and Sasha Restifo. Andrew More kept me going. On occasion Gregory Schopen, Bob Sharf, Don Lopez, Jacqueline Stone, and/​or James Robson would manifest, to inspire as only idols can. Jake Dalton taught me how to make a career out of ritual manuals. Stanley Insler taught me how to be—​and to love being—​an American Orientalist. Sally Promey, as patron and patron saint, continues to bless. Dave Brick continues to understand much about Sanskrit and Sanskritists. Kati Curts, Noreen Khawaja, and Nancy Levene have not once failed to challenge me to lingering rumination.

xvi

xvi

Acknowledgments

While still courting the study of ritual I was fortunate to encounter South Asian anthropology as practiced by Daniela Berti and Gilles Tarabout. Gérard Colas served as external reader of the dissertation, and his scholarship added critical inspiration for the scope of the final project. Shrikant Bahulkar was generous with his learning. The over-​long path from dissertation (Yale 2011) to book benefited from the input of several esteemed scholars. Arlo Griffiths read transitional versions of ­chapter 1 and parts of ­chapters 2 and 3, offering many indispensible suggestions; I remain grateful for his stewardship of Atharvan texts. Shingo Einoo read parts of c­ hapters 4 and 5; the reader will note that his inventive work forms the very ground of this project (and, likewise, that parts of it were completed with the help of EINOO CARD). Jill Robbins—​always a game co-​reader—​helped me to think the final thoughts of ­chapter 6. Most recently I have been buoyed by collaborative discourse with the fledgling Garga-​group: Bill Mak, Michio Yano, and Kenneth Zysk. Finally, Devin Stewart read the penultimate draft with ungodly alacrity, reminded me one last time that non-​Sanskritists might read it, and helped rectify what uneven prose remained from graduate school. Parts of the book are based on earlier publications. The middle sections of ­chapter 3 derive from “Astrological Vedism: Varāhamihira in Light of the Later Rituals of the Atharvaveda,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 136.2 (2016): 305–​23 (with thanks to Stephanie Jamison for her supervision of that article); parts of ­chapter 4 from “Appeasement and Atonement in the Mahādānas, the Hindu ‘Great Gifts,’ ” Journal Asiatique 299.1 (2011):  133–​92 and “Śānti Rites in the Development of the Purāṇic Rājyābhiṣeka,” Indo-​Iranian Journal 55 (2012): 321–​77; and the middle sections of ­chapter 5 from “Vedic Astrology and the Prehistory of Varāhamihira’s Pratiṣṭhāpanādhyāya: Image Installation as Apotropaic Consecration,” in Consecration Rituals in South Asia, edited by István Keul, 14–​44, Studies in the History of Religions 155 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2017). Ute Hüsken, Ron Grimes, and Barry Stephenson at Oxford Ritual Studies have graciously made space for a project that traffics in more than one dubious subfield. I’m thrilled that this volume will be in the company of so many other delightful ritual obsessions. Thanks as well to Cynthia Read at Oxford University Press for her enthusiasm and expediency, and for keeping the door open to the study of premodern South Asia. Two anonymous reviewers made productive observations and corrections. Needless to say, all errors accrue to me. If this book is about the life of a ritual, it also occasions atonement for many absences in the rituals of life. To friends who wondered where I was (177, S.T.A.R.S, Bryce Eldridge, Joseph Park, Edwin Lee, Jason Essue, and Timothy

xvi

xiv

Preface

arcana and very much as vital components of—​or at least precursors to—​“living” or “popular” Hinduism, what has elsewhere been called the “Hinduism of lentils.”11 When he assumed that “in spite of its importance,” his work appealed “necessarily to a very limited audience,” Bolling was perhaps too quick (and a touch elitist) to capitulate to the supposed irrelevance of Sanskrit philology, a sentiment that threatens to impoverish our engagement with Indian religions, past and present. I invoke him here, hoping to recapture, in spirit if not in form, the sense of discovery that this now forgotten text held more than a century ago.

11. Narayanan, “Diglossic Hinduism.”

xvi

Acknowledgments

xvii

Ho), who knew where I was (Alex Kaloyanides), who were where I was (Devin Singh), and who are where I am (Ellen Gough): praise for sustaining the work of understanding. David Walker and Kathryn Lofton defy categories of relation while redefining association. For long they have been my first line of critical translation and self-​reflection. I wrote this book because I knew they would read it. From summits of humanism and scholasticism, my teachers, Phyllis Granoff and Koichi Shinohara gave the gift and curse—​the risk of merit and the risk of sin—​of intellectual life. For that, I have tried to keep them ever present on the page, whatever the text may be. I wrote this book because of their discipline and their compassion. My expanding family—​ Leura, Vivek, Natalie—​ shows me the hope of prosperity. My sister, Daphne, who filled my thermos, never let me trip on the sidewalk. My parents, who taught me everything about work, never stalled my imagination. Jessie, who slept soundly as I wrote these words, never leaves me without śānti.

xvi

xi

Abbreviations for Major Primary Sources

AŚ Arthaśāstra ĀśvGPŚ Āśvalāyanīyagṛhyapariśiṣṭa AVŚ Atharvaveda Śaunaka Saṃhitā AVPŚ Atharvavedapariśiṣṭa BodhGŚS Bodhāyanagṛhyaśeṣasūtra BS Bṛhatsaṃhitā BY Bṛhadyātrā GBr Gopathabrāhmaṇa KauśS Kauśikasūtra MBh Mahābhārata MDh Mānavadharmaśāstra MtP Matsyapurāṇa ŚK (Atharvaveda) Śāntikalpa VaikhGS Vaikhānasagṛhyasūtra VDhP Viṣṇudharmottarapurāṇa YY Yogayātrā

x

xxi

Rites of the God-​King

xxi

1

Introduction

Between Vedic Fires and Hindu Images Begin in a classroom, let us say, in a typical North American undergraduate college in the past twenty-​five years. The course is Introduction to Hinduism. I wager that the average instructor of such a class will have at some point considered screening two educational films. The first is Altar of Fire (1976), the fifty-​eight-​minute documentary by Robert Gardner and Frits Staal based on the performance of the ancient Vedic sacrifice, the Piling of Agni (agnicayana), in Kerala in April 1975. The second is the much shorter (twelve-​minute) Pūjā: Expressions of Hindu Devotion, produced by A. C. Warden and written by Nathan Antila for a 1996 exhibition of the same name at the Sackler Gallery in Washington, D.C. While ostensibly sharing a similar educational agenda, they differ markedly—​not only in content but in posture. Altar of Fire is decidedly mournful about the agnicayana, which, the narrator tells us repeatedly, has been performed “perhaps for the last time.”1 While the film aims to document but a single, exceptionally monumental Vedic ritual, it extends the ethos of cultural conservation to the fire-​based Vedic sacrificial religion in general: The Vedic nomads used perishable materials such as clay, wood, and grass. Agni, god of fire, was kept permanently alive. On the move, he was carried in pots; at rest, installed on altars. Fire was ritually celebrated in ceremonies such as the agniṣṭoma, or Praise of Agni. With the development of Hinduism, Vedic ritual declined. Considered extinct since the Middle Ages, these rituals of sacrifice have survived in remote corners.

1. Several performances have been reported since 1975.

2

2

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Whereas the Vedic priests of Altar of Fire—​huddled together over their oblations, unceasingly rehearsing the mantras—​seem to exhibit an ancient, geographically remote tradition on the verge of extinction, their Hindu counterparts in Pūjā are posed as next-​door neighbors of middle-​class America. Tracing the path of the diaspora, the film shifts seamlessly from an unnamed Śiva temple in western India to public and domestic scenes of worship in Bethesda and Potomac, Maryland; its informants are identified by profession: international trade analyst, university student, management consultant. According to this film, the contemporaneity of Hinduism—​especially its pragmatic individualism—​supersedes its ancient roots: One of the world’s oldest religions, Hinduism incorporates spiritual beliefs and practices dating back more than 3,000  years on the Indian subcontinent. Today, it’s both an ancient tradition and a living faith, featuring rituals and ceremonies that honor a host of powerful deities. For Hindus, these deities represent aspects of a single, infinite, divine spirit, known to most as Brahman. Through pūjā, worshippers express their religious devotion by honoring aspects of the divine spirit most relevant to their lives. The differing though equally modern historical stakes of these films—​antique retrieval versus diasporic explanation—​succinctly indicate two anxieties in the study of Hinduism to which, or between which, I address this study: on the one hand, that the Vedic sacrifice, with its ancient cumbersome rituals, may be lost to the sands of time; on the other, that image-​worshipping Hindus, especially in the modern West, might, quite simply, be misunderstood, a not unlikely nor trivial outcome given the endurance of Orientalist attitudes in Western societies. Beneath this historiographic scene lies perhaps a more basic paradox: it is the worship (pūjā) of images—​“idols” as the second film says, unapologetically—​that is presented as a personal and immediate religious experience, whereas the comparatively abstract (aniconic) fire sacrifice (yajña) appears hopelessly mediate, ritualized, and complex. Is it in the nature of these practices that we should ground the modernity of Hinduism and the antiquity of Vedism? Or might there be something uncertain in the very distinction itself ? This study aims to contribute to the ongoing question of the relationship between Vedism and Hinduism, a problem seemingly revisited in each Indological generation. Generally speaking, despite numerous accounts of the rich lines of continuity between Vedic and Hindu religion (especially within the orthodox philosophical traditions), there remains a sense in which, from the perspective of ritual practice, Vedism and Hinduism yet appear

3

Introduction

3

irreconcilable.2 Such a disjuncture may seem an obvious conclusion if one were to juxtapose, in the abstract, the aniconic Vedic fire with the anthropomorphic Hindu icon. But this study will suggest that during the mid-​first millennium ce, the ritual forms of yajña (aniconic fire sacrifice) and pūjā (image worship)—​what we might otherwise identify as Vedic and Hindu modes of religion—​interacted within a separate, independent ritual context, which cannot be encompassed adequately by the Vedic-​to-​Hindu historical model. Our inability to assess this intervening ritual culture with appropriate care stems, at least in part, from an enduring iconocentric concern, through which we have tended to view the history of Hinduism in terms of the emergence of devotional theism (bhakti) and image worship (pūjā). In other words, the early history of Hindu ritual has tended to orient itself toward the appearance of the gods and their images. And this orientation has exaggerated the opposition of Vedism and Hinduism while obscuring our view of other important ritual shifts and historical actors. The notion of a disjunction between Vedic and Hindu appears in the earliest British accounts of India, in which it reflects a basic theological discomfort with popular Hindu image worship, to be distinguished in the minds of early British Indophiles from a more favorable model of Brahmanical monotheism.3 This distinction, furthermore, was explained in historical terms: monotheism was imagined to originate in antiquity, while polytheistic image worship was assumed to be a later translation, or degradation, of this earlier religious form. Despite other basic differences, Indophobes of the later colonial period largely retained this historical plan, seizing on contemporary reports of idol worship as proof of the need for Christian missions.4 Meanwhile the idea that temple Hinduism was a degenerate form of earlier Vedism also appeared prominently in the discourses of

2.  On the theme of Vedic-​Hindu continuity, see especially Renou, “Le Destin du Veda”; Gonda, Change and Continuity; Halbfass, Tradition and Reflection, chap. 1; Smith, Reflections on Resemblance. 3. According to Thomas Trautmann, the key texts of British Indomania in the latter half of the eighteenth century posited a “fundamental distinction between the monotheism of the brahmins (good) and the popular religion of images (not so good)” (Aryans and British India, 65). Already in the eleventh century the Muslim scholar al-​Bīrūnī (d. 1048) deployed a comparable sociological distinction. According to him, “idol-​worship” is “held only by the common uneducated people. For those who march on the path to liberation or those who study philosophy and theology, and who desire abstract truth which they call sâra, are entirely free from worshipping anything but God alone, and would never dream of worshipping an image manufactured to represent him” (Sachau, Alberuni’s India, 1:113). 4. Pennington, Was Hinduism Invented?, chaps. 2 and 3.

4

4

Rit es of t he God -K ing

nineteenth-​century Hindu reformers, who often cast themselves as recovering a pristine Vedic religion.5 The polemical-​ historical distinction between Brahmanical monotheism and Hindu polytheism survived in academic discussions of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. In the 1883 edition of his popular work, Religious Thought and Life in India, Monier Monier-​Williams—​while further separating Vedism (the religion of the Vedic saṃhitās) from Brahmanism (the religion of the upaniṣads)—​confirmed the basic temporal distinction between abstract Brahmanical pantheism and concrete Hindu image worship:6 We now pass on to the third and by far most complex stage of Hindū religious thought. And at the very outset we are called upon to take note of the fact illustrated by the whole history of religious thought from the earliest times, namely, that a merely spiritual and impersonal religion is quite incapable of taking hold of the masses of mankind of satisfying their religious requirements. Something more was needed for vast populations naturally craving for personal objects of faith and devotion, than the merely spiritual pantheistic creed of Brāhmanism. The chief point, then, which characterizes Hindūism and distinguishes it from Brāhmanism is that it subordinates the purely spiritual Brahman (nom. Brahmā) with its first manifestation Brahmā, to the personal deities of Śiva and Vishṇu or some form of these deities; while it admits of numerous sects, each exalting its own god to the place of the Supreme.7

5. Salmond, Hindu Iconoclasts. 6. The classification of Vedic religion into Vedism and Brahmanism was followed by the further analysis of “Hinduism” into its constituent sects, most clearly enunciated by R. G. Bhandarkar’s Vaiṣṇavism, Śaivism, and Minor Religious Systems. An alternative to this sectarian analysis that became common in the mid-​twentieth century—​for example in the works of J. N. Banerjea and R. C. Hazra—​was the division of Hinduism into Purāṇic and Tantric elements, based on the textual genres of the same name. Nonetheless both of these taxonomic distinctions maintained the assumption of a dramatic break between the earlier Vedic-​Brahmanical religion and the later sectarian or Purāṇic-​Tantric systems. 7.  Monier-​Williams, Religious Thought and Life in India, 54. In an apparently apologetic moment, Monier-​Williams goes on to argue, despite these apparent distinctions, that later Hinduism is yet based on the Brahmanical substratum: “Yet we must guard against the idea that Hindūism has superceded Brāhmanism, or that they are mutually antagonistic. The latter system is pantheistic, whereas Hindūism is theistic; but in India forms of pantheism, theism, and polytheism are ever interwoven with each other” (54). It is clear from the comments in the preface to the same volume that Monier-​Williams had in mind to correct certain Indophobic biases among his audience in the British public and civil service who might be tempted to overemphasize the disjunction between Brahmanism and Hinduism to the detriment of the colonized population.

5

Introduction

5

The Hindu religious stratum described here depends on the amalgamation of several key terms: “popular,” “objects of faith and devotion,” and “numerous” “personal deities.” As distinct from Vedic-​Brahmanism, Hinduism (the religion of the purāṇas and the tantras) is thus depicted as inherently popular, imagist, devotional, theistic, and sectarian. The same complex of associations provided the key terms of analysis for twentieth-​century Indologists who took up the task of explaining the origins of Hindu or Purāṇic religion in historical terms. Take, for example, J. N. Banerjea’s still canonical 1941 work, The Development of Hindu Iconography, which devotes two lengthy chapters to the historical emergence of image worship in the textual and material record.8 Banerjea first discusses the disputed question of whether image worship was practiced in Vedic times, concluding that while the Vedic texts themselves offer little support for the currency of image worship among the elite (Aryan) class, it is entirely likely that the lower “native” class worshipped images.9 Like Monier-​Williams, he repeatedly suggests that image worship was adopted as a concession to this popular substratum culture. Next Banerjea reviews the meager and sporadic evidence for the practice of devotional image worship from the later centuries bce up to the mid-​first millennium ce. The problem with his and many other such accounts, however, is the paucity of firmly dated evidence confirming the early existence of image-​worshipping cults akin to those that became the norm in medieval India. It is only during the Gupta period (fourth to sixth centuries ce) that the first temples appear in Northern India, while our first datable and descriptive source for temple architecture and image installation was written in the sixth century. Prior to that, from the end of the Vedic era in the late centuries bce onward, we find only fragmentary, albeit provocative evidence, in the form of stray terms (bhakta, pratiṣṭhā) in inscriptions, isolated material remains, and scattered references to devotional cults in Buddhist and grammatical texts.10 As a result, the reader is left to imagine—​at the risk of some

8. Like his predecessor Bhandarkar, much of Banerjea’s work took for granted the threefold classification of Monier-​Williams, which he considered “historical in character and in a way evolutionary” (Paurānic and Tāntric Religion, 1). For Banerjea’s defense of image worship, see “The Hindu Concept of God.” 9.  Banerjea, Development of Hindu Iconography, 71. The debate is informed by the (then) recent discovery of the Indus Valley Civilization, which in the mid-​twentieth century stimulated the imagination of a non-​Aryan culture coextant with the Vedic Aryans. Henceforth this popular, “non-​Aryan substratum” could be named as a point of historical origin for image worship. Many of the headlining discussions of the mid-​twentieth century centered on the question of “non-​Aryan” or “substratum” influences on the development of post-​ Vedic religion. 10. Banerjea attributes the lack of early evidence for the temple-​and image-​based worship of the standard Hindu gods to Muslim iconoclasm (Development of Hindu Iconography, 203).

6

6

Rit es of t he God -K ing

anachronism—​that a full-​blown Purāṇic form of Hinduism was gradually emerging behind this discontinuous collection of evidence. Apart from this somewhat uneven historical picture, however, Banerjea’s texts can be seen to reinforce the conceptual link between sectarian devotionalism and image worship and to represent this link as essential to Hinduism.11 Despite his attempt to present a narrative of gradual change, it is as if the lack of datable evidence effectively highlights the structural disjuncture between Vedic and Hindu practice. Even Jan Gonda, a leading proponent of the general continuity of Vedic and Hindu religions, was forced to admit (in 1965), “It is for instance completely correct to say that there is an enormous difference between the pūjā of the Hindu period and the Vedic yajña.”12 Thus the basic opposition of fire and image endured into the latter half of the twentieth century. Studies of image worship during the 1980s and 1990s suspended the search for Hindu origins and instead sought to explain the encounter between gods and devotees in phenomenological terms. In part this movement sought to redress the deep-​rooted, iconoclastic bias underlying Western views of the Hindu image. The central text of this movement was Diana Eck’s Darśan, first published in 1981 and now a staple in college-​level introductory courses in Hinduism. Using the emic term darśan (seeing) as a lens for interpreting a range of practices associated with temple Hinduism, Eck was able to describe compellingly the sacred encounter at the heart of Hindu image worship as a multisensory event of mutual recognition—​“seeing and being seen”—​between god and devotee. Crucial to this presentation is the notion that Hindus believe the icon to be the very body of the god. Thus by collapsing the distinction between signifier and signified, darśan can hardly be understood as the (false) worship of images; rather it denotes the devotee’s highly personal veneration of embodied divinity itself.13

11.  Banerjea writes, for instance, “The one important element, however, which has got special bearing on our subject and the name of which is to be found in at least one of the major Upaniṣads, is Bhakti, primarily the loving adoration of some persons by others, but secondarily the deep affectionate and mystic devotion for some personal deity who is the object of worship (in the developed sense of the term, i.e. pūjā)” (ibid., 72). 12. “The often extremely complicated Vedic ‘sacrifice,’ the centre of the aniconic Aryan cult, involving the slaughter of animals and the participation of many (up to 16 or 17) specialized priests contrasts markedly with the basic rite of hinduism, the so-​called pūjā which generally consists of the worship of a god in the form of an icon, to which flowers, betel quids, water for washing the feet and other—​as a rule—​vegetarian—​presents are offered. The image in which the god is believed to have in some sense taken his abode is honoured, fed, fanned and placed in a shrine or temples, erections and edifices which in the Vedic cult are conspicuous by their absence” (Gonda, Change and Continuity, 16). 13.  Beyond this redemption of Hindu image worship, darśan contributed to important theoretical shifts in religious studies more broadly. For instance, protesting the deep-​rooted

7

Introduction

7

In taking darśan as the key concept for a diversity of Hindu practices (including pilgrimage and guru veneration), this recent approach to the image further nourishes the ongoing assumption that Hinduism as a whole can be roughly equated with devotional image worship. This assumption may seem entirely unproblematic from the perspective of modern Hindu temple-​goers. But I would suggest that, if left uncomplicated by other native theoretical terms, it runs the risk of oversimplifying the conceptual richness of Hindu ritual life, not to mention the equal richness of premodern Hindu ritual texts. Furthermore, as a relentlessly contemporary line of description, the darśan trend does little to improve our understanding of the history of the early Hindu tradition. Historical surveys of Hinduism continue to stumble in the transition from Vedic Brahmanism to devotional Hindu theism. For instance, Gavin Flood’s An Introduction to Hinduism—​ one of the most popular, reliable, and up-​to-​date textbooks available—​opens its chapter on early Vaiṣṇavism as follows: From about 500 bce through the first millennium ce, there was a growth of sectarian worship of particular deities, and vedic sacrifice, though never dying out, gave way to devotional worship (pūjā). Performing pūjā is a way of expressing love or devotion (bhakti) to a deity in some form, and became the central religious practice of Hinduism.14 Such passages should be familiar to teachers and students alike.15 As narrators of the history of a religion, it is as if we have been waiting for the arrival of the god-​image.16 As a result, Hinduism—​qua devotional image worship—​appears,

distaste for embodiment and materiality in the study of religion more broadly, Joanne Punzo Waghorne writes, “The single conviction behind all of these essays remains the certainty that the process of the embodiment of god in India is not a mere popular phenomenon nor is it a relic of a by-​gone age. These essays seek to present the embodiment of divinity as the central feature of Hinduism and as a central feature in the study of religion” (Waghorne et al., Gods of Flesh/​Gods of Stone, 7). I return to the question of darśan in the conclusion. 14. Flood, Introduction to Hinduism, 128. 15.  Compare Klaus K.  Klostermaier:  “Worship of Indra, the great god of the Ṛgveda, was over the centuries replaced by the worship of Viṣṇu, Śiva and Devī, as the references from the purāṇas demonstrated. Vedic yajña was largely superceded by pūjā, the worship of images in homes and temples, at which flowers and fruits, and not animals and soma, are the main offerings” (Hinduism, 71–​72). 16. For example, A. L. Basham: “Hinduism reached the apogee of its development by the end of the fourteenth century of the common era. It may be characterized as a theistic or sectarian form of religion with, in certain instances, a strong undercurrent of Brāhmaṇic orthodoxy. It stressed temple or domestic worship of a deity (pūjā) and was strongly flavoured with devotionalism (bhakti). With the exception perhaps of pūjā, most of its elements already existed

8

8

Rit es of t he God -K ing

as it were, fully formed, ex nihilo, superseding a Vedism mired in sacrificial minutiae.17 But it is possible, I think, to tell the story somewhat differently. Picking up earlier lines of inquiry that had accommodated a more complex view of Hindu history in relation to Vedic-​Brahmanism, this study follows the lead of two general themes in recent scholarship. First, the historical relationship between yajña and pūjā can hardly be seen as straightforward, nor was the problem of image worship ever resolved even in the mainstream Hindu tradition of the later medieval period.18 We can therefore no longer imagine a straightforward transition from Vedic to Hindu modes of ritual. Both discursively and practically, fire sacrifice interacted with image worship in various ways throughout the later history of the tradition.19 Second, the role of Vedic brahmins in the development of mainstream Hindu ritual needs to be reexamined. There is evidence that Vedic priests were much more instrumental in the standardization of temple worship than has been previously understood.20 And scholars have recently turned their attention to a body of ritual manuals (known as the pariśiṣṭas) demonstrating the numerous ritual innovations (including, but not limited to, image worship) that were added to the nominally Vedic ritual repertoire during the first millennium ce, long after the supposed heyday of the Vedic sacrifice.21 Any notion of the supersession—​or attenuation—​of Vedic ritualism by Hindu theism can be accommodated only at the cost of the willful ignorance of such data. Once we abandon the theocentric and iconocentric teleology of contemporary accounts, it appears more likely that the emergent Hindu sects in fact

in the classical form represented by the Bhagavad-​gīta” (Origins and Development of Classical Hinduism, 113). 17. Bhandarkar opens with the following provocation: “The old Vedic gods became indissolubly involved in the elaborate and mechanical system of worship that had grown up. Speculations as regards the appropriateness of the rules and modes of worship and their efficacy as regards man’s good in the world and the next became prevalent. But all this did not satisfy the religious spirit of the people.” He continues, “But for ordinary people an adorable object with a more distinct personality than that which the theistic portions of the Upaniṣads attributed to God was necessary and the philosophic speculations did not answer practical needs. Thus some of the old Vedic gods and others, which were new, became the objects of worship” (Vaiṣṇavism, Śaivism, and Minor Religious Systems, 3–​4). 18.  Granoff, “Images and Their Ritual Use” and “Reading between the Lines”; Colas, “Competing Hermeneutics of Image Worship.” 19. Colas, “Jalons pour une histoire des conceptions indiennes de yajña.” 20. Willis, Archaeology of Hindu Ritual, chap. 2. 21. Einoo, “The Formation of Hindu Ritual.”

9

Introduction

9

developed in conversation with a Vedic priestly tradition whose ritual repertoire was itself undergoing significant transformations in the post-​Vedic age. Image worship was only one vector of this change and may have been less determinative than we have imagined. There await other objects of interest in the middle of the first millennium ce besides the sects of Viṣṇu and Śiva and their “idols.” Without rehearsing the well-​worn question of the “invention” of Hinduism, this study aims to contribute to the ongoing work of redescribing Hinduism by recasting our historical view of ritual structures that we have taken as central to its practice.

Kings and Priests in Early Hinduism To render the issue in more positive terms: turning from the origins of theistic image worship, this study will highlight the contribution of kingship and the royal priesthood to the general development of medieval Hindu ritual. Perhaps because of the theistic emphasis that underlies the Vedic-​Hindu distinction, the ritual life of the Hindu monarch—​a topic of relative importance in earlier Vedic studies—​rarely figures as a central issue in historical overviews of Hinduism, where kingship tends to drop out of focus in the transition from Brahmanical dharma to Purāṇic sectarianism. Discussions of post-​Vedic kingship are usually sequestered to comparatively specialized scholarship on the epics and dharmaśāstras, two canons that originate in the murky historical period after the upaniṣads and before the full onset of Purāṇic religion. More rarely, wider-​ ranging considerations of kingship usually circulate in sociology and anthropology, most often questioning the nature of political organization in ancient India or the operation of the jajmānī system of socioeconomic exchange.22 Recent work, however, has tended to reengage the religious dimensions of kingship in the development of medieval Hinduism. In two influential studies, Ronald Davidson and Michael Willis both take the ritualization of kingship as key to the broader religious developments of early medieval esotericism (or tantra) and Gupta-​era temple culture.23 Alexis Sanderson has similarly highlighted the relationship between kings and Śaiva chaplains in the formation of what he calls the “Śaiva Age.”24

22. The starting point for most of these conversations is Dumont, “The Conception of Kingship in Ancient India,” reproduced in Homo Hierarchicus. For a useful bibliographical summary, see Fuller, The Camphor Flame, 308–​9. For further provocative attempts to historicize anthropological data, see Karashima, Kingship in Indian History. 23. Davidson, Indian Esoteric Buddhism; Willis, Archaeology of Hindu Ritual. 24. Sanderson, “The Śaiva Age.” See also Sanderson, “Religion and the State.”

10

10

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Following the supposition that royal ritual life may have played a more vital role in the development of South Asian religions than is currently presumed, I will suggest that the late Vedic Atharvan priesthood, in collaboration with the early Indian astrological tradition, designed a royal ritual regime that would prove pervasive and paradigmatic in the later mainstream tradition. Both the underlying astrological assumptions as well as the attendant ritual formats of this regime survived in what we have come to call “Purāṇic” Hinduism. Thus I contend that a number of typical Hindu practices were shaped by ritual models designed by Vedic priests to be employed on the royal person. In this formulation the history of kingship as a ritual office will be seen as crucial to understanding the history of Hindu practice at large. This approach may be seen as a textual and historical analog to some of the ethnographic realities at the level of popular Hindu practice, as described, for example, by C. J. Fuller.25 Fuller notes that although the number of South Asian kingships has dwindled dramatically since the onset of the colonial period, as a socioreligious structure kingship (or rājadharma) still governs numerous forms of religious life in contemporary Hinduism. Apart from the question of how this royal structure became so ubiquitous and persistent in modern India, determining the precise nature of that structure, and its premodern development, remain pressing tasks for Hindu studies. A more direct stimulus for this study comes from the brief article by Ronald Inden titled “Changes in the Vedic Priesthood.” Inden attempts to show how the originally Vedic royal priesthood underwent a series of contested reformulations during the first millennium ce, reformulations that were highly consequential to king-​priest relations and notions of the state. Though I would refine some of his conclusions, Inden’s paper—​in line with his other major writings on medieval kingship, which I discuss at length in c­ hapter 4—​outlines an approach to a fuller history of the Vedic-​Brahmanical priesthood in relation to kingship during the first millennium, a period usually understood in terms of Hindu fruition and Vedic decline. In this history the priesthood is to be seen neither as a unitary tradition nor as one hopelessly wedded to antique ritual practices. Instead important new actors emerge in its ranks. In particular, in addition to the priests of the mainstream “Triple Veda” (Ṛg, Yajur, and Sāma), who preside over the ancient fire sacrifice, and the theistic groups who would later champion the temple cult, we find the “royal chaplain” (purohita) and the astrologer (sāṃvatsara). These two specialists deserve much more attention than has been paid to them thus far. While the

25. Fuller, The Camphor Flame, chap. 4.

1

Introduction

11

purohita has featured in many prominent theoretical discussions of kingship and priesthood, the historical development of this office during the later phases of Vedism and beyond remains incomplete. In fact I suggest that in spite of its earlier Vedic roots, the specific avatar of purohita that would prove most influential in the mid-​first millennium was only marginally Vedic in the classical sense. This late or post-​Vedic purohita was conceived at the outer edge of Vedism, in the latest stratum of ritual literature belonging to the Atharvaveda, the fourth and most peripheral of the Vedic institutes. The astrologer, by contrast, represents the originally non-​Vedic tradition of Jyotiḥśāstra or jyotiṣa (astral science), traditionally said to comprise the subfields of astronomical calculation (gaṇita), horoscopic astrology (jātaka), and omen divination (saṃhitā), or, what we might understand as a hybrid profession of astronomy and astrology.26 Aside from a considerable and important body of scholarship on this tradition from the perspective of the history of science, we have hardly begun to consider the role of this profession within the history of the royal priesthood. As somewhat non-​Vedic and pan-​sectarian specialists, both the purohita and the astrologer seem to have fallen into the cracks of South Asian religious historiography. By examining key texts of the Atharvan and astrological traditions, I  here begin the work of analyzing the ritual duties of these two priestly groups. What I find is that by the middle of the first millennium ce, the Atharvan purohita and the court astrologer developed a collaborative, interdisciplinary partnership, one that seems to emerge in sequential stages. It begins with the development in Atharvan sources of śānti (appeasement), a ritual category designed to counteract inauspicious omens, and it seems to expand as śānti-​related rituals multiply in later texts, concomitantly with the evolution of omen taxonomies during the first half of the first millennium ce. Symptomatic of the ongoing interpenetration of Atharvan and astrological disciplines, a significant number of omen catalogs can be found in the Appendices of the Atharvaveda, while numerous ritual instructions appear in the canonical texts of the astrologer-​astronomer Varāhamihira. As the Atharvans were becoming more closely acquainted with the recognition of signs, astrologers also began to imagine the ritual enclosure as their workplace. At the center of all of this ritual-​astrological activity is the king’s body, a focal point for the forces of auspiciousness and inauspiciousness manipulated by his

26. For an overview of this textual tradition, see Pingree, Jyotiḥśāstra. On account of its heterogeneity, the Sanskrit texts refer to numerous different specialists under the umbrella of Jyotiḥśāstra, including gaṇaka (mathematician, calculator), daivajña (diviner), mauhūrtika (from muhūrta, “moment” or “hour”), and sāṃvatsara (from saṃvat/​saṃvatsara, “year”). I use the term “astrologer” to refer to a representative of this tradition in general. On the tripartite distinction of Jyotiḥśāstra, see Mak, “Indian Jyotiṣa.”

12

12

Rit es of t he God -K ing

priestly entourage. In the first half of the book I will argue that our texts propose a vision of this royal person distinct from earlier Vedic notions of kingship. In the second half I will suggest that this particular version of kingship served as a template for rituals of image consecration, suggesting a transfer of the post-​Vedic royal paradigm to the cult of the permanently installed icon. In this sense the śānti ritual structure that developed in the late Vedic (Atharvan) and astrological partnership may thus be seen as a significant intermediary between so-​called Vedic and Hindu ritual formats. It might also allow us to redescribe a number of practices that we usually take to belong to “popular Hinduism,” such as gifting and pilgrimage bathing, as so many adaptations of this early royal astrological cult.

Method and Ritual Manuals The central arguments in this book derive from a single, though broad genre of texts from the Vedic-​Hindu tradition that we may designate as “ritual manuals.”27 Such texts, which preserve the history of South Asian ritual practice at large, represent the attempts of priestly institutions to codify and preserve detailed instructions for ritual performances according to a systematic format. The oldest models for such texts are the Vedic śrautasūtras, the “rules” or “aphorisms” governing the “solemn rituals.” These texts, composed around the middle of the first millennium bce, were the first to prescribe systematically the steps of the various Vedic rituals. They organize the rituals hierarchically, establish exegetical conventions, and, most important, prescribe structured sequences of action. Crucially for our purposes, each of the Vedic schools preserved a body of such ritual instructions in a twofold stratified form: śrautasūtra and gṛhyasūtra. The second layer of texts, the gṛhyasūtras (rules for the domestic rituals), seems to have been codified after solemn rituals, as they take for granted the earlier solemn paradigms and conventions. They are usually dated to the later centuries bce. Together these two ritual text genres are usually taken to represent the full form of Vedic ritualism, codified before the turn of the common era. At some later point a third layer of ritual instructions was added, as appendices (pariśiṣṭa or śeṣa sūtra) to the domestic ritual texts. These texts are difficult to date, but their contents reveal much about how the Vedic schools transitioned into the properly Hindu era of the first millennium ce. As we will see, scholarly estimates place them in the first half of the first millennium. Hence they represent an afterlife of the Vedic tradition in what is generally taken to be the post-​Vedic era.

27. This term covers a range of related Sanskrit words, including kalpa, vidhi, and sūtra.

13

Introduction

13

The upshot of this stratified textual process is that although we can rarely date individual texts with absolute certainty, we can nonetheless track changes in the ritual repertoire of a single Vedic school over time.28 Such is the method I have employed for understanding the growth of śānti in the ritual texts of the Atharvaveda. I begin in the first chapter with the Kauśikasūtra (gṛhya level) and the subsequent appendix-​level text, the Śāntikalpa. In the second chapter, I present the elaboration of śānti in the subsequent Atharvan Appendices (pariśiṣṭas). This method allows us to observe the gradual inception and elaboration of the śānti ritual category with remarkable clarity. No other Vedic school seems to preserve a parallel process, supporting the likelihood that the Atharvans were among the key innovators of śānti.29 Apart from this core analysis, which tracks śānti as it develops vertically, within Atharvan literature, I also consider the appearance of śānti-​related materials horizontally, within non-​Atharvan sources. The most important testimony comes from Varāhamihira (ca. 550 ce), the most famous authority of the early jyotiṣa tradition, who records several ritual instructions strategically placed in his divination texts. When compared with the Atharvan sources, these instructions strongly suggest that śānti rituals—​especially as they survived into the later Purāṇic period—​were not simply transplanted from the Atharvan tradition but more likely resulted from an ongoing interaction between Atharvan and astrological professional groups. Equally important, they set a firm date for the more or less mature formation of the royal cult of appeasement by the middle of the first millennium ce. In the second half of the book I trace the effects of these rituals of Vedic astrology in orthodox (non-​Atharvan) Vedic pariśiṣṭas and mainstream Hindu purāṇas.

28. The notion of a Vedic “school” can apply to a range of divisions of the Vedic institution, which is closely linked to the issue of textual transmission. At the broadest level are the four Vedas themselves. More narrowly, the term “school” is most often used to describe the various recensions, or “branches” (śākhā) of a given mantra collection (saṃhitā). Most narrowly, within a given śākhā, there may be multiple subschools or caraṇas, each of which will follow a different tradition of ritual practice, expressed in unique ritual manuals (śrauta and gṛhya sūtra). For example the Taittirīya represents one branch of the Yajurveda, but it contains distinct six subbranches. For an overview of this textual-​institutional arrangement, see Staal, Agni, 1: 32-​40; and Jamison and Witzel, “Vedic Hinduism,” 67-​81. The classical work on the Vedic schools is Louis Renou, Les écoles Vediques. See more recently the historicizing work by Witzel, “On the Localization of the Vedic Texts” and “The Development of the Vedic Canon.” For a recent ethnographic perspective, see Knipe, Vedic Voices. 29. By comparison, śānti rituals appear somewhat spontaneously in the appendices of Vedic schools (belonging to the Black Yajurveda) outside of the Atharvaveda, suggesting that śānti became popular within the mainstream Vedic tradition sometime later.

14

14

Rit es of t he God -K ing

The testimonies of Varāhamihira and later ritualists demonstrate the flexibility of the ritual manual:  however Vedic in origin, it endured well beyond the range of the traditional Vedic institutions, in texts that may not at first appear to belong to the same genre. Perhaps most crucial in this respect are the purāṇas. These sources are perhaps better known as repositories of Hindu myth than of Hindu ritual; they provide the ballast for the familiar story collections used in American college courses on Hinduism. Already in 1940, however, R. C. Hazra showed that the shape of the purāṇas—​as they come down to us—​largely derives from sectarian brahmins, who supplied them with prescriptive chapters that were more or less commensurate with orthodox Brahmanical (Dharmaśāstric) literature.30 Among these additions were numerous ritual texts traceable to the Vedic schools. Furthermore, as many of the Purāṇic texts emerge in discrete geographical regions of medieval India, they also develop their own distinctive ritual practices, especially in relation to regional centers of pilgrimage. Thus insofar as the purāṇas present a seemingly diverse set of regional, medieval Hinduisms, they do so as ritual traditions in conversation with an embedded set of Vedic ritual instructions. But once sensitized to the ubiquity of ritual manuals, we must also consider the more pressing question of how to read them. How might we delineate a method for interpreting these texts? In the first place, the ritual manuals dealt with here are not catechisms (as in systematic statements of doctrine or beliefs), nor do they engage in the highly involved disputations well known from the canons of Indian philosophy. And while they sometimes incorporate narrative framing and speculative comments, the heart of the ritual manual remains a series of instructions, usually governed by the present indicative or, especially, prescriptive (vidhi) verbal form. The overriding question for these texts is simply how to perform a ritual in the right way; comparatively less often do they seek to explain why one should perform the ritual at all—​though by no means are they silent on this point. That such texts can seem insipid and might easily encourage dry, descriptive analyses belies the fact that they nonetheless respond to their own problematics; they conform to, and at times deviate from, discernible structures—​or as I prefer, “scenarios.” The choices made by ritual designers working within these constraints become clearer when a given manual is placed in its proper ritual lineage and alongside other comparable instructions. Like a story told two ways by different storytellers, the authors of our ritual manuals may choose to highlight one or another detail or to place weight on a specific implement. For example,

30. Hazra, Studies in the Purāṇic Records. Here again we must accommodate a nonunitary view of the Brahmanical class in the making of Hinduism.

15

Introduction

15

śānti rituals often involve the scenario of bathing the ritual sponsor (i.e., the king or his animals) with specially prepared water. But as we will see, there is more than one way to take a bath. Most variable are the waters themselves: Does their power derive from special herbal ingredients or from mantric recitation? Shall they be prepared using the remains of a fire sacrifice or by divine intervention? The answers to such questions, I hope to show, are of great consequence for our ritual histories. All of this may be taken to say, most simply, that a comparative, textual mode of analysis is indispensible for understanding rituals and ritual change in premodern sources. But more germane for the reader, what keeps this analysis from degenerating into mere pedantry or storytelling is a consistent agenda: (1) to discern the scenarios implied by structures of ritual action, (2) to consider how differences between corresponding variants of these ritual scenarios might make sense within a diverse and sometimes competitive economy of ritual specialization, and thereby (3) to reconstitute the broader changes undergone by a given ritual scenario over time. In order to present my analyses with a reasonable degree of verifiability, I have summarized in sequential, numbered steps the most essential ritual texts for each chapter in the appendix. By reference to these appendices I aim to highlight only the most crucial details in my analyses without overwhelming the reader with in-​text summaries or translations. No doubt readers unfamiliar with Vedic ritual or ritual studies may still find the arguments—​especially in the first half of the book—​somewhat tedious. But there is no arena in which the maxim “The devil is in the details” is more true than in ritual studies. I suspect that one of the major shortcomings in the study of Hinduism has been our impatience with its bedeviling ritual tedium—​the impulse to look away from the work of priesthood. Needless to say, this exercise is not without even more serious risks. In the first place, the idea of a “ritual economy” is to some degree an abstraction, loosely based on the different subgenres of ritual manuals—​at the broadest level, Vedic, astrological, Purāṇic, and Tantric—​that survive from medieval India. It is, I suggest, strongly supported by the changes in mantras employed in the ritual structure that form the spine of this ritual history. Accordingly I  assume that the professional ritualists behind this literary record interacted in a kind of competitive professional arena at the level of the royal society; the texts suggest, for example, that numerous priestly traditions sought to develop rituals for image worship and installation. Models for such ritual economies can be seen on a small scale in ethnographies of contemporary India.31 Nonetheless, aside from the texts themselves, I  make no extensive attempt here to verify this ritual economy in sources from the historical or ethnographic record. While the result takes on the 31. Berti, “Gestes, paroles, combats.” See also Fuller, The Camphor Flame, chap. 10.

16

16

Rit es of t he God -K ing

character of a study of ideal types, I hope to stimulate further empirical research into how Vedic-​astrological ritual models are adapted in discrete historical, geographical, and ethnographic situations. Second, to speak of ritual “structures,” “scenarios,” and “change” raises the thorny problem of ritual syntax and semantics, a discussion inaugurated most famously for the Indic context by Frits Staal. Based on a study of the most elaborate śrauta ritual, the agnicayana, Staal proposed that ritual may be conceived in part like language; according to him, it has syntax but no semantics. Such is the idea that undergirds his controversial thesis of “ritual meaninglessness.” Staal’s thesis drew much attention for its antitheological, almost polemical output. Nonetheless his positive move, to forefront the structured aspect of ritual action and to question the nature of that structuring in relation to language, has recently inspired some provocative work, even though it continues to face serious challenges. As I will detail later, whether or not language—​and grammar in particular—​forms an adequate model for ritual remains an unresolved theoretical question. But to whatever extent one adopts Staal’s thesis—​and I do not, entirely—​it presents a concise way of framing the present exercise. To be sure, classical Vedic ritual is highly structured; what remains to be seen for our purposes is to what extent later Hindu ritual shares this structured aspect—​in kind and degree. This is yet another way of asking how, exactly, Hinduism remains Vedic, or how Vedism persists in the post-​Vedic age. Again the omnipresence of ritual manuals in medieval and modern South Asia takes us to the core of this question. On the one hand, if ritual—​as prescribed, rule-​bound activity—​is largely syntactic, how does this syntax manifest in textual form? On the other hand, what sorts of semantics, if any, are available in ritual manuals? Do these meanings inhere in the ritual structure itself, or are they secondarily attached to it, in the form of narrative framing or mantric utterance? This study traces what appears to be a set of gradual transformations in the single—​at first Vedic, and then properly Hindu—​ritual structure of śānti. We will see that this apparently gradual, structural change at the level of the manual, or vidhi, can ultimately be understood as a function of more decisive changes in the mantras included in the ritual, and hence in the ritual specialists who adopted the structure at each stage in its history. Among other factors, these mantras can be seen to add semantic meaning to the underlying ritual structure. After I have related the dense ritual history of the śānti form (­chapters 1 to 5), I will attempt to generalize about the relationship between mantra and ritual structure on the basis of this test case (­chapter  6). What I  conclude seems to confirm Staal’s thesis only ambivalently, and indeed partly to support his most trenchant critics, who suggest that—​should we pursue the linguistic comparison

17

Introduction

17

rigorously—​it is nonsensical to speak of syntax without semantics. On the one hand, the ritual structure (or syntax) traced here operates according to its own distinctive rules and thereby proves highly resilient over time. On the other hand—​perhaps for the very same reason—​the structure itself is not entirely invariant and is subject to multiple semantic appropriations in the form of changes in the man­tric liturgy. Whereas in early iterations the fit between mantra and ritual structure appears to operate more or less harmoniously (the ritual says what it does), over time this correspondence declines (it says one thing and does another). Hence a potential irresolution emerges between the ritual syntax (vidhi) and semantics (mantra). I suggest that this potential irresolution at the level of ritual theory forms a generative contradiction at the heart of the cult of the divine image, one that may have been exploited by the priestly groups behind our texts: when they replaced the body of the king with the image of god, the sectarians may have agreed to disagree with the royal priesthood. They adopted a ritual structure for theological purposes. This structure may have appeared as a blank template available to express theological discourse, yet it might also have carried forward logics that operated at earlier stages of its design. This complexity in itself may be taken to suggest—​pace Staal—​that ritual structure is not in itself empty of meaning. Instead a single ritual form can, over time, accrue several meanings, which in turn rebound in the form of further complications in the ritual structure. This lends the impression of a ritual super-​meaningfulness, which is essentially equivalent to Staal’s thesis of meaninglessness. Like an old melody with new lyrics, the structure of the śānti ritual forms a kind of palimpsest that continues to announce the message of appeasement well after it has been adapted to other purposes, such as the instantiation of royal power or divine presence. Ritual change thus implies semantic ambiguity, for example, between appeasement (śānti) and empowerment (abhiṣeka), or appeasement and divine instantiation (pratiṣṭhā). Such a conclusion, I  hope, says as much about ritual and ritual tradition as it does about early medieval Hinduism, where no reformation occurred—​on quite the same scale or in quite the same way—​as it did, say, in later Christianity. If there is a decisive break between ritual and theology here, at the advent of temple Hinduism, it is not a revolutionary antiritualism; it is more appropriate to speak in terms of a ritual transfer (atideśa) that encodes king-​subject relations in the guise of a liberating godhead. My argument unfolds in two parts. In the first half of the book I take a close look at the development of śānti within the ritual texts of the Atharvaveda and in Varāhamihira’s most famous text, the Bṛhatsaṃhitā. In the second half I apply this ritual and textual history more broadly to the arena of early medieval Hindu praxis with an eye to recent themes in ritual studies.

18

18

Rit es of t he God -K ing

In c­ hapter 1, “The Inception of a Ritual Category,” I track the emergence of the śānti ritual within two key texts of the Atharvan tradition, the Kauśikasūtra and the Śāntikalpa. I  show that what would later become a full-​fledged ritual category represents the formalization of a simpler, though distinctively Atharvan, technique for aspersion employing a ritual instrument called “śānti  ​water” (śāntyudaka). This water, which was produced through the recitation of a unique selection of Atharvan mantras, was employed in various rituals of the Kauśikasūtra before being established, in the later Śāntikalpa, at the heart of a ritual called the “Great Appeasement” (mahāśānti). This latter text seems to mark the first definitive moment when the term śānti was used as the name of a ritual category. In fact the mahāśānti in itself comprises a fairly complex ritual system based on the old Vedic principles of paradigm and modification (tantra and vikalpa). I show that this system is in part designed to accommodate a range of ritual situations well known to the earlier Atharvan tradition, while at the same time responding to a new class of astrological dangers. Chapter  2, “The Ritual Culture of Appeasement,” turns to a third stage of development of śānti ritual practice, namely, the Pariśiṣṭas of the Atharvaveda (the Appendices, for short). This body of texts demonstrates with lavish detail how the śānti ritual might—​according to the Atharvans—​be instituted within the office of kingship (rājadharma). I examine how a proliferating series of śānti-​inspired apotropaic aspersions emerges as the basis of the king’s annual ritual life. In concert with this royal ritual calendar, the Appendices develop an aggressive discursive agenda, which claims the station of royal chaplain (purohita) as a uniquely Atharvan office and names śānti as a key component of his expertise. As part of this “appeasement ideology” I introduce a number of themes that will be relevant in later chapters, including the relation between royal sin and astrological inauspiciousness, and the growing relevance of precise astrological expertise within Atharvan (Vedic) sources. Chapter  3, “Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism,” begins the journey beyond the Atharvan universe and into the range of mainstream Hinduism by applying the study of śānti rituals to the texts of the famed sixth-​century astrologer Varāhamihira. I show how this author’s ritual conventions (in two texts, the Bṛhadyātrā and the Bṛhatsaṃhitā) can be seen to have developed in conversation with the Atharvan ritual corpus. The rituals described by Varāhamihira, which are generally conversant with Atharvan practices, demonstrate an astrological turn in post-​Vedic ritual practices, bringing the astrologer and his divinatory skills directly into the sacrificial space. At the same time, Varāhamihira’s version of śānti also marks a clear break with the earlier Vedic tradition: in the place of Atharvan mantras and related ritual techniques, it applies non-​Vedic mantras and

19

Introduction

19

pūjā offerings to the production of aspersion waters (the old śānti ​water of the Atharvan tradition). This substitution constitutes an important shift in the life of śānti, not only because it allowed non-​Atharvan practitioners to make use of śānti-​based techniques but also because it made the śānti ritual structure adaptable to a wider array of ritual applications, including the installation of images, which I discuss in later chapters. Having traced the formation of śānti in Atharvan and astrological sources, I next bring these details to bear on some traditional issues in the study of Hindu ritual. In ­chapter 4, “Kingship in a Portentous Age,” I examine how Purāṇic kingship—​as outlined in two canonical texts, the Matsya and the Viṣṇudharmottara purāṇas—​proves to be an elaboration of the ritual duties of the Atharvan-​astrological regime detailed in the previous chapters. Not only are the rituals of royal coronation and gifting genealogically related to śānti ritual structures, but the ethos of the royal office seems to have been reformulated according to an astrological brand of karma theory, which ties karma and inauspiciousness together in a causal chain. As the protector of the realm, the king was required to intervene in this chain ritually, lest disaster befall the kingdom. Chapter  5, “Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots,” takes up the cult of the image. First I explore the notion of an image as a locus for omens. Then I show how the well-​known ritual of image installation (pratiṣṭhā) developed in parallel with the śānti-​based rituals of royal consecration outlined in Atharvan, astrological, and Purāṇic sources, while detailing the crucial innovations that allowed śānti ​water to become a medium for divine presence. In other words, I establish a clear equivalence, in ritual terms, between the body of the Purāṇic king and the image that becomes the god’s body. Finally, I pursue this equivalence, exploring in greater detail the astrological nature of the image as sign-​holder. I suggest that the basic design of the Hindu temple can be viewed as an enshrinement of the ritual of image installation and, furthermore, that it also preserves signs of the underlying apotropaic function of śānti rituals. This argument allows us to think of the temple—​the central institution of Hinduism—​as a location for the dispensation of royal auspiciousness rather than merely the house of a god. Finally, in ­chapter 6, “Ritual Change and the Problem of Presence,” I conclude with some reflections on the theme of ritual change in light of recent discussions of ritual structure. Reviewing the major shifts in the foregoing ritual history, I discuss how the form of the śānti ritual, as orthopraxy, continued to constrain subsequent ritual practice well after the Vedic period. As an example, I suggest how theories of divine presence may have been significantly altered when they were adapted as part of the image installation ritual—​that is, when presence had to be produced through mantra.

20

1

The Inception of a Ritual  Category May the divine waters be to us an increase, for assistance, for drink. An increase of life let them flow to us. Within the waters, Soma told me, are all the remedies, and the fire, all-​ increasing. The waters deliver remedy, protection for my body, and in order to see the sun for long. An increase to us the waters of the plains, increase those of the marshes, increase to us the waters produced by digging, increase those carried in a pot, propitious to us be those of the rain.1

The Fourth Priest and the Fourth Veda By all accounts the execution of the sacrifice—​the main preoccupation of classical Vedism—​rests primarily in the shared labor of three Vedas and their three priests: the hotṛ (invoker) of the Ṛgveda, the adhvaryu of the Yajurveda, and the udgātṛ (chanter) of the Sāmaveda. The sufficiency of their combined powers to the Vedic enterprise finds concise expression in the terms “Triple Veda” (triveda) and “triple knowledge” (trayī vidyā). For it is only in their work—​in the buzzing coordination of verses, formulae, and songs—​that the elaborate “solemn” (śrauta) rituals of the brāhmaṇas and śrautasūtras can be brought to life in performance. In addition to this trio, however, classical Vedic texts also refer to a fourth ritualist, known as the brahmán, who differs from the other three in dramatic

1. śáṃ no devī́r abhíṣṭaya ā́po bhavantu pītáye | śáṃ yór abhí sravantu naḥ || apsú me sómo abravīd antár víśvāni bheṣajā́ | agníṃ ca viśváśaṃbhuvam || ā́paḥ pṛṇītá bheṣajáṃ várūthaṃ tanvè máma | jyók ca sū́ryaṃ dṛśé || śáṃ na ā́po dhanvanyā̀ḥ śám u santv anūpyā̀ḥ | śáṃ naḥ khanitrímā ā́paḥ śám u yā́ḥ kumbhá ā́bhṛtāḥ | śivā́ naḥ santu vā́rṣikīḥ || AVŚ 1.6 || Whitney’s translation, modified, from Lanman, Atharva-​Veda Saṁhitā, 1:6. All translations of AVŚ are from this source, unless otherwise specified.

21



The Inception of a Ritual Category

21

fashion: while the priests of the Triple Veda undertake constant vocalization and physical labor, the brahmán remains silent and inactive.2 Seated to the south of the altar (vedi) on the grounds of the solemn sacrifice, his role is to oversee the ritual in its entirety and to prescribe remedies (prāyaścitti) for mistakes in its performance.3 This station obviously requires mastery of both the overarching structure of the ritual as well as its minute details. But who, we might ask, should perform this prestigious office? The sources appear to be undecided. One Ṛgvedic text, the Aitareyabrāhmaṇa, suggests the following: Important sages say, “Since the hotṛ’s office is performed with the Ṛc, the adhvaryu’s with the Yajus, the udgātṛ’s with the Sāman, the threefold knowledge is taken up; how then is the brahman’s office performed?” “With the threefold knowledge,” he should say. That which blows here is sacrifice; two paths it has, speech and mind, for by speech and by mind the sacrifice proceeds. Speech is this (earth), mind yonder (world); by speech as the threefold knowledge they make ready one side, by mind the brahman makes ready (the other).4 Mastering the totality of the Triple Veda, here the brahmán surpasses all three priests, as mind surpasses speech, and heaven the earth.5 This superordinate position would appear to leave his affiliation with any one Veda undetermined, or

2. The brahmán, as fourth priest, is to be distinguished from the term brāhmaṇa (brahmin), a member of the priestly class, and also from bráhman, the Ṛgvedic “formula,” and, in later Vedic thought, the cosmic principle. 3. See Brereton, “Bráhman, Brahmán, and Sacrificer”; Bodewitz, “The Fourth Priest.” According to Brereton, following Paul Thieme, in the Ṛgveda the brahmán refers to the “formulator” of formulae (bráhmāṇi), the poetic verses composed for the sacrifice. At this early stage Brereton sees a close relationship between the brahmán and the yajamāna, the “sacrificer” and political ruler, who was also an expert (kavi) and an active participant in the sacrifice. As the sacrifice became institutionalized and the ritual formulae were fixed into discrete repertoires, the brahmán’s creative poetic role diminished, and he took over the qualification of ritual expertise formerly attributed to the sacrificer: “While in the early Ṛgveda the priests were representatives of the sacrifice, in the classical Vedic rite, it is the brahmán, who becomes the knowledge that the other priests express in their actions and the silence that is the matrix of their speech. Because he assumes the role that once belonged to the sacrificer, as sage and ritual expert, he takes his seat next to the sacrificer and acts on his behalf ” (“Bráhman, Brahmán, and Sacrificer,” 341–​42). 4.  Aitareyabrāhmaṇa 5.33. English translation from Keith, “Aitareyabrāhmaṇa,” 257. Cf. Āpastambaśrautasūtra 3.24.16–​19. 5.  On the significance of the number four as it relates to the brahmán, see Bodewitz, “The Fourth Priest.”

2

22

Rit es of t he God -K ing

even unlikely.6 It may even suggest that the brahmán should be a trivedin, one who has memorized all three Vedas. However we may interpret such passages, one thing seems clear: the office of brahmán, as formulated in the classical system, did not fall within the province of the Atharvaveda.7 For, even apart from his unspecified affiliation in the texts, one might eo ipso posit a basic incongruity between brahmán and the Atharva. In contrast to the brahmán’s mastery of the Triple Veda and the solemn ritual system, the expertise of the Atharvan priest—​judging from the Atharvan hymns themselves—​ lay in healing (bheṣaja), sorcery (abhicāra), and the sphere of domestic (gṛhya) practice.8 Such “unsolemn” contents would seem to render the fourth Veda de facto the least likely source for the requisites of the fourth priest.9 As Henk Bodewitz puts it, “The Atharvaveda was accepted and tolerated as fourth; brahmán was extolled as the fourth which includes and surpasses the mentioned triad.”10 Yet despite its seeming irrelevance to the Triple Veda, the Atharvan tradition nonetheless made aggressive, if unlikely, claims to the position of brahmán. One of its texts, the Gopathabrāhmaṇa, appears to revise the Ṛgvedic passage quoted above: Prajāpati extended the sacrifice. He performed the hotṛ’s office with the Ṛc, the adhvaryu’s with the Yajus, the udgātṛ’s with the Sāman, the brahmán’s

6.  Another Ṛgvedic text, the Kauṣītakibrāhmaṇa (6.11), argues that the office of brahmán should be performed by a priest of the Ṛgveda (Keith, Rigveda Brahmanas, 379–​80). 7. Bloomfield, The Atharvaveda, 31–​33. 8.  According to Bloomfield, the Atharvaveda was generally regarded as having two distinct spheres of expertise—​healing and sorcery—​as expressed in the dual compound atharvāṅgiras, where atharva refers to the “holy” (śānta) hymns of remediation and healing (bheṣajāni), and aṅgiras refers to the “terrible” (ghora) spells of sorcery (abhicārikāni) (ibid., 7–​11). In the same source Bloomfield also discusses the relationship between the Atharvaveda and domestic ritual:  “We are led to two main divisions of Vedic literature, the three Vedas with their soma sacrifices, and the AV with the house ceremonies (grhya), i.e., respectively, the hieratic and the popular religion” (2; cf. 5–​7). The relationship between the Atharvaveda and domestic ritual has been discussed variously. See Lele, Some Atharvanic Portions; Meiko Kajihara, “The Upanayana and Marriage.” 9. Bloomfield classifies the hymns of the Atharvaveda (Śaunaka) into fourteen groups. The most salient are healing (bhaiṣajyāni), long life (āyuṣyāni), sorcery and countersorcery (ābhicārikāni and kṛṭyāpratiharaṇāni), women’s rites (strīkarmāni), (social and political) harmony (sāṃmanasyāni), royal ritual (rājakarmāni), Brahmanical interests, prosperity (pauṣṭikāni), expiation of sin (prāyaścittāni), and, in Bloomfield’s words, the “cosmogonic and theosophic” (The Atharvaveda, 57). Each of these categories is discussed at length in The Atharvaveda (57–​ 101), while a similar categorization appears in his anthology, Hymns of the Atharva-​Veda. 10. Bodewitz, “The Fourth Priest,” 40.

23



The Inception of a Ritual Category

23

with the Atharvāṅgirases (i.e. the mantras of the Atharvaveda). . . . What is made ready with the three Vedas is one side of the sacrifice; what the brahmán makes ready with the mind is the other side of the sacrifice. That which blows here is the sacrifice; two paths it has, mind and speech. For by speech and by mind the sacrifice proceeds. Mind is that yonder (world); speech is this (earth).11 This passage is nearly identical with its Ṛgvedic counterpart, but for one important detail:  the text no longer asks, “With what is the brahman’s office performed?” (atha kena brahmatvam kriyate). Instead it hastens to name the fourth, culminating spot on the sacrificial roster as the office proper to the mantras of the Atharvaveda. It goes on to suggest that a sacrifice without all four Vedas is like a three-​legged animal.12 In the wider Vedic tradition, however, support for this Atharvan claim to brahmán-​hood is sorely wanting. According to Maurice Bloomfield, wherever the Vedic texts concern themselves with the solemn sacrifice, they tend to neglect the Atharvaveda entirely.13 Furthermore, a sense of its marginality endured well

11. prajāpatir yajñam atanuta | sa ṛcaiva hautram akarod yajuṣādhvaryavaṃ sāmnaudgātram atharvāṅgirobhir brahmatvam |   .  .  .  | sa vā eṣa tribhir vedair yajñasyānyataraḥ pakṣaḥ saṃskriyate | manasaiva brahmā yajñasyānyataraṃ pakṣaṃ saṃskaroti | ayam u vai yaḥ pavate sa yajñas | tasya manaś ca vāk ca vartanī | manasā caiva hi vācā ca yajño vartate | ada eva mana iyam eva vāk || GBr 1.3.2 || Text follows Gaastra, Das Gopatha Brāhmaṇa. 12. “It’s like this: if a cow or a horse, or a mule were one, two or three footed, what would it carry? What would it gain? Therefore you should choose an expert in the Ṛgveda as hotṛ, an expert in the Yajurveda as adhvaryu, an expert in the Sāmaveda as udgātṛ, and an expert in the Atharvāṅgiras as brahmán. (For) his sacrifice is like this too:  sacrifice is well-​established in four gods, four Vedas, and four hotras. He becomes well-​established with progeny and cattle who knows thus, and thus who knows what is priestly of the priests, and what is sacrificial of the sacrifice—​so says the brāhmaṇa” (tad yathā gaur vāśvo vāśvataro vaikapād dvipāt tripād iti syāt kim abhivahet kim abhyaśnuyād iti | tasmād ṛgvidam eva hotāraṃ vṛṇīṣva yajurvidam adhvaryuṃ sāmavidam udgātāram atharvāṅgirovidaṃ brahmāṇam | tathā hāsya yajñaś caturṣu lokeṣu caturṣu deveṣu caturṣu vedeṣu catasṛṣu hotrāsu catuṣpād yajñaḥ pratitiṣṭhati | pratitiṣṭhati prajayā paśubhir ya evaṃ veda yaś caivam ṛtvijām ārtvijyaṃ veda yaś ca yajñe yajanīyaṃ vedeti brāhmaṇam || GBr 1.3.1 ||). 13.  “The manner in which the hymns of the Atharvan are alluded to in the śrauta-​texts are as follows. Ordinarily the texts are preoccupied with the sacrificial literature in the narrower sense, and hence devote themselves to the mention and laudation of the trayī vidyā, either without recounting its specific literary varieties, or by fuller citation of the terms ṛk, sāman, yajuḥ.  .  .  . On the other hand, whenever the śrauta-​texts mention, or make draughts upon other literary forms like itihāsa, purāṇa, sūtra, upaniṣad, and many others, the Atharvan literature is almost unfailingly included, and that too almost invariably in the following order: the traividya is mentioned first, the Atharvan holds the fourth place, and next follow in somewhat variable arrangement the types itihāsa, etc.” (Bloomfield, introduction to Hymns of the Atharva-​Veda, xxxv).

24

24

Rit es of t he God -K ing

beyond the classical Vedic period. The eleventh-​century scholar al-​Bīrūnī, for instance, notes that the Atharvaveda “is less in favor with the Hindus than the others.”14 Even the fourteenth-​century commentary attributed to Sāyaṇa opens with an objection to the very need of explaining the Atharvaveda in the first place, on the grounds that the sacrifice is sufficiently encompassed by the Triple Veda.15 In the conversation that ensues, both sides present the same brāhmaṇa passages quoted above to support their arguments.16 Fueled in this way by the ambiguities of the classical Vedic corpus, the affiliation of the brahmán and the Atharvaveda—​and indeed the question of the very relevance of the Atharva to classical Vedism—​would long remain open to debate. For our purposes the story of śānti must begin here, at a point in Atharvan history when a place at the sacrificial altar was still something worth fighting for. For while the life of śānti is largely a story about ritual technique—​waters and pots, mantras and oblations—​it also coincides with a conceptual shift outward, beyond the ground of the solemn rituals. If the brahmán was fixated on the sounds, movements, and materials of the sacrifice, the purohita, we will see, would turn his gaze beyond, to the signs of the earth, atmosphere, and heavens. The inception of śānti as a ritual category indicates this shift in the professional fortunes of the Atharvan school.

Ancillary Literature of the Atharvaveda Our discussion requires a brief sketch of the strata of texts discussed in this chapter. Table 1.1 lays out the relevant ritual-​related texts of the Atharvaveda. The list follows the conventional classification of genres in Vedic literature. As with each member of the Triple Veda, the broader tradition of the Atharvaveda comprises several stratified textual genres, beginning with the level of the hymn collection (saṃhitā), of which we have two surviving

14. Sachau, Alberuni’s India, 1:130. 15. “Objection. From the scriptural passage, ‘We shall describe sacrifice. It (sacrifice) is enjoined by the three Vedas,’ it is determined that the Ṛg, Yajur, and Sāma (vedas) alone are requisite to fruitful ritual. . . . And these, beginning with the Ṛg (veda), have been explained extensively. But because this (Atharva) Veda is not requisite to ritual, since it is distinct from those three, it does not merit explanation” (nanu yajñaṃ vyākhyāsyāmaḥ | sa tribhir vedair vidhīyate iti smaraṇād ṛgyajuḥsāmnām eva phalavatkarmaśeṣatvam avasīyate |  .  .  .  | te ca ṛgādayo vyākhyātāḥ | asya tu vedasya trayīvyatiriktatvena karmaśeṣtvābhāvāt na vyākhyānārhatā |) ( Śāstrī, Atharvaveda (Śaunaka), 1:3–​4). Sāyaṇa’s authorship of the commentaries on the Veda-​saṃhitās has been debated. See most recently Slaje, “Sāyaṇa Oder Mādhava?” 16. Śāstrī, Atharvaveda (Śaunaka), 1:4–​5.

25



The Inception of a Ritual Category

25

Table 1.1  Ritual-​related texts of the Atharvaveda Mantra Collection (Saṃhitā) Explanatory Text (Brāhmaṇa) Ritual Manuals Solemn (Śrautasūtra) Domestic (Gṛhyasūtra) Appendix (Gṛhyasūtra-​Pariśiṣṭa)

Śaunaka Paippalāda Gopatha Vaitāna Kauśika Śāntikalpa Atharvaveda-​Pariśiṣṭa

recensions: Śaunaka and Paippalāda.17 Next, at the level of the brāhmaṇa (texts of speculative commentary on the sacrifice), the Atharvans authored a relatively late and derivative specimen, already encountered above, the Gopathabrāhmaṇa.18 As for ritual sūtras, there are both a solemn and a domestic manual, Vaitāna and Kauśika.19 And last, at the “appendix” (pariśiṣṭa) level—​which concerns us most pressingly in this study—​the Atharvan tradition preserves two texts, the Śāntikalpa and the Atharvavedapariśiṣṭas.20 The Atharvan ritual corpus, however, features a unique chronology compared to the texts of the Triple Veda. In the three non-​Atharvan schools, a given śrautasūtra usually precedes the gṛhyasūtra, and the system of domestic ritual logically depends on the conventions of the solemn ritual. But in the Atharvan case the situation is reversed: the solemn Vaitānasūtra postdates and relies on the domestic Kauśikasūtra.21 In other words, Kauśika, a domestic sūtra, is in fact the oldest and most central ritual manual of the Atharvaveda.22 Its conceptual primacy is 17. For recent work on the Paippalāda, see Griffiths and Schmiedchen, The Atharvaveda and Its Paippalādaśākhā; Ghosh, Ātharvaṇā. At present the text is only partially critically edited. For a review of the discovery of the study of the Paippalāda and subsequent editions, see Arlo Griffiths’s introduction to The Paippalādasaṃhitā of the Atharvaveda. 18. Gaastra, Das Gopatha Brāhmaṇa. For a discussion and summary of this text, see Bloomfield, The Atharvaveda, 101–​24. 19. Śāstrī, Vaitāna-​śrauta-​sūtram; Bloomfield, “The Kāuçika-​Sūtra of the Atharva-​Veda.” 20. Bolling, “The Çāntikalpa of the Atharva-​Veda”(1904) and “The Çāntikalpa of the Atharva-​ Veda” (1913); Bolling and von Negelein, The Pariśiṣṭas of the Atharvaveda. 21. Bloomfield, “On the Position of the Vāitāna-​Sūtra.” 22.  In fact Bloomfield further argued that the Gopathabrāmaṇa was composed after the Vaitānasūtra, which would result in the near-​total inversion of Vedic norms with respect to text chronology in the Atharvan case (“The Position of the Gopatha-​Brāhmaṇa”). Griffiths, however, has questioned this assumption. See “Paippalāda Mantras in the Kauśikasūtra,” 49n1.

26

26

Rit es of t he God -K ing

often indicated by the title saṃhitā-​vidhi or saṃhitā-​kalpa (ritual instruction for the saṃhitā), which suggests that its instructions correlate directly with the root collection of mantras.23 Thus the importance of the “domestic” Kauśikasūtra—​its logical-​historical priority and its close fit with Atharvan mantras—​affirms the generally held notion that the Atharvaveda is primarily concerned with “domestic” rituals, reflecting a singular status vis-​à-​vis the Triple Veda.24 Another distinction characterizes the Atharvan case. In addition to this conventional, stratified division of ritual texts (from saṃhitā to gṛhyapariśiṣṭa), there is a separate tradition associating the Atharvaveda with five ritual manuals (pañcakalpa):  the Kauśikasūtra, Vaitānasūtra, Nakṣatrakalpa, Śāntikalpa, and Āṅgirasakalpa.25 Three of these texts (Kauśika, Vaitāna, and Śānti) are included in the conventional classification in Table 1.1. Of the remaining two, the Nakṣatrakalpa seems to have become the first member of the existing collection of pariśiṣṭas, while the Āṅgirasakalpa—​likely a manual on sorcery (abhicāra)—​ is lost.26 The tradition of the five kalpas of the Atharvaveda is repeated in the Mahābhārata and a number of Purāṇic sources, which raises the possibility that the Śāntikalpa—​a text that is crucial for the history of śānti—​existed in some form in the early centuries ce.27 These two schemes supply alternative ways of organizing a fully functional Atharvan ritual “system.” But as synchronic arrangements, they belie the likelihood that this ritual canon developed over time in discrete historical situations. In this chapter and the next we will attempt—​on the basis of the texts themselves—​ to understand one part of this history of Atharvan ritual. Aside from a few supplementary passages from the Gopathabrāhmaṇa, I focus in the present chapter on the Kauśikasūtra and the Śāntikalpa (Ritual Manual for Śānti). Any mantras 23. For this term, see, for example, AVPŚ 3.1.19. On the close relation between the Kauśikasūtra and the Atharvavedasaṃhitā, see Edgerton, “Kauśika and the Atharva Veda.” 24. Note, however, that the assumption that the Atharvaveda is the “domestic Veda” may be somewhat misleading, since the Kauśikasūtra includes several rituals that fall outside the scope of the other Vedic gṛhyasūtras. As Bloomfield put it, the text is not “a gṛhya-​sūtra in the ordinary sense of the word.” See his introduction to “The Kāuçika-​Sūtra,” xxi. 25.  On the pañcakalpa, see Bloomfield, The Atharvaveda, 16–​17; Bolling, “The Çāntikalpa” (1904), 79–​80; Griffiths, “The Ancillary Literature of the Paippalāda School,” 183–​84; Alexis Sanderson, “Atharvavedins in Tantric Territory,” 202nn22 and 23. 26. On the Nakṣatrakalpa, see Bahulkar, “The Nakṣatrakalpa and the Śāntikalpa.” Bloomfield (The Atharvaveda, 17)  speculates that the Āṅgirasakalpa may refer to the sixth book of the Kauśikasūtra, which deals with rites of sorcery (abhicārakarmāṇi). On this text, see Bahulkar, “Āṅgirasakalpa”; Sanderson, “Atharvavedins in Tantric Territory.” 27. Bloomfield, The Atharvaveda, 16–​17; Sanderson, “Atharvavedins in Tantric Territory,” 202–​ 3nn22 and 23. See below for further indications of the date of the Śāntikalpa.

27



The Inception of a Ritual Category

27

quoted are drawn from the Śaunaka recension of the Atharvavedasaṃhitā, the oldest part of the Atharvan corpus.28 In the next chapter I move to an examination of the Pariśiṣṭas (Appendices). As we proceed, it will be most important to keep in mind the following chronology, which will become clear from my analysis of the texts: Kauśikasūtra→ Śāntikalpa→Atharvavedapariśiṣṭas.29 Our task will be to elaborate the transformation of ritual expertise contained in this isolated textual history.

Dirk Jan Hoens and the Prehistory of  Śānti in Classical Vedism The word śānti, “appeasement,” derives from the verb √śam, which in Vedic Sanskrit means “to labor” (in the form śamati) but is more frequently used in a reflexive form (śāmyati), meaning “to toil” or “to tire” and, by extension, “to rest,” “to be calm.” This latter meaning allows for an interesting euphemistic application of the verb in reference to the slaying (by strangulation) of sacrificial animals, a deed carried out by a figure called the “appeaser” or śamitṛ.30 In a 1951 study Dirk Jan Hoens exhaustively explored the multiple contexts in which this verb and its derivatives are applied in Vedic literature dealing with the solemn sacrifice.31 He found that forms of the verb √śam, the noun śānti, and the related adjectives śānta and aśānta (appeased, unappeased), occur widely in these texts—​especially in the brāhmaṇas and śrautasūtras—​to indicate the appeasement of dangerous forces associated with the sacrifice. The most common objects of the causative verb śamayati (to appease), for instance, are fire, glow, fever, wrath, and the fire god Agni. The noun śānti, which occurs 155 times by Hoens’s count, most often (100 times) refers to a state of “being appeased” or “being freed from evil,” which might apply to such objects as the fire, the earth, or hunger.32 Thus during the

28. The Śaunaka recension was most authoritative for the Kauśikasūtra. The relation between Kauśika and the Paippalāda recension of the Atharvaveda remains somewhat complex. Griffiths has proposed that a number of Atharvan texts, including the Kauśikasūtra, Gopathabrāhmaṇa, and Pariśiṣṭas, could have served the purposes of both śākhās. See Griffiths, “Paippalāda Mantras” and “Ancillary Literature,” 186. On the affiliation of the Nakṣatra and Śānti kalpas with the Śaunaka school, see Bahulkar, “The Nakṣatrakalpa and the Śāntikalpa.” 29. The Vaitānasūtra details Atharvan versions of the solemn rituals and as such is less relevant to śānti, aside from a brief reference (quoted below). 30. See Voegeli, “À la recherche du Śamitr̥.” 31. Hoens, Śānti. 32. Ibid., 177–​83.

28

28

Rit es of t he God -K ing

agnicayana (Piling of Agni) ritual, the fire god Agni, who threatens the worlds with his wrath, is appeased by worship, while being told to “be gracious” (śivo bhava).33 During the New and Full Moon Sacrifice, barley, which is to be made into a sacrificial cake, must be ground in a mortar; the injured grains are appeased with the words “prepare carefully this sacrificial gift for the gods.”34 In the Animal Sacrifice (paśubandha), water is poured into a pit, which has been dug up in order to erect the sacrificial stake.35 While both the objects and the instruments of appeasement vary greatly in these early texts, in view of the later śānti tradition we might isolate two tendencies. First, when śānti occurs as a practical means for appeasement—​rather than as a general concept—​it is frequently carried out by the application of water, through pouring, sprinkling, mixing, or sipping. The Śatapathabrāhmaṇa regularly explains such applications by the equation “an appeasement are the waters, thus he appeases with waters, with a means of appeasement” (śāntir āpaḥ tad adbhiḥ śāntyā śamayati). Water may of course be taken as a natural remedy for heat and fire, which Hoens shows to be leading manifestations of (or metaphors for) dangers such as wrath, illness, and hunger in classical Vedic thought. We will see that the use of water as an instrument of appeasement is carried forth more systematically in Atharvan śānti ritual. There, however, a more complex astrological underpinning overtakes this elemental opposition of fire and water. Second, we have seen that appeasement in the solemn ritual can also be accomplished verbally, by the pronouncement of soothing words: the raging fire is told to be gracious; the injured earth is assured of rainfall. In many cases this appeasing effect is attributable not only to the meaning of the words but also to the very sound of their syllables. Regarding the example mentioned earlier, in which the officiant grinds barley for the sacrificial cake while saying “Prepare carefully this sacrificial gift for the gods” (sa idaṃ devebhyo havyaṃ suśami śamiṣva), Hoens writes: This sentence will have the more conjuring power because the sound śam occurs twice in it, namely in suśami and śamiṣva. It was not an objection for the Brāhmaṇa author that śamati  =  “to labour” used in this place, means “to prepare,” and that therefore it has a different meaning from śāmyati (“to appease”). Words that sound alike have the same effect.36

33. Ibid., 117. 34. Ibid., 2. 35. Ibid., 49. 36. Ibid., 2.

29



The Inception of a Ritual Category

29

Hoens’s comment illustrates a traditionally favored assumption of Indology, namely, that Vedic speech possesses an intrinsic sonic efficacy. This theory, most vividly promoted by Frits Staal, has recently been criticized for underplaying the role of semantic content in ritual language.37 Laurie Patton, for instance, has emphasized the metonymic possibilities of Vedic poetry over the notion that “meaning is at most absent and at best secondary” in the performance of mantra.38 Underlying such arguments are questions about the cognitive state of ritual actors: To what extent is the ritual performer conscious of the semantics of ritual language as it is being pronounced? At the level of the texts, however, we may ask a somewhat separate question: Which mantric applications support the supposition that semantics are primary? Which do not? Under which circumstances—​ within the ritual, within the economy of the Vedic institutions—​can either type of application be made? I suspect there is no straightforward answer to this alternative; the Vedic priestly tradition, and its successors, well understood both the semantic and the nonsemantic properties of mantra and applied each accordingly and strategically. In what follows we will have many occasions to consider the importance of mantric speech to the proper execution of śānti. Hoens’s study reveals the classical conception of śānti to be both ubiquitous and yet relatively unsystematic—​especially, as we will see, when compared to the system of śānti that developed in the Atharvaveda. Appeasement is sought everywhere in the performance of the solemn sacrifice, by means of multiple instruments. But only eight times, according to Hoens, does it refer to a discrete ritual of appeasement—​and only then as the subsidiary part of a larger ritual structure. So while śānti may have been a popular concept, it did not at first function as an independent ritual category within the Vedic sacrificial system. We will have to wait until later strata of the Atharvan corpus to find a fully independent śānti ritual, though it will be clear that several aspects of this ritual are continuous with classical notions of śānti.

Water and Mantra in the Kauśikasūtra As I will argue throughout this study, śānti must on the whole be discerned as a complex ritual structure, a composite of such technical features as efficacious waters, sacrificial remnants, and amulets, all applied to the problem of omens. But if we concerned ourselves only with the ritual in its most mature form, we would miss an opportunity to observe tradition in action. From such a view,

37. Staal, “The Mantra in Vedic and Tantric Ritual.” 38. See the discussion in Patton, Bringing the Gods to Mind, chap. 3.

30

30

Rit es of t he God -K ing

śānti appears as a historical product, gradually wrought from within orthopraxy, that is, within a continuous ritual institution. Contrary to common assumptions about Hindu practices, śānti does not emerge ex nihilo. In order to understand its distinctive developmental trajectory and institutional setting—​both indispensible for our broader ritual history—​we must first examine the roots of its disparate ritual techniques in the earliest textual layers of the Atharvaveda, a tradition steeped in such practices as healing and sorcery. We begin with the Kauśikasūtra, the earliest and most challenging ritual manual of the Atharvaveda.39 Given the popularity of appeasement rituals in medieval Hinduism—​and their association with this Veda—​one might expect a wealth of data about śānti in this particular text. Its eleventh-​century exegete, Keśava, for instance, finds in it no fewer than sixty-​nine instances of śānti ritual.40 But the situation is somewhat more delicate, since in fact the Kauśikasūtra nowhere employs the noun śānti to denote a discrete ritual category, as indeed occurred in the later tradition. Sometime during the millennium or more that roughly separates Kauśika from Keśava, the Atharvan priesthood gained renown for the performance of śānti rituals, and it is therefore not surprising that the exegete so often imputes such rituals to the root text.41 The root text of the Kauśikasūtra, however, offers a more modest contribution to the history of śānti. While it lacks 39.  Only a (problematic) portion of Dārila’s commentary is available:  Diwekar et  al., Kauśikasūtra-​Dārilabhāṣya. There is also a paddhati based on the text by Keśava:  Limaye et al., Kauśikapaddhati. Apart from Bloomfield’s annotated edition, I have benefited from a number of studies and translations, particularly Caland, Altindisches zauberritual; Gonda, The Savayajñas; Bahulkar, Medical Ritual. Most scholars have avoided the question of the dating of the Kauśikasūtra. In the introduction to his edition, Bloomfield places it in the “late-​sūtra period,” while suggesting that KauśS 1.1–​6 and adhyāyas 13–​14 represent later strata of the text (“The Kāuçika-​Sūtra,” xxix). As for the exegetes, Dārila, who is quoted by Keśava, is dated by the editors of the bhāṣya (Diwekar et al., introduction, xxv) to the seventh or eighth centuries ce. This date is discussed and disputed by Meulenbeld, “Āyurveda and Atharvaveda,” 292–​93. On the date of Keśava, see next note. 40. Keśava’s own comments place him during the reign of the Paramāra king Bhoja (1010–​1055). See the introduction to Limaye et al., Kauśikapaddhati, xxxvi–​xxxvii. Meulenbeld expresses doubt about this date (“Āyurveda and Atharvaveda,” 294–​95). Bisschop and Griffiths, however, find such doubt “too skeptical” (“The Pāśupata Observance,” 320n28). 41. Keśava accomplishes this recategorization rather systematically, by inserting the sentence “then the [following] śānti is mentioned” (atha śāntir ucyate) to mark the start of a new ritual in the root text. See for example his interpretation of KauśS 3.2[19].22–​27 as a series of “amulet śāntis” (maṇiśāntis). As we will see, these passages were likely the source of the amulet bindings described in the later Śāntikalpa. But there is no indication that the root text intends any connection to śānti. The passage is better explained as a series of amuletic rites, which are common in the Atharvan tradition. See Bloomfield, The Atharvaveda, 64; Whitaker, “Ritual Power.” Numerous other examples could be adduced from Keśava’s reading of other so-​called śāntis among the “medical rites” (bhaiṣajyāni) and “women’s rites” (strīkarmāṇi), especially in KauśS 4. See Bahulkar, Medical Ritual.

31



The Inception of a Ritual Category

31

a full-​blown and explicit śānti ritual, it contains instructions for what will prove an essential instrument of appeasement: a ritual implement known as śāntyudaka, or “śānti water.”42 Combined with specially selected mantras of the Atharvaveda, this ritual instrument guarantees Atharvan exclusivity, grounding claims for institutional advantage over the well-​established priests of the Triple Veda. The ninth section of the Kauśikasūtra (1.9) is our earliest instruction for the preparation of śānti water. The text is brief and elliptical (in keeping with the sūtra’s style on the whole), though we have a number of resources, including a recent study by Julieta Rotaru, for its analysis.43 The passage begins by listing, in abbreviated (pratīka) form, two groups of hymns from the Atharvavedasaṃhitā, each followed by the prescription “Thrice he sprinkles while reciting the hymn, ‘To the Earth, to hearing’ ” (AVŚ 6.10).44 The precise instruction for the preparation of the water follows these lists of hymns in the last four sūtras of the section: Wearing a new (unwashed) garment, he makes the śāntyudaka in a brass [pot] [8]‌. Having released [some] of the waters while reciting the hymn [beginning] “released is the bull of the waters” (AVŚ 16.1), and having asked, “[Are] all the waters and herbs [there]?” he is told [in response] “All [are there].” Seeking permission [to make the water] saying, “Oṃ! Shall I, impelled by Bṛhaspati, make [it]?” he is granted permission with the words, “Oṃ! Impelled by Savitṛ, make [it]!” [Then] he should make [the śānti water] [9]. According to [certain authorities, namely] Gārgya, Pārthaśravasa, Bhāgali, Kāṅkāyana, Uparibabhrava, Kauśika, Jāṭikāyana, and Kauru, he should make [śānti water] with the prior [śānti group] [10]. [But] according to the younger Kauśika he should make it with the other [śānti group] [11].45

42.  Śāntyudaka has regularly been translated as “holy water,” but following Hoens, I  prefer the more technical translation: “waters which are able to confer a state of appeasement to that which is unappeased (aśānta).” 43. Rotaru, “The Śāntyudakavidhi.” 44. pṛthivyai śrotrāya iti triḥ pratyāsiñcati || KauśS 1.9.3 and 5 || The two gaṇas are listed in sūtras 1, 2, and 4. Text and numbering follows Bloomfield’s edition. Note that the numbering for this section differs slightly in Diwekar et al.’s edition of the Kauśikasūtra-​Dārilabhāṣya. 45.  ahatavāsāḥ kaṃse śāntyudakaṃ karoti || 8 || atisṛṣṭo apāṃ vṛṣabhaḥ ity apo ‘tisṛjya sarvā imā āpa oṣadhaya iti pṛṣṭvā sarvā ity ākhyāta oṃ bṛhaspatiprasūtaḥ karavāṇīty anujñāpyoṃ savitṛprasūtaḥ kurutāṃ bhavān ity anujñātaḥ kurvīta || 9 || pūrvayā kurvīteti gārgyapārthaśravasabhāgālikāṅkāyanauparibabhravakauśikajāṭikāyanakaurupathayaḥ || 10 || anyatarayā kurvīteti yuvā kauśiko yuvā kauśikaḥ || 11 || KauśS 1.9 || Caland translates anyatarayā as “with the other [group],” though it might also mean “with either [group].” The feminine form of this word may be taken to imply the feminine śānti, here a group of mantras. Thus Dārila glosses the feminine pūrvayā in sūtra 9 as śāntyā.

32

32

Rit es of t he God -K ing

The complete sequence of acts seems to be as follows: First, the Atharvan, clad in a new, unwashed garment (sūtra 8), pours some water out of a brass pot, which he has presumably filled from a nearby source, while reciting AVŚ 16.1.46 Second, there is a verbal exchange between the main performer and another, unspecified interlocutor, who confirms the presence of all the waters and herbs and grants permission for the performer to make the water (sūtra 9). Third, the performer recites one of the collections of mantras listed at the outset of the passage and then sprinkles the water three times while reciting the three-​ verse mantra AVŚ 6.10, which reads (in full), “To the Earth, to hearing, to the forest-​trees, to Agni, [their] overlord, svāha! To breath, to the atmosphere, to the birds, to Wind (Vāyu), [their] overlord, svāha! To the sky, to sight, to the asterisms, to the Sun (Sūrya), [their] overlord, svāha!” (sūtras 1–​5).47 The benedictive svāha (hail) suggests that each sprinkling of water is taken as a kind of offering. What seems most crucial to this process is the recitation of mantras. The text suggests that śānti water is “made” by reciting one of the two mantra groups (gaṇas) listed in the first four sūtras of the text. Indeed these lists compose the bulk of the passage, and the final lines (sūtras 10–​11) refer to a debate about which group—​the “large” (bṛhad) or the “light” (laghu)—​should be employed.48 Let us take a closer look at these mantras to see what they might tell us about

46. Regarding the term atisṛjya in sūtra 9, in the sūtra this verb has as its object “waters,” but it is unclear whether he pours water out of or over the pot. Keśava here explains, “he removes the dust” (avakaraṃ visarjati), suggesting that he understands the act as a kind of cleansing or rinsing of the pot. 47. Whitney’s translation, in Lanman, The Atharvaveda-​Saṁhitā, 1:288. The commentarial tradition supplies some details to clarify this procedure. First, Keśava identifies the interlocutor of the exchange as a brahman, the fourth priest (kartā pṛcchati brahmāṇam). Second, where the text quotes the exchange “all the waters and herbs,” Keśava specifies “he makes śāntyudaka with all types of herbs, such as citi and so forth, and with all kinds of waters drawn from rivers such as Gaṅgā, oceans and so forth, lakes, and tīrthas such as Prabhāsa” (cityādibhiḥ sarvābhir auṣadhībhiḥ sarvābhir adbhir gaṅgādinadīsamudrādihradaprabhāsāditīrthebhya āhṛtābhir adbhiḥ śāntyudakaṃ karoti). Dārila, however, identifies the interlocutor as the āhāraka, literally the “fetcher,” and links him directly to the herbs:  “Having taken the herbs, he asks the fetcher. He asks, ‘all these herbs?’ The fetcher replies ‘all’ ” (oṣadhīr gṛhītvā āhārakam pṛcchati | sarvā imā oṣadhaya iti pṛcchati | brūhīti evaṃ kartā prayojayet āhārakam | āhārakaḥ pratyāha | sarvā iti |). Presumably this person “fetches” the herbs. Regarding the sprinkling of the water, Keśava explains that the ritualist “sprinkles śānti water in the middle of śānti water” (śāntyudake śāntyudakaṃ prakṣipati). That is, he sprinkles the śāntyudaka onto itself. See Rotaru, “The Śāntyudakavidhi,” for further reconstructions of the later commentarial tradition. 48. This debate remains unresolved in the subsequent Atharvan tradition. AVPŚ 32.26–​27 preserves both groups. See Bloomfield, “The Kāuçika-​Sūtra,” 28nn4 and 7, for a similar distinction in the Atharvaṇīya Paddhati.

3



The Inception of a Ritual Category

33

the composition and efficacy of śānti water. In the first place the two śānti gaṇas can be differentiated by the omission—​in the second, shorter group—​of nineteen discrete hymns (along with nine extracted verses).49 In other words, both groups share a set of nine complete hymns and a single, extracted verse.50 If we focus first on this “light” group of mantras, some salient themes emerge. The first four hymns (AVŚ 1.4, 5, 6, and 33) are each addressed to the waters; the commentarial tradition includes them among what Kauśika calls the “water hymns” (apāṃ sūktāni), first mentioned among the ritual conventions (paribhāṣas) of the Kauśikasūtra.51 According to the commentator Dārila, the convention in question stipulates that all rituals should be performed at a location north of a body of water, where the participants must afterward bathe before returning home. The group of “water hymns” accompanies this simple concluding bath.52 In general the hymns request the waters to be refreshing, propitious, kindly, and purifying. Whitney’s translation of AVŚ 1.5 can be offered as a representative example: Since ye are kindly waters, do ye set us unto refreshment, unto sight of great joy. What is your most propitious savor, of that make us share here, like zealous mothers. We would satisfy you in order to that to the possession of which ye quicken, O waters, and generate us. Of the waters, having mastery of desirable things, ruling over human beings, I ask a remedy.53

49. AVŚ 2.14, 3.21.1–​7*, 4.1.1*, 4.23–​29, 4.33, 6.19, 6.23, 6.24, 6.51, 6.57.3*, 6.59, 6.61, 6.62, 6.93, 6.107, and 7.52. The partial verses are indicated with an asterisk. 50. AVŚ 1.4–​6, 1.33, 4.13, 7.66, 7.67, 7.68.3*, 7.69, and 11.6. 51. “Having doused (themselves) with the water hymns, turning to the right (i.e., keeping the waters on the right side of the body), touching the waters without looking (at them), they return to the village” (apāṃ sūktair āplutya pradakṣiṇam āvṛtyāpa upaspṛśyānavekṣamāṇā grāmam udāvrajanti || KauśS 1.7.14 ||). See Sāyaṇa at AVŚ 1.4 and Keśava at KauśS 1.7.14. The water group also includes two hymns (6.19 and 6.23) that appear in the larger śānti gaṇa. On the interpretation of the paribhāṣās, see Rotaru, “Towards a Methodology.” 52.  Dārila at KauśS 1.7.14:  sarvakarmāṇi udakasyottare kāryāṇi | parisamāpya karmāṇy apāṃ stutyarthaiḥ sūktaiḥ snātvā snānadeśāt pradakṣiṇam āvṛtya spṛṣṭvāpaḥ anavekṣamāṇāḥ snānadeśād grāmam  abhigacchanti kartṛkārayitṛbrahmāṇaḥ | uttarata iti saptamyām | stutyarthāni sūktāni | ambayo yanti śaṃbhumayobhū hiraṇyavarṇāḥ yadadaḥ kṛṣṇaṃ niyānaṃ sasruṣīḥ himavataḥ pra sravanti vāyoḥ pūtaḥ ity apāṃ sūktāni | anyakarmasadbhāvāt avidhikarmatvāt saṃpātābhāvaḥ | parivṛttiprāyaścitte ‘sarvaiś  ca praviśya apāṃ sūktaiḥ’ iti . . . vacanād iha sarvatra || 53. ā́po hí ṣṭhā́ mayobhúvas tā́ na ūrjé dadhātana | mahé ráṇāya cákṣase || 1 || yó vaḥ śivátamo rásas tásya bhājayatehá naḥ | uśatī́r iva mātáraḥ || 2 || tásmā áraṃ gamāma vo yásya kṣáyāya jínvatha | ā́po janáyathā ca naḥ || 3 || ī́śānā vā́ryāṇāṃ kṣáyantīś carṣaṇīnā́m | apó yācāmi bheṣajám ||4|| AVŚ 1.5 || Lanman, Atharva-​Veda Saṁhitā, 1:5.

34

34

Rit es of t he God -K ing

References to the waters as kindly or delightful (mayas) and as bringing refreshment and remedy befit the application of these hymns to acts of washing and bathing in water-​related settings—​including, of course, the production of śānti water. As part of the śānti gaṇa, however, the water hymns are joined with mantras having other distinctive connotations. AVŚ 4.13, for instance, appears to accompany a ritual laying on of the hands for the purpose of conferring long life (āyuṣya) and freedom from disease (yakṣma).54 The simple, one-​verse hymn AVŚ 7.67 seeks the recovery of sensory power (indriyaṃ), soul (ātmā), wealth (draviṇam), sacred knowledge (brāhmaṇam), and the sacred fires.55 It is therefore applied in ritual settings related to lost objects, such as the shorn hair of the initiate, the wealth given away as a sacrificial fee, and, in a ritual of atonement, the lost or broken staff of a student.56 AVŚ 11.6 contains twenty-​three verses, all but four of which contain the refrain “Let them (various gods) free us from distress” (te no muñcantu aṃsasaḥ). The later Atharvan tradition includes this hymn among the aṃholiṅga group of mantras—​those marked by the term aṃhas (trouble, anxiety, or sin)—​prescribed for generic rituals of healing (bhaiṣajyāni).57 From this angle it would appear that the essential śānti gaṇa forms a somewhat assorted collection of mantras composed for rituals that deal, on the one hand, with water

54. The last two verses of this seven-​verse hymn read, “This is my fortunate hand, this my more fortunate one, this my all-​healing one; this of propitious touch. With (two) ten-​branched hands—​the tongue [is] forerunner of voice—​with (two) disease removing hands; with them do we touch thee.” Lanman, Atharva-​Veda Saṁhitā, 1:168. Of this mantra, as quoted at KauśS 7.9[58].11, Keśava says, “In case of the king’s illness, or fever, or any other disease, he touches [the patient] while reciting the hymn ‘uta devāḥ’ (AVŚ 4.13) with his two hands. [For] one who desires long life” (rājayakṣmaṇi jvare cānyasarvavyādhau ca | ‘uta devāḥ’ iti sūktenābhimṛśati dvābhyāṃ hastābhyām | āyuṣkāmaḥ |). Note that square brackets in citations from KauśS indicate the alternate, sectional numbering. 55. “Again let sense (indriya) come to me, again soul, property, and brāhmaṇa (sacred knowledge); let the fires of the sacred hearth again officiate just here in their respective stations” (Lanman, Atharva-​Veda Saṁhitā, 1:43). 56. Respectively, KauśS 7.5[54].2, 8.7[66].1–​2, 7.8[57].8. With regard to the use of AVŚ 7.67 at sacrificial fee of the savayajñas (KauśS 8.7[66].2), Gonda remarks, “AV 7, 67, consisting of only one stanza and serving to bring about the recovery of the senses, is employed by Kauśika for several purposes which have in common expiation or propitiation in order to avert the bad consequences of an action or event (śānti) and the re-​establishment of a safe condition (cf. also KauśS 9.3, 45, 17 and 18), after any ceremony performed, in a sacred act connected with the due acceptance of the daksinā. . . . The purpose of the mantra obviously is to prevent the gift from carrying with itself the donor’s vital power and to guarantee him the possession of that vital entity” (The Savayajñas, 273). 57.  oṣadhivanaspatīnām anūktāny apratiṣiddhāni bhaiṣajyānām | aṃholiṅgābhiḥ | KauśS 4.8[32].26–​27. Bahulkar’s translation: “[The other remedies] to be performed with herbs and plants, which [remedies] are not mentioned [and] not forbidden in the Bhaiṣajya-​rites [of the KauśS], [may be performed] with the verse having the word aṁhas.” According to Bahulkar,

35



The Inception of a Ritual Category

35

and bathing and, on the other, with physical health, long life, and other sorts of rectifications such as moral atonement and remediation for ritual mistakes. The grouping does not simply reapply the cleansing and bathing powers of the water hymns but combines such motifs with other mantric effects. Additional hymns found in the longer śānti group confirm this composite impression.58 Despite the heterogeneity of this source material, however, the Kauśikasūtra claims that “these [hymns]”—​that is, all of the hymns included in the two groups—​“are fit for śānti” (iti śāntiyuktāni).59 It thus introduces appeasement as a new conceptual focus, rephrasing the various classical terms of Atharvan expertise. A basic problem seems to have been that the word śānti appears nowhere in the Atharvan mantra collection.60 Hence it does not appear to have been an “original” concern of the Atharvaveda. In collecting these mantras under the new heading, the Kauśikasūtra thus introduces śānti as a cipher for the existing terms of Atharvan expertise. At the same time, several hymns (five from the short group and two from the long) include an older, monosyllabic noun, śam, which appears retroactively to have been assimilated to the word śānti. Oswald Szemerenyi has shown that this Vedic śam is not—​as one might expect—​related to the verb √śam (to labor, to be quiet), from which the noun śānti is derived.61 Instead, he argues, the older noun śam derives from the verb √śvā, “to swell,” and has the meaning of “an increase.”62 In the Ṛgvedasaṃhitā, for instance, it commonly appears in the phrase śaṃ yos, “an increase of life-​span.”63 Nonetheless—​Indo-​European

“the aṃholiṅga verses . . . remove the sin committed by the person or wrath of gods, etc.—​the main cause of the disease” (Medical Ritual, 228). 58. AVŚ 2.14 aims at the expulsion of a demonic being called Sadānvās. It is applied in the case of a miscarriage, against the barrenness of cows, and in funerary rites. In the funerary rites we also find the application of AVŚ 3.21, which is directed at the appeasement of the funerary fire (kravyāda) (KauśS 9.4[72].13). The series of hymns at AVŚ 4.23–​29 addresses the same concern as 11.6 (“release from distress”). Thus it will be included in the aṃholiṅgagaṇa in the gaṇamālā of the pariśiṣṭas (AVPŚ 32.31). And of the ten short hymns from AVŚ 6, eight are included in a ritual for general success (KauśS 5.5[41].14), while the final two are elsewhere associated with rituals for ensuring good luck on a journey (the “auspicious progress” or svastyayana) (KauśS 7.1[50].13). 59. KauśS 1.9.5. 60. The term appears in AVŚ 19, but this later book was not known to Kauśika. 61. Szemerenyi, “Vedic šam.” 62. Whitney translates śam as “weal.” Sāyaṇa (e.g., at AVŚ 1.6.1) usually glosses it as sukhaṃ, “easy” or “gentle.” 63. yos being the oblique, genitive form of āyus. See Szemerenyi, “Vedic šam,” 168.

36

36

Rit es of t he God -K ing

linguistics notwithstanding—​the Kauśikasūtra appears to propose a semantic connection between the older śam and the newer noun, śānti. For a number of verses seem to have been included in the two śānti gaṇas simply by virtue of containing the syllable śam. Thus in both groups we find the following, one-​verse hymn, which is not employed elsewhere in Atharvan ritual manuals: AVŚ 7.69 Śam for us let the wind blow; śam for us let the sun burn; be the days śam for us; [as] śam let the night be applied; śam for us let the dawn shine forth.64 Other verses containing this word have been extracted from hymns composed for other purposes: AVŚ 6.57.3 [Be there] both śam for us and kindness (mayas) for us, and let nothing whatever ail us; down with [our] complaint! Be every remedy ours; be all remedy ours.65 AVŚ 7.68.3 Be thou propitious, most śam-​ful to us, very gracious, O Sarasvatī, let us not be separated from sight of thee.66 The first of these examples, from the larger group, is taken from a three-​verse hymn mentioning a remedy known as jalāṣa. The hymn is said to belong to the deity Rudra and is applied elsewhere to the healing of a bruise.67 The second verse (included in both groups) is extracted from a three-​verse hymn to Sarasvatī, which appears, appropriately, in several offerings to that goddess.68

64. śáṃ no vā́to vātu śáṃ nas tapatu sū́ryaḥ | áhāni śáṃ bhavantu naḥ śáṃ rā́trī práti dhīyatāṃ | śáṃ uṣā́ no vy ùchatu || 1 || AVŚ 7.69 || Whitney’s translation, reversing the translation of śam as “weal” (Lanman, Atharva-​Veda Saṁhitā, 1:434). 65. śáṃ ca no máyaś ca no mā́ ca naḥ kíṃ canā́mamat | kṣamā́ rápo víśvaṃ no astu bheṣajáṃ sárvaṃ no astu bheṣajám || 3 || AVŚ 6.57.3 || Ibid., 1:324. 66. śivā́ naḥ śáṃtamā bhava sumṛḍīkā́ sarasvati | mā́ te yuyoma saṃdṛ́śaḥ || 1 || AVŚ 7.68.3 || Ibid., 1:434. 67. KauśS 4.7[31].11. See Bahulkar, Medical Ritual, 202. 68.  KauśS 11.2[81].39; VaitS 8.2; 8.13. The second verse of this hymn includes the word śaṃtamāni, but is not included in the śānti gaṇa.

37



The Inception of a Ritual Category

37

In still other cases entire hymns have been reapplied to the purpose of śānti at least in part because of the presence of this śam. For instance, aside from its appearance in the śānti gaṇas, AVŚ 1.33 is used in two separate contexts. First, being addressed to the “clean” (śucayaḥ) and “purifying” (pāvakāḥ) waters, it is included as one of the “water hymns” already mentioned. Second, insofar as it contains the words “golden-​colored” (hiraṇyavarṇāḥ) and “good-​colored” (suvarṇās), it also accompanies the adornment of the Vedic student-​initiate.69 And yet, quite apart from these connotations, each of the four verses of this hymn ends with the refrain “Let those waters be śam, pleasant to us” (tā na āpaḥ śaṃ syonā bhavantu) and thus takes on new relevance in the context of śānti water. Another apt example is AVŚ 4.13, which, as we have seen, refers to the bestowal of long life through the laying on of hands. But in the śānti gaṇa it is called the “śaṃtāti hymn” simply because one of its verses contains the obscure word śaṃtātibhiḥ.70 As Dārila simply puts it, “śaṃtāti means śānti” (śaṃtātir iti śāntiḥ).71 Perhaps most striking is the hymn—​translated at the head of this chapter—​ AVŚ 1.6, which begins with the words “śaṃ no devīḥ.” As one of the water hymns, this hymn elsewhere accompanies acts of bathing. In the early Atharvan tradition, it was not employed alone but only when paired with the preceding hymn, AVŚ 1.5 (beginning, “āpo hi ṣṭha mayobhuvaḥ”), which does not contain the word śam. Perhaps because of this regular pairing, Kauśika refers to these two mantras (AVŚ 1.5–​6) by the term śaṃbhumayobhū, that is, “the two hymns containing the words śambhu (1.6) and mayobhu” (1.5).72 According to Kauśikasūtra 1.9.7, however, the recitation of the hymn “śaṃ no devīḥ” is prescribed twice in the making of śāntyudaka: first as part of this śaṃbhumayobhū pair (in the regular enumeration of the water hymns) and second, separately, before and after the recitation of each śānti gaṇa.73 This second application—​as a frame for the śānti mantra group—​seems to be the only time that Kauśika employs AVŚ 1.6 without its

69. KauśS 7.5[54].5. See Julieta Moleanu, “Atharvavedic Tradition,” 67. 70.  “I have come unto thee with wealfullness [śaṃtātibhiḥ], likewise with uninjurednesses; I have brought for thee formidable dexterity; I drive away for the yakṣma [disease]” (Lanman, Atharva-​Veda Saṁhitā, 1:169). Cf. Sāyaṇa on the same verse. 71. At KauśS 1.9.3. 72. Aside from KauśS 1.9.1 and 3 (in the śānti gaṇas), also at 3.1[18].25; 3.2[19].1; 5.5[41].14; 5.7[43].12. The commentarial tradition also recognizes this term. See Sāyaṇa at AVŚ 1.5. 73. ubhayataḥ savitry ubhayataḥ śaṃ no devī || KauśS 1.9.7 || Here Dārila says, “At the beginning of the śānti [group], the Savitrī [verse], ‘tat savitur vareṇyam,’ should be placed. At both ends of the Sāvitrī [verse], ‘śaṃ no devī.’ The order of the śānti, again, is śaṃ no devī, sāvitrī, śāntiḥ,

38

38

Rit es of t he God -K ing

counterpart 1.5.74 The importance of this hymn is later affirmed by the so-​called Garland of Gaṇas (gaṇamālā), a list of gaṇas from the Atharvavedapariśiṣṭas, which include the mantra in two newer—​and even shorter—​śānti gaṇas, hence treating it as one of the most essential of the śānti-​related mantras.75 In these ways the hymn “śaṃ no devīḥ” attained an emblematic position in Atharvan śānti practice. Citing śaṃ in praise of the waters while mentioning those waters that are “carried in a pot” (kumbhe ābhṛtāḥ), it provides an essential source text for the mantric power of śānti water. We have seen, then, the principles involved in the selection of śānti-​related mantras. First, the “water hymns” are combined with several broadly protective and rectifying themes of the Atharvaveda. Second, the recurrence of śam in mantras such as AVŚ 1.6 seems to support the conjecture that śānti—​though originally absent in this Veda—​was retroactively linked to an old Vedic word, imparting a newfound utility to old mantras. At this point we might attempt to specify how, exactly, the śānti mantras account for the efficacy of śānti waters—​their ability to appease dangerous beings and substances. As we will see, the Atharvan tradition made serious claims for such effects, but nowhere—​least of all in the ritual texts themselves—​do they explicitly rationalize their claims. For Kauśika, it is clear that the most important ingredients in the production of śānti waters are the mantras themselves, but already the situation is rather complicated. Most Atharvan rituals in the Kauśikasūtra are predicated on a close semantic fit between the actions prescribed in the ritual manual and the wording of discrete hymns. Hence, as we

sāvitrī, śaṃ no devī” (śānter ādyantayoḥ ‘tatsaviturvareṇyam’ iti sāvitrī kartavyā | ubhayataḥ sāvitryāḥ ‘śaṃ no devī’ | kramaḥ śānteḥ punaḥ -​śaṃ no devī sāvitrī śāntiḥ sāvitrī śaṃ no devī |). Keśava concurs:  “ubhayataḥ, meaning, at the beginning and end of the śāntigaṇa. (At the beginning of the gaṇa) śan no devī, and [then] sāvitrī, should be recited. At the end he does the sāvitrī, and afterwards, the śaṃ no devī. Likewise, according to the commentary, śaṃ no devī is at both ends of the gaṇa which contains the savitrī” (ubhayataḥ śāntigaṇasya prārambhe samāptau ca | śannodevī sāvitrī ca prayoktavyā | samāptau sāvitrī paścāc channodevī karoti | tathā ca bhāṣyaṃ sasāvitrīkasya gaṇasya ubhayataḥ śannodevī bhavati). 74. By contrast, the pair śaṃbhumayobhu is prescribed a further four times by Kauśika outside of the śānti gaṇas. 75. Along with “śaṃ no vātu” (AVŚ 7.69). In addition to the greater and lesser gaṇas of KauśS 1.9, the reference text for all gaṇas employed in late Atharvan rituals (the gaṇamālā, AVPŚ 32) supplies two (roughly identical) shorter gaṇas: [1]‌ oṃ bhūs tat savituḥ (i.e., the sāvitrī); śaṃ no devīḥ (AVŚ 1.6); śāntā dyauḥ (19.9); śaṃ na indrāgnī (19.10); śaṃ no vāto vātu (7.69); uṣā apa svasus tama (19.12) iti śāntigaṇaḥ || AVPŚ 32.1 || [2] śaṃ no devī śaṃ na indrāgnī śaṃ no vāto vātu śāntā dyauḥ pippalādiśāntigaṇaḥ || iti pippalādiśāntigaṇaḥ || AVPŚ 32.20 || Note that the difference between the Paippalāda and non-​Paippalāda gaṇas here rests on the inclusion of the sāvitrī mantra. The appearance here of mantras from book 19 of the AVŚ supports the seemingly late (post-​Kauśika) adoption of these hymns. On the relation between AVŚ 19 and the Paippalāda, see Griffiths’s introduction to The Paippalādasaṃhitā of the Atharvaveda, xxv–​vii.

39



The Inception of a Ritual Category

39

have seen, the text is often called saṃhitāvidhi, the “instruction for the mantra collection.” Indeed the Indological tradition has largely estimated the value of the Kauśikasūtra based on its capacity to clarify the “original” ritual purposes of the Atharvan mantras, regarding it as a precious resource for reconstructing the meaning of otherwise obscure hymns.76 So close is the fit between ritual action and mantric content that many instructions in the sūtra simply say mantroktam, “[do as is] said in the mantra.”77 But the formation of larger mantric groupings like the śānti gaṇas obscures this exacting and efficient marriage of word and deed. On the one hand, we have a single effect (śānti water) from multiple mantras. Should we predicate the efficacy of śānti water on the recurrence of the noun śam in so many mantras employed in its production? Or on the sum total of disparate effects named by these mantras: bodies cleansed, injuries healed, lifespans fortified, mistakes corrected, and so on? Perhaps śānti water contains all of these capacities. On the other hand, the recitation of the śānti gaṇa here does not yield a terminal ritual effect; rather it produces merely another ritual instrument (śānti water), which is itself employed variously in Atharvan rituals, as we will see.78 Furthermore, in addition to their use of śānti water, many of these other rituals prescribe their own distinct man­ tric liturgies. Hence in the ritual instrument of śānti water, śānti mantras appear largely disjointed from their ultimate ritual applications. However we view the situation, then, it would seem that the invention of śānti waters comes at the cost of widening the gap between mantric speech and ritual prescription, thus straining the cogency and efficiency that is otherwise a hallmark of ritual practice in the Kauśikasūtra. It is as if the Atharvans have overloaded śānti water with all of their most distinctive mantric powers, while complicating the relationship between ritual and mantra in the process. The result, as I will elaborate in ­chapter 6, is an increase in the authority of this ritual instrument at the cost of its efficiency. In addition to these already complex developments in Atharvan mantric application (viniyoga), we must also address the possibility that the power of

76.  Bloomfield, The Atharvaveda, 57. Franklin Edgerton remarks, “The more I  study the Atharva and the Kauśika, the more I am impressed with the intimate connection between the two, and the more convinced I become that Kauśika is on the whole a pretty strict adherent of a school tradition which was the direct heir to the Atharva Saṁhitā itself, knew very well the purposes of the Atharvan hymns, and stated them very accurately, on the whole, in its ritual prescriptions” (“Kauśika and the Atharva Veda,” 78). 77. A search of the e-text yields sixty-​eight attestations of this phrase. 78. The instruction for śāntyudaka occurs at the outset of the sūtra, along with other ritual conventions (paribhāṣā). Hence it does not appear to be a distinct ritual per se but a tool for other rituals.

40

40

Rit es of t he God -K ing

śānti water may lie not only in its accumulation of assorted mantras but also in the herbs (oṣadhi) that it contains. Recall that prior to making the śānti water the ritualist seeks permission from an interlocutor, whom he first asks, “Are all the herbs and waters [there]?” It is only after he receives an affirmative answer that permission is granted to “make” śānti water with the above śānti mantras. This suggests that herbs are at least necessary for the production of the waters. While Kauśika does not provide further details, the brief prescription for śānti water in the Vaitānasūtra specifies several discrete plant species that should perhaps be inferred in Kauśika’s account.79 The commentarial tradition also took the prescription quite literally to indicate the inclusion of the herbs.80 So while the Kauśikasūtra underscores the importance of the mantras recited in making śānti water, it leaves open the possibility of understanding them as containing an additional herbal power. The resulting tension between plants and mantras does not subside in the later tradition. If anything, the herbal dimension undergoes further elaboration. For now we must rest with the fact that even at its advent, one cannot understand śānti water as anything other than a deeply complex ritual instrument. For Kauśika, it relies on mantric power. Indeed we might suggest that śānti water is “made” of mantras. As we have seen, śānti does not simply mean “appeasement”; it also stands for a grouping of mantras “fit for śānti.” Śāntyudaka, likewise, refers to the “water of appeasement” and simultaneously denotes the “water of appeasement-​mantras (from the Atharvaveda).” The difference is crucial:  the former sense communicates a general ritual concept; the latter, an institutional prerogative. We will see that this ambiguity lies at the heart of the biography of śānti. With this thought in mind, we may briefly survey the diverse uses of this ritual instrument in the Kauśikasūtra. Dārila’s commentary on the instructions for making śānti water leads us to a few cases that I would label, anachronistically, “proto-​śānti” rituals. By this I  mean that they employ śānti water and śānti-​related mantra groups, while not explicitly bearing the label of śānti. Dārila explains the line “these [hymns] are fit for śānti” (iti śāntiyuktāni) by saying that each of the two mantra groups given at the start of the passage is “denoted by the term ‘śānti’ ” (śāntiśabdavācyaḥ) and that śānti should therefore be understood as a technical term (saṃjñā) referring to these gaṇas. By this logic, anytime the

79. These seem to be classed in two categories: “the ātharvāṇic plants such as citi and so forth” and “the āṅgirāsic plants, kapūr, viparvā, rodākā, vṛkkāvatī, nāḍā, and nirdahantī.” See below for the full passage. 80. For the testimony of the Atharvaṇīya Paddhati, see Rotaru, “The Śāntyudakavidhi,” 174–​ 75, 178–​79.

41



The Inception of a Ritual Category

41

word śānti appears in the Kauśikasūtra, one should recite these mantras. But as this word does not in fact appear elsewhere in the text, he concludes that śānti (in the phrase śāntiyuktāni) must therefore refer to the word mahāśānti (Great śānti).81 Keśava clarifies this by interpreting mahāśānti as a collection of four mantra groups (caturgaṇī): the large śānti gaṇa, the hymns designated vāstoṣpatīya (Pertaining to the House-​Lord), mātṛnāma (Names of the Mothers), and cātana ([Spell-​]Repelling) hymns. In this way he further enlarges the mantric repertoire related to śānti even beyond the already complex grouping of the śānti gaṇa examined above.82 We will see that the term mahāśānti reappears as the name for the paradigmatic ritual in the Atharvaveda Śāntikalpa; its use here as a reference for an enlarged group of śānti mantras foreshadows that ritual, which increases the number of gaṇas to ten or eighteen. The word mahāśānti occurs six times in the Kauśikasūtra, twice as the object of the phrase “he recites the mahāśānti loudly in front (of the patient)” (mahāśāntim uccair abhinigadati), and four times in the formulation “he inserts the mahāśānti (in making the śānti water)” (mahāśāntim āvapate). Two examples show how these phrases work in ritual settings. The first ritual, according to Caland and Dārila, is intended to counter witchcraft (kṛ­t yāpratiharaṇa).83 The mahāśānti, along with another set of hymns, is recited in making śānti water in front of a patient targeted by sorcery.84 The

81. Dārila at KauśS 1.9.6: pūrvo gaṇaḥ śāntivācyaḥ || uttaro ‘pi śāntiśabdavācyaḥ || samuccitānāṃ saṃjñā || pūrvā uttarā tṛtīyānirdeśāt [?]‌|| saṃjñāprayojanaṃ nāsti saṃvyavahārābhāvāt || sarvapāpaśamanaprayojanatvāt śāntiśabdaprayogaḥ || etāni yuktāni mahāśāntisaṃjñāni bhavantīti || vākyaśeṣaḥ || ‘mahāśāntimāvapate’ iti saṃvyavahāradarśanāt anayoḥ śāntyor ihaivaṃ karmavidhānāt idam eva vidhikarma || 82. The vāstoṣpatya, mātṛnāma, and cātana hymns are listed immediately prior to large śānti gaṇa at KauśS 1.9.1, in sūtras 1.8.23–​25. The strongest evidence for reading the term mahāśānti as inclusive of these gaṇas occurs in the Kauśikasūtra itself, during the ritual of house consecration: “He inserts [in the making of śānti water?] the mahāśānti beginning with the vāstoṣpatya” (vāstoṣpatyādīni mahāśāntim āvapate || KauśS 5.7[43].5 ||). Here Kauśika also seems to understand the term mahāśānti as including the three additional hymn groups. A similar statement can be seen in the prescription for śāntyudaka discussed in the next section. See Rotaru, “The Śāntyudakavidhi,” 166–​67. 83.  KauśS 5.3[39]. Caland, Altindisches zauberritual, 132n1. The mantra given at the head of this ritual (KauśS 5.3 [38].1), namely AVŚ 2.11, is used to bind an amulet of sraktya (a variant of tilaka, or sesame). In the later Śāntikalpa (2.19.2) this pairing of mantra and amulet is meant “for one who is practicing witchcraft or its victim” (abhicarato ‘bhicaryamāṇasya ca). Bolling, “The Çāntikalpa” (1904), 119. Sorcery is also explicit in the hymn itself, in which the amulet is requested to “conjure against him who hates us, whom we hate!” (prati tam abhi cara yo ‘smān dveṣṭi yaṃ vayaṃ dviṣmaḥ | 2.11.3a |). See Whitney’s translation and comment in Lanman, Atharva-​Veda Saṁhitā, 1: 53. 84. KauśS 5.3[39].7, 27.

42

42

Rit es of t he God -K ing

ritual ends with the sprinkling (sam + pra√ukṣ) of this patient with the śānti waters. The second, lengthy ritual is called the “appeasing (śamana) of a barren cow.”85 This ritual also opens with the production of śānti water. Adding the hymn AVŚ 4.2 to the śānti gaṇa, the performer “makes śāntyudaka for [the cow] being touched from behind.”86 Then with this water he sprinkles the cow and makes it sip, while the mahāśānti hymns are recited loudly in front of it.87 Ultimately the cow is immolated and sacrificially dismembered, which suggests that the term śamana, “appeasing,” should be understood as a euphemism for ritual killing—​following the older sacrificial usage—​rather than as a śānti ritual.88 These two rituals introduce a pattern in the employment of śānti waters that we will see repeatedly throughout this study, by which injured, deficient, or dangerous animals, persons, or objects are sprinkled with śānti water. Additionally the first ritual features the binding of an amulet and the logic of magical warfare, both of which figure prominently in the later śānti category. Thus insofar as they employ śānti waters to deal with inauspicious objects, these rituals may be considered precursors of later śānti.89 We should note, however, that none of these ritual techniques alone is novel. As can be seen in Bahulkar’s study, the medical rituals (bhaiṣajyāni) of the Kauśikasūtra frequently bathe patients with water (among other substances) and bind them with protective amulets. In fact these “proto-​śānti” rituals constitute a minority within the larger pattern of Kauśika’s employment of śānti water. Apart from the passages just

85. KauśS 5.8[44].1. 86.  paścād agneḥ prāṅmukha upaviśyānvārabdhāyai śāntyudakaṃ karoti || tatraitat sūktam anuyojayati || KauśS 5.8[44].3–​4 || 87. tenainām ācāmayati ca samprokṣati ca || tiṣṭhaṃs tiṣṭhantīṃ mahāśāntim uccair abhinigadati || KauśS 5.8[44].5–​6 || 88.  As suggested by Bloomfield, “Review of Caland’s Altindisches Zauberritual,” 512. The term śamana occurs three times in the Kauśikasūtra, in reference only to two distinct ceremonies. The first is the vaśāśamana mentioned here. The second is KauśS 7.3[52].5, during a ritual for protection against fire. In each case the term is employed in conjunction with a mantra. Thus KauśS 5.8[44].1: “Appeasing/​slaughtering the barren cow [is done] with the hymn [AVŚ 4.2], ‘yā ātmadā’ ” (ya ātmadā iti vaśāśamanam ||); and KauśS 7.3[52].5: “With the hymn [AVŚ 6.106], ‘āyane . . . ,’ he makes a cooling (or pacifying) pool inside [the house]” (āyana iti śamanam antarā hradaṃ karoti ||). 89. To these we may add the final example of KauśS 4.7 [31].21, the “remedy for an unknown boil.” Here a boil (arus) whose origin is unknown (ajñata) is sprinkled with śāntyudaka mixed with remnants of an offering of clarified butter (saṃpāta). vīhi svām (AVŚ 6.83.4) ity ajñātāruḥ śāntyudakena samprokṣya manasā saṃpātavatā || KauśS 4.7[31].21 || Both modern and traditional commentators have struggled with manasā, but most take saṃpātavatā as an adjective of śāntyudakena. See Bahulkar, Medical Ritual, 207–​8.

43



The Inception of a Ritual Category

43

discussed (and Kauśikasūtra 13; see below), the term śāntyudaka appears seventeen times in the Kauśikasūtra, distributed among a dozen discrete rituals. While it is difficult to generalize, none of these is explicitly related by the root text to a ceremony of śānti. Indeed most are also attested in ritual manuals of the mainstream Triple Veda, especially the domestic ones: the royal consecration (abhiṣeka), the homecoming from studentship (samāvartana), the construction of a house, a penance for violating the student’s vow of chastity, ritual hair shaving (godāna), the initiation into studentship (upanayana), the Atharvan “consecrations” (savayajña), the establishment of the domestic fire, the evening and morning offerings, the offering of the first fruits of the season, and funerary rituals.90 Thus we find śānti water regularly employed in Atharvan versions of mainstream Vedic rituals, mostly of the domestic type. There is little remarkable about the use of śānti water in these rituals when compared with their non-​Atharvan counterparts. Take, for instance, the upanayana, the initiation into studentship. As described in the Kauśikasūtra, this ritual shares a similar structure with its non-​Atharvan counterparts. The passage opens with the shaving of the initiate’s head, accompanied by series of verses from the Atharvaveda. Then the text reads, “Having led the śānti water, mixed with warm water, clockwise [around the fire] he places it down east of the fire facing the west.”91 Hair-​cutting ceremonies of the Triple Veda prescribe a mixture of warm and cold water, but for these the Atharvans have substituted śānti water.92 Later the teacher, seated next to the fire, asks the student his name and clan, and the student, having responded, then asks to be made a descendant of the ṛṣis—​the Vedic sages—​by being bound with the sacred thread. The teacher pours (āsiñcati) water into the student’s cupped hands. We can infer that this water comes from the śānti waters previously carried around the fire. Again the same action of

90. KauśS 2.7 [17].1 (abhiṣeka); 5.6 [42].13 (samāvartana); KauśS 5.7[43].7 (vāstusaṃskāra); 5.10[46].21 (brahmacārī striyā maithunasamyoga); 7.4 [53].6, 16, 7.5[54].11 (godāna); 7.6 [55].7 (upanayana), 8.8 [67].18 (savayajña), 9.1[69].7, 9.3[71].10, 9.4[72].31 (the establishment of the funerary fire?); 9.6[74].13 (āgrayaṇa); 11.1[80].12, 13, 42, 11.3[82].10, 13, 39 (pitṛmedha). A number of these rituals—​especially the samāvartana, house building, godāna, and upanayana—​can easily be compared to mainstream Vedic versions using the “Synoptical Survey of the Contents of the Grihya-​Sûtras,” in Oldenberg, The Grihya-​Sutras, 2:299–​307. For the penance for violating chastity, cf. Pāraskaragṛhyasūtra 3.12. See also Gonda, The Savayajñas. The remaining two rituals employing śānti waters, a rite for healing a wound (4.7[31].21; cf. Bahulkar, Medical Ritual, 207) and a prāyaścitta in case the younger brother marries before the elder (5.10[46].21), may perhaps be considered unique to the Atharvaveda. 91.  soṣṇodakaṃ śāntyudakaṃ pradakṣiṇam anupariṇīya purastād agneḥ pratyaṅmukham avasthāpya || KauśS 7.6 [55].7 || 92. For example, Āpastambagṛhyasūtra 4.10.

4

44

Rit es of t he God -K ing

pouring water into the initiate’s hands is repeated on numerous occasions in the non-​Atharvan versions of this rite.93 But none of these sources mentions śānti water for this purpose. Other examples of śānti water are equally conventional and unremarkable. In Kauśika’s royal consecration (abhiṣeka), for instance, the king is consecrated with śānti water, whereas in the better-​known Yajurvedic abhiṣekas other, often more elaborate mixtures are used.94 Similarly śānti water is prescribed in the ceremonial “return” of the Vedic student (samāvartana), in which the disciple who has completed his studies is ritually bathed.95 And both in the ritual for setting up the domestic fire and in the savayajña, śānti water is used to sprinkle (saṃprokṣya) the sacrificial grounds in preparation for the main offering, a common act in any domestic fire offering.96 In terms of ritual use, then, there is little that differentiates the śānti water in these rituals from the unspecified waters appearing in their counterparts from the Triple Veda. Nevertheless Kauśika takes care to specify śānti water in places where the non-​Atharvan texts mention only generic waters. In these rituals—​ which make up the bulk of the examples in the text—​the primary innovation of Atharvan śānti water is thus mainly terminological, what we might describe as an Atharvan “branding” of an otherwise generic ritual product.

Śānti Water in the Gopathabrāhmaṇa The deployment of śānti water in these more conventional rituals reflects its infiltration into long-​ standing Vedic practices. One passage from the Gopathabrāhmaṇa illustrates how śānti water could be used, rhetorically, as a means of favorably distinguishing the Atharvans from the mainline Vedic schools in such ritual contexts. In the passage the object of śānti water is the horse required in the agnyādheya, the ritual for setting up the fires of the śrauta sacrifice.97 The

93. As in SāṅkhGS 2.2.10; ĀśvGS 1.20.4; PārGS 2.2.14; Gobh GS2.10.26. 94. KauśS 2.8 [17]. I discuss the abhiṣeka at length in subsequent chapters, especially 2 and 4. 95.  apo divyāḥ (AVŚ 7.89) iti paryavetavrata udakānte śāntyudakamabhimantrayate KauśS 5.6[42].13. “When the vow [of studentship, celibacy] has ended, near to [a body of ] water, he consecrates the śānti waters while reciting ‘The heavenly waters I have perceived’ (AVŚ 7.89).” Once again the text is not explicit about the use of these waters, but bathing may be inferred, as in non-​Atharvan versions of this ritual. Cf. ŚāṅkhGS 3.1.1; ĀśvGS 3.9.4; PārGS 2.6.10–​14; GobhGS 3.4.11; HirKGS 1.3.10.2–​4; ĀpGS 5.12.6. 96. KauśS 9.3 [72].10; 8[67].18. 97. On this ritual, see Krick, Das Ritual.

45



The Inception of a Ritual Category

45

passage likely explains the following instruction from the Vaitānasūtra (the Atharvan manual for the solemn rituals): At dawn he makes śānti water with ātharvaṇic herbs such as citi, and with āṅgirasic herbs kapūr, viparvā, rodākā, vṛkkāvatī, nāḍā, and nirdahantī, with the addition of the cātana, mātṛnāma, and vāstoṣpatya gaṇas.98 Bathing the horse, “Fire-​foot,” with that [water], sprinkling it, he appeases it.99 We have already encountered the first part of the instruction, which directs the production of śānti water with herbs and mantras. In the second part the śānti waters are used to bathe, and thus appease, a horse named “Fire-​foot.” The Gopathabrāhmaṇa explains this instruction as follows: Prajāpati said to the Vedas: “Ye should kindle the fires.” Vāc (Speech Personified) said to them, “The horse, indeed, is one of the requisites [for setting up the fire].” They led that horse up from a pool with awful and demonic waters. Vāc spoke to them: “The horse should be appeased.” “So be it,” they said. Having gone up to it, the Ṛgveda said, “I should appease the horse.” But having crept closer to it, (the Ṛgveda) became very fearful of the horse. It fled in the eastern direction. Vāc said, “This horse is not appeased.” Then the Yajurveda, having approached it, said, “I shall appease the horse.” But having crept closer to it, (the Yajurveda) became very fearful of the horse. It fled in the western direction. It said, “This horse is not appeased.” The Sāmaveda, having approached it, said, “I shall appease this horse.” “With what will you appease?” Vāc asked.

98. In the Kauśikasūtra the causative form of the verb anu√yuj seems to denote the addition of mantras where others have already been specified, or are understood. Cf. KauśS 5.8[44].4; 7.4[53].7; 13.14[106].8; 13.44[136].9. All but one of these instances (13.14[106].8) follow the direction to make śānti water. For example, KauśS 5.8[44].3–​4: “he makes śāntyudaka. In that (process) he adds this hymn (i.e. AVŚ 4.2)” (śāntyudakaṃ karoti || 3 || tatraitat sūktam anuyojayati || 4 ||). 99.  uṣasi śāntyudakaṃ karoti cityādibhir ātharvaṇībhiḥ kapūrviparvārodākāvṛkkāvatīnāḍ ānirdahantībhir āṅgirasībhiś ca | cātanair mātṛnāmabhir vāstoṣpatyair anuyojitaiḥ || 10 || tenāgnipadam aśvaṃ snāpayann abhyukṣañ chamayati || 11 || Vaitānasūtra 2.1(5) ||

46

46

Rit es of t he God -K ing

“The horse will be praised with the un-​terrible (aghora) and gentle (akrūra) hymn of mine, namely, the rathantaram.” But for him also, having crept closer, in the same way, great fear arose. The Sāmaveda took up the northern direction. It said, “This horse is not appeased.” Vāc spoke to the Vedas, “Go to the Atharvan Śaṃyu!” They, having met with the Atharvan Śaṃyu, who was seated, said to him, “Homage to you, Bhagavan! The horse should be appeased.” “So be it,” he said. He then summoned the son of Atharvan Kabandha, namely, Vicārin. Saying “Lord,” he (Śaṃyu) made [the following] request: “The horse should be appeased.” “So be it,” he (Vicārin) said. He himself made the śānti water with the the atharvaṇī (herbs), the āṅgirasī (herbs), the cātana, the mātṛnāma, and vāstoṣpati hymns, saying “appease!” The coals were crushed from the contact of all of the hairs of that [horse] which was bathed and sprinkled [with that water].100 That horse, pleased, uttered words of praise, “Praise to Śaṃyu Atharvan, who has made me worthy for the sacrifice!” Those brahmins other than this one (Vicārin or Śaṃyu?) will be deficient in the requisites [for the placement of the fire]. They will put it (i.e. the fire) in the foot of the sun, or an ox, a calf, a donkey, or a studying student.101 That verily is the foot of the sun which is the ground. [The fire] will be laid in that foot. When the horse is being led to the fire, that Brahman makes the sacrificer who is following the horse recite the five Ṛgvedic verses, beginning, “yad akrandah prathamam jāyamāna” (ṚV 1.163.1). The brahmins assist in bringing him; Brahman assists him. He truly is a wise all-​ knowing brahman, since he knows bhṛgvaṅgiras.102 So says the [Gopatha] Brāhmaṇa.103

100. In the agnyādheya, the horse is made to step on the site of the āhavanīya fire, such that the coals of the fire land on its hoof print. See Āpastambaśrautasūtra 5.14.14. This explains why the horse is called agnipada, or “firefoot,” in the Vaitānasūtra. 101. The ox appears in the version from the Bodhāyana school. 102. The term bhṛgvaṅgirovid is a traditional epithet for one who is versed in the hymns of the Atharvaveda, meaning the “knower of the bhṛgu and the aṅgiras.” Here bhṛgu—​taking the place of the term atharvan in the compound atharvāṅgiras—​refers to the two sides of Atharvan mantric power, which we can conveniently summarize as “white” and “black” magic. See Bloomfield, The Atharvaveda, 9–​10. 103. prajāpatir vedān uvācāgnīn ādadhīyeti | tān vāg abhyuvācāśvo vai sambhārāṇām iti | taṃ ghorāt krūrāt salilāt sarasa udāninyus | tān vāg abhyuvācāśvaḥ śamyeteti | tatheti | tam ṛgveda etyovācāham aśvaṃ śameyam iti | tasmā abhisṛptāya mahad bhayaṃ sasṛje | sa etāṃ prācīṃ diśaṃ bheje | sa hovācāśānto nv ayam aśva iti | taṃ yajurveda etyovācāham aśvaṃ śameyam iti | tasmā abhisṛptāya mahad bhayaṃ sasṛje | sa etāṃ pratīcīṃ diśaṃ bheje | sa hovācāśānto nv

47



The Inception of a Ritual Category

47

According to the Yajurvedic Śatapathabrāhmaṇa, the function of the horse at this ritual is to ward off dangers from the demons who threaten the establishment of the fires of the gods.104 There the horse is likened to Indra’s club (vajra) and used as a means of protection. By contrast, the Gopathabrāhmaṇa considers the horse itself to be a dangerous being, emerging from terrible and horrible waters. Its rather inauspicious origin necessitates appeasement, which cannot be accomplished by any of the three orthodox Vedas. Even the rathantara hymn of the Sāmaveda, which is recited in Yajurvedic versions of this ritual, is unable to appease it.105 Only the śānti water produced by Vicārin at the request of the Atharvan Śaṃyu can accomplish such a feat. Once again the Atharvan tradition offers little innovation here beyond renaming the otherwise generic waters that might be employed in this rite; in the Yajurvedic versions, the horse is also bathed, but none of the texts specifies that this bathing should be performed with śānti water. As in the Kauśikasūtra, its use in this solemn ritual is hardly novel, but it does suggest an attempt to advance the interests of the Atharvans with respect to other mainstream Vedic traditions.

ayam aśva iti | taṃ sāmaveda etyovācāham aśvaṃ śameyam iti | kena nu tvaṃ śamayiṣyasīti | rathantaraṃ nāma me sāmāghoraṃ cākrūraṃ ca | tenāśva abhiṣṭūyeteti | tasmā apy abhisṛptāya tad eva mahad bhayaṃ sasṛje | sa etām udīcīṃ diśaṃ bheje | sa hovācāśānto nv ayam aśva iti | tān vāg abhyuvāca śaṃyum ātharvaṇaṃ gacchateti | te śaṃyum ātharvaṇam āsīnaṃ prāpyocur namas te astu bhagavann aśvaḥ śamyeteti | tatheti | sa khalu kabandhasyātharvaṇasya putram āmantrayām āsa vicārinn iti | bhago iti hāsmai pratiśrutaṃ pratiśuśrāva | aśva śamyeteti | tatheti | sa khalu śāntyudakaṃ cakārātharvaṇībhiś cāṅgirasībhiś ca cātanair mātṛnāmabhir vāstoṣpatyair iti śamayati | tasya ha snātasyāśvasyābhyukṣitasya sarvebhyo romasamarebhyo ‘ṅgārā āśīryanta | so ‘śvas tuṣṭo namaskāraṃ cakāra | namaḥ śaṃyumātharvaṇāya yo mā yajñiyam acīkḷpad iti | bhaviṣyanti ha vā ato ‘nye brāhmaṇā laghusambhāratamās | ta ādityasya pada ādhāsyanty anaḍuho vatsasyājasya śravaṇasya brahmacāriṇo vā | etad vā ādityasya padaṃ yad bhūmis | tasyaiva pada āhitaṃ bhaviṣyatīti | so ‘gnau praṇīyamāṇe ‘śve ‘nvārabdhaṃ brahmā yajamānaṃ vācayati yad akrandaḥ prathamaṃ jāyamāna iti pañca | taṃ brāhmaṇā upavahanti taṃ brahmopākuruta | eṣa ha vai vidvānt sarvavid brahmā yad bhṛgvaṅgirovid iti brāhmaṇam || GBr 1.2.18 || 104. ŚB 2.1.4.15–​16: “Now when the gods were about to set up their fires, the Asuras and Rakṣas forbade them, saying, ‘The fire shall not be produced; ye shall not set up your fires!’ and because they forbade (√rakṣ) them, they are called Rakṣas. The gods then perceived this thunderbolt, to wit, the horse. They made it stand before them, and in its safe and foeless shelter the fire was produced. For this reason let him (the Adhvaryu) direct (the Āgnīdhra) to lead the horse to where he is about to churn the fire. It stands in front of him: he thus raises the thunderbolt, and in its safe and foe-​less shelter the fire is produced” (Eggeling, The Satapatha-​Brâhmana, 1:297). 105.  See for instance Vādhulaśrautasūtra 1.1.3.23–​24:  “He pays homage with the rathantara sāman:  abhi tvā śurā nonuma ‘dugdhā iva denavaḥ īśānam adina ādityā  .  .  .  anyo divyo na pārthivaḥ | na jāto jāniṣyate aśvāyanto maghavann indra vājinaḥ gavyantas tvā havāmahe. They set fire to a piece of fuel wood, they provide a support to hold it and bring the horse which has been washed.” For this passage, see Sparreboom and Heesterman, The Ritual, 57. The same hymn is also prescribed in Āpastambaśrautasūtra 5.11.6.

48

48

Rit es of t he God -K ing

As we have seen, the Atharvans campaigned aggressively to monopolize the position of “overseer” (brahmán) in the performance of the solemn rituals. Another passage from the same text claims that śānti water can restore a sacrifice that has become “rent” or “broken” (viriṣṭa) and names this ability as the property of the Atharvan brahmán: One or several persons whose sacrifice is broken should seek out a brahmán knowing thus how it was, saying, “Praise to you! Please put our broken sacrifice back together!” Then if the sacrifice should be ruined, in that case, having kindled the three fires, having sprinkled śānti water, he [the brahmán] should sprinkle the three fires, and thrice sprinkle around [each of them] while reciting the hymn (AVŚ 6.10) “To the earth, to hearing, to the trees, to Agni, Adhipati, svāha!”106 Thrice he makes the performer (of the sacrifice) sip water and sprinkles him. And he sprinkles the sacrificial grounds. Thus he puts together the broken sacrifice with the essence (rasa) of the Vedas.107 Here the Atharvan brahmán restores the broken sacrifice by sprinkling the fire and the sacrificer with śānti water. Note that the waters are dubbed the “essence” of the Vedas. This may be because they are made with hymns from the Atharvavedasaṃhitā. By implication, then, the Atharvan repertoire could be deemed more essential than that of the Triple Veda. Such a claim accords well with the Gopathabrāhmaṇa’s larger argument that the ideal brahmán, the “overseer” of the Vedic ritual, must be from the Atharvan tradition. Śānti water featured prominently in such claims, as a cipher for the Atharvan mantras and as technical proof of the Atharvans’ prowess in ensuring successful ritual performances.

Kauśikasūtra 13: The “Book of Omens” According to David Pingree, some form of omen divination was likely always observed in ancient India. Both the Ṛg and Atharva Vedas, for example, contain

106. Recall the use of this mantra above, during the preparation of śāntyudaka (KauśS 1.9). The motif of sprinkling thrice was also seen in that passage, and in the Śāntikalpa (2.20.4), discussed below. 107.  taṃ ha smaitam evaṃvidvāṃsaṃ brahmāṇaṃ yajñaviriṣṭī vā yajñaviriṣṭino vety upādhāveran | namas te astu bhagavan | yajñasya no viriṣṭaṃ sandhehīti | tad yatraiva viriṣṭaṃ syāt tatrāgnīn upasamādhāya śāntyudakaṃ kṛtvā pṛthivyai śrotrāyeti trir evāgnīnt samprokṣati triḥ paryukṣati | triḥ kārayamānam ācāmayati ca saṃprokṣati ca | yajñavāstu ca samprokṣati | athāpi vedānāṃ rasena yajñasya viriṣṭaṃ saṃdhīyate || GBr 1.1.14 ||

49



The Inception of a Ritual Category

49

hymns dedicated to the “ominous bird” (śakuna).108 Kauśika prescribes rituals to address such auguries and also to counter portentous dreams.109 A younger portion of the same text—​Kauśikasūtra 13, the “Book of Omens” (adbhutādhyāya)—​ forms a somewhat richer, dedicated source for divination, prescribing rituals for no fewer than forty-​two portents.110 These are not organized according to later schemes of classification, such as the location of manifestation (terrestrial, atmos­ pheric, and celestial) or a deity-​based system of association, but are listed in somewhat miscellaneous fashion. Thus, for example, omens of the atmosphere, such as a rainstorm of abnormal substances (meat or honey), are listed alongside terrestrial portents, such as quarreling in the family, the croaking of frogs, and the birth of twins.111 This lack of organization may indicate an early date of composition relative to the mature astrological tradition.112 A relatively early date may also be reflected at the level of ritual concepts, since the rituals attached to these omens are not categorized as śānti, as will become the norm in subsequent Atharvan texts. Although Keśava describes them so (atha śāntir ucyate), nearly all of the chapters in the root text (each concerning a particular omen) end with the sentence “That is the remediation in this case” (sā tatra prāyaścitti).113 While in mature Brahmanical thought the term prāyaścitti (also prāyaścitta) comes to denote an “expiation” or “atonement” for a breach of proper social conduct, we have seen that in the Vedic sphere it refers to a ritual remediation for mistakes in the performance of the sacrifice.114 Aspiring to the office of

108. Pingree, Jyotiḥśāstra, 67. 109.  5.10[46] 7–​8; 5.10[46].9–​13. The former ritual also features the phrase “He inserts the mahāśānti gaṇa” (mahāśāntim āvapate). While not explicit in the root text, both Dārila and Keśava infer that a ritual sprinkling was included. Thus among the many sources of inspiration for the śānti category in the Kauśikasūtra, this ritual offers an early instance of the link between śānti water, śānti gaṇas, and omens. See also KauśS 5.1[37], on “oracles” (vijānakarmāni). 110. Weber, Zwei Vedische Texte, 344–​413. 111.  The text also addresses irregular occurrences of a celestial nature, such as eclipses and meteors. 112. Pingree considers this text among the earliest strata of divination sources in the Indic context, alongside the so-​called Adbhutabrāhmaṇa (also edited by Weber in Zwei Vedische Texte), which he suspected was “at least in part dependent on a Mesopotamian prototype that reached India slightly before or after the Achaemenid occupation of Gandhāra in the sixth century b.c.” (Jyotiḥśāstra, 67). There is little evidence in the text to confirm such an early date. 113. The phrase occurs thirty-​four times in the text. Two additional chapters end with just the term iti prāyaścittiḥ, “Thus is the atonement.” In five instances no ritual label is given. 114.  On atonement (prāyaścitta/​prāyaścitti), see Gampert, Die Sühnezeremonien. On later Dharmaśāstric expiation, see Lubin, “Punishment and Expiation”; Brick, “Social and Soteriological Aspects of Sin and Penance.”

50

50

Rit es of t he God -K ing

brahmán, the Atharvans claimed to be experts in this field, as illustrated in the Gopathabrāhmaṇa.115 The “Book of Omens” contains a few occasions (protases) of such errors related to the performance of the sacrifice, including the breaking of the sacrificial post and vessels of water and ghee. Most of the forty-​two portents, however, concern portentous events in the broader natural or social realm. Thus the concept of ritual remediation has been extended here to encompass a more conventional, naturalistic understanding of the omen. This is not to suggest that appeasement and remediation are radically incommensurate concepts. I will argue later that they come to have a rather complex relationship, especially as the relation between sin and omens becomes more clearly theorized. However, at this early stage, the use of the term “remediation” (prāyaścitta) suggests that the Atharvan tradition—​after the composition of the bulk of the Kauśikasūtra and prior to the Śāntikalpa—​did not yet employ the category of śānti to describe ritual countermeasures for omens. Within this general rubric of remediation, the “Book of Omens” also applies a relatively standardized ritual system to the problem of divination. The basic format of these remediations appears to be a variation of the conventional fire offering (iṣṭi) common to all Vedic domestic rituals. As early as in the solemn rituals, iṣṭi came to denote an offering of clarified butter or simple cakes of grain, following the general procedure for the New and Full Moon Sacrifice (darśapūrṇamāsa), itself one of the simplest ritual paradigms of the solemn (śrauta) system. The structure of this ritual proved extremely flexible: by substituting various mantras recited during the main offering (pradhāna homa), which was framed by a standardized set of introductory and concluding acts, the ritual could be adapted to all sorts of purposes.116 Such seems to have been the case in Kauśikasūtra 13. In each ritual scenario described in the text the basic fire offering paradigm is modified by the insertion of a mantra appropriate to the omen in question. The offering of clarified butter is made during the mantra’s recitation. The chief concern of the text seems to be to supply the mantras meant to accompany the main offering of clarified butter in each case. The result is a highly succinct series of passages. Take the case of the “failure of daybreak” as a basic example: Next, in the case that the daybreak does not arise, one should make an offering [1]‌. Having made the offering while reciting “May the resplendent

115. A significant section on prāyaścitta, the Prāyaścittaprakaraṇa, is attached to the Vaitānasūtra. This has been edited in two parts by von Negelein, “Atharvaprāyaścittāni” (1913) and (1915). 116. For an overview of the procedure for iṣṭi, see Tachikawa et al., Indian Fire Ritual. For a transhistorical and cross-​cultural perspective, see Payne and Witzel, Homa Variations.

51



The Inception of a Ritual Category

51

one arise, setting the dawns in order. Making them thick (pūlyān?), let the ancient course advance. The wise woman, oft-​bearing the multiform seasons, sets the future in order for me” [2]. He should make an offering with the mātṛnāma gaṇa, beginning with the hymn, “divyo gandharva” (AVŚ 2.2) [3]. That is the remediation in this case [4].117 The hymn cited in this passage is appropriate in this case insofar as it mentions the dawns. Nearly all of the cases in the text follow this same condensed structure: [1]‌the name of a particular omen, [2] a mantra (usually in indexical form) or series of mantras proper to that occasion, followed by the verb “he should offer” (juhuyāt), and [3] the closing sentence, “That is the remediation in this case.”118 While the number of mantras and offerings can vary—​and some chapters additionally specify a sacrificial fee to be given to the ritualist—​on the whole the text follows this portent-​mantra structure, matching each inauspicious occasion with its appropriate mantra. As a result the ritual action in Kauśikasūtra 13 is largely dominated by the verb √hu (“to offer into the fire”), which conventionally

117. atha yatraitad auṣasī nodeti tatra juhuyāt || 1 || udetu śrīr uṣasaḥ kalpayantī pūlyān kṛtvā palita etu cāraḥ | ṛtūn bibhratī bahudhā virūpān mahyaṃ bhavyaṃ viduṣī kalpayāti | auṣasyai svāheti hutvā || 2 || divyo gandharva iti mātṛnāmabhir juhuyāt || 3 || sā tatra prāyaścittiḥ || 4 || KauśS 13.9[101] || 118. That the text intends the performance of a full fire offering for each such occasion seems likely if we follow Keśava’s interpretation of KauśS 13.2[94], the atonement “in the case of [abnormal] rains,” as a general rule (paribhāṣā) to be applied to every other omen atonement in the text. Following a summary list of the omens (KauśS 13.1[93]), this chapter opens the text and breaks the conventional three-​part structure described above: “When the following rains fall: ghee, flesh, honey, and gold, and when any other terrible rains fall, then the family, village, or country perishes [1]‌. In that case, the king, protector of the land, should seek a wise brahman [2]. And he is wise since he knows bhṛgvaṅgiras (the Atharvaveda) [3]. Those ones are appeasers and protectors of all this, since they are bhṛgvaṅgirasas [4]. He [the king] tells them, ‘Make ready!’ [5] Then he readies a brass (pot), two unwashed garments, pure ghee, appeased herbs, and a new water pot [6]. [The occasions] for the ritual are the three parvans, the new and full moon, and [under an] auspicious nakṣatra (lunar asterism) [7]. But also whenever there [is occasion] he should do it for the sake of any calamity [8]. Bathed, wearing a new garment, perfumed, engaging in a vow, that one who is [thus] fit to perform the act fasts for one, three, six or twelve nights [9]. On the morning of the twelfth [lunar] day, wherever that [omen] has occurred, he sets up the fire upon that spot (or north of that spot) [10]. Having gathered together, sprinkled, and spread the barhis, he lays down the pot and walks around the ghee [11]. Then having offered the normal introductory oblations, [he offers] the ājyabhāga portions [12]. Then he makes an offering [13]. Having offered, saying ‘Which streams of ghee rain here, or flesh, or honey, or gold, let them go to my enemy. And let there be rain of water [for me]. Let the rains be abundant for me. The rain of blood, of honey, or of sand, or any other terrible or unfavorable rain—​may all of these go to my enemy, may all of these go away [from me] retreating. To Agni, svāha!’ [14] He should offer with the mātṛnāma hymns [15]. If he is a braihmin, he should give an excellent ox to the performer [16]. If a vaiśya, a plough ox, if a landowner, a horse, if the king, a village [17]. That is the prāyaścitti in this case [18]” (atha

52

52

Rit es of t he God -K ing

implies an offering of ghee (ājya).119 Apart from the inclusion of mantras from outside of the Śaunaka recension of the Atharvaveda, there is little technically innovative in the remediations for omens in Kauśikasūtra 13; the iṣṭi is perhaps the simplest model available for Vedic domestic rituals.120 In a few cases, however, other rites are explicitly added to this paradigm. I refer here to the cases of a cow giving birth to twins, cracks in a building, and a meteor

yatraitāni varṣāṇi varṣanti ghṛtaṃ māṃsaṃ madhu ca yad dhiraṇyaṃ yāni cāpy anyāni ghorāṇi varṣāṇi varṣanti tat parābhavati kulaṃ vā grāmo vā janapado vā || 1 || tatra rājā bhūmipatir vidvāṃsaṃ brahmāṇam ichet || 2 || eṣa ha vai vidvān yad bhṛgvaṅgirovit || 3 || ete ha vā asya sarvasya śamayitāraḥ pālayitāro yad bhṛgvaṅgirasaḥ || 4 || sa āhopakalpayadhvam iti || 5 || tad upakalpayante kaṃsam ahate vasane śuddham ājyaṃ śāntā oṣadhīr navam udakumbham || 6 || trīṇi parvāṇi karmaṇaḥ paurṇamāsyamāvāsye puṇyaṃ nakṣatram || 7 || api ced eva yadā kadā cidārtāya kuryāt || 8 || snāto ‘hatavasanaḥ surabhir vratavān karmaṇya upavasaty ekarātraṃ trirātraṃ ṣaḍrātraṃ dvādaśarātraṃ vā || 9 || dvādaśyāḥ prātar yatraivādaḥ patitaṃ bhavati tata uttaram agnim upasamādhāya || 10 || parisamuhya paryukṣya paristīrya barhir udapātram upasādya paricaraṇenājyaṃ paricarya || 11 || nityān purastāddhomān hutvājyabhāgau ca || 12 || atha juhoti || 13 || ghṛtasya dhārā iha yā varṣanti pakvaṃ māṃsaṃ madhu ca yad dhiraṇyam | dviṣantam etā anu yantu vṛṣṭayo ‘pāṃ vṛṣṭayo bahulāḥ santu mahyam || lohitavarṣaṃ madhupāṃsuvarṣaṃ yad vā varṣaṃ ghoram aniṣṭam anyat | dviṣantam ete anu yantu sarve parāñco yantu nivartamānāḥ || agnaye svāhā iti hutvā || 14 || divyo gandharvo iti mātṛnāmabhir juhuyāt || 15 || varam anaḍvāham brāhmaṇaḥ kartre dadyāt || 16 || sīraṃ vaiśyo ‘śvaṃ prādeśiko grāmavaraṃ rājā || 17 || sā tatra prāyaścittiḥ || 18 || KauśS 13.2[94] ||). Keśava contends that beginning with the phrase “then that family, village, or country perishes” (sūtra 1) up to “having offered the normal introductory sacrifices, [he offers] the ājyabhāga portions” (sūtra 11) constitutes the paribhāṣā, or general rule, to be applied to the rest of the atonements in Kauśikasūtra 13. Following the ruler’s selection of proper Atharvan priests (in sūtras 2–​5), sūtras 6–​10 describe the preparation of the requisite articles for a fire sacrifice. The performance of the iṣṭi begins in sūtra 11: “Having offered the normal introductory offerings (purastād dhomān), [he offers] the two ājyabhāga portions.” The offering of the ājyabhāgas, or “portions of clarified butter (ājya),” is the conventional marker for the end of the introductory segment of a normal fire offering. In the normal fire offering, the ājyabhāga directly precedes the “main offering” (pradhāna homa). This step, beginning in sūtra 12, indicates the case-​specific instructions for the ritual to counter the omen in question, the case of abnormal rains. If we follow Keśava, each subsequent chapter in Kauśikasūtra 13 will begin the fire ritual at this point, thus assuming that the introductory services of the fire offering have already been performed. In this way the part of the text identified by Keśava as a paribhāṣā requires that we interpret each subsequent atonement ritual as having the form of a fire offering. Such a reading is not too controversial: the Kauśikasūtra as a whole begins with a lengthy description of the new and full moon sacrifice (darśapūrṇamāsa) (KauśS 1.1.24–​6.37), which most commentators have taken as a general rule applicable to the rest of the Kauśikasūtra, following the conventions of gṛhya rituals. See Caland, Altindisches Zauberritual, xxvii ff. Cf. Bloomfield, “Review of Caland,” 495–​97. If the above reading is correct, it would support the supposition that the “Book of Omens” indeed formed an originally independent treatise, later incorporated into the broader Kauśikasūtra. 119. According to the conventions for the Kauśikasūtra as a whole: ājyaṃ juhoti KauśS 1.7.3. The other common verb, √dā (to give), invariably accompanies the sacrificial gift at the conclusion of the ritual and thus is always employed outside the main scope of ritual action. 120. On the non-​Śaunakīya mantras, see Griffiths, “Paippalāda Mantras.”

53



The Inception of a Ritual Category

53

strike.121 Each of these examples makes use of two additional ritual instruments, śānti waters and saṃpātas, or remnants of offerings of clarified butter: Next, in the case that [a cow] which has not borne twins [previously] begets twins, having sprinkled her with śānti water, having milked her [1]‌, having cooked a sthālīpāka (rice offering) in the milk of that cow [2], having added kindling sticks from the eastern side of the fire [3], having gathered together, sprinkled, and strewn the grass, having brought the water pot [4], offering ghee with the hymn beginning “By a sequential creation, she came into being” (AVŚ 3.28) [5] he puts the dregs of ghee (saṃpāta) in the water pot [6]. He puts the latter (or another portion of ) dregs on the odana (rice gruel) [7]. Then he feeds the cow [the sthālīpāka], makes the calves sip from the water pot, and sprinkles them [with it] [8]. He should give that cow to him [who performs the ritual] [9]. That is the remediation in this case [10].122 Here the cow is sprinkled with śānti water (sūtra 1) prior to the main offering (sūtra 5), while afterward the dregs are first placed in a water jar that is later used for the sipping and sprinkling of the twin calves, and then are used to smear the rice offering that is then fed to the cow herself. Both of the atonements for cracks in a building and a meteor strike differ from this example only in the order of actions.123 The use of saṃpātas—​or “dregs,” as Gonda preferred to translate them—​is common in the medical rituals (bhaiṣajyāni) of the Kauśikasūtra.124 Bahulkar suggests that the saṃpātas may be a “specialty” of the Atharvan tradition; they are smeared on a number of medical substances and in some cases mixed with water.125 In one case they are mixed with śānti waters (śantyudakena

121. KauśS 13.17 [109]; 13.28 [120]; 14.5 [141]. 122. atha yatraitad ayamasūr yamau janayati tāṃ śāntyudakenābhyukṣya dohayitvā || 1 || tasyā eva gor dugdhe sthālīpākaṃ śrapayitvā || 2 || prāñcam idhmam upasamādhāya || 3 || parisamuhya paryukṣya paristīrya barhir udapātram upasādya || 4 || ekaikayaiṣā sṛṣṭyā saṃ babhūvety etena sūktenājyaṃ juhvan || 5 || udapātre saṃpātān ānayati || 6 || uttamaṃ saṃpātam odane pratyānayati || 7 || tato gāṃ ca prāśayati vatsau codapātrād enān ācāmayati ca saṃprokṣati ca || 8 || tāṃ tasyaiva dadyāt || 9 || sā tatra prāyaścittiḥ || 10 || KauśS 13.17[109] || 123. It is only after the main offerings that the saṃpāta and then the śāntyudaka are placed and sprinkled on the spot of damage. 124. Gonda, “Atharvaveda II.7.” 125. Bahulkar, Medical Ritual, 43.

54

54

Rit es of t he God -K ing

saṃpatavatā).126 A similar scenario figures in the cow ritual quoted above.127 In the later śānti tradition, the saṃpāta dregs become closely integrated with the preparation of śānti water, and hence these passages represent important precursors to later conventions. These are the only three instances wherein śānti water is mentioned explicitly in the “Book of Omens.” Nonetheless, and despite Kauśika’s label of “remediation,” Keśava renames each of the rituals in this text a śānti and prescribes śānti water in each case.128 A review of the many hypothetical scenarios for and against these claims need not detain us here.129 From Keśava’s perspective, in an age when such explicitly named śānti rituals were commonplace, it may have been natural to read these atonement rituals as variants of śānti. For our purposes, however, we can say that in Kauśikasūtra 13, as in this sūtra on the whole, there is no assumption of a category of rituals called śānti. Nonetheless the “Book of Omens” employs some of the technical motifs that become common in the later tradition. It gives numerous examples of “omen atonements,” many of which may have assumed the use of śānti water, and three do so explicitly. All of this establishes another important precedent: the Atharvan tradition was long experimenting with rituals in the sphere of divination—​well before the śānti category became fixed as the conceptual locus for such activities.

The Śāntikalpa of the Atharvaveda In spite of the claims of Kauśika’s medieval commentators, the Atharvaveda Śāntikalpa, likely produced sometime in the first half of the first millennium ce, is the first available text of the Atharvan tradition that describes an explicitly

126. KauśS 4.7[31].21; Bahulkar, Medical Ritual, 207–​8. 127. In the other two passages śāntyudaka and the saṃpātas are employed separately. 128.  Including the supposed general paradigm in the second chapter of the text (KauśS 13.2[94]). 129. The strongest evidence occurs in a series of paribhāṣā-​type statements appended to the last chapter of Kauśikasūtra 13, which suggests that śāntyudaka is to be made “in all cases in these rituals” (eteṣu karmasu sarvatra) (KauśS 13.44[136].9). Keśava at KauśS 13.44[136].8 also adduces the testimony of two commentaries, unavailable to us, which both assume that śāntyudaka is part of the general fire ritual in this text (śāntyudakaṃ kṛtvā vedāditantraṃ karoti rudramatam | pradhānahomānantaraṃ śāntyudakaṃ kuryād iti dārilamatam). By contrast, śāntyudaka is not mentioned in KauśS 13.2[94] (though inferred by Keśava). The reticence with respect to śānti waters and bathing in the basic paradigm of this ritual is somewhat striking when compared to the prominence of sprinkling and bathing with śāntyudaka in later śānti rituals. Thus we cannot safely conclude that bathing had been clearly systematized at the time of KauśS 13.

5



The Inception of a Ritual Category

55

titled śānti ritual, called the “Great Appeasement,” or mahāśānti.130 Under the rubric of this single ritual scheme, the Śāntikalpa reorganizes the repertoire of the Kauśikasūtra, while at the same time systematizing many of its basic techniques, including Atharvan mantras, śānti water, sacrificial dregs (saṃpāta), and amulets (maṇi). Although the full motivation for this text remains obscure, one intriguing development lies in its increasingly explicit preoccupation with omens. I suggest that the inception of the śānti category reflects an ambition on the part of the Atharvan school to place themselves at the center of this particular niche of ritual specialization, which was associated with the burgeoning Indian astrological tradition ( Jyotiḥśāstra). In my view the link between the ritual category of appeasement, śānti water, and inauspicious omens will prove to be the greatest contribution of the Śāntikalpa to our story. I examine here the text’s Atharvan heritage and its innovative astrological orientation by clarifying the scenario at work in its central ritual paradigm. The Śāntikalpa outlines a total of six separate ceremonies:  five introductory rituals and the culminating mahāśānti ritual. Following the introductory services, the prescription for mahāśānti spans the last ten brief chapters of the text.131 The first four of these chapters list the technical substitutions necessary to perform thirty different variations of mahāśānti, while the final six chapters explain the procedure for the ritual itself, taking the so-​called amṛtā (“immortal” or “ambrosial”) variant as a paradigm.132 Hence the text lays out a ritual system:  by substituting various mantras (called āvāpika śānti) and by employing different substances for making the required amulet (each with its own specific mantra), a single ritual paradigm can be applied for a number of different situations and aims.133 For instance, in the case that one is “tormented by danger produced by the stars (nakṣatra) or planets, or is seized by disease” (nakṣatragrahopa

130. The text was published in two parts by Bolling, both under the title “The Çāntikalpa of the Atharva-​Veda,” in 1904 and 1913. The 1913 publication in fact contains the first part of the text, which corresponds to ŚK 1; the 1904 publication contains ŚK 2. See Bolling’s introduction to the 1913 edition. On a late paddhati based on this text, see Khare, “On the Two Manuscripts.” 131.  There are five introductory rites:  [1]‌a ritual (karma) to ward off (apa√han) a class of demons called the vināyakas (ŚK 1.3–​9); [2] a rite to satisfy (tarpaṇa) the planets (grahas) (1.10–​18); [3] services (upacāra) to the lunar asterisms (nakṣatras) (2.1–​13); and [4] a rite worshipping (yajate) the directions (2.14); and [5] a ritual (karma) dedicated to nirṛti, the goddess of destruction (2.15). 132. As an adjective (as it is used here), amṛtā (-​mahāśānti) simply means the “immortal” or “imperishable” śānti ritual. It may also connote the neuter noun amṛtam, the divine “nectar” of immortality, sometimes Soma. 133. On the āvāpika, see Bolling, “The Çāntikalpa” (1904), 87. Alfred Hillebrandt shows that the practice of āvāpa variations can be found in śrauta rituals (Ritual-​Litteratur, 72).

56

56

Rit es of t he God -K ing

sṛṣṭabhayārtarogagṛhītānāṃ) one should perform the “[mahāśānti] belonging to Bhṛgu” (bhārgavīṃ). This would involve, first, the recitation of the citrā mantra gaṇa at the appropriate moment in the ceremony and, second, at the end of the ritual, binding the patron with an amulet of “1,000 stalks” (sahasrakāṇḍa) while reciting AVŚ 2.7.1. A close reading of the mahāśānti paradigm will establish many of the ritual conventions that will preoccupy us in this study. Śāntikalpa 2.20 opens with the following statement, identifying the amṛtā-​mahāśānti as the tantra, the ritual “scheme” or “paradigm” for all other śāntis: “We shall explain, as prescribed, the amṛtā mahāśānti, being the paradigm for all other śāntis, and a remedy for all [ills].”134 The ritual is composed of a number of smaller ceremonies embedded within the frame of the New and Full Moon Sacrifice, which, as we have seen, was the basis of the iṣṭi or homa, and thus a central paradigm for Vedic ritual. A detailed summary with sequential steps is given in appendix 1.1. Below I highlight the main points of the ritual. Overview of the Mahāśānti Paradigm Introductory services of the iṣṭi (step 2) Preparation of śānti water (steps 1, 3–​4) Plant offerings (steps 5–​10) Preparation of the pratisara (amulet string) /​House protection (steps 11–​16) Fire offering with recitation of mantra gaṇas (steps 17–​18) Offering to the demons (rakṣas) (steps 19–​23) Washing the subject while reciting mantras (step 24) Binding the amulet; adorning and dressing the sponsor (steps 25–​26) Cooking rice and concluding services of the iṣṭi (steps 27–​29) Feeding brahmins; sacrificial fee (dakṣiṇā) (steps 30–​31) In a typical iṣṭi, as we have seen, the offering(s) located between the introductory and concluding rites is known as the “main offering” (pradhāna homa). The above summary shows that in the Śāntikalpa, the introductory and concluding services of the sacrifice (steps 2 and 29) frame a number of separate ritual segments. The basic sacrificial paradigm, which usually involves an offering of cake or clarified butter and the recitation of an appropriate mantra, has been greatly expanded and complicated.

134.  tantrabhūtāṃ mahāśāntīṁ pravakṣyāmo yathāvidhi | anyāsāṃ viśvaśāntīnām amṛtāṁ viśvabheṣajīm || 1 || ŚK 2.20 ||

57



The Inception of a Ritual Category

57

The first and most crucial addition is śānti water, the preparation of which takes up the rest of the opening chapter in the description of the paradigm (steps 1–​4): He should take pure water from rivers or lakes. Then he who knows “saṃ saṃ sravantu . . .” (AVŚ 19.1) addresses [the waters with that mantra]. “śaṃ ta āpo haimavatīr” (AVŚ 19.2); “yāvatīṣu manuṣyā” (AVŚ 8.7.26) [are the mantras]. The scheme is the New and Full Moon offering. When the two ājyabhāga [ghee portions] are offered, then he should make śāntyudaka. He should add those two mantras (AVŚ 19.2.1 and 8.7.26). Then, thrice sprinkling the fire, he should pour [the water] into a pot for the purposes of bathing. With a view to other necessary acts, he should not pour all of the water.135 Note here that the “making” (kuryāt) of śānti water occurs directly after the so-​ called ājyabhāga, a series of ghee offerings that mark the end of the introductory rites in the standard fire offering. This placement indicates that the production of śānti water forms part of the main offering (pradhāna homa).136 In fact, as we will see, śānti water may be understood as the central structuring element of the mahāśānti paradigm, since the entire ritual culminates in a bath with these waters. The above passage, then, represents only the first part of a multistep process for their further refinement. The śānti waters, first gathered from lakes and rivers (step 1), should then (after the ājyabhāga, step 2) be “made” (step 3). This instruction likely refers to the procedure for śānti water in Kauśikasūtra 1.9, discussed in detail earlier. There the central act was the recitation of the “śānti group of mantras” (śānti gaṇa) over the water. I take the sentence tanmantram anuyojayet to mean “he should add the mantras AVŚ 19.2.1 and 8.7.26 (mentioned in the previous line of the text) [to the śānti gaṇa],” for this would accord with the apparent use of the verb anuyojayet in the Kauśikasūtra.137 More important, the śānti water which has been thus “made” is split into two portions: one portion is

135. nadībhyo vā hradebhyo vā jalaṃ puṇyaṃ samāharet | saṃ saṃ sravantu tad vidvān abhimantrayate tataḥ || 2 || śaṃ ta āpo haimavatīr yāvatīṣu manuṣyā iti | pāurṇamāsam atas tantram ājyabhāgau yadā hutau || 3 || tadā śāntyudakaṃ kuryāt tan  mantram anuyojayet | triḥ prokṣyāgniṃ tataḥ kumbhe snapanārthā niṣecayet || 4 || paśyann anyāni kāryāṇi na sarvā nikṣiped apaḥ | 5ab || ŚK 2.20 || Translation from Bolling, “The Çāntikalpa” (1904), 120. 136. Note that while the position of śāntyudaka with respect to the basic ritual of Kauśika is not obvious in the root text, here the production of śāntyudaka is explicitly integrated into the fire offering. 137. See above n. 98.

58

58

Rit es of t he God -K ing

“poured into a pot for the purpose of bathing” (kumbhe snapanārthā niṣecayet), while another is left in the original vessel(s?), “with a view to other obligatory acts” (paśyann anyāni karyāni).138 Both portions of śānti water—​those destined for bathing and those reserved for other acts—​undergo further modification in what follows. After the śānti water has been produced, the text prescribes a series of oblations with vegetable substances, while the fire is kindled with various types of wood (steps 5–​10). After these oblations we encounter the śānti waters again during a ceremony for the protection of the house (steps 11–​16): There are needed for the pratisara (amulet string) a staff from a tumbara tree, a sadaṃpuṣpā plant, yellow mustard plants with ten leaves, ten stones, and sand. Making an offering while reciting the hymn AVŚ 5.10, he must cover these [objects] with the dregs of the offering. The wise one should put the rest of the remainders in the appeased waters. He should smear circles in all (ten) directions of the dwelling.139 Having strewn sand in them, he should then sprinkle them with the appeased waters. Having put the stones in them, he should smear (a circle) above the door. There he should put the staff of wood and other substances, having strewn sand. Reciting AVŚ 3.26 he must make oblations to the directions. He should worship [them] with AVŚ 3.27.140 The text applies AVŚ 5.10, containing the words “you are my stone defense,” to the protection of the dwelling and the preparation of the amulet. The ritual described here matches the mantra quite closely, as it requires the placement of stones, along with sand and leaves, in the ten directions (cardinal, intermediate, up and

138. snapanārthā (with final ā) may be taken as an adjective for the feminine plural ap (waters), referring to the śāntyudaka. Bolling lists two variants, -​arthaṃ and -​arthāṃ. The first alternative could be read as an adjective for the neuter udaka of śantyudaka, which immediately precedes the phrase. The reading of the feminine plural is, however, supported by the next line, which explicitly refers to waters in the feminine plural: paśyann anyāni karyāṇi na sarvā nikṣiped apaḥ (“Considering other obligatory acts, he should not pour all of the water”). 139. The eight cardinal and intermediate directions plus the upper and lower directions of the vertical axis. 140. tumbaradaṇḍaḥ sadaṃpuṣpā tathānye gaurasarṣapāḥ | daśapattrā daśāśmānaḥ sikatā pratisarasya vai || 1 || aśmavarme ‘ti sūktena juhvat sampātayet imān | ānayed apsu śāntāsu saṃpātān uttarān budhaḥ || 2 || sarvāsu veśmano dikṣu maṇḍalāny anulepayet | nikīrya sikatās teṣu śāntādbhiḥ prokṣayet tataḥ || 3 || nidadhyād aśmanas tatra dvārasyopari lepayet | nidadhyāt tatra daṇḍādi nikīrya sikatā iti || 4 || ye ‘syāṁ pratidiśaṁ hutvā prācī dig upatiṣṭhate | 5ab || ŚK 2.22 || Translation from Bolling, “The Çāntikalpa” (1904), 121. See Griffiths, “Tumburu.”

59



The Inception of a Ritual Category

59

down) of the house. All of these objects are smeared with the dregs (saṃpāta) of an offering made with this mantra. I will discuss these details further below, but for now note that the dregs of the same offering are placed in the “appeased waters” (apsu śāntāsu), which are also used to sprinkle each of the directions of the dwelling. I take these “appeased waters” to refer to the portion of śānti water that was reserved at the outset for the purpose of “other obligatory acts” (anyāni karyāni), here sprinkled to fortify the house. What, then, of the waters meant for bathing? We meet them next at the very heart of the mahāśānti paradigm. This portion of the text expands on the format of the original śānti water instruction, which emphasizes the recitation of one of two śānti mantra gaṇas. Here, however, the text prescribes eighteen separate gaṇas to be recited in every mahāśānti ritual.141 But before listing these mantras, the text says, “Offering oblations with the following mantras, he should mix the dregs into the pot.”142 This crucial statement discloses a systematic relationship between the mantras and the dregs of the fire sacrifice. Bolling translates kumbhe simply as “a jar,” but it seems likely that this is the same pot (kumbha) mentioned previously, into which the śānti waters were first made.143 In other words, the mantra gaṇas listed in the immediately following passage are to be recited while offerings of clarified butter are poured into the fire, and the dregs of these offerings are mixed into the water pot. This pairing of mantra gaṇas and sacrificial dregs is crucial, since it ties the further refinement of śānti water to the structure of the fire offering. Since we are still at the apex of the fire sacrifice, this long list of gaṇas occupies the position of yājyā, the mantra that accompanies the main offering (pradhāna homa) in the New and Full Moon paradigm. At the same time, in the form of the sacrificial dregs, the mantras are transferred to the śānti water much more directly—​indeed perhaps materially—​when compared to the original instruction, Kauśikasūtra 1.9, in which the śānti mantras were merely recited over the waters. The series of mantra groups is given as follows (steps 17–​18): (These gaṇas) must be uttered,  the Śānti, the Kṛtyādūṣaṇa, Cātana, Matṛnāman, Vāstoṣpatya, Pāpmahan, Yakṣmopaghāta, Svapnāntika, Āyuṣya, Varcasya, also the Apratiratha hymn (AVŚ 19.13). This must be muttered a second time (and there must be employed) the Śaṃtātīya-​hymn

141. In addition to the mantras that may be inserted according to the form of the ritual being performed. 142. saṃpātān ānayet kumbhe juhvan mantrair athottaraiḥ | 5 cd | ŚK 2.22 | 143. At ŚK 2.20.4.

60

60

Rit es of t he God -K ing

(AVŚ 4.13), AVŚ 5.30, 8.1, 2.1, and the first twelve verses of the Prāṇa-​hymn (AVŚ 11.4). It is taught that all these are involved with the Śāntīya-​hymn; and since the Śāntīya-​hymn is involved, it is taught that the verses AVŚ 11.4.13ff (must be employed). Then according to his wish he must insert the mantras given before (in kaṇḍikā 18), and bring to a close all the rest of the Prāṇa-​hymn. At this point in the Śānti he must always recite the Rudra and Raudra gaṇas. (These gaṇas) are prescribed next, the Svastyayana, Abhaya, Aparājita, Śarmavarman, Devapurā, Rudra, Raudra, and Citrā. Ten beginning with the Śāntigaṇa are cited, eight beginning with the Svastyayana.144 We need not engage in an overly detailed analysis of this rather extensive list. Suffice it to note that the group includes the śānti gaṇa, along with others already mentioned in the Kauśikasūtra, such as cātana, matṛnāma, and vāstoṣpatya. We have seen that Dārila understands the term mahāśānti to refer to these three gaṇas plus the larger śānti group. If his reading is correct, then we might understand the word mahāśānti—​here the name of a ritual—​similarly, as a reference for the further aggregation of mantra groups. For in addition to these already familiar names, newer gaṇas seem to have been subsequently codified since the time of the Kauśikasūtra. The precise hymns contained in these groups are listed the gaṇamālā, which provides the contents of thirty-​one such groups current in the subsequent Atharvan tradition.145 This later source confirms what we may already surmise: whereas the original śānti gaṇa included eight to twenty-​seven full hymns (along with several stray verses), the eighteen-​gaṇa mahāśānti expands this number exponentially. A survey of the names of these groups shows that the basic ambiguity of śānti has been amplified. If the original śānti gaṇa was reducible to an eclectic set of hymns, the mahāśānti, a veritable “super gaṇa,” is also reducible to its composite mantra gaṇas, which name the traditional powers of

144.  prayojyaḥ śāntisaṁjño ‘taḥ kṛtyādūṣaṇa eva ca | cātano matṛnāmā ca vāstoṣpatyo ‘tha pāpmahā || 1 || tato yakṣmopaghātas tu tata(ḥ) svapnāntikaḥ paraḥ | gaṇāv āyuṣyavarcasyāu tathāpratirathaṁ smṛtam || 2 || punas tad eva japyaṁ tu śantātīyam athāvataḥ | antakāyārabhasve ‘ti prāṇādyā dvādaśa tv ṛcaḥ || 3 || vyatiṣaktās tu tā sarvā śāntīyena saha smṛtāḥ | vyatiṣakte tu śāntīye prāṇāpānāv iti smṛtāḥ || 4 || atha mantrān yathākāmam āvapet pūrvacoditān | prāṇasūktasya ya(c) cheṣaṁ kevalaṁ tat samāpayet | rudrarāudragaṇāv atra nityaṁ śāntāu prayojayet || 5 || 23 || atha svastyayanaś cāiva tathābhayāparājitāu | śarmavarmā tataḥ proktas tathā devapurā smṛtaḥ || 1 || rudrarāudragaṇāu caiva tataś citrāgaṇaḥ paraḥ | śānt(y)ādayo daśāmnātā aṣṭāu svastyayanādayaḥ || 2 || ŚK 2.24 || Translation from Bolling, “The Çāntikalpa” (1904), 121. 145. AVPŚ 32.

61



The Inception of a Ritual Category

61

the Atharvaveda, such as long life (āyuṣya), countersorcery (kṛtyādūṣaṇa), luck (svastyayana), safety (abhaya), and protection (śarmavarman). The link between the terms, śānti and mahāśānti, mantra gaṇas, and bathing waters is confirmed in the very next passage: It is taught by the wise that the mahāśānti [must be performed] with all 18 gaṇas. If the last eight gaṇas are omitted and the lower part of the ceremony for Nirṛti, it is termed by the wise the ten-​gaṇa śānti. This (!) he shall pour (into a jar) for the purpose of washing his horses, carts (?), wagons, etc.146 Here the text reiterates that the so-​called mahāśānti ritual requires all eighteen gaṇas, whereas if the celebrant omits the final eight, the ritual should be called a “ten-​gaṇa-​śānti.” Bolling seems unsure about the feminine pronoun etām in the next verse, which he translates with an exclamation mark: “this (!) he shall pour.” But such a literal translation may indeed prove correct. The pronoun etām probably refers to the feminine noun śānti (literally: “he should pour that [ten-​gaṇa-​ śānti]”). But it also clearly denotes water, given the verb “pouring” (niṣecayet). This assumption is supported by an earlier, similar passage, which we have already encountered: “for the purpose of bathing he should pour” (snapanārthā niṣecayet). There the term snapanārthā refers to the śānti water (apas). Given this odd use of the term “ten-​gaṇa-​śānti,” we must conclude that the word śānti (or mahāśānti) is therefore synonymous with śānti water. In other words, the text means to say that the waters produced from reciting only ten—​rather than eighteen—​of the prescribed mantra groups should be used for the purpose of washing horses and vehicles. In the same way we can infer that the combination of eighteen mantra groups and sacrificial dregs also produces a form of śānti water. These waters must be the same as those “meant for bathing” mentioned at the outset of the ritual. This culminating bath occurs toward the end of the text (step 24), following an offering to the demons (in steps 19–​23): “then he should bathe [the sponsor] with the [following] mantras.”147 While the object here is unspecified, it seems

146. aṣṭādaśagaṇaiḥ sarvair mahāśāntiḥ smṛtā buddhaiḥ | parān aṣṭau gaṇān muktvā yac cādho nāirṛtasya vai || 3 || eṣā daśagaṇā proktā śāntir nityā manīṣibhiḥ | etām arvānayānādau [?]‌ snapanārthaṃ niṣecayet || 4 || ŚK 2.24 || Translation from Bolling, “The Çāntikalpa” (1904), 121. 147.  mantrair āplāvayet tataḥ (ŚK 2.24.7d). The mantras are supplied in the following verse: AVŚ 4.40.1, 1.31.1, 4.18.1, 6.19.1, 51.1, 35.1. It is not unnatural to read the verb āplāvayet (from ā√plu, “to bathe or wash”) as a synonym of snapana (bathing) in the phrase snapanārtha. While semantically equivalent, āplāvayet may be used here for metrical reasons. Furthermore, one of Kauśika’s paribhāṣas states that the acts of bathing (āplavana) and binding of amulets

62

62

Rit es of t he God -K ing

safe to assume that it is the sponsor himself who is bathed with śānti waters.148 Bolling concurs, supplying “the person to be benefited by the ritual.”149 Following this bath the ritualist binds the sponsor with an amulet (step 25), dresses him (step 26), and cooks a pot of rice (steps 27–​28). Then the concluding half of the New and Full Moon Sacrifice is completed (step 29) and the ritual closed with the feeding of the brahmins (step 30) and the payment of the sacrificial fee (step 31). From what we have seen so far it should be clear that the production of and bathing with śānti water forms the primary preoccupation of the ritual. There are, to be sure, several other elements involved, most notably the offering of numerous plants, the protection of the house, the offering to demons, and the amulet binding. But the order of these rituals seems to imply a clear logic. The mantras employed suggest that the first two acts are meant to secure the ritual space; the final three acts are meant to aid and protect the ritual sponsor. In this way we may understand the final amulet binding as extending the protective space of the ritual after the fact, so to speak, and supplementing the śānti water bath. Given the number of mantras used in the production of the waters, however, the bath itself appears to be the distinctive feature of this ritual. It is both continuous with applications of śānti water in the Kauśikasūtra, and it also sets a standard that will be repeated in other śānti rituals to be encountered in the subsequent Vedic-​ Hindu ritual tradition. I would dwell here on the significant continuity of this ritual with the earlier tradition; śānti water is not the only element of the mahāśānti paradigm that builds on the techniques of the Kauśikasūtra. Take, for example, the hymn recited in the ritual protection of the dwelling (steps 11–​16). Each verse of AVŚ

require the use of saṃpāta remainders (āśyabandhyāplavanayānabhakṣāṇi saṃpātavanti | KauśS 1.7.15). In other words the waters used for bathing and the substances comprising the amulet should be mixed with the remains of butter offerings. Since the śāntyudaka has been mixed with saṃpāta, the verb āplavana is technically appropriate here. 148. In the following section (ŚK 2.25.2) the object of the causative paridhāpayet (in this case a person “made to wear” an amulet) is also left unspecified. Other, less likely objects of bathing are the performer of the ritual himself or the sacrificer’s wife, both of whom are smeared with saṃpāta remainders in the previous verse: “Having made an offering while reciting the āyuṣya gaṇa, he should put the remainders on himself. Having made an offering while reciting the patnīvanta [gaṇa] he should put the remainders on the wife” (āyuṣyaṃ gaṇaṃ hutvā ātmani sampātān ānayati | patnīva(n)taṃ hutvā patnyāṃ || 2.24.6c–​f ||). 149.  Within the wide scope of applications for this ritual, various potential sponsors are named, for instance, political elites seeking kingship, prosperity for a kingdom, or protection of one’s army; brahmins seeking prestige in theological knowledge (brahmavarcas) or mastery over poetic meter; or property owners whose livestock has perished or who seek to consecrate a house (ŚK 2.17). Likewise the section on the sacrificial fee (dakṣiṇā) proposes that the ritual could be sponsored by any of the three twice-​born varṇas (brahmins, kings, or vaiśyas).

63



The Inception of a Ritual Category

63

5.10 requests protection from one of the directions by repeating the following formula: “My stone-​defense art thou; whoever from the eastern quarter (etc.), malicious, shall assail me, this may he come upon.”150 This hymn seems particularly apposite in this ritual, in which stones smeared with the saṃpāta dregs are placed in each of the ten directions (steps 11–​13). In this way a “stone defense” is erected around the dwelling where the ritual takes place. This quite literal enactment of AVŚ 5.10 is not unprecedented; as Bolling notes, a simpler version occurs in the Kauśikasūtra. There the same hymn is recited as stones are implanted in the corners of a dwelling:  “Reciting ‘aśvavarma me’ (AVŚ 5.10) he implants six stones (smeared) with the (saṃpāta) dregs of clarified butter under the corners [of the house].”151 In the Śāntikalpa the number of directions increases to ten. The text also prescribes that another circle be smeared above the door, in which are placed the staff, ten leaves, and the other plants.152 But these changes are hardly dramatic; the essential meaning of the mantra is preserved in the ritual action.153 Another example of technical continuity with the Kauśikasūtra appears in the mantras accompanying the amuletic substances in Śāntikalpa 2.19. As Bolling notes, “all hymns except three are rubricated in the KauśS for the tying on of amulets as are here prescribed.”154 In all, the Śāntikalpa prescribes thirty-​three mantras to be recited with thirty-​two amuletic substances. Ten of these mantras are taken from AVŚ 19, which was unknown to the Kauśikasūtra. Of the remaining

150. That ten directions—​cardinal and intermediate, the fixed and upward—​are intended here is indicated by the use of ten stones in the ritual (2.22.1d), as well as by the hymn itself, which addresses the cardinal points in verses 1–​4, the fixed and upward directions in verses 5–​6, and the intermediate quarters together in verse 7. 151.  aśmavarma me iti ṣaḍ aśmanaḥ saṃpātavataḥ sraktiṣu pari adhastān nikhanati | KauśS 7.2[51].14 | It is probable that the sūtra intends the recitation of the first six verses of AVŚ 5.10, which are addressed to each of the six directions, excluding the intermediate directions. 152. This additional circle seems to fall outside of the literal scope of the hymn, but it incorporates the materials for the amuletic string to be included in the ritual, since the same sacrificial dregs applied to the stones are also smeared on the amulet materials. The amuletic string “pratisara” (in the phrase pratisarasya vai “[these things are] for the amuletic string,” ŚK 2.22.1) serves as an optional amulet for those substances listed in ŚK 2.19.8: “Alternatively, [one may employ] a pratisara in all cases” (pratisaraṃ vā sarvatra). 153. Similarly the section ends with the offering made with AVŚ 3.26, yet another hymn seeking protection from the directions, which are subsequently to be worshipped with AVŚ 3.27. Both hymns have also been employed in tandem in a ritual for the protection of an army (KauśS 2.5[14].23), in a ritual of good fortune (KauśS 50.13). Although in the Kauśikasūtra AVŚ 3.26–​ 27 and AVŚ 5.10 each governs separate rites, they have been brought together for the first time here in the mahāśānti paradigm. 154. Bolling, “The Çāntikalpa” (1904), 88.

64

64

Rit es of t he God -K ing

twenty-​two amulets prescribed, eighteen are mentioned by Kauśika in reference to binding an amulet made of the same substance.155 That so many pairings of mantras and amulets are shared by the two texts demonstrates that the authors of the Śāntikalpa were well versed in the established conventions for amulets. These and other examples show that the mahāśānti was crafted well within the bounds of Atharvan ritual technique.156 But a somewhat more dramatic transformation can be seen in the area of omen divination. While the Atharvan tradition had been experimenting with divination throughout the Kauśikasūtra—​and especially in the “Book of Omens”—​the Śāntikalpa shows a more complex understanding of omen taxonomy, which may betray a deeper engagement with the astrological tradition. For one, the text refers to the mahāśānti ritual as the “great appeasement of omens”— adbhutamahāśānti.157 Later the āmṛtā mahāśānti—​the first variant and, as we have seen, the “paradigm for all other śānti rituals”—​is prescribed in the case of “[omens] of the earth, atmosphere, and heavens.”158 Essentially the same statement appears in the introduction to the text, as a general account of the mahāśānti: “The mahāśānti appeases danger arising in the heavens, earth, atmosphere, or elsewhere.”159 The triad of earth, atmosphere, and heavens (bhauma, antarikṣa, divya) appears in a standard divination text, the sixth-​century Bṛhatsaṃhitā, as a conventional scheme for omen classification.160 According to its author, Varāhamihira, the list of portents, thus classified, is based on the astrological text of the sage Garga, whose omen compendium (Gārgīyajyotiṣa) has been 155. One additional mantra is found in the Kauśikasūtra with the same amuletic substance as in the Śāntikalpa, although in Kauśika the substance is eaten rather than bound as an amulet, according to Bahulkar, Medical Ritual, 159. 156.  As a final example, we may point to the congruence of the sacrificial fees (dakṣiṇās) prescribed in the Śāntikalpa and Kauśika’s “Book of Omens.” The paribhāṣā chapter of Kauśikasūtra 13 supplies the following fees, applicable to all of the omens in the text:  “A brahmin (who sponsors the ritual) should give to the performer an excellent ox, or if he is a vaiśya, a plough ox, if he is a landowner, a horse, and if he is a king, [he should give] an excellent village” (varam anaḍvāham brāhmaṇaḥ kartre dadyāt || 16 || sīraṃ vaiśyo aśvaṃ prādeśiko grāmavaraṃ rājā || 17 || KauśS 13.2 [94] ||). In the Śāntikalpa we find a modified versification of the same dakṣiṇās: “A brahmin should give ten cows and an additional ox. A vaiśya should give an additional plough ox. A landowner should give a horse. A king should give an excellent village” (brāhmaṇo daśa gā dadyād anaḍvāhaṃ tato adhikam | sīrādhikaṃ tato vaiśyas tathā prādeśiko hayam || 4 || rājā dadyād varaṃ grāmaṃ samūho rājavat tathā | 5ab | 2.25 |). 157. ŚK 2.14.1. 158. amṛtām divyāntarikṣabhaumeṣu prayuñjīta | ŚK 2.17.1 | 159. divyaṁ vā pārthivaṁ vāpy āntarikṣam athāpi vā | mahāśāntiḥ śamayati anyad vā bhayam utthitam || 1.1.3 || 160. See for example Bṛhatsaṃhitā 45.4–​6.

65



The Inception of a Ritual Category

65

dated near the turn of the common era.161 This unpublished collection reportedly contains a chapter titled Śāntikalpa, though the text shares little common content with its Atharvan counterpart.162 Nevertheless it seems prudent to assume that the Atharvan tradition at this time was at least aware of the emergent divinatory tradition.163 Further indication of a nascent interchange between Atharvans and astrologers is evident in the prominence of the nine planets, or Navagrahas, who were objects of particular concern within the growing corpus of astrological texts and would became popular cultic objects by the early medieval period.164 The planets appear repeatedly in the Śāntikalpa, which mentions the “terrible affliction of the planets” (grahaghorābhitapta) among the calamities for which the mahāśānti is a means of removal (vimocanī).165 The planets are also objects of one of the major introductory rituals, which I discuss further in ­chapter 3.166 For now I highlight one narrative passage from this text, which demonstrates specific knowledge of the astrological/​astronomical context in which the planets operate: The planets were sons of the gods, namely, Uśanas (Venus), Āṅgiras ( Jupiter), Sūrya (the Sun), Prajāpatyaḥ [Mars?], Somaḥ (the Moon), Ketu (comet), Budhaḥ (Mercury), Śanaiścara (Saturn), Rāhu (the eclipse). These ones approached Brahmā, saying, “worthy one, give us a share of the sacrifice!” Brahmā said to them: “Follow in turn among the 28 nakṣatras (lunar mansions). Let Rāhu be seen at the times of the parvans (nodes) of

161. On Garga, see Mitchiner, The Yuga Purāṇa; Pingree, Census of the Exact Sciences, A2: 116–​ 20; Zysk, The Indian System; Geslani, et al. “Garga and Early Astral Science.” 162.  The relationship between these two śāntikalpas has yet to be determined. Mitchiner’s summary of this text, Gārgīyajyotiṣa 38, includes five parts: (i) śānti for cows (gavāṃ śānti); (ii) śānti for an epidemic (janamāraśānti); (iii) a second part to the śānti for an epidemic (janamāraśāntike dvitīyaḥ paṭalaḥ); (iv) explanation of the śānti for an epidemic; (v) (kālajñāne śāntikalpo vāmopāṅga) (Mitchiner, The Yuga Purāṇa, 108). I have reviewed four manuscripts of this Śāntikalpa. It contains at least three separate ritual instructions in verse and prose, with no overarching textual structure. So far I find no portions corresponding to the Atharvan sources. 163. As I discuss in c­ hapter 2, the Atharvavedapariśiṣṭas include a number of astronomical chapters, some of which are attributed to the sage Garga. 164. Note that the planets in this passage are not mentioned in the weekday order, which could be a sign of its early date. For more on the planets, see Bühnemann, “The Heavenly Bodies”; Yano, “Planet Worship”; Markel, Origins of the Indian Planetary Deities; Kropf, “Rituelle Traditionen.” 165. ŚK 1.1.5. 166. ŚK 1.10–​18.

6

66

Rit es of t he God -K ing

the sun and moon.” The gods said: “whoever’s nakṣatra becomes afflicted by a planet—​for him no aim succeeds, nor for the land or the village.”167 By itself the story seems to mark the basic novelty of planetary worship in the Vedic context: the planets need the god Brahmā’s permission to gain their share of the sacrifice. But their introduction also requires an understanding of astronomical details. Apart from the eclipse (Rāhu), which the text describes astronomically, as the node of the sun and moon, the crucial issue is the relationship between the planets and the Nakṣatras.168 The Nakṣatras are a group of twenty-​ seven or twenty-​eight fixed stars or constellations.169 Together they constitute a celestial map, which was used in Vedic times to track the daily movement of the moon. Here, then, the text concedes that the planets are mobile asterisms like the moon (in fact they include the moon); their movements can be traced across the celestial map of the stars. Referring to the ensuing conjunctions of fixed Nakṣatras and mobile planets, the text then explains, “Whoever’s nakṣatra becomes afflicted (or seized) by a planet—​for him no aim succeeds” (atha yasya nakṣatraṃ graheṇārtaṃ bhavati nāsyārthāḥ sidhyanti). The idea that a nakṣatra could “belong” to a given person may suggest an awareness of an early, Nakṣatra-​ based form of astrology, in which certain asterisms are assigned to an individual at birth.170 It is plausible that “aim” (artha) in this passage refers to a ritual aim—​typically marriage or house building—​and thus the text may link specific knowledge of the conjunctions of planets and Nakṣatras to other rituals of Vedic domestic life.171 The planets, in this sense, have the power to block the efforts

167. devaputrā vai grahā uśanā āṅgirāḥ sūryaḥ prajāpatyaḥ somaḥ ketur budhaḥ śanaiścaro rāhur ity || 1 || ete brahmāṇam upasuasrur bhāgadheyaṃ no bhagavan kalpayasveti || 2 || tān abravīd brahmā aṣṭāviṁśatinakṣatreṣu paryāyeṇa carata rāhuḥ somārkayoḥ parvakāleṣu dṛśyatām iti || 3 || te devā abruvann atha yasya nakṣatraṃ graheṇārtaṃ bhavati nāsyārthāḥ sidhyanti || 4 || . . . deśasya grāmasya vā || 6 || ŚK 1.11 || 168. On the eclipse, see Montelle, Chasing Shadows. 169. For a summary of lunar astronomy, see Yano, “Calendar, Astrology, and Astronomy.” 170. For instance, in contemporary Indian astrology the birth nakṣatra—​the asterism under which one is born—​is of particular importance. See Pugh, “Person and Experience,” 78–​82; Kane, History of Dharmaśāstra, 5.1:528–​32. The presence of a nakṣatra-​based astrology in this text may also testify to the early date of this passage, since traditional horoscopy—​as in Mīnarāja’s Bṛhadyavanajātaka and Varāhamihira’s Bṛhajjātaka—​was based on the position of the planets in the solar zodiac (rāśi). A system of astrology based on the position of the moon (and not the planets) in the nakṣatras can be found in the early part of the Śārdūlakarṇāvadāna (first–​second centuries ce). I thank Michio Yano and Bill Mak for clarifying these points. 171. In the astrological tradition it becomes clear that the crucial rituals are marriage and house building. See Pugh, “Into the Almanac.”

67



The Inception of a Ritual Category

67

of the person whose nakṣatra they “seize.” We have seen that a similar notion of “affliction” by planets or nakṣatras also figures in the “Bhṛgu” variant of the mahāśānti. So while this origin myth betrays the novelty of planetary worship in the Vedic context, its description of planetary movement suggests that astrological thought had become practical in Vedic ritual settings: the supposed sponsor of the mahāśānti is not only the Vedic-​domestic client of the early Atharvan tradition but now an astrological subject, potentially individuated by horoscopy. The evidence thus far does not paint an overly clear picture of this early Atharvan-​astrological relationship. But a look ahead to the Appendices of the Atharvaveda offers at least a preliminary picture. In that text, as we will see, the Atharvans have incorporated a rather large corpus of detailed omen catalogs that are explicitly attributed to astrological authorities. The lack of taxonomic specificity in the earlier Śāntikalpa seems rather anemic by comparison. Now if we acknowledge that the triad “terrestrial, atmospheric, and divine” had become a conventional classificatory scheme in the wider tradition of omen divination, then its deployment in the Śāntikalpa may have served a strategic purpose: rather than reproducing an encyclopedia of specific omens and corresponding ritual countermeasures, the Atharvans offer a single ritual—​the amṛtā mahāśānti—​ supposedly able to counter all of them. Perhaps the early concern was not to master a growing body of inauspicious signs with exactitude but rather to contain this body of knowledge within a single ritual remedy. This scenario would suggest a potentially competitive stance toward Jyotiḥśāstra. In any case the astrological context of the Śāntikalpa raises an important theoretical question: How exactly does this ritual “appease” omens? The text is not overly clear, but there are some brief indications. The discussion of planetary worship concludes with the following statement: Just as an impending yantra (implement) is countered by a yantra, so may this appeasement destroy the impending terrible confluence (of a planet and nakṣatra).172 Just as armor is a means of warding off the blows of weapons, so let this appeasement be a means for warding off divine afflictions.173 This passage appears to draw on the discourse of sorcery (abhicāra) to explain the workings of the planetary ritual. Divine afflictions—​likely indicated by the 172. śīghram may also mean “quickly.” The preceding passage, however, mentions that the planets afflict the person with whose nakṣatra they coincide. 173.  yathā samutthitaṃ yantraṃ yantreṇa pratihanyate | evaṃ samutthitaṃ ghoraṃ śīghraṃ śāntir vināśayet || 1 || yathā śastraprahārāṇāṃ kavacaṃ bhavati vāraṇam | evaṃ daivopaghātānāṃ śāntir bhavati vāraṇam || 2 || ŚK 1.18 ||

68

68

Rit es of t he God -K ing

confluence of planets and Nakṣatras—​may be effectively blocked by Atharvan ritual means, much like the spells (ghora) of an aggressive sorcerer. The text resorts to the language of possession, affliction, attack, and counterattack—​ terms appropriate to the Atharvan mantric repertoire of abhicāra, a theme we will meet again in ­chapter 2. Of course this passage is not presented as a general theory of the mahāśānti; it occurs in conjunction with an introductory ritual. Nonetheless the basic principles of spiritual warfare may still prove relevant to the logic of the mahāśānti, which in one passage is said to have been prescribed to Indra when he was “afflicted by demons” (dānavair abhimṛṣṭasya).174 The language of “warding off afflictions” connotes a physical struggle against an aggressive foe. But the astrological setting seems to change the direction of the attack (upaghāta), positing the source of maliciousness in the heavens (daiva). At the same time the attack scenario imparts a measure of intentionality to celestial “foes” like the planets. Wherever the danger may come from, the essential image of bodily protection remains at the core of the mahāśānti scenario: a sponsor is bathed with a concoction of waters. These waters bear a special relationship—​a relationship of identity—​with a large group of mantras of varying effects. This identity takes on a material dimension in the sacrificial dregs, a key ingredient in śānti water and—​ like the waters themselves—​another medium for mantric speech. These media, then, allow for mantras to be applied to the body of the sponsor. Ultimately it is the mantras, armor-​like, that ward off divine attack. Finally, if the text intends the amṛtā śānti by itself to counter an entire catalog of omens from the astrological tradition, then what do we make of the thirty variants of this ritual supplied in Śāntikalpa 2.17? In the first place the format of this list of occasions differs significantly from that of the “Book of Omens” in Kauśikasūtra 13. That text, we may recall, listed forty-​two inauspicious occasions, such as “abnormal rains, the appearance of spirits (yakṣas), strife in the family, earthquakes,” all rendered in the locative case in the form of protases (“In the case of abnormal rains, etc.”). In contrast, while the Śāntikalpa includes some portents (such as a whirlwind, strife in the family, tearing of cloth), these are counterbalanced by objects of desire, for instance, for one who desires purity, or prestige in theological knowledge and poetic meter. In fact the entire

174. “Previously, Bṛhaspati recommended this mahāśānti as a protection to Indra when he was afflicted by demons. One who suspects bad luck, a charm or spell (against him), defeat (in battle), or desires growth and prosperity should perform the mahāśānti” (dānavair abhimṛṣṭasya mahendrasya purā kila | mahāśāntiṃ paritrāṇīṃ bṛhaspatir amanyata || 1 || anayaṃ valagaṃ kṛtyāṃ śāṅkhamānaḥ parājayam | icchann ṛddiṃ samṛddhiṃ ca mahāśāntiṃ prayojayet || 2 || ŚK 1.2 ||).

69



The Inception of a Ritual Category

69

list seems undergirded by the oppositional pair of “desire” on the one hand and either “destruction” or “fear” on the other, following the formulae “for one who desires x” (x-​kāmasya), “in the case of the destruction of y” (y-​kṣaye), “in the case of fear of z” (z-​bhaye). For example, the śānti associated with prajāpati is to be employed “for one who desires offspring (prajā), cattle or food, or in the case of the destruction of offspring” (2.17.2).175 Thus, quite beyond the scope of omens, variants of the mahāśānti are also meant to satisfy a number of “worldly desires,” or kāmas.176 Once again many of these desires have direct parallels in the Kauśikasūtra. For instance, some of them appear in a chapter from the Kauśikasūtra that focuses on kāmas, including longevity (āyus),177 success (sampad),178 strength (bala),179 and “all desires” (sarvakāma).180 Prestige in theological knowledge (brahmavarcas), which is granted by the mahāśāntis of Brahman and Bṛḥaspati, is also promised by several different rituals from the Kauśikasūtra.181 Numerous other examples could be adduced, including rituals for military victory, wealth, and curing disease. It would be no exaggeration to say that the list of desires satisfied by the variants of the mahāśānti represents a veritable catalog of the traditional services rendered by the Kauśikasūtra, which has long been recognized as a repository for such worldly aims. The important difference, however, is that these aims have been set within a new ritual scheme, whose paradigm, as we have seen, is intended

175. Similarly the śānti associated with Kubera, the god of wealth, is to be employed “for one who desires wealth, or in the case of destruction of wealth” (2.17.3). One or more of these three terms, “desiring,” “destruction of,” or “fear of,” appears in at least twenty-​four out of the remaining twenty-​nine occasions for the various śāntis (besides the amṛtā-​śānti). The term kāma occurs seventeen times; kṣaya, eight times; bhaya, five times. 176. See Einoo, “From Kāmas to Siddhis.” 177. KauśS 7.10 [59].1. Health is serviced by the śānti of the Sun (āditya) at ŚK 2.17.3, but is also related to the śānti of the “All-​Gods” (viśve devāḥ), which is to be employed “for those whose life-​span is gone” (gatāyuṣām) (2.17.1), and thus perhaps in the sense of “desiring health” rather than simply “dead,” as translated by Bolling. The same association is found in the KauśS, where the viśve devāḥ are the object of worship for one desiring health. 178. KauśS 7.10 [59].4; 15. The term occurs as the aim of the śānti of Aṅgiras (ŚK 2.17.2). sampad is also the aim of KauśS 2.2[11].11–​3[12].4. Keśava titles this passage “Rituals for All Successes” (sarvasampadānāṃ karmāṇi). 179. KauśS 7.10 [59].5, where it is associated with Indra. The same association obtains in the śānti to Indra (ŚK 2.17.2). 180. KauśS 7.10 [59].20. This aim is granted by the śānti of Agni (ŚK 2.17.1). 181. Other rituals in the Kauśikasūtra promise wisdom and victory in debate, for instance the ritual for the “production of wisdom” medhājanana, KauśS 2.1 [10], and the series rituals offering victory in debate, and power in assembly, KauśS 5.2[38].17–​30.

70

70

Rit es of t he God -K ing

to appease all types of omens. We find, then, in the Śāntikalpa not only a newly constructed ritual—​which, though technically nascent, was nonexistent as a category in the Kauśikasūtra—​but also a broad reorganization of the specialties of that sūtra in terms of this new ritual mode.

Orthopraxy on the Move Reading the Śāntikalpa in light of the Kauśikasūtra offers a prime example of innovation within orthopraxy. Multiple instruments, including amulets, śānti water, and sacrificial dregs, circulated freely in the dense system of early Atharvan praxis before they became crystallized—​elaborated, refashioned, and reorganized—​in the mahāśānti. At the heart of these ritual techniques is śānti water, a uniquely Atharvan product, whose preparation instills the mantric essence of the fourth Veda in a most dispensable, material form. At first this implement was applied rather innocuously—​if ubiquitously—​in Atharvan ceremonial, substituted in cases in which other Vedic schools were content to sprinkle “plain old” water. Yet in the mahāśānti ritual, śānti water ascends to the summit of the fire sacrifice, its elaborate preparation taking over the main offering. From what we have seen so far, śānti is not a natural category. Indeed the word scarcely appears in the early Atharvavedasaṃhitā at all. To trace the history of śānti water is to appreciate this fact. From the beginning the word has meant something more than the mere concept of “appeasement.” It denotes a grouping of the Atharvan mantras themselves, and as such it serves as a complex sign for the eclectic powers of the Bhṛgvaṅgirovid: to heal, to repel, to assail, to rectify. Therein perhaps lies its compelling power—​its applicability in so many Atharvan stratagems. For while in all of their endeavors the priests of the Atharvaveda may have remained safely within the bounds of their orthopraxy, they also extended their skills in new and surprising directions, their traditional expertise now framed by novel contexts, such as omenology. We have seen the Atharvan tradition adapt in successive stages to the demands of this new knowledge, at first accommodating portents within the system of ritual atonements (prāyaścitti). It is in this realm that śānti waters were said to restore the broken sacrifice, thus signaling the qualification of the Atharvan brahmán to remedy ritual errors. But as the heyday of the solemn sacrifice dimmed, the culture of appeasement emerged on its fringes: śānti became a ritual, and omens its main object. Thus omens occupy a central concern of the mahāśānti, whose paradigm is geared toward their systematic destruction, even as it carries forward many of the traditional “this-​worldly” aims of the Kauśikasūtra:

71



The Inception of a Ritual Category

71

In the amṛtā (mahāśānti) the mantra is: “For śānti you are Śānti, you are Mahāśānti, more abundant, more opulent, more excellent! Namas to you! May it make my lifespan (āyus) long, the longest lifespan!”182 This mantra does more than pair the old Indo-​European āyus with the newer word śānti. Remember that the amṛtā form of the mahāśānti—​the first variant and the paradigm for all others—​is prescribed for omens of the earth, atmos­ phere, and heavens. At the same time it is also called the “cure-​all” or “panacea” (viśvabheṣajī). Implicit, then, in the proposal that the “Great Appeasement” ritual confers long life may be an entirely new etiology of illness. Through śānti the traditional Atharvan terms for allaying misfortune—​healing (bheṣaja), safety (abhaya), victory (jaya)—​are reframed in an astrological idiom, their old remedies rerouted through the paths of marvelous signs.

182. amṛtāyāṃ śāntaye śāntir asi mahāśāntir asi bhūyasī vasīyasī śreyasī namo ‘stu paramāyur dīrgham āyuḥ kṛṇotu ma iti || ŚK 2.18.1 ||

72

2

The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

Appeasement as Priestly Ideology Although they presume their own ideal power relations, for the most part ritual manuals do not argue. That work falls to other kinds of texts. With regard to the solemn sacrifice it is the task of the speculative brāhmaṇas to reveal the meaning and purpose of ritual details, lending discursive voice to prescribed action. The brāhmaṇas were transmitted separately from and redacted prior to the codification of the śrautasūtras, the first systematic ritual manuals, and the relation between the two genres remains a complex issue. Even so, there is no doubt that the Vedic tradition was always sensitive to the problem of ritual meaning, the need to explain the countless specifications of yajña. The subsequent Brahmanical exegetical tradition (mīmāṁsā) would take up the task of reifying a theoretical distinction between prescription and interpretation in the endless labor of differentiating ritual injunctions (vidhi) from statements of purpose (arthavāda) in the Vedic canon. The Atharvan Gopathabrāhmaṇa operated in precisely this way, explaining ritual details from the solemn Vaitānasūtra, such as the use of śānti water in establishing the sacrificial fire, and weaving its specific ritual interpretations together with a broader agenda: the Atharvan claim to the position of brahmán. No such explanatory text accompanies the Śāntikalpa. There, at the point where śānti becomes an independent ritual, the Atharvan tradition is relatively silent, leaving few clues as to the larger context and motivation for this nascent ritual category.1 The opening lines of the Appendices (Pariśiṣṭas) of the Atharvaveda, however, fill this discursive void in a dramatic way, indicating

1.  At best the text managed to reiterate the multiple benefits of the mahāśānti in a short opening tract.

73



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

73

the role of śānti in yet another, distinctly this-​worldly project pursued by the Atharvan school:2 Oṃ! Bowing to Brahmā, to the Brahmaveda (i.e., the Atharvaveda), and to the supreme Rudra, I will explain the remaining instructions belonging to the Atharva. Daiva (fate, divine ordinance) is all-​surpassing. Human effort is merely a secondary cause. By means of daiva, which is very secret, one is able to conquer the earth. Between daiva and human effort, daiva is the best. Therefore, a king should worship daiva in particular. Therefore, a king, with conciliating and honorific acts, and monetary gifts, should always obtain an astrologer and a purohita, who know daiva and ritual. [It is said that] “A king without an astrologer is like a child without a father. And a king without an Atharvan [purohita] is like a child without a mother. A king without a physician is as if alone in the midst of enemies.” A king desirous of righteously conquering the entire world should choose a bhārgava guru who is possessed of knowledge and auspicious marks. For only Prajāpati alone truly knows the design of the fourfold ritual, and he has no regard for the Triple Veda. Whatever is appeased by a fraction of the Atharvaveda is not appeased by the other three [Vedas]. In the three worlds, knowledge arises from the Brahmaveda (alone). Atharvan discharges terrible (spells), just as he appeases omens. Atharvan protects the sacrifice. Aṅgiras is lord of the sacrifice. Various are the omens arising in the earth, atmosphere, and heavens. One who knows the Brahmaveda is [their] appeaser. Therefore Bhṛgu is the protector. The brahmán alone should appease, not the adhvaryu (of the Yajurveda), chandoga (Sāmaveda), nor the bahvṛc (Ṛgveda). The brahmán guards against what is harmful, therefore he who knows the Atharva is brahmán. Therefore for the protection of the army, for the increase of one’s kingdom, and for the sake of śānti, a king should choose a bhārgava priest as his guru.3

2. In the extant collection of Pariśiṣṭas, the Nakṣatrakalpa—​a title of one of the five traditional ritual manuals of the Atharvaveda—​occupies the first position (AVPŚ 1). The first line of AVPŚ 2, however, appears to announce the start of a new text (pravakṣyāmi śeṣam ātharvanaṃ vidhim). 3.  om | brahmaṇe brahmavedāya rudrāya parameṣṭhine | namaskṛtya pravakṣyāmi śeṣam ātharvaṇaṃ vidhim || 1 || daivaṃ prabhavate śreṣṭhaṃ hetumātraṃ tu pauruṣam | daivena tu suguptena śakto jetuṃ vasuṃdharām || 2 || daivāt puruṣakārāc ca daivam eva viśiṣyate | tasmād daivaṃ viśeṣeṇa pūjayet tu mahīpatiḥ || 3 || daivakarmavidau tasmāt sāṃvatsarapurohitau | gṛhṇīyāt satataṃ rājā dānasaṃmānarañjanaiḥ || 4 || apitā tu yathā bālas tathāsāṃvatsaro nṛpaḥ | amātṛko yathā bālas tathātharvavivarjitaḥ | arimadhye yathaikākī tathā vaidyavivarjitaḥ || 5

74

74

Rit es of t he God -K ing

The text blends traditional Atharvan themes—​the superiority of the Atharvan brahmán and the insufficiency of the Triple Veda—​with a new concern:  the primacy of daiva in the realm of human affairs. Deriving from deva (god), and ultimately from div (sky, heaven), the word daiva is not easily translated. Here it contrasts with human effort or will (puruṣakāra) and thus implies a kind of superhuman power, though it remains unclear whether this power is to be understood as a sentient form of “divine will” or an insentient “fate.” But if its etymology opens to a range of meanings, it is the astrological rather than theological aspect of the term that comes to the fore here. Recall that daiva also refers to one of the three primary classes of omens (those appearing in the sky), which are mentioned later in the passage. The intended audience of the text is the king, who should not rely on human effort (puruṣakāra) alone, since effort may be nullified by the dictates of fate. Indeed the conquest of the earth—​the defining act of the royal office—​is made possible through the agency of fate (daivena). The text also highlights the inscrutability (sugupta) of daiva, justifying the need for special knowledge in its management. To that end it recognizes the existence of astrologers (sāṃvatsaras) as distinct from and yet partnered with purohitas, or royal chaplains. As part of the solution to the problem of fate, the king should choose an astrologer and a purohita (sāṃvatsarapurohitau) who, together, are “versed in fate and ritual” (daivakarmavidau). I take the second adjective to mean that the astrologer knows fate, while the purohita knows ritual. In the arena of kingship, then, fate and ritual are tied together, and so too the astrologer and royal chaplain are imagined as a kind of team—​a professional division of labor not made explicit in earlier Atharvan texts, including the Śāntikalpa. The partnership also differs from the comparatively cumbersome, four-​member roster of the traditional Vedic sacrifice. The Vedic sacrifice does, however, appear in the following section, in which, as in the Gopathabrāhmaṇa, appeasement serves as an argument for Atharvan superiority over the Triple Veda. Śānti, the text claims, is a means for protecting the sacrifice and is the province of the Atharvan brahmán alone, the priests of the Triple Veda being underqualified. And yet what must be appeased is not

|| dharmeṇa pṛthivīṃ kṛtsnāṃ vijayiṣyan mahīpatiḥ | vidyālakṣaṇasaṃpannaṃ bhārgavaṃ varayed gurum || 6 || caturvidhasya karmaṇo veda[_​?]tattvena niścayam | prajāpatir athaiko hi na vedatrayam īkṣate || 7 || AVPŚ 2.1 || atharvabhinnaṃ yac chāntaṃ tac chāntaṃ netarais tribhiḥ | vijñānaṃ triṣu lokeṣu jāyate brahmavedataḥ || 1 || atharvā sṛjate ghoram adbhutaṃ śamayet tathā | atharvā rakṣate yajñaṃ yajñasya patir aṅgirāḥ || 2 || divyāntarikṣabhaumānām utpātānām anekadhā | śamayitā brahmavedajñas tasmād rakṣitā bhṛguḥ || 3 || brahmā śamayen nādhvaryur na chandogo na bahvṛcaḥ | rakṣāṃsi rakṣati brahmā brahmā tasmād atharvavit || 4 || senāyā rakṣaṇe tasmāt svarāṣṭraparivṛddhaye | śāntyarthaṃ ca mahīpālo vṛṇuyād bhārgavaṃ gurum || 5 || AVPŚ 2.2 ||

75



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

75

the sacrifice itself—​broken by ritual error or threatened by one of its dangerous elements—​but rather the omens arising in the earth, atmosphere, and heavens. Here the post-​Vedic text seems to reverse Vedic sacrificial thought: whereas the mature sacrifice operated as a kind of mesocosm, creatively linked to the orderly continuance of the natural world, here it is the Atharvan’s power to appease (śamayati) portentous signs—​manifesting beyond the sacrificial grounds—​that defends the sacrifice.4 The Vedic yajña, then, has hardly been forgotten, but it is framed by other, more worldly interests. In addition to guarding the sacrifice, śānti guarantees the safety and prosperity of the king’s army and indeed of his entire realm. Similarly, while the Atharvan priest is called brahmán (and also guru), it is clear that he is not the same fourth priest of the old śrauta regime but in fact the purohita, the king’s personal “chaplain,” who functions as the primary agent of the rituals in the Appendices. Hence the text recommends the selection of a bhārgava—​a descend­ ant of the Atharvan seer Bhṛgu—​“for the sake of śānti” (śāntyartham). We will see just how this recommendation is substantiated by a robust ritual repertoire, but note first the abstract use of the term śānti, which signals the palpably self-​ conscious dimension of the term in the Appendices. Prowess in śānti has become an essential element of Atharvan discourse, and appeasement, a powerful idiom for the ritual expertise wielded by the purohita. In this way we find a seemingly gradual technical evolution—​from ritual instrument to ritual category—​at last punctuated by an explicit social and political argument, which wagers royal success and the prosperity of the realm on a specific definition of priesthood. It is in the duties of the purohita that a fully realized “culture” of appeasement comes to life.

Purohita Like the brahmán, the office of purohita—​in one form or another—​is quite ancient, though its role in the solemn sacrifice and its relation with the other orders of the Vedic priesthood remain points of controversy.5 Indisputable, however, is that the purohita was closely related to the king—​elected by him as a lifelong servant—​and that his definitive function was to be the king’s protection, as a kind of spiritual, and even physical, bodyguard. Hence the literal meaning of purohita: the “one placed in front.” Citing numerous passages from Vedic hymns

4. For a summary of ṛta and sacrifice see, Jamison and Witzel, “Vedic Hinduism,” 96–​101. 5. Oldenberg, The Religion of the Veda, 209–​13; Inden, “Changes in the Vedic Priesthood.”

76

76

Rit es of t he God -K ing

that mention the protective function of “foregoing” and “foreplacement,” Gonda derived the meaning of the position as follows: “The purohita was initially that one who was placed in front—​on the basis of powers inherent to his person, or because of his special importance—​to shield those who were behind him against dangers of a magical-​religious type.”6 In relation to this protective capacity, he also notes the potential military role played by the purohita, a theme prominent in the Appendices. Given this background of magical warfare, most Vedic scholars have associated the purohita with the Atharvaveda, which among the four Vedas contains the best resources for healing, protection, and sorcery.7 While this affiliation is not entirely clear in early Vedic sources, it seems rather certain by the time of the early dharma texts. One of the earliest of these, the Gautamadharmasūtra, dated by Olivelle to the third or second century bce, describes the office as follows: The king should place in front (i.e. of himself, as purohita) a brahmin who is wise, of a good family, eloquent, handsome, mature, of good conduct, following the rules, and abounding in tapas. Impelled by him, he should perform the rituals. It is said that a Kṣatriya impelled by a Brahman succeeds and does not go astray. And he should attend to those rituals which the astrologers (those concerned with celestial portents) mention. Some say that welfare depends on them. He should perform in the fire hall the “prospering” rituals pertaining to good fortune, including śānti, puṇyāha (-​vācana), svastyayana, āyuṣman, and [rituals] related to the diminution of enemies, such as vidveṣaṇa, saṃvanana, abhicāra. The ṛtviks [should perform] the other [rituals] as described.8 The text differentiates the purohita from the Vedic core of sacrificial priests (ṛtviks) and describes his ritual repertoire according to the classical Atharvan categories of passive and aggressive powers, as denoted by the name atharva-​aṅgirasaḥ: the

6. “Der purohita anfänglich derjenige war, der auf Grund der seiner Person anhaftenden Kräfte oder wegen seiner besonderen Bedeutung vorangestellt wurde, zur Deckung derjenigen, welch sich hinter ihm befanden gegen Gefahren magisch-​religiöser Art” (Gonda, “Purohita,” 331). 7. Bloomfield, The Atharvaveda, 26–​27. 8.  brāhmanaṃ ca purodadhīta vidyābhijanavāgrūpavayaḥśīlasaṃpannaṃ nyāyavṛttaṃ tapasvinam | tatprasūtaḥ karmāṇi kurvīta | brahmaprasūtaṃ hi kṣattram ṛdhyate na vyathata iti ca vijñāyate | yāni ca daivotpātacintakāḥ prabrūyus tānyādriyeta | tadadhīnam api hy eke yogakṣemaṃ pratijānate | śāntipuṇyāhasvastyayanāyuṣmanmaṅgalasaṃyuktāny ābhyudayikāni vidveṣaṇasaṃvananābhicāradviṣadvyṛddhiyuktāni ca śālāgnau kuryāt | yathoktam ṛtvijo ‘nyāni || Gautamadharmasūtra 11.12–​18 || My translation, with reference to Bühler and Olivelle.

7



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

77

prospering (ābhyudayika) rituals that confer good fortune (maṅgala), on the one hand, and those that lead to the failure (vyṛddhi) of enemies, on the other.9 Included in the first category are such rituals as śānti and svastyayana, marking this passage as a potentially early, if somewhat inconclusive reference to the rituals of the late Atharvan school. The first category also includes the older Atharvan term, “longevity” (āyuṣman), and the second mentions “sorcery” (abhicāra) among the aggressive rituals. Both Manu (second century ce) and, later, Yajñavalkya (fourth–​fifth century ce) mention the atharvāṅgiras, or simply āṅgirasa, perhaps referring to the lost Āṅgirasakalpa, the Atharvan ritual manual dealing with sorcery.10 Yajñavalkya explicitly names this term as one of the requisite knowledges of the purohita.11 The Arthaśāstra (50 bce–​300 ce) is more explicit in its claims about the Atharvanic learning of the purohita.12 Without mentioning śānti specifically, the text says that the purohita “could counteract divine and human adversities (āpad) through Atharvan means (atharvabhir upāyaiḥ).”13

9.  On the plural-​dvandva compound atharvāṅgirasaḥ as a name for the Atharvaveda, see Bloomfield, The Atharvaveda, 7. 10. On the dating of Manu, see the introduction to Olivelle, Manu’s Code of Law, 25. 11. While the Yajñavalkyasmṛṭi (1.295–​309) also contains a śānti ceremony (the navagrahaśānti, or “appeasement of the nine planets”), this ritual is not linked to either the Atharvaveda or the purohita. 12. On the recent dating of the text, see the introduction to Olivelle, King, Governance, and Law, 25–​31. Cf. Willis, The Archaeology of Hindu Ritual, 62. 13.  āpadām daivamānuṣīnām atharvabhir upāyaiś ca pratikartāram kurvīta || AŚ 1.9.9 || Nonetheless śānti, as a ritual, is not unknown to the text, which mentions the term on four occasions:  “They should counteract the danger of disease through occult remedial measures, physicians through medicines, and thaumaturgic ascetics through pacificatory rites and menances” (vyādhibhayam aupaniṣadikaiḥ pratīkāraiḥ pratikuryuḥ auṣadhaiś cikitsakāḥ śāntiprāyaścittair vā siddhatāpasāḥ || AŚ 4.3.13||); “[For danger from rats]  .  .  .  thaumaturgic ascetics should perform a pacificatory rite” (śāntiṃ vā siddhatāpasāḥ kuryuḥ || AŚ 4.3.25||); “Then agents working undercover as soothsayers or astrologers should recommend a pacificatory rite and penance, saying, ‘otherwise a great affliction will strike the king and the country.’ When he agrees, they should tell him, ‘On these occasions, the king himself should perform a fire offering with mantras each night for seven nights’ ” (tato naimittikamauhūrtikavyañjanāḥ śāntiṃ prāyaścittaṃ brūyuḥ anyathā mahad akuśalaṃ rājño deśasya ca iti || pratipannaṃ eteṣu saptarātram ekaikamantrabalihomaṃ svayaṃ rājñā kartavyam iti brūyuḥ || AŚ 13.2.32-​33||); “Devoted to pacificatory rites, he should have the lustration rite performed on the ninth day of Āśvayuja, at the beginning and end of an expedition, or during a sickness” (nīrājanām āśvayuje kārayen navame ahani | yātrā ādāv avasāne vā vyādhau vā śāntike rataḥ || AŚ 2.30.51||). Translations from Olivelle, King, Governance, and Law. The context of the third passage is a plot to capture an enemy king, for which AŚ 13.2 offers a number of alternative scenarios. This suggests either that śānti was identified as a combination of other basic rites (bali being a basic food offering, and homa, a fire sacrifice) or that śānti had no fixed form. The variability of śānti in this text is further suggested by its seeming identification with nīrājana, which

78

78

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Thus a number of sources from the late centuries bce up to the Gupta period (fourth to sixth century ce) identify the purohita with the Atharvaveda and may even suggest an Atharvan ritual tradition roughly congruent with that represented in the Appendices.14 If the Atharvaveda indeed formed the proper basis of the purohita’s expertise, we should expect that its texts would contain the clearest and most detailed picture of this office. Hence the Atharvan version of the royal consecration from the Kauśikasūtra includes the selection of a purohita. After the king has been consecrated, a second aspersion occurs in which the king and the purohita—​also here referred to as brahmán—​bathe and encircle one other, while reciting the following exchange: “The brahman should say ‘Together are we, what good deed; together what ill deed.’ The king replies, ‘For him who shall do ill, belongs what ill-​deed, what good deed, together are we.’ ”15 The same ritual exchange, which appears to inaugurate a sort of karmic bond between king and purohita, is repeated daily in a ritual sequence prescribed immediately after the royal consecration: Each morning he addresses the kṣatriya with the hymn beginning, “imam indra vardhaya kṣatriyam me” (AVŚ 4.22). The mutual sprinkling has already been explained, [and] the encircling. He who will be performing the role of purohita, (should first) kindle the fire with wood from vaiśvalopa trees while reciting the hymn “savitā prasavānām” (AVŚ 5.24).16

in other sources takes on the form of either a sprinkling ceremony or a waving of lights in front of a horse or elephant. None of these passages, however, links śānti with the purohita or the Atharvaveda. Instead they suggest in two cases that śānti should be performed by ascetics (siddhatāpasa). 14. Bloomfield (The Atharvaveda, 27) points to a similar reference from the Viṣṇupurāṇa, one of our earliest Purāṇic sources: paurohityaṃ śāntipauṣṭikāni rājñām atharvavedena kārayet ca brahmatvaṃ. However, the published version of the text reads somewhat differently: rājñāṃ cātharvavedena sarvakarmāṇi ca prabhuḥ | Viṣṇupurāṇa 3.4.14ab |.  Elsewhere the same text mentions the five kalpas of the Atharvaveda, including the Śāntikalpa (Viṣṇupurāṇa 3.6.14). A  more unambiguous reference to śānti rituals in relation to omens can be found in the Vaiṣṇavadharmaśāstra, for which a seventh-​century date has recently been proposed by Olivelle in The Law Code of Viṣṇu. The text recommends that kings should appease (praśamayet) divine afflictions (daivopaghāta) by means of śānti and svastyayana. Cf. the passage from Gautamadharmasūtra above. 15. udapātraṃ samāsiñcete || viparidadhāne || sahaiva nau sukṛtaṃ saha duṣkṛtam iti brahmā brūyāt || yo duṣkṛtam karavat tasya duṣkṛtaṃ sukṛtaṃ nau saheti || KauśS 2.8[17].4–​7 || After this exchange the purohita feeds the king the sthālīpāka cake prepared prior to his aspersion (KauśS 2.8[17].2, 8). Both Dārila and Keśava identify the performer as purohita. 16.  imam indra vardhaya kṣatriyaṃ me iti kṣatriyaṃ prātaḥ prātar abhimantrayate || uktaṃ samāsecanaṃ viparidhānam || savitā prasavānām iti paurohitye vatsyan vaiśvalopīḥ samidha ādhāya || KauśS 2.7[17].28–​30 ||

79



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

79

Presaging a number of important themes of the Appendices, the earlier Atharvan tradition initiated a close bond between king and purohita from the very instant of the royal inauguration, and reaffirmed this bond daily. We will see shortly how this daily ritual regimen is elaborated in the Appendices, but already in this passage the respective roles of king and purohita are clearly established. The purohita each morning addresses the king with a mantra dedicated to Indra, which is prescribed elsewhere in the Kauśikasūtra prior to an actual battle.17 The first verse reads, “Increase, O Indra, this Kṣatriya for me; make thou this man sole chief of the clans; unman all his enemies; make them subject to him in the contests for preeminence” (AVŚ 4.22.1). Meanwhile the purohita himself, prior to any ritual he might perform (Dārila: purohitasya karma paurohityam), kindles the fire with a hymn that requests numerous deities to “favor (avatu) me in this worship (bráhman), in this ritual (karman), in this representation (purodhā), in this firm-​standing, in this intent, in this design, in this benediction, in this invocation of the gods: hail!” No doubt the key term here is the word purodhā, synonymous with purohita. As Gonda notes, Whitney’s translation of this term as “representative” may be a bit too figurative if we understand purodhā in the more literal sense of “fore-​placement” (Vorestellung) or a “protective fore-​checking” (Vorausschickung der Macht zur Schutz).18 Thus already in the Kauśikasūtra we find the purohita activated, rather self-​consciously, in his role as the defender of the king, whose own daily routine is likened to a battle.19 While this defensive posture echoes an understanding of the purohita seen elsewhere in classical Vedic sources, those early texts do not—​as the Appendices do—​mention that he should protect the king from dangerous omens by means of śānti. In fact, likening the purohita to the sacrificial fire (anvāhārya)—​and also to the common fire (agni vaiśvānara) possessed of five missiles (pañcameni)—​the Aitareyabrāhmaṇa depicts the purohita himself as a potential danger that, like a raging fire, should be appeased.20 These associations reflect the classical Vedic language of appeasement within the solemn sacrifice, and not the astrologically

17. For example, KauśS 2.4[13].24. 18. Gonda, “Purohita,” 328. 19. Incidentally, the same text provides a mantra to be used for the king’s initiation into study (upanayana), thus allowing for the identification of the purohita as the king’s guru, which is assumed in the preface to the Appendices. “He should initiate the kṣatriya with the verse beginning ‘indram kṣatra’ (AVŚ 7.84.2)” (indram kṣatraṃ iti kṣatriyam upanayīta || KauśS 2.8[17].31 ||). 20. Aitareyabrāhmaṇa 8.24. Cf. Gonda, “Purohita,” 332.

80

80

Rit es of t he God -K ing

inflected śānti of the late Atharvan sources. We must therefore take the data of the Appendices, with their vision of an expert in appeasing the omens of the earth, atmosphere, and heavens, as presenting a new chapter in the history of the purohita.

Chronology and Structure of the Appendices To speak as we will of a singular “ritual culture” in the Appendices requires that we resist the inclination to characterize these texts as a miscellaneous group of instructions. I will argue that while these ritual texts may have originated separately, the argumentative and descriptive links among them suggest an attempt to subsume disparate ceremonies within a relatively organized ritual “network.” Here the maturing discourse around śānti as the primary specialization of the purohita plays a major consolidating role at the textual level. Before exploring the rituals of the Appendices, however, we must first address the possible chronology of this important text collection. The extant collection contains a total of seventy-​two separate appendices of varying lengths. The earliest manuscript (the “Roth” manuscript) is dated to 1431 (V.S. 1488), which Peter Bisschop and Arlo Griffiths suggest can be pushed back one or two centuries.21 Bolling and Negelein concluded that the manuscripts, all of which originated in western India, are descended from a single archetype. Several contain a colophon with the words “the conclusion of the series of the seventy-​two appendices” (dvāsaptatipariśiṣṭānām paryāyā samāptaḥ). Six include all seventy-​two texts.22 “Sāyaṇa” (fourteenth century) and Hemādri (thirteenth century) quote variously from appendices 2–​30. Similarly Keśava (eleventh century) mentions a number of rituals from the royal calendar of the Appendices in much the same order as that found in the published collection.23 At present, then, we can say that at least some of the seventy-​two individual

21. “Since all mss. descend, according to the editors, from one already corrupt archetype, we can push this date back by at least another century, probably even further: there seems to be no reason to doubt that our text belongs to sometime in the second half of the first millennium ce. We know of no grounds for a more accurate dating” (Bisschop and Griffiths, “The Pāśupata Observance,” 324). 22. The Roth ms. contains only appendices 37–​72. 23.  See below. In a comment at KauśS 6.3[49].27, Keśava also claims that his father performed Atharvan rituals on behalf of the Paramāra king Bhoja, who commissioned numerous (anekaśas) performances of the mahāśānti, as ordained by the Atharvaveda (atharvavedavihitā mahāśāntiḥ). See the introduction by Limaye et al., Kauśikapaddhati, xxxvi. See also above, ­chapter 1, n. 40.

81



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

81

appendices were known in western India during the early centuries of the second millennium ce.24 Beyond this point we must rely on much less certain evidence. One part of this evidence concerns a set of rituals known to Purāṇic texts as the “Great Gifts” (mahādānas). The locus classicus for these rituals is the Matsyapurāṇa, and the relevant chapters from this purāṇa are dated with some certainty to before the twelfth century, when they were quoted in the Dānakāṇḍa of Lakṣmīdhara (c.1110-​1150 ce); they could be as old as 550–​650 ce, if we accept the somewhat conjectural evidence presented by Hazra. Some of these mahādānas are mentioned in inscriptions from the early medieval period (seventh to ninth centuries ce).25 A number of very similar, monumental gifting rituals are also found in the Appendices, and, as I will show, the Purāṇic versions seem logically dependent on conventions from Atharvan śānti rituals.26 Thus it seems quite plausible that these Atharvan gifting rituals predate those of the Matsyapurāṇa, which elsewhere betrays the influence of Atharvan practice in its discussion of kingship (rājadharma). I will make a similar argument for the royal consecration ceremony of the Viṣṇudharmottarapurāṇa, which contains similar sections on rājadharma and explicitly names the Atharvaveda as the source for śānti rituals.27 This text too is not firmly dated, though Inden has 24. Keśava mentions the Appendices on a number of occasions. For instance, in his comment on KauśS 13.27 [119].5 he writes of the omens “mentioned in the appendices” (pariśiṣṭeṣu paṭhyate). At the conclusion of the text he quotes two passages from “the appendix” (pariśiṣṭe), AVPŚ 2.3.4 and 4.6. verses 1 and 3–​4b (cf. AVPŚ 69.6–​7). In the first case he uses the term atharvapariśiṣṭe. 25. For instance, Dantidurga performed the hiraṇyagarbha at Ujjain in the mid-​eighth century, while Govinda III performed a tulāpuruṣa on the occasion of a solar eclipse in 800 ce. Ronald Inden has written on Dantidurga as an example of medieval Hindu kingship (Imagining India, chap.  6). For inscriptions on the another great gift, the tulāpuruṣa, see Schmiedchen, “The Ceremony of Tulāpuruṣa.” The hiraṇyagarbha and gosahasra are mentioned in the inscriptions of the “Ānanda Kings of Guntur,” Attivarman and his son Dāmodaravarman of the fourth century ce. See Sircar, “Epigraphic Notes.” The hiraṇyagarbha and gosahasra rituals are ascribed to the earlier of these kings, Attivarman, who seems to have been a Śaivite (735). Based on this Śaivite affiliation, and on the fact that Viṣṇukuṇḍin kings, fifth–​sixth century successors of the Ānandas, also claim to have performed the hiraṇyagarbha, Inden has suggested a fourth–​sixth century ce date for the Appendices in Andhra (“Changes in the Vedic Priesthood,” 119). It is notable that the conclusion of the hiraṇyagarbhavidhi mentions that the gifts of gold were previously granted by great sage kings (rājarṣayaḥ) beginning with the Īkṣvākus (īkṣvākuprab hṛtayaḥ) (AVPŚ 13.5.4). Since the Ānanda kings seem to have been successors to the Īkṣvākus, Inden’s suggested date remains plausible. Hence some form of monumental gifting rituals existed from a relatively early period. We have no way of knowing, however, whether these were identical to the rituals presented in the Appendices. 26. See ­chapter 4. 27.  VDhP 2.132.6. Both VDhP (2.132–​33) and MtP (93) are familiar with the system of mahāśāntis from the Śāntikalpa, and also the homa rituals (koṭi, lakṣa) from the Appendices.

82

82

Rit es of t he God -K ing

suggested a date of the eighth or ninth century ce.28 All of this would seem to support the early medieval provenance—​at the latest—​of the rituals contained in the Appendices. A second major criterion depends on the relationship between the Appendices and the Bṛhatsaṃhitā, a treatise written by the sixth-​century astronomer Varāhamihira. Einoo has hypothesized that the gṛhya-​pariśiṣṭa genre on the whole—​including the Appendices and the Śāntikalpa—​can be dated to prior to this important astrological work.29 B.  R. Modak also dates the collection before the Bṛhatsaṃhitā (and after Manu, i.e., from the third to sixth centuries ce), though he cites as evidence only a pair of parallel passages, without proof of borrowing either way.30 Stronger evidence comes from the astronomical data in the Appendices. Yano has proposed that AVPŚ 1 (the so-​called Nakṣatrakalpa) preserves elements from the first or second century ce. Other parts of the Appendices, however, show close similarities with Varāhamihira’s Bṛhatsaṃhitā, suggesting that the latest parts of the text predate the mid-​sixth century.31 Yano’s perspective confirms the impressions of Bolling and Negelein, who note the value of Varāhamihira’s work in the reconstruction of the Appendices.32 To these indications I will add a similar perspective on the basis of the ritual content of the AVPŚ. In c­ hapter 3 I discuss at length the somewhat complex question of Varāhamihira’s knowledge of Atharvan ritual. For now I can say that my analysis reveals a similar conclusion as in the case of the Purāṇic texts on the great gifts: in many ways Varāhamihira’s ritual corpus assumes ritual techniques—​including specific mantras—​best known from our Atharvan texts. These considerations would place the ritual “system”

28. Inden, “Imperial Purāṇas.” 29. Einoo, “The Formation of Hindu Ritual,” 13. 30. AVPŚ 64.8.9–​10.3 (=BS 45.83–​98); and AVPŚ 8.1.6–​7 (=BS 47.52–​53). Modak also points out thirteen chapter titles in common between the AVPŚ and BS (The Ancillary Literature, 198, 472). 31. In a forthcoming paper, “The Nakṣatra System of the Atharvaveda-​Pariśiṣṭa,” Yano discusses the case of a twelve-​verse passage on the the seasons, AVPŚ 64.8.9–​9.10, which is repeated verbatim, but rearranged, by Varāhamihira at BS 45.83–​94: “These similarities testify that when Varāhamihria compiled the Bṛhatsaṃhitā he used the same sources that AVPar used and he put some modifications in order to adjust them to his time and place. AVPar, on the other hand, kept old elements as they were. Thus we can say that the lower limit of the date of the AVPar is the middle of the sixth century, namely, the date of the Bṛhatsaṃhitā.” I thank Professor Yano for sharing this work. For further astronomical similarities between the Bṛhatsaṃhitā and the Appendices, see Yano and Maejima, “A Study on the Atharvaveda-​Pariśiṣṭa 50–​57.” 32. See the introduction to Bolling and Negelein, Pariśiṣṭas of the Atharvaveda, 1:xvi.

83



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

83

of the Appendices—​if not the texts themselves—​in the first half of the first millennium ce.33 The counterhypothesis would be that the Appendices postdate the Bṛhatsaṃhitā and thus were brought together sometime in the second half of the first millennium, prior to Keśava in the eleventh century. In this scenario we would see the texts as representing the later appropriation rather than the original formulation of rituals circulating within non-​Atharvan ritual and astrological traditions, perhaps during the Gupta period. This appropriation might then have occurred sometime in the sixth or seventh century, when they were adopted in Purāṇic sources.34 While difficult to disprove entirely, this scenario seems somewhat less plausible to me, especially given my reading of the Purāṇic and astrological ritual data, and also in light of what we now know about the gradual development of śānti rituals in the Atharvaveda. It seems that the safest bet would be to assume that the Atharvan śānti rituals were operative by the late Gupta period (sixth century) and were developed during this imperial formation—​or even earlier—​in conversation with the astrological tradition preserved by Varāhamihira.35 Thus I cautiously proceed with Einoo’s hypothesis regarding the anteriority of pariśiṣṭa texts as it pertains to the Atharvaveda. Turning now to the structure of the texts themselves, the first and most obvious indication that the Appendices represent more than a miscellaneous collection can be seen in the striking narrative and didactic passages that frame some of their ritual instructions. Whereas ritual manuals generally tend to restrict themselves to a bare, prescriptive language, in the Appendices rhetorical interventions often frame and supplement the more conventional, terse style of ritual texts. At times these more discursive “non-​vidhi” portions take the form of mythic explanations for a certain ritual (“previously, Indra was afflicted by the demons”), and at times

33. This basic chronology, which takes Varāhamihira as a developmental end point, aligns with the picture we get from the Dharmaśāstric sources reviewed earlier (leaving aside the earliest reference in the Gautamadharmasūtra). Only the latest source, the Vaiṣṇavadharmaśāstra (seventh century ce) mentions śānti rituals as a remedy for omens. Yajñavalkya (fourth–​fifth century), however, describes a pair of Vināyaka and Navagraha rituals that correspond quite closely to those in ŚK 1. The earliest source, Manu (second century), gives the least specific details. To this evidence we may add a passage from the southern recension of the Śāntiparvan of the Mahābhārata, which, during a discussion of the duties of the purohita (MBh 12.74.2), mentions that an Atharvan priest can remove great sins (malān) by the performance of the (koṭi-​) rudrahoma, the mahāśānti, and the ghṛtakambala—​a set of rituals known only in the Atharvan tradition of the Appendices. This too supports a Gupta-​era consolidation of the Atharvan system in this text. 34. A middle view could see some of the Appendices as later reactions to the astrological rituals of Varāhamihira, who is himself dependent on the Śāntikalpa. See c­ hapter 3. 35. The unpublished Gārgīyajyotiṣa may provide further early evidence for this problem.

84

84

Rit es of t he God -K ing

they are more explicitly rhetorical and argumentative. One could say that the Atharvan pariśiṣṭas provide their own brāhmaṇa-​style explanations or arthavādas and that these suggest an overarching “plan.” We have already encountered one such argumentative passage, that which prefaces the Appendices. This text is titled “Acquisition of a Kingdom” (AVPŚ 2: rāṣṭrasaṃvarga). Above all it seeks to establish the necessity of the purohita to the interests of kingship and, furthermore, the Atharvan monopoly over this position. The following passage, for instance, outlines the danger faced by a country without a purohita, and the even worse disasters brought about by the selection of a member of the Triple Veda to this office: Divine afflictions strike, the god withholds rain, and no heroes are born in that country that lacks a purohita. The gods, ancestors, and brahmins do not accept the oblation of that king who does not have an Atharvan guru in his home. He should make a Paippalādan his guru, one who is possessed of the aṅgas and pratyaṅgas of the Veda, who has virtue, good conduct, and knowledge, who increases health, kingdom, and wealth. Or [he should make the guru] a Śaunikan, who has mastered the mantras of the Veda, and who perpetually increases the kingdom with wealth, grains, and so forth. Just as he uses fire in a sacrifice, so a king, if he desires victory, should employ an Atharvan guru—​not one outside the Atharva. The bahvṛc (of the Ṛgveda) indeed slays the kingdom, and an adhvaryu (Yajurveda) destroys [the king’s] offspring. A  chandoga (Sāmaveda) destroys the granary. Therefore, an Atharvan [should be] the guru. Surely there is destruction of land, kingdom, sons, and ministers for him whose guru—​whether knowingly or unknowingly—​is a bahvṛc. Or if the king employs an adhvaryu as purohita, he is quickly slain by the sword, his wealth and vehicles spent. Like a lame person on the road, or a wingless bird in the sky, so a king with a chandoga guru does not reach success.36

36. ghnanti daivopasargāś ca na ca devo ‘bhivarṣati | vīrās tatra na sūyante yad rāṣṭram apurohitam || 3 || na haviḥ pratigṛhṇanti devatāḥ pitaro dvijāḥ | tasya bhūmipater yasya gṛhe nātharvavid guruḥ || 4 || samāhitāṅgapratyaṅgaṃ vidyācāraguṇānvitam | paippalādaṃ guruṃ kuryāc chrīrāṣṭrārogyavardhanam || 5 || AVPŚ 2.3 || tathā śaunakinaṃ vāpi vedamantravipaścitam | rāṣṭrasya vṛddhikartāraṃ dhanadhānyādibhiḥ sadā || 1 || ātharvaṇād ṛte nānyo niyojyo ‘tharvavid guruḥ | nṛpeṇa jayakāmena nirmito ‘gnir ivādhvare || 2 || bahvṛco hanti vai rāṣṭram adhvaryur nāśayet sutān | chandogo dhananāśāya tasmād ātharvaṇo guruḥ || 3 || ajñānād vā pramādād vā yasya syād bahvṛco guruḥ | deśarāṣṭrapurāmātyanāśas tasya na saṃśayaḥ || 4 || yadi vādhvaryavaṃ rājā niyunakti purohitam | śastreṇa vadhyate kṣipraṃ parikṣīṇārthavāhanaḥ || 5 || AVPŚ 2.4 || yathaiva paṅgur adhvānam apakṣī cāṇḍajo nabhaḥ | evaṃ chandogaguruṇā rājā vṛddhiṃ na gacchati || 5.1 || I omit the first two, somewhat obscure verses of AVPŚ 2.3, which discuss the “selection fee” (varaṇadakṣiṇā) for the purohita/​guru: “[Upon appointment] the

85



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

85

This rhetorical voice does not merely serve as an independent preface to the text; it resurfaces repeatedly among the individual ritual instructions that follow, drawing them into its overarching plan. In these interventions it consistently returns us to the same topic addressed here: the relationship between the king and his śānti-​practicing purohita. The very next appendix, the  “King’s First Aspersion” (AVPŚ 3:  rājaprathamābhiṣeka), deploys this institutional rhetoric at the level of ritual prescription. Since the heart of our project is a study of the post-​Vedic afterlife of abhiṣeka, we should take a moment here to introduce this ritual. Abhiṣeka means “aspersion” or “unction” (from abhi√ṣic, literally “to pour upon”), but it is also the term for the class of royal inaugurations or consecrations.37 This is because classical Vedic forms of such ceremonies center on the king’s aspersion with complex mixtures of water, usually while he is seated or standing on animal skins. The interpretation of this act will occupy us at great length. In his classic study of the Yajurvedic variant of the royal inauguration ceremony, the rājasūya, Jan Heesterman suggests that the aspersion could be understood as a kind of birth.38 Yasuhiro Tsuchiyama has more recently emphasized that Vedic aspersions in general conferred on their sponsors positive powers, in particular “splendor” (varcas), “long life” (āyus), and “vigor” (vayas).39 For the most part the Atharvan version of abhiṣeka, prescribed in the Kauśikasūtra (2.8[17]), agrees with this Vedic theme of empowerment. This is perhaps most easily seen in Whitney’s translation of the key hymn, AVŚ 4.8, which accompanies the aspersion: The being sets milk in beings; he has become the overlord of beings; Death attends the royal consecration of him; let him, as king, approve this royalty. Go forward unto it; do not long away, a stern corrector, rival-​slayer;

king should give to the guru a ‘koṭi’ as his selection fee. One should designate the ‘koṭi’ portion according to the measure of the land [that is given], hence a ‘half ’ [when] the measure of land is a half, a third from a third, and so on. Or the king should do whatever pleases the guru” (gurave pārthivo dadyāt kotiṃ varaṇadakṣiṇām | ardhamardhaṃ mahībhāgaṃ tṛtīyaṃ tu tribhāgataḥ || 1 || evaṃ bhūmipramāṇena koṭibhāgaṃ vinirdiśet | yena vā parituṣyeta gurus tat pārthivaś caret || 2 ||). 37.  The classic encyclopedia entry on abhiṣeka is Thomas, “Abhiṣeka.” Thomas draws much from Goldstücker and Wilson, A Dictionary, 274–​87. The standard work on royal consecration (based on the Yajurvedic rājasūya) is Heesterman, The Ancient Indian Royal Consecration. See also Gonda, Ancient Indian Kingship, 87–​92. More recently see Witzel, “The Coronation Rituals of Nepal”; Tsuchiyama, “Abhiṣeka in the Vedic and post-​Vedic Rituals.” 38. The Ancient Indian Royal Consecration, 66. 39. Tsuchiyama, “Abhiṣeka in the Vedic and post-​Vedic Rituals,” 51–​64.

86

86

Rit es of t he God -K ing

approach, O increaser of friends; may the gods bless thee. Him approaching all waited upon; clothing himself in fortune, he goes about, having own brightness; great is that name of the virile Asura; having all forms, he approached immortal things. A tiger, upon the tiger’s [skin], do thou stride out unto the great quarters; let all people want thee, the waters of heaven, rich in milk. The waters of heaven that revel with milk, in the atmosphere or also on earth—​with splendor of all those waters do I pour upon thee. The heavenly waters, rich in milk, have poured upon thee with splendor; that thou be an increaser of friends so shall Savitar make thee. Thus, embracing the tiger, they incite the lion unto great good-​fortune; as the well-​being ones the ocean that stands, do they rub thoroughly down the leopard amid the waters. The mantra exhorts the king to take up royalty and fortune, comparing him favorably to a tiger, a lion, and a leopard. The speaker associates the aspersion waters with milk, a reference, according to the commentator Sāyaṇa, to the king’s provision of food to the kingdom. He says, “With the splendor (varcasā) of those waters do I pour upon (abhiṣiñcāmi) thee,” and again, “The heavenly waters, rich in milk, have poured upon thee with splendor (abhi tvā varcasāsican).” Hence the abhiṣeka confers the varcas—​a kind of cosmological power—​of the life-​giving waters.40 From a technical perspective we have already noted how the abhiṣeka of the Kauśikasūtra was unique in substituting śānti water for the complex waters of conventional Vedic aspersions. I  suggested that this application of śānti water formed part of a broader institutional impulse to carve a place for Atharvan priests within classical Vedic rituals. Hence this technical difference does not yet appear to shift the interpretation of the ritual—​even though it might easily raise questions of efficacy, such as how śānti water might bring about a king’s empowerment, or, in other words, how śānti mantras relate to mantras of abhiṣeka. These are precisely the tensions, however, that begin to emerge in the Appendices, in which śānti waters have evolved into śānti rituals, and the tradition begins to promote those rituals in explicit ways. This shift in institutional attention can be seen in the “King’s First Aspersion,” which presents itself as a supplement—​an appendix in the proper sense—​to the royal inauguration of the Kauśikasūtra.41 Hence it opens with 40. Ibid., 54–​56. 41. AVPŚ 3. The appendix refers to the earlier prescription from Kauśika in a single line: “the consecration is described in the saṃhitāvidhi” (abhiṣekaḥ saṃhitāvidhau vyākhyātaḥ || 1.19 || AVPŚ 3 ||).

87



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

87

a discussion of requisite objects not mentioned in Kauśika, such as a chariot, lion throne, sword, parasol, and other accoutrements. Oddly this list also includes members of the king’s retinue:  the astrologer, physician, and purohita. And here the text engages a digression. Citing several authorities of the opinion that these “objects” should not have been used previously in other rituals, the text states that, like the other ritual instruments, the purohita must not have been employed previously by another king. In fact the king’s first and most crucial act is to select (varaṇa) a proper candidate for the office; the wrong choice leads to disastrous consequences. For example, if the king chooses a purohita who is deficient or excessive in limb, there will be deprivation of urban and rural areas. If he chooses a eunuch or a mixed-​caste purohita, the king himself perishes. Most important, the chosen candidate must not belong to one of the three non-​Atharvan Vedas. A  king selecting a Ṛgvedic purohita, for instance, “sinks with him like an elephant in the mud of a river bank.”42 Instead he should possess perfect form and ancestry, derive from a lineage of ṛṣis, and, of course, know the Atharvaveda.43 These remarks echo the textual mode of omen catalogs, many of which are encountered later in the Appendices. According to this “if-​then” pattern of protasis and apodosis, a given natural sign portends specific, disastrous consequences. Once we accept the logic that a purohita who lacks one of his limbs signals the deprivation of the kingdom, we also accept that the bodies of kings and priests can be treated like signs in an astrological catalog. Returning to the theme of the introduction to the Appendices, the passage ends by reminding us of the purohita’s necessary expertise in appeasement: Those threefold terrible omens which arise in the sacrifices, realms, cities, armies, and abodes of the king—​the knower of the Brahmaveda (i.e. the Atharvaveda) should appease all of them. Therefore the king should take as his guru one possessed of the secrets of the Veda, mindful of the fourfold rituals, calm, restrained, whose senses are tamed, and who is pleasing to the sight.44

42. sa tārapaṅke hastīva saha tenaiva majjati | AVPŚ 3.3.3cd | 43. anvayākṛtisaṃpannaṃ tasmād bhṛgvaṅgirovidam | gotrāṅgirasavāsiṣṭhaṃ rājā kuryāt purohitam || AVPŚ 3.3.6 || 44. makheṣu rāṣṭreṣu pureṣu caiva senāsu rājñāṃ svaniveśaneṣu | ya utpātās trividhā ghorarūpās tān sarvān śamayed brahmavedavit || tasmād guruṃ vedarahasyayuktaṃ caturvidhe karmaṇi cāpramattam | śāntaṃ ca dāntaṃ ca jitendriyaṃ ca kuryān narendraḥ priyadarśanaṃ ca || AVPŚ 3.3.7–​8 ||

8

88

Rit es of t he God -K ing

In this way we find the earlier Atharvan version of the royal consecration from the Kauśikasūtra relocated and reframed within a later Atharvan tradition concerned with the promotion of śānti rituals as the primary specialization of the purohita. The major thrust of the text is thus to link the inaugural royal consecration to the selection of an appropriate purohita.45 If the inauguration is a pretext for the selection of the purohita, then this “First Aspersion” sets the stage for the body of rituals that follows. The next appendix, accordingly, is titled “Rituals of the Purohita” (AVPŚ 4:  purohitakarmāṇi). Its instructions leave no doubt that this priest serves as a primary agent, whereas the king, for the most part, occupies a passive role as ritual patient.46 In fact the purohita must perform numerous regular and occasional rituals during his ruler’s tenure—​rituals that will be laid out in the subsequent texts. The larger structure of the Appendices—​and the purohita-​centered reading of the royal inauguration—​is echoed by Keśava, who, in the midst of explaining a delicate point of exegesis in Kauśika’s prescription for the abhiṣeka, says the following:47 The consecration should be performed only when his purohita has been selected (tasyāpi purohitavaraṇe kṛte sati). Immediately following the consecration (abhiṣekād anantaram), the ghṛtāvekṣaṇa, ārātrika, rājakarmāṇi, piṣṭarātrī and so forth are to be done daily. He gives all the gifts according to rule. Each year the puṣyābhiṣeka, mahānavamī, indrotsava, vṛṣotsarga, janmadina and so forth are to be performed.48 The remark is in no way prompted by the root passage, which concerns only the royal inauguration. Nonetheless Keśava seems to offer a cogent description of the structure of the first half of the published Appendices: the three categories—​ daily rituals, ritual gifts, annual rituals—​roughly recapitulate AVPŚ 4–​8, 9–​16,

45. Cf. Sāyaṇa on AVŚ 4.8. 46. The purohita is mentioned explicitly as the performer of rituals at AVPŚ 4.1.1–​2; 5.2.3; 7.1.1; 8.1.3; 18b.8.1. 47. KauśS 2.8[17].11 reads, “Everything up to the end of the exchange (in the preceding passage, 2.8[17].1–​10) is mentioned with [reference to] the monarch” (paridhānāntam ekarājena vyākhyātam). Keśava takes this to mean “The consecration of a provincial ruler, a neighboring subordinate, crown prince, general, or any other person, should be performed with this (i.e. foregoing) procedure” (māṇḍalikasya sāmantasya yuvarājasya senāpateranyasya kasyacidabhiṣekaḥ anena vidhānena kāryaḥ). According to Keśava the subsequent instruction (KauśS 2.8[17].12–​34) belongs to a universal sovereign (sārvabhaumasya). 48.  tasyāpi purohitavaraṇe kṛte saty abhiṣekaḥ kāryaḥ | abhiṣekād anantaraṃ ghṛtāvekṣaṇam ārātrikaṃ rājakarmāṇi piṣṭarātryādīni pratyahaṃ kartavyāni | vidhānena sarvāṇi dānāni dadāti | puṣp[y]‌ābhiṣekamahānavamīndrotsavavṛṣotsargajanmadinādi prativarṣaṃ kāryāṇi ||

89



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

89

and 17–​18b.49 Thus not only might Keśava have had a similar set of appendices (or at least a collection resembling it) before him; he seems to have interpreted the earlier Kauśikasūtra from the perspective of these appendices. For like the Appendices themselves, Keśava emphasizes that the inauguration of a king necessarily implies the selection of a purohita and sets in motion an entire cycle of rituals to be performed by him: the abhiṣeka initiates the purohita’s ritual duties. And since they are all assigned to a single performer, the rituals in the Appendices may be said to form a coherent group. If the introductory appendix argued for the purohita’s unique and irreplaceable skill set, the bulk of the text lavishly substantiates that claim, fleshing out his ritual program. As Keśava suggests, this ritual corpus is further organized by the imposition of a temporal scheme, largely achieved in two separate appendices (AVPŚ 4 and 18b), which specify the timing of the rituals in daily and annual cycles. I have tried to reconstruct this calendar in appendix 2.1, using three temporal criteria: daily, annual, and occasional. Altogether the rituals outlined occupy nearly two-​thirds of the total of seventy-​two appendices. About half of these are taken up by AVPŚ 50–​72, which comprise various omen catalogs—​and thus supply the occasions for the performance of the mahāśānti. The other group, AVPŚ 2–​20, 30–​31, and 33, forms a loose collection of independent rituals that make up the bulk of ritual life of the king. In what follows I discuss examples from this loose, calendrical ritual network. A robust description of this network should clarify how the Atharvan tradition envisioned the śānti ritual category inaugurated in the Śāntikalpa to work “in practice”:  how śānti was elaborated and expanded in the interests of kingship (rājadharma). Altogether the structured contents of the Appendices—​the use of śānti rhetoric to organize daily rituals, the consolidation of śānti as a quasi-​ independent category within the material infrastructure of Vedic ritual, the proliferation of aspersion rituals and the frequent prescription of the mahāśānti—​ technically and materially substantiate the ambition of the Atharvans to monopolize the office of purohita by virtue of their mastery of śānti. I should add that my intention in this description is not simply to reproduce the Atharvan claim of the fundamental or inherent identity between śānti rituals and other, independent rituals such as the king’s daily rituals, royal consecrations, and ritual gifts. My claim is not simply that these rituals are mere derivatives of śānti. Most likely at least some of them enjoyed independent lives before and after 49. The ghṛtāvekṣaṇa (“looking at ghee ritual”) appears in AVPŚ 8, the ārātrika at 7, rājakarmāṇi at 4.2; and the piṣṭarātrī at 6; the gifts are given in AVPŚ 9–​16; while the annual rituals are given in AVPŚ 17–​18b. The only discrepancy is the puṣyābhiṣeka (AVPŚ 5). Keśava—​perhaps following a reference in AVPŚ 18b—​considers it to be an annual ritual.

90

90

Rit es of t he God -K ing

their inclusion in this particular Atharvan scheme and its śānti-​based discourse. Nor do I suggest that the Atharvan tradition invented this ritual network in one fell swoop, as a perfectly coherent system of śānti rituals. Instead my impression is that the Atharvans collected various rituals over time and explained them in terms of appeasement, and in some cases inlaid them with śānti-​related techniques. Some of these rituals, then, will no doubt have originated earlier, whether within or outside of the Atharvan tradition. Nonetheless even the incongruencies among different ritual types are instructive. They highlight the intention of the Atharvan institution to comprehend disparate ritual practices on its own terms, at the moment when śānti was becoming a dominant ritual mode of this school. Such an ambition, however imperfect, had profound effects on the shape of later Hindu rituals.

Terms of Appeasement in the Daily Rituals It is likely that some sort of daily ritual program was prescribed for Indian kings from a very early period. The Arthaśāstra, for instance, mentions that a king should receive the “auspicious progress” (svastyayana) from the “rtvig, ācārya, and purohita” in the last watch of the night, before he departs to the assembly.50 The “Rituals of the Purohita” may present the Atharvan versions of such practices. After the purohita has been appointed by the newly inaugurated king, this text describes the rituals that he should perform each day. Including a few other related appendices, we can identify five such daily rituals: “Auspicious Progress,” “Gift of Gold,” “Gift of Sesame,” “[Worship of ] the Night Goddess Made of Flour,” and finally “Gazing into Ghee.”51 Although none of these rituals adopts the bathing format of the mahāśānti, they nonetheless involve śānti in a conceptual way, demonstrating how the regime of appeasement has come to colonize the ritual life of the king. The first ritual in this group, “Auspicious Progress,” may be understood as a type of morning blessing, in the manner of sending someone off on a journey.52 In fact it elaborates the purohita’s morning routine from the Kauśikasūtra, which

50. aṣṭame ṛtvigācāryapurohitasvastyayanāni pratigṛhṇīyāt cikitsakamāhānasikamauhūrtikāṃś ca paśyet || AŚ 1.19.23 || 51. svastyayana, AVPŚ 4.1.1–​24; suvarṇadāna, 4.2.1–​8; tiladāna, 4.2.9–​16; piṣṭamayī rātrī, 4.3–​ 6, (also AVPŚ 6 and 7); ghṛtāvekṣaṇa; AVPŚ 8. In his comment on KauśS 2.8[17].11, Keśava refers to all of these rituals except for the svastyayana. The term rājakarmāṇi appears to refer to the gifts of gold and grain, which are also called rājakarmāṇi at AVPŚ 4.2.1. 52. See Gonda, Prayer and Blessing, chap. 3.

91



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

91

we have already encountered.53 To those established regulations the appendix adds the following: The purohita presents the awakened king with a series of nine objects, each of which, it seems, he has first addressed with a mantra and sprinkled with śānti water.54 Throwing dūrvā grass over the king’s head, he addresses him with svastyayana mantras.55 Then the king, after being addressed with an additional hymn for safety (abhaya) (AVŚ 6.40), bows to a group of brahmins, saying, “From your grace I obtain śānti,” to which they assent, “So be it.”56 Then he should depart. After this the text adds the following, somewhat cryptic statement: “He who has thus performed the svastyayana succeeds only insofar as he looks” (or perhaps, “he obtains what he looks at”?).57 Here the text offers the following story: Previously, when Śakra, lord of the universe, was oppressed by the Asuras, he put Bṛhaspati in the position of purohita. [Bṛhaspati], chosen [by Śakra], who feared danger, and who sought a means for appeasing [that danger], produced eight auspicious [objects] for the purpose of removing the danger to Śatakratu (Śakra). The eight objects were: a brahmin, a cow, the sacrificial fire, earth, white mustard, clarified butter, śamī (wood?), and rice and barley grains. Seeing and praising these eight auspicious (objects) continuously, a king does not obtain misfortune, but rather obtains unsurpassed fortune.58

53. The text opens by mentioning the two mantras from that earlier instruction: “Oṃ! Now the rituals of the purohita, [to be performed?] for a king who has arisen in the morning, and who has performed the svastyayana. The purohita [should be] bathed, pure, clothed in white [and] wearing a turban. [The mantra beginning], ‘Savitṛ (is the overlord) of impulses’ (AVŚ 5.24) has been explained (at KauśS 2.8[17].30). [The mantra beginning] ‘Increase, O Indra, this Kṣatriya for me’ (AVŚ 4.22) has been explained (at KauśS 2.8[17].28)” (om atha purohitakarmāṇi || rājñaḥ prātar utthitasya kṛtasvastyayanasya || atha purohitaḥ snātānuliptaḥ śuciḥ śuklavāsāḥ soṣṇīṣaḥ savitā prasavānām iti vyākhyātam || imam indra vardhayety uktam || AVPŚ 4.1.1–​3 ||). In other words, following the reference to Kauśika, the text requires that the purohita should kindle the fire with AVŚ 5.24 and address the king with AVŚ 4.22. As we have seen, these two mantras secure divine favor for the purohita-​ship and fortify the king against his enemies. 54. AVPŚ 4.1.4–​13. The objects are clothing, ornaments, a lion throne, perfumes, eye ointment, a horse, an elephant, a carriage, and a sword. 55.  AVPŚ 4.1.16. A  svastyayana gaṇa is already mentioned at ŚK 2.24.1 and detailed in the Gaṇamāla (AVPŚ 32.11). Tossing grass appears also in the bathing instruction (snānavidhi): dūrvāṃ śirasi vinyaset | AVPŚ 42.1.7c | 56. yuṣmatprasādāc chāntiṃ adhigacchāmīti || tathāstv iti ukto nirgacchet iti || AVPŚ 4.1.17–​18 || 57. evaṃkṛtasvastyayano yad evāvalokayati tat sidhyati || AVPŚ 4.1.19 || 58.  asuraiḥ pīḍyamānas tu purā śakro jagatprabhuḥ | kārayām āsa vidhivat purodhastve bṛhaspatim || 21 || sa vṛto bhayabhītena śamanārthaṃ bubhūṣatā | maṅgalāni sasarjāṣṭāv

92

92

Rit es of t he God -K ing

The ritual described in this myth does not precisely match the earlier instruction, but the implication seems to be that the king should look at the eight objects mentioned here in order to complete the ritual.59 It may be that multiple rituals have been amalgamated in this text. The basic sequence seems to be as follows: The purohita ceremonially dresses the king in clothes and with ornaments that he has blessed. Then the king is blessed with mantras for svastyayana and abhaya and requests śānti from brahmins before going on his way. If we treat the story as a separate instruction, the king should glance at eight lucky objects beforehand. Despite these complexities, the overall objective—​to grant the king luck and safety—​is described in terms of appeasement. In the first part of the ritual, the objects are sprinkled with śānti water, and the king, who has been addressed with a mantra for safety (abhaya), requests appeasement from brahmins. Similarly, in the story Śakra requests a means of appeasing (śamana) danger (bhayaṃ). This is accomplished by looking upon the eight lucky objects produced by his purohita, Bṛhaspati. As a result the king avoids āpad, misfortune or calamity.60 From a broader jyotiṣa-​related perspective, the highly material, objective nature of the ritual correlates with a divinatory view of matter, which I will discuss at length in ­chapters 4 and 5. In its concern with the sight of auspicious objects, and the adornment of the king’s body, the ritual artificially creates good omens for the moment of the king’s departure, and clothes the king himself, as if protectively, in the marks of good luck. The astrological connotation behind this discourse of danger and appeasement develops further in other daily rituals, the gifts of gold and sesame and the ritual of “Gazing into Ghee.”61 These rituals operate according to a logic that we have not explicitly encountered so far. In the daily gift of gold, the king takes a golden coin (suvarṇaniṣka) with his left hand and rubs it on his body, saying, “May it burn up all sin, whatever misdeed or corruption [of mine]!” Then with his right

abhayārthaṃ śatakratoḥ || 22 || proktāni maṅgalāny aṣṭau brāhmaṇo gaur hutāśanaḥ | bhūmiḥ siddhārthakāḥ sarpiḥ śamī vrīhiyavau tathā || 23 || etāni satataṃ puṇyāni saṃpaśyann arcayann api | na prāpnoty āpadaṃ rājā śriyaṃ prāpnoty anuttamām || 24 || AVPŚ 4.1 || 59. Though these differ from the objects mentioned earlier. In fact the text seems to contain three separate lists of objects: [1]‌a list (in prose) of nine objects, each addressed by a mantra from the Atharvaveda and presented to the king (4.1.4–​13); [2] a list (in verse) of sixteen objects to be sprinkled with śānti water and addressed with unspecified mantras (4.1.14–​15); and [3] a list of eight “lucky” objects in the myth of Śakra and Bṛhaspati. 60. This is the same term used in the Arthaśāstra (above), which mentions the “Atharvan methods” (upāya) for removing such calamities. 61. These rituals presume the performance of the svastyayana (AVPŚ 4.2.13, 8.1.4).

93



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

93

hand he gives the gold to a brahmin (along with a healthy cow).62 Likewise in the gift of sesame the king places sesame in a golden or copper dish and addresses it by saying, “Whatever corruption was done by me—​whether consciously or not—​may all that be burnt up by [this] gift of sesame.”63 These passages introduce an expiatory theme that we will meet again in the more elaborate ritual gifts described elsewhere in the Appendices. Of course the Atharvan tradition was long associated with ritual atonements (prayaścitti); we saw how the earliest Atharvan remedies for inauspicious omens were labeled in this way in Kauśika’s “Book of Omens.” Thus some connection between sin and omen may have been present in the śānti tradition from its inception. Here, however, atonement takes on a more personal tone and centers on the deeds of the king. Furthermore the juxtaposition of expiatory gifts and omens presents a more pronounced fluidity between atonement and appeasement. This ambivalence crops up explicitly in “Gazing into Ghee,” which has the form of a simple fire offering. In this ritual the king sees his own reflection in a vessel of ghee. Touching his head and heart with curds, he recites the following statement: Ghee is called glory (or “sharp,” tejas); ghee is the best remover of sin (pāpa); by ghee the gods are satisfied; in ghee the worlds are firmly established. Whatever sin (kalmaṣa) has come from the earth, atmosphere, or heavens, may all that be obliterated from the touch of ghee.64 Again this passage juxtaposes sin with the tripartite classification of omens found in astrological sources.65 It implies an identity between mortal misdeeds and the natural disasters portended by omens, while suggesting that these deeds can be physically destroyed, or perhaps transferred, through the gift. This equation of sin and omen seems novel in the Atharvan ritual texts. But beginning in Purāṇic

62. suvarṇaniṣkaṃ kṛṣṇalaṃ vā vāmahastena saṃgṛhya || yad duḥkṛtaṃ yac chabalaṃ sarvaṃ pāpmānaṃ dahatv iti || anena mantreṇa suvarṇaṃ śarīre nighṛṣya dakṣiṇena hastena viprāya dadyād || dhenuṃ cārogām || AVPŚ 4.2.5–​8 || 63. aparimitaguṇān tilān sauvarṇamaye tāmramaye vā pātre sthāpayitvā yad ajñānād ity abhimantrya viprāya dadyāt || yad ajñānāt tathā jñānād yan mayā śabalaṃ kṛtam | tat sarvaṃ tiladānena dahyatām iti hi prabho || bhūmiś ca sasyasaṃpannā brāhmaṇe vedapārage | yathāśakti pradeyā hi bṛhaspativaco yathā || AVPŚ 4.2.9–​11 || 64.  ājyaṃ tejaḥ samuddiṣṭam ājyaṃ pāpaharaṃ param | ājyena devās trpyanti ājye lokāḥ pratiṣṭhitāḥ || 6 || bhaumāntarikṣadivyaṃ vā yat te kalmaṣam āgatam | sarvaṃ tad ājyasaṃsparśāt praṇāśam upagacchatv iti || 7 || AVPŚ 8.1 || 65. The same verse appears at BS 47.52–​53.

94

94

Rit es of t he God -K ing

literature we will meet the widespread notion that divine afflictions, such as natural disasters, diseases, and other misfortunes, are the result of misdeeds that can be “read” in the signs of the natural world and expiated through gifts. For now it suffices to note that these daily rituals begin, from our perspective, to combine the logic of expiation with the logic of appeasement.66 A final example of the application of a śānti-​based discourse may be seen in the king’s nightly “bedtime” routine. As with the morning rituals, the Appendices include a number of separate but partially overlapping instructions, in prose and verse.67 As described in the prose passages, the rite seems to have first consisted in the ritualization of a set of hymns dedicated to Rātrī, the Night Goddess (AVŚ 19.47–​50).68 These hymns are recited in front of an image of the goddess made out of ground flour, and the king’s sleeping quarters are protected by sprinkling gravel in the corners of the room. Some versions involve the waving of a lamp around the king and binding him with an amulet.69 Two verse passages related to this group of rituals, however, introduce a discourse of appeasement. First, in one version, an additional prayer—​distinct from the Atharvan Night hymns—​is recited, it would seem, by the king himself: Protect me always, Goddess, with my kingdom and my relatives! Deliver us to the dawn and grant me śānti always! O Goddess, no danger arises for those who resort to you! [Hence] I resort to the mother night, the abode

66. The ceremony is also said to remove bad dreams (duḥsvapna)—​another common topic of omen divination. 67.  AVPŚ 4.4, 5, and 6 are in prose, whereas AVṔS 4.3 and 7 are metrical. The rituals are variously titled piṣṭamayīṃ ratriṃ (“[Worship of ] the Night Made of Flour,” AVPŚ 4.3.1), rātrisūktānaṃ vidhi (“Ritual Procedure for the Night-​Hymns,” AVPŚ 4.5.1), and piṣṭarātryāḥ kalpa (“Ritual of the Night [Made of ] Flour,” AVPŚ 6.1.1). For a translation of AVPŚ 4.3–​5 and AVPŚ 6, see Rotaru, “Textual Division of the Rātrī Group.” According to Rotaru, the later Atharvan tradition treats AVPŚ 6 as a separate ritual. 68. Sāyaṇa believes AVŚ 19.47–​50 comprises but two hymns (AVŚ 19.47–​48 and 49–​50), perhaps following their deployment at AVPŚ 4.4.1 and 4.5.7, which he cites and which mention a pair of hymns (sūktadvaya), the second beginning with iṣirā yoṣā (AVŚ 19.49.1a). The hymns also occur in the Paippalādasaṃhitā (6.20–​21, 14.8–​9). See Rotaru, “Textual Division of the Rātrī Group.” 69. These prose sections seem to share the same basic procedure, with some variation: [1]‌an image of the night is made out of flour; [2] it is offered a series of objects, including flower garlands, food, drink, incense, and lamps; [3] it is praised (upa √sthā) with a hymn; and [4] gravel is sprinkled in the corners of the king’s sleeping quarters. In two of the versions (AVPŚ 4.4.4 and 4.5.8) a lamp is thrice waved around the king, between steps 3 and 4 in my schema. In conjunction with the protection of the sleeping quarters (my step 4), in two versions (AVPŚ 4.4.9 and 6.11) the king is also bound with an amulet (pratisara).

95



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

95

of all beings, the auspicious one, the dark blessed night of the entire world. I worship the auspicious night, the one who lays down, brings to rest [all beings], who is garlanded by the stars and planets. O auspicious lady, may I make it to the next day! May that night—​to whom all beings, moving and stationary, bow day and night—​preserve me.70 Echoing the morning blessing, the king here explicitly requests safety and appeasement from the Night. Second is a narrative explanation for the waving of a lamp thrice around the king, which is prescribed independently in an appendix called “Nightly [Ceremony]” (ārātrika).71 The bulk of this short text is taken up by a verse narrative. Indra, afflicted by the purohita of the demons, suffers from insomnia or bad dreams.72 He employs the Atharvan Bṛhaspati, who thrice circumambulates the king with a lamp.73 This act is said to “appease” Indra’s sicknesses, the planets, and his obstacles.74 Finally, at the close of “Rituals of the Purohita,” the rhetorical voice of the Appendices reappears to remind us of the need for an Atharvan purohita expert in śānti: In whose country there dwells an Atharvan expert in śānti, that king’s kingdom prospers, free of disaster. In whose country there is no [such person], his kingdom is afflicted by manifold dangers, as a cow sinks down in the mud. Therefore the king should perpetually honour above all others the Atharvan, whose senses are tamed, with gifts, respect, and homage. Perpetually he should have him perform śānti and worship the planets

70.  pāhi māṃ satataṃ devi sarāṣṭraṃ sasuhṛjjanam | uṣase naḥ prayacchasva śāntiṃ ca kṛṇu me sadā | ye tvāṃ prapadyante devi na teṣāṃ vidyate bhayam || 3 || rātriṃ prapadye jananīṃ sarvabhūtaniveśanīm | bhadrāṃ bhagavatīṃ kṛṣṇāṃ viśvasya jagato niśām || 4 || saṃveśanīṃ saṃyamanīṃ grahanakṣatramālinīm | prapanno ‘haṃ śivāṃ rātriṃ bhadre pāram aśīmahi || 5 || yāṃ sadā sarvabhūtāni sthāvarāṇi carāṇi ca | sāyaṃ prātar namasyanti sā māṃ rātry abhirakṣatv iti || 6 || AVPŚ 4.3 || 71. AVPŚ 7. Ārātrika may also derive from AVŚ 19.47, which begins “ā rātri.” Perhaps this is the origin of ārti (ritual of waving lamps)? 72. Literally, “he did not sleep” (na suṣvāpa || AVPŚ 7.1.1a ||). 73. He should address the lamp 101 times with the mantra “preto yantu” (AVŚ 7.114.2). Then he should wave the auspicious [lamp] around the king with the mantra (AVŚ 19.47?) (preto yantv ekaśataṃ ca dīpaṃ samabhimantrayet | triḥ paribhrāmayed rājño mantreṇātha sumaṅgalam || AVPŚ 7.8 ||). 74. śāmyanty asya tato rogā grahā vighnavināyakāḥ | svasty astu nṛparāṣṭrāya svasti gobrāḥmaṇāya ca || AVPŚ 7.9 || Note that the Grahas and Vināyakas are propitiated in the preliminary ceremonies of the mahāśānti. The Vināyakas are also associated with bad dreams. See ­chapter 3.

96

96

Rit es of t he God -K ing

and stars. And he should perform milkings of the earth at temples of the gods. And he should satisfy cows according to instruction at crossroads, cowpens, holy places and watery [places] (apsu).75 The king who has him do thus, always having restrained his senses, obtains endless bliss and enjoys the whole earth.76 Hence a diverse group of daily rituals is assimilated into the śānti-​based repertoire of the purohita by means of an aggressive rhetorical program. In such passages, as in other narrative texts and mantric recitations, śānti functions not as a single ritual paradigm but as a kind of discourse that frames other ritual concerns. In the morning and evening rituals the king requests appeasement; in the daily gifts the king seeks the removal of his sin, which is causally linked to omens. In all of these practices the text introduces the śānti category as an interpretive trope, resulting in a more complex articulation of simpler rituals of expiation and protection from danger.

Material Bases for Śānti If the daily rituals of the king demonstrate the growth of śānti discourse in the Appendices, a corresponding development can be seen at the level of ritual practice. One group of texts (AVPŚ 21–​29) prescribes a series of modifications (vikalpa) to the standard set of sacrificial implements (saṃbhāra), adapting the generic Vedic ritual apparatus to various Atharvan aims.77 The employment of śānti in these 75. Compare the similar passage: divyam api śamam upaiti prabhūtakanakānnagomahīdānaiḥ | rudrāyatane bhūmau godohāt koṭihomāc ca || BS 45.6 || The term godoha here seems to refer to a ritual that involved the milking of cows on the ground near a Śaiva temple. Unfortunately neither text gives further details. The unpublished Gargīyajyotiṣa, however, supplies instructions for a system of “Cow Śānti” (gośānti) rituals, adaptable to ten different bovine diseases. The system involves bali offerings, fire sacrifice with various kindling sticks, and incense (dhūpa) to fumigate the sick cow. 76. yasya rājño janapade atharvā śāntipāragaḥ | nivasaty api tad rāṣṭraṃ vardhate nirupadravam || 1 || yasya rājño janapade sa nāsti vividhair bhayaiḥ | pīḍyate tasya tad rāṣṭraṃ paṅke gaur iva majjati || 2 || tasmād rājā viśeṣeṇa atharvāṇaṃ jitendriyam | dānasaṃmānasatkārair nityaṃ samabhipūjayet || 3 || nityaṃ ca kārayec chāntiṃ grahaṛkṣāṇi pūjayet | bhūmidohān prakurvīta devatāyataneṣu ca || 4 || catuspatheṣu goṣṭheṣu tīrtheṣv apsu ca kārayet | gotarpaṇaṃ ca vidhivat sarvadoṣavināśanam || 5 || ya evaṃ kārayed rājā sarvakālaṃ jitendriyaḥ | anantaṃ sukham āpnoti kṛtsnāṃ bhuṅkte vasuṃdharām || 6 || AVPŚ 4.6 || 77. Chapter titles as follows: AVPŚ 21. Characteristics of the Implements (saṃbhāralakṣaṇam); 22. Characteristics of the Fire Drill (araṇilakṣaṇam); 23. Characteristics of the Sacrificial Vessels (yajñapātralakṣaṇam); 24. Characteristics of the Altar (vedilakṣaṇam); 25. Characteristics of the Fire Pit (kuṇḍalakṣaṇam); 26. Characteristics of the Kindling Wood (samillakṣaṇam); 27. Characteristics of the Ladle (sruvalakṣaṇam); 28. Characteristics of the

97



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

97

chapters indicates that ritualists in the Atharvan tradition now understand the term both as a general concept and, crucially, as a specific kind of ritual, distinguished from other ritual types by specific material requisites. According to one such instruction, “The wise say that dry and white coloured [kuśa blades] produce śānti.”78 On several occasions the text also refers explicitly to “śānti rituals” (śāntikarma), as can be inferred in the following example: “[Kindling sticks] made out of śamī or dūrvā trees are known to convey good fortune in a śānti ritual.”79 Another term specifying the ritual practice of appeasement is the adjective śāntika (related to or productive of śānti), often paired with pauṣṭika (relating to prosperity or puṣṭi).80 Śāntike occurs altogether eight times in these passages, always in the sense of a ritual category, as in “the sruva-​ladle is recommended in śānti rituals (śāntike); the sruc-​ladle is said to have yajña as its purpose,” and, “[While] reciting mantras at the full sruva (i.e. the final offering), in a śānti ritual the hand is spread out (uttānam), but in śānti and puṣṭi rituals, he should avoid [using] the little finger.”81 In one instance the text also employs the term amṛtādau, “in the amṛtā [mahāśānti] and so forth,” no doubt a reference to the variants of the mahāśānti ritual of the Śāntikalpa.82 The use of the terms śānti and śāntika place appeasement on par with a wider group of ritual categories proper to the Atharvaveda, such as sorcery (abhicāra), rituals causing the ruin of one’s adversary (uccāṭana), attraction rituals (vaśyakarma), sowing dissent in the enemy (vidveṣa), and prosperity (puṣṭi).83 By

Hands (hastalakṣaṇam); 29. Characteristics of the Flames (jvalalakṣaṇam). On these chapters see Bosch, Atharvaveda-​Parisista. 78. śuṣkān api śvetavarṇān āhuḥ śāntikarān budhāḥ | AVPŚ 21.1.2cd | 79. śamīdūrvātarūṇāṃ tu jñeyāḥ śāntau śubhāvāhāḥ | AVPŚ 21.2.3cd. “The vedi should be made square in rituals of śānti and iṣṭi (or iṣṭi rituals for the purpose of śānti)” (caturaśrā ca kartavyā vediḥ śāntīṣṭikarmasu | AVPŚ 24.1.4cd |); “He who desires health should obtain [kindling sticks made] of palāśa wood in a śānti ritual” (puṣṭikāmaḥ palāśasya gṛhṇīyāc chāntikarmaṇi | AVPŚ 26.5.1ab |). 80. See for instance Keśava at KauśS 1.1.1. 81. sruvaś ca śāntike jñeyaḥ srug uktā yajñalakṣaṇā | AVPŚ 21.2.5cd | (but cf. AVPŚ 27.1.2cd); sruve pūrṇe japen mantram uttānaṃ śāntike karam | śāntike pauṣṭike caiva varjayet tu kanīnikām || AVPŚ 27.2.1 || Similarly, “Kindling sticks smeared with milk are especially to be offered in a śānti-​type homa” (kṣīrāktā śāntike home hotavya tu viśeṣataḥ | AVPŚ 26.3.3cd |). This is perhaps a reference to the homas of AVPŚ 30a, 30b, and 31, the so-​called lakṣahoma, bṛhallakṣahoma, and koṭihoma. 82. “In the [mahāśāntis] beginning with amṛtā, a sruva made out of sandalwood is known to confer success” (amṛtādau tu vijñeyaś cāndanaḥ siddhidaḥ sruvaḥ | AVPŚ 21.3.3cd |). 83. See for instance the discussion of sruva ladles at AVPŚ 21.3: “For the purpose of śānti the sruva is said to be gold, or palāśa or khadira wood. Especially in the case of abhicāra, one

98

98

Rit es of t he God -K ing

far, however, śānti garners the greatest number of specifications among these ritual categories.84 On occasion śānti is even distinguished from the sacrifice (yajña) itself, as in the above statement, “The sruva should be known in śānti rituals; the sruk is said to have yajña as its purpose,” and also “[Samidhs] are to be used in a sacrificial ritual (yajñakarmaṇi), as well as in śānti (śāntike) and puṣṭi (puṣṭike) rituals.”85 Hence, while they appear merely to describe the basic ritual apparatus, these specifications delimit Atharvan ritual practices—​and śānti in particular—​ as categorically distinct, within and against Vedic sacrifice.86

Apotropaic Aspersions I: Prosperity (puṣya) So far we have seen that in the Appendices śānti has matured into a central theme of Atharvan discourse and one of its premier and distinctive ritual services. But further innovation also continued at the level of ritual technique within śānti rituals, and these innovations will prove highly influential for our study. In general terms, the most salient trend in the ritual calendar of the Appendices is the proliferation

should make the sruva out of iron. He should make it out of brass for uccāṭana rituals, out of aśvattha wood for attraction rituals (vaśyakarma), and especially in the case of rituals for sowing dissent (vidveṣa), the sruva is known to be made of nimba wood. For rituals of prosperity, it is known to be silver, and copper brings military victory. In amṛtā and other [mahāśāntis] a sandalwood sruva is known to confer success” (sauvarṇaḥ śāntike proktaḥ pālaśo vātha khādiraḥ | abhicāre viśeṣeṇa kuryāt sruvam ayomayam || 1 || kāṃsyaṃ uccāṭane kuryād āśvatthaṃ vaśyakarmaṇi | viśeṣeṇa tu vidveṣe sruvo nimbamayaḥ smṛtaḥ || 2 || pauṣṭike rājataṃ vidyāt tāmraṃ ca vijayāvaham | amṛtādau tu vijñeyaś cāndanaḥ siddhidaḥ sruvaḥ || 3 || AVPŚ 21.3 ||). 84.  In all, śānti-​based variations include dry and white colored kuśa blades (AVPŚ 21.1.2); twice the number of sacrificial attendants (AVPŚ 21.1.5); samidhs made of śamī and dūrvā trees (AVPŚ 21.2.3) and smeared with milk (AVPŚ 26.3.3); a sruva made of gold, palāśa, or khadira wood (AVPŚ 21.3.1); a square altar (vedi) (AVPŚ 24.1.4cd); a square or lotus-​shaped kuṇḍa (fire pit) (AVPŚ 25.1.10); offerings made without the little finger (AVPŚ 27.1.2; 28.2.1). 85. AVPŚ 26.2.1 As also in the statement, “[He should make an offering] with all five fingers in domestic rituals or in sacrifice, but in śānti and puṣṭi rituals he should avoid [using] the little finger” (gṛhakarmaṇi yajñe vā tathā pañcabhir eva tu | śāntike pauṣṭike vaiva varjayet tu kanīnikām || AVPŚ 28.2.1 ||). The same distinction is also implied in the following passage, following the reconstruction of Bolling and Negelein (The Parisistas of the Atharvaveda, 1:136):  “And the ṛtviks, most knowledgeable in the four [Vedas] should number sixteen, eight, and [or] four. They should be possessed of youthful vigour, fine moral character, and good virtues. In the case of an omen requiring śānti, there should be thirty-​two, sixteen, or eight” (ṣoḍaśāṣṭau ca catvāraś caturṇāṃ vedavittamāḥ || AVPŚ 21.1.8ab || ṛtvijas tu samākhyātā vayaḥśīlaguṇānvitāḥ | dvātriṃśat ṣoḍaśāṣṭau vā śāntikārye tathādbhute || AVPŚ 21.1.5 ||). 86. For example, it is specified that an abhicāra ritual is to be performed with an iron sruva, which is explicitly forbidden from being used in other rituals:  sarve yajñe prayoktavyā varjayitvāyasaṃ sruvaṃ | āyasaṃ khādiraṃ caiva abhicāre prayojayet || AVPŚ 27.1.3 ||

9



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

99

of rituals of aspersion, similar in form to the mahāśānti and yet even more reminiscent of Vedic abhiṣeka. In addition to the rhetorical strategies already outlined, the generalization of aspersion lends another degree of formal coherence to the otherwise diverse set of royal rituals described in the text collection. According to the calendar, the king is to be subject to the following regular and occasional sprinkling consecrations each year: Regular Consecrations “First Consecration of a King” (rājaprathamābhiṣeka) (AVPŚ 3) “Puṣya Consecration” (puṣyābhiṣeka) (5) “Birthday [Consecration]” (janmadina) (18b.1) “Ritual for the Full Moon in the Month of Śravaṇa” (śravaṇapūrṇamāsa) (AVPŚ 18b) Occasional Consecrations “Gift of the Earth” (bhūmidāna) (AVPŚ 10) “Gift of the Man on a Balance” (tulāpuruṣa) (AVPŚ 11) “Gift of the Golden Embryo” (hiraṇyagarbha) (AVPŚ 13) “Gift of 1,000 Cows” (gosahasra) (AVPŚ 16) “Blanket of Ghee” (ghṛtakambala) (AVPŚ 33) mahāśānti (various) An examination of these rituals shows that the earlier type of Vedic royal consecration (abhiṣeka) was incorporated within—​and indeed eclipsed by—​a larger program of aspersions, developed in the wake of the śānti ritual category. I will call these rituals “apotropaic” aspersions or consecrations, in contradistinction to earlier “empowering” abhiṣekas of the classical Vedic period. These postinaugural, reiterative consecrations are often dependent on the innovative ritual techniques first seen in the Śāntikalpa, especially the employment of mantra gaṇas in the preparation of the waters. Moreover, in one way or another—​notably in their mantric content—​they express a tension between a positive conferral of powers and a negative avoidance of, or protection from, danger or disaster.87 Usually this negative aspect is framed in astrological terms. At the center of this crucial turn in the history of abhiṣeka is a ritual known as the puṣyābhiṣeka, the “Prosperity Aspersion” (AVPŚ 5). The Appendices may well 87. In addition these royal aspersions are extended to include a series of aspersions for animals, typically horses and elephants but also cows. The concern for animal consecration is in part derived from a tradition of consecrating the articles of warfare on the king’s behalf. The application of śānti to the military apparatus was already seen in the “ten-​gaṇa” mahāśānti mentioned in the Śāntikalpa.

10

100

Rit es of t he God -K ing

contain the earliest version of this ritual, which, as we will see, also appears in the astrological Bṛhatsaṃhitā and became highly influential in later Purāṇic versions of royal consecration (rājyābhiṣeka). Most important for our purposes will be to understand its ritual hybridity: in formal terms the Prosperity Aspersion may be described as a combination of traditional Vedic “empowering” consecrations and Atharvan-​style aspersions like the mahāśānti. Because of its importance to our larger investigation, I have prepared a step-​by-​step summary of the text in appendix 2.2. I refer to these steps in the following discussion. On many levels the ritual relies on technical innovations introduced in the mahāśānti. In the first place the purohita addresses the pots in which the consecratory waters are gathered (steps 1–​3) with a version of the śānti gaṇa (step 4), as in the instruction for making śānti water from the Kauśikasūtra.88 Here the text specifies a familiar instruction: sāvitry ubhayataḥ kuryāc chaṃ no devī tathaiva ca, which I take to mean “At both [ends of the gaṇa] he should put the śāvitrī hymn and also the verse ‘śaṃ no devīḥ’ (AVŚ 1.6.1).” This appears to be a versification of Kauśikasūtra 1.9.6: ubhayataḥ savitry ubhayataḥ śaṃ no devī. We saw previously that this instruction, as interpreted by Dārila, became a standard framing device for different versions of the śānti gaṇa. Thus the text treats its aspersion waters as a form of śānti water.89 Furthermore, immediately prior to the

88.  The specific version of the śānti gaṇa required here, however, is not entirely clear. The remainder of the verse reads hiraṇyavarṇāḥ sūktaṃ ca anuvākādyam eva ca (AVPŚ 5.2.4cd). Here the hymn beginning hiraṇyavarṇāḥ (Golden colored [waters]) is AVŚ 1.33, which was included in both original śānti gaṇas in KauśS 1.9. The term anuvākādyam, “the first anuvāka,” is somewhat more difficult to identify. Anuvāka refers to a subdivision of hymns in one of the books of the AVŚ. The first anuvāka consists of six hymns (AVŚ 1.1–​6). Sāyaṇa appears to read the term anuvākādyam as a reference to AVŚ 1.1, which is not a customary member of any of the four śānti gaṇas in AVPŚ 32. It may be that the text intends the two hymns, AVŚ 1.1 and 33, to constitute the śānti gaṇa in this case. Or perhaps these are to be added to the beginning and end of one of the other śānti gaṇas, as with the sāvitrī and the śāṃ no devī. Alternatively the text may intend that the entire first anuvāka of the Atharvaveda, along with AVŚ 1.33, should constitute the core gaṇa here. Note that half of this gaṇa, AVŚ 1.4–​6, was already included in the “water hymns” mentioned in Kauśika, and also included there in both śānti gaṇas. 89. The identification is made explicit by Keśava. In his gloss to the ritual instruction to the inaugural consecration (mahābhiṣeka) at KauśS 2.8[17].12, Keśava inserts the following direction: “Having performed everything up to the abhyātāna offerings, he makes śāntyudaka out of the water of four oceans and 100 great rivers. With that water he makes the śāntyudaka according to rule” (abhyātānāntaṃ kṛtvā tataḥ śāntyudakaṃ karoti | caturṇāṃ sāgarāṇāṃ tu mahānadīnāṃ śatasya ca | tenodakena śāntyudakaṃ karoti vidhānena). The phrase “[water from] the four oceans and 100 great rivers” parallels the more metrical rendering from the puṣyābhiṣeka, AVPŚ 5.1.3, “having diligently gathered the water for the king’s consecration out of the four oceans and 100 rivers” (caturṇāṃ sāgarāṇāṃ tu nadīnāṃ ca śatasya tu | abhiṣekāya rājñas tu toyam āhṛtya yatnataḥ ||). In this way Keśava appears to import instructions from the puṣyābhiṣeka into the royal consecration, while taking these waters as śāntyudaka.

10



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

101

aspersion (in step 10), a fire offering is made with the five mantra groups already required in the mahāśānti:  “protective covering” (śarmavarman), “unconquered” (aparājita), “longevity” (āyuṣya), “freedom from danger” (abhaya), and “auspicious progress” (svastyayana) (steps 6–​8).90 Although the text does not specify that the dregs of these offerings should be mixed into the śānti waters, Bolling and Negelein assume that this is the case, as is the norm in other related rituals.91 This interpretation is also supported by later Purāṇic sources, which inherit this ritual, including the five mantra gaṇas.92 In these crucial ways the “Prosperity Aspersion” recapitulates the basic procedure of the mahāśānti.93 The ritual has also been dressed in the trappings of traditional Vedic royal consecrations. First, the king is seated on animal skins (of an ox, a tiger, a lion, and a deer) (step 5).94 Second, the puṣyābhiṣeka appears to follow an older, two-​step pattern, wherein the king is first consecrated on these animal skins, and then travels to a second throne—​usually to the assembly—​where he is enthroned and attended by prominent members of his kingdom (steps 11–​16).95 That the text also imagines a ruler of universal sovereignty is confirmed by the gathering of consecration waters from the four oceans and 100 rivers and the placement of four elephants in the cardinal directions around the throne. These may represent the elephants said to reside in the cardinal and intermediate directions of Indian cosmology.96

90. ŚK 2.24.1 mentions four of these gaṇas (with the exception of āyuṣya) sequentially. 91. In their summary of the text: Bolling and Negelein, Pariśiṣṭas of the Atharvaveda, 1:66. 92. See ­chapter 4. 93. Further evidence of the link between the puṣyābhiṣeka and śānti is indicated in the use of the golden offering ladle or sruva (AVPŚ 5.3.4) during the fire offering. Such a spoon is elsewhere prescribed for rituals of the śānti type (sauvarṇaḥ śāntike proktaḥ | AVPŚ 21.3.1 |). 94.  In classical consecrations the king was usually seated on the skin of a tiger. Traditional authorities vary with respect to whether the king stands or sits. Nevertheless the tiger skin seems to be a consistent implement. See Tsuchiyama, “Abhiṣeka in Vedic and post-​Vedic Rituals,” 65; Heesterman, The Ancient Indian Royal Consecration, 114. The KauśS seems to substitute a bull’s hide (KauśS 2.7 [17].3)—​though this detail is provided in the lesser consecration for a vassal king (KauśS 2.7 [17].1–​9), whereas Keśava seems to view the puṣyābhiṣeka as congruent with the consecration of a universal sovereign (KauśS. 2.7 [17].10–​27). The universal sovereign is consecrated on darbha grasses (talpe darbheṣu abhiṣiñcati | KauśS 2.7[17].13). 95.  Such is the case, for instance, with the consecration of the universal sovereign (Keśava: sārvabhauma) in KauśS. There the king is first consecrated on a couch, which is then carried by four princes up to the assembly, where he is attended by members of the four varṇas and vows to uphold the dharma for the populace (2.8 [17].14–​25). For a discussion of this two-​ part structure, see ­chapter 3. 96.  The Vedic rājasūya was also greatly concerned with cosmic symbolism, having two corresponding ceremonies related to the cardinal directions: [1]‌the preliminary “mounting the

102

102

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Given these motifs, we should understand the Prosperity Aspersion as a willful politicization, or “regalization,” of the śānti paradigm. The foregoing details, reminiscent of Vedic royal inauguration rituals, were much less pronounced in the mahāśānti. Furthermore that ritual could be sponsored by any of the twice-​ born varṇas.97 But in the puṣyābhiṣeka—​a reiterative, annual aspersion—​the Atharvan tradition adapts the śānti ritual form to a highly public representation of kingship. Recalling the opening passage of the Appendices, the final line of the text illustrates this politicization: “Since this instruction for the Aspersion of Puṣya has been prescribed in the Atharva[veda], the king who is bathed (i.e. thereby) enjoys the earth and goes to Indra’s world [when he dies].”98 I argue that the Atharvan tradition was here attempting to blur the line between abhiṣeka and śānti and thus to present royal authority itself—​the “quality” traditionally invested in the body of the king through his inaugural aspersion—​as inextricably related to the prime qualifications of the Atharvan purohita: healing, protection, freedom from danger, and of course, appeasement. And, whether or not the ritual led to a reinterpretation of the inaugural consecration itself, the annual repetition of puṣyābhiṣeka implies that the maintenance of royal vigor and authority, at least, was to be seen as dependent on such apotropaic powers. In many ways this moment had been long building in the Atharvan ritual tradition. Already in the royal consecration of the Kauśikasūtra, śānti water had been substituted for the complex consecratory waters of the non-​Atharvan schools. The relationship between the king and the purohita formed an important aspect of that ritual, in the form of their “mutual” aspersion (samāsecanam) and encircling vow (viparidhānam). Framed by two mantras that establish divine favor for the roles of king and purohita (AVŚ 4.22 and 5.24), this mutual aspersion and vow were repeated daily, reiterating their bond. We have seen this sequence repeated in the Appendices as part of the purohita’s daily duties.99 Additionally the text prescribes a miniature version of the king’s inaugural abhiṣeka each day, at his morning bath. The rather innocuous instruction is included immediately prior to the king’s two daily gifts, which we have already

quarters of space” (digvyāsthāpanam), which corresponds to [2] the concluding “Offerings to the Quarters of Space” (diśām anveṣṭayaḥ). The purpose of the latter ceremony, according to Heesterman, is to place the king firmly at the center of the universe (Ancient Indian Royal Consecration, 199). 97. Based on the description of its variants and its sacrificial fees (dakṣiṇā). 98. atharvavihito hy eṣa vidhiḥ puṣyābhiṣecane | rājā snāto mahīṃ bhuṅkte śakralokaṃ ca gaccati || 5.7 || AVPŚ 5 || 99. AVPŚ 4.1.3–​4.

103



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

103

met, after the announcement of the “Rituals of the King”: “Now the rituals of the king. At the hour of Viśvāvasu he is bathed, and addressed with the abhiṣeka mantras. He is smeared with unguents, [and dressed] with clothing and ornaments according to the previously mentioned instruction (i.e. the svastyayana).”100 The abhiṣeka mantras mentioned here most likely refer to the verses of AVŚ 4.8, the original consecratory hymn employed in Kauśika.101 Hence the salient parts of the royal inauguration described in the Kauśikasūtra—​the aspersion itself and also the rehearsal of the king’s bond with his purohita—​ are repeated daily in the schedule of the Appendices. To be sure, it is unclear whether this daily abhiṣeka was at first intended to echo śānti rituals. But with important “re-​consecratory” rituals like the Prosperity Aspersion, the gifting rituals, and the oft-​prescribed mahāśānti itself cluttering the royal schedule, the distinction would certainly seem hard to maintain. The work of royal consecration and the work of appeasement are now ongoing labors, and—​at least in ritual form—​largely indistinguishable. We may leave it to the subsequent history of śānti—​and of the ritual of puṣya in particular—​to flesh out the implications of this important point. It suffices here to foreshadow these developments by relating Gonda’s remark on the astrological version of the puṣya ritual in the Bṛhatsaṃhitā: [The Puṣyasnāna] in so far resembles an anointment that the king is sprinkled with a powerful fluid. Actually it is in the first place a complex of rites intended to keep the king in good condition and prevent him from being hurt by evil; it is explicitly called the most efficacious rite for appeasing evil influences (śānti) and for allaying evil portents; it is a maṅgala, a solemn auspicious ceremony producing or stimulating welfare and happiness.102 Gonda captures the basic ambivalence of abhiṣeka in the age of appeasement: an anointment, but “actually” a preventive ritual: a maṅgala, and yet a śānti. Thus by the sixth century ce the annual renewal of kingship was understood as a variant of śānti rather than as a simple reiteration of the classical, “empowering” versions of royal consecration. The examples that follow demonstrate that such protective consecrations, meant to remove danger, disease, and sin, proliferate

100.  atha rājakarmāṇi || viśvāvasau muhūrte snātaḥ abhiṣekamantrair abhimantritaḥ || anulepanair anuliptaḥ || pūrvoktena vidhinā vastrālaṃkārādibhiḥ || AVPŚ 4.2.1–​4 || 101. This hymn alone constitutes the so-​called abhiṣekagaṇa (AVPŚ 32.30). 102. Gonda, Ancient Indian Kingship, 93.

104

104

Rit es of t he God -K ing

throughout the Appendices and may be said to provide its most consistent ritual format.103

Apotropaic Aspersions II: Gifting and Sorcery In addition to annual “re-​consecrations” like the Prosperity Aspersion, the king is also subject to a theoretically unlimited number of occasional or desiderative aspersions. While, aside from the mahāśānti itself, these rituals are not explicitly named śāntis or abhiṣekas, they nonetheless resemble the ceremonies examined above. But whereas the puṣyābhiṣeka brought śānti into conversation with 103. A similar, annual aspersion occurs on the king’s birthday (jamnadina), with the aim of ensuring a long and prosperous life of 100 years. As with the puṣyābhiṣeka, this ritual consecration survives elsewhere—​in the Yajurvedic Bodhayanagṛhyaśeṣasūtra (1.23) and also in the late medieval compendium of Hemādri (thirteenth century). See Vratakhaṇḍa, 2:891. The ceremony is only briefly described (AVPŚ 18b.1.1–​8), but it clearly takes the frame (tantra) of a simple fire sacrifice. Within this frame the king is first sprinkled to the recitation of two purificatory mantras from book 6 of the AVŚ (19 and 51). These are accompanied by “auspicious [words]” (maṅgala) and pronouncements of “lucky day” (puṇyāha). Next the main offerings of the fire sacrifice are dedicated to Indra and the Lokapālas. Finally the king is bound with an amulet smeared with the dregs of this main offering. While this aspersion ritual does not explicitly prescribe mantra gaṇas, dregs, or śānti water, the two mantras employed in the act of aspersion are aimed at purification (punantu, pūtaḥ, pavitra). Both of them were included in the larger śānti gaṇa of the Kauśikasūtra. Meanwhile the amulet binding in particular adds a distinctively prophylactic bent to the ritual. Traditional Vedic consecrations do not include amulets, which are nonetheless common in Kauśika. The mantra recited during the binding of the amulet is worth reproducing, as it is employed in the binding of amulets in five different rituals in the Atharvan calendar:  “May the fires which are in the waters protect you; may that [fire] which men kindle protect you. May Vaiśvānara [fire], protect you, may the heavenly Jātaveda [fire] not burn you with lightning. Let not the crematory fire think of you as food, move far from the destroyer (of the body, i.e. the funerary fire). Let heaven protect you and let the earth protect you. Let the sun and moon protect you. Let the intermediate space protect you from the divine blows. Let the awakened and the attentive one protect you, and let the sleepless and unsleeping ones protect you, and let the guarding one and the wakeful one protect you. May they protect you; may those guardians protect you; namas to them, svāhā to them!” (rakṣantu tvāgnayo ye apsv antā rakṣatu tvā manuṣyā yam indhate | vaiśvānaro rakṣatu jātavedā divyas tvā mā pra dhāg vidyutā saha || 11 || mā tvā kravyād abhi maṃstārāt saṃkasukāc cara rakṣatu tvā dyau rakṣatu | pṛthivī sūryaś ca tvā rakṣatāṃ candramāś ca | antarikṣaṃ rakṣatu devahetyāḥ || 12 || bodhaś ca tvā pratibodhaś ca rakṣatām asvapnaś ca tvānavadrāṇaś ca rakṣatām | gopāyaṃś ca tvā jāgṛviś ca rakṣatām || 13 || te tvā rakṣantu te tvā gopāyantu tebhyo namas tebhyaḥ svāhā || 14 || AVŚ 8.1 ||). Whitney’s translation, modified. This mantra is used on five separate occasions in the Appendices: AVPŚ 13.1.7 (hiraṇyagarbha); 15.1.6 (aśvarathadāna); 17.1.4 (nīrājanā?); 18b.1.5 (janmadina); 18b.16.1 (ceremony for the full moon of śrāvaṇa). Three of these instances can be called aspersions, the hiraṇyagarbha (which I  discuss below), the janmadina consecration discussed above, and the ritual of the full moon of śrāvaṇa. The other two occasions are linked to horse-​related rituals, one of which, the nīrājanā, also includes a consecration.

105



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

105

traditional Vedic abhiṣeka, in these cases this already complex form of consecration is further engaged with yet other ritual categories exercised by kings, such as gifting (dāna) and sorcery (abhicāra). While the early history of dāna remains somewhat unclear, royal gifting rituals—​as with other rituals we have seen—​have a long history independent of the Atharvaveda. Leaving aside the Vedic sacrificial fee (dakṣiṇā), with which the dāna is in many ways related, early Brahmanical literature on kingship reflects a growing interest in gifting as a means of consolidating brahmin-​kṣatriya relations. Manu famously names dāna rather than yajña as the primary dharma of the degenerate Kali Age, while the Anuśāsanaparvan of the Mahābhārata recommends the king’s gifting to brahmins—​on a daily basis, if possible.104 Already in these texts we may be able to detect the seeds of later issues in orthodox theories of the gift. The Mahābhārata implies that such gifts are especially relevant given the “terrible” (raudra) karma of the kṣatriya—​the removal of which was an especially pressing concern in light of the cataclysmic results of the Pāṇḍava-​Kaurava war. The text stops short of admitting that the gift transfers royal sin to the priestly recipient. Rather it suggests that the sin is somehow offset by the properly dharmic, Brahmanical activities—​sacrifice, asceticism, and study—​which the gift supports. We have seen in the Appendices that the king’s first act each morning is to offer two such donations (gold and grain) to an unnamed brahmin priest (vipra). Those rituals, however, suggest that the gifts in fact transfer the king’s sin, a model of gifting that Gloria Raheja calls “the poison in the gift.” Nascent in these early texts, then, is a tension that would emerge in much more explicit terms by the early second millennium ce, between “ethical” and “ritual” notions of the gift—​what David Brick has called the “proponent” and implied “opponent” (siddhāntin and pūrvapakṣa) of orthodox gifting theory.105

104. As Bhīṣma exhorts Yudhiṣṭhira, “The karma of a kṣatriya is always terrible, O son! For him the extended (i.e. śrauta) sacrifice and gifting purify that [sin]. But sadhus do not accept [gifts] from sinful kings, hence the king should perform sacrifices rich in sacrificial fees. Yet if they will accept [gifts], he should give to them daily. For, undertaken with the highest faith, that [gift] becomes the greatest purifier” (raudraṃ karma kṣatriyasya satataṃ tāta vartate | tasya vaitānikaṃ karma dānaṃ caiveha pāvanam || 4 || na tu pāpakṛtāṃ rājñāṃ pratigṛhṇanti sādhavaḥ | yājakā dvijasattamāḥ dhane satyapradātṝṇāṃ | etasmāt kāraṇād yajñair yajed rājāptadakṣiṇaiḥ || 5 || atha cet pratigṛhṇīyur dadyād aharahar nṛpaḥ | śraddhām āsthāya paramāṃ pāvanaṃ hy etad uttamam || 6 || MBh 13.60 ||). 105.  The “ethical” theory emphasizes the lofty qualifications of the Brahmanical recipient (pātra), while the “ritual” theory—​best seen in ethnographic accounts—​emphasizes the removal of the donor’s sin through a physical and moral transfer. See the introduction in Brick, Brahmanical Theories of the Gift.

106

106

Rit es of t he God -K ing

The Appendices contribute significantly to this ritual theory of gifting in the development of a series of eight monumental royal gifting rituals, which become the basis for the Purāṇic mahādānas, or “Great Gifts.”106 In general these ritual gifts are said to remove sin, and hence their descriptive passages echo the gifts of gold and grain prescribed in the king’s daily rituals. Several of these rituals feature the aspersion format of śānti, thus assimilating them to the broader set of apotropaic consecrations of the ritual calendar.107 As an example, I will discuss first the tulāpuruṣadāna (AVPŚ 11), the “Gift of the Man on a Balance,” in which the sponsor mounts a scale (tulā) and donates his weight in gold. As I discuss further in ­chapter 4, the Matsyapurāṇa takes this ritual as the archetype for the entire category of Great Gifts. Most crucially, in this ritual the sponsor is bathed with a water pot that has been prepared with special mantras and mixed with the remainders of a fire offering: Having prepared the requisites; having performed the first half of the fire offering up to the end of the pair of ājyabhāga offerings; having made an offering with the śānti [gaṇa] possessing the mahāvyāhṛtis and the sāvitrī hymn, and with the hymn brahma jajñānam (AVŚ 4.1); he should mix the remainders into the water pot while reciting “agne gobhir” (AVP 1.39.1), “agne ’bhyāvartin” (KauśS 9.4[72].14), and “agneḥ prajātam” (AVŚ 19.26); he should pour [this] into the aspersion pots. He should asperse him (the sponsor) while reciting “athāsye ‘ndro grāvabhyām” (AVŚ 6.138.2c). Having sprinkled him while reciting “idam āpo” (AVŚ 7.89.3), and also (?) “indro bāhubhyām” (AVP 14.1); having had him smeared with pigments and oils, he should bind on him the garment and a garland of flowers.108

106. They are as follows: tiladhenuvidhi, “Instructions for the [Gift] of a Cow Made of Sesame” (AVPŚ 9); bhūmidānam, “Gift of [an Image of ] the Earth” (AVPŚ 10); tulāpuruṣavidhi, “Instructions for [the Gift of the] Man on a Balance” (AVPŚ 11); ādityamaṇḍaka, “[Gift] of a Sun-​Cake” (AVPŚ 12); hiraṇyagarbhavidhi, “Instructions for the [Gift of the] Golden Womb” (AVPŚ 13); hastirathadānavidhi, “Instructions for the [Gift of an] Elephant Chariot” (AVPŚ 14); aśvarathadānavidhi, “Instructions for the [Gift of a] Horse Chariot” (AVPŚ 15). See ­chapter 4. 107. The bhūmidāna, the gosahasra, the tulāpuruṣa, the hiraṇyagarbha, and the hastiratha are explicitly structured around a sprinkling consecration. The latter four are the most prominent Great Gifts in epigraphic records. 108.  saṃbhārān upakalpya prāktantram ājyabhāgāntaṃ kṛtvā || mahāvyāhṛtisāvitrīśāntiṃ brahma jajñānam iti hutvā || agne gobhir agne ‘bhyāvartinn agneḥ prajātam iti saṃpātān || udapātrānīyābhiṣekakalaśeṣu ninayed || athāsyendro grāvabhyām ity abhiṣecayed || idam āpo y[t?]athendro bāhubhyām ity abhiṣecayitvā || yathoktam añjanābhyañjanānulepanaṃ kārayitvā vāso gandhasrajaś cābadhnīyāt || AVPŚ 11.1.4–​9 ||

107



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

107

First, as in the mahāśānti, here an aspersion takes place within the frame of a fire offering.109 Second, the set of mantras recited during this offering is none other than one of the śānti gaṇas.110 Third, following the conventions of the mahāśānti, the remainders of this fire offering are then mixed (ānīya) with the waters poured into the vessels for the aspersion. A brief consideration of the mantras employed in the consecratory act itself demonstrates the complex meanings taken on by what I have termed the “apotropaic consecrations.” If the earlier Vedic aspersions were positive rituals, meant to confer attributes such as varcas (glory, preeminence) or āyus (long life) on the king, in the tulāpuruṣa only one of the four verses that accompany the consecration itself, AVŚ 6.58.2, seems explicitly connected with the acquisition of glory (yaśas).111 As for the remaining verses, AVŚ 6.138.2c is connected in the Kauśikasūtra to rituals of sorcery (abhicāra).112 The second verse, AVŚ 7.89.3, is concerned with the removal of impurity (mala) and shame (avadya, literally “blameworthy”): “O waters, do ye carry forth both this reproach and what is foul, and what untruth I have uttered in hate, and what I have sworn fearlessly.”113 The verse may therefore suggest a connection between the aspersion and the removal of sin and impurity.114 The final quarter verse (AVŚ 2.33.2d) derives from a hymn

109. As seen in the phrase “having performed the first half of the fire offering up to the end of the ājyabhāga.” 110. The passage “having made an offering with the śānti [group] possessing the mahāvyāhṛtis and the sāvitrī hymn, and with the hymn brahma jajñānam (AVŚ 4.1)” can be taken in two ways. On the one hand, it may refer to the śānti gaṇa that includes the mahāvyāhṛtis and the sāvitrī hymn, corresponding to the simplest form of śāṇti gaṇa, supplied in AVPŚ 32.1: oṃ bhūs tat savituḥ śaṃ no devīḥ śāntā dyauḥ śaṃ na indrāgnī śaṃ no vāto vātu uṣā apa svasus tama iti śāntigaṇaḥ. In this interpretation AVŚ 4.1 would form an additional mantra. Alternatively we may take the entire sentence to refer to either one of the “greater” or “lesser” śānti gaṇas from KauśS 1.9, each of which contains AVŚ 4.1.1. 111. Whitney translates the verse as follows: “As Indra is possessed of glory in heaven-​and-​earth, as the waters are possessed of glory in the herbs, so among all the gods may we, among all, be glorious” (yathendro dyāvāpṛthivyor yaśasvān yathāpa oṣadhīṣu yaśasvatīḥ | evā viśveṣu deveṣu vayaṃ sarveṣu yaśasaḥ syāma || AVŚ 6.58.2 ||). 112. At KauśS 6.2[48].32 the hymn from which this verse is drawn (AVŚ 6.138) is recited during a sorcery (abhicāra) ritual. The connection is clear in Whitney’s translation: “Then let Indra with the (two) pressing stones split both his testicles” (athāsyendro grāvabhyām ubhe bhinattv āṇḍyau). 113.  idam āpaḥ pra vahatāvadyaṃ ca malaṃ ca yat | yac cābhidudrohānṛtaṃ yac ca śepe abhīruṇam || AVŚ 7.89.3 || 114. AVŚ 7.89 appears elsewhere in a number of generic bathing and purification rituals. Most prominently, at KauśS 5.6[42].12, the entire hymn is addressed to the śānti water used during the samāvartana ritual of the student’s return home from his period of studentship. The ritual ends in a bath (hence a householder is called snātaka). Additionally the specific verse

108

108

Rit es of t he God -K ing

meant to remove disease (yakṣman).115 Hence in addition to the waters that are prepared with a group of śānti mantras, the aspersion itself combines one verse for the acquisition of glory and preeminence with three other verses concerned with sorcery, purification, and the removal of disease. Note as well the heterogeneity of aspersion and gift: the actual weighing of the sponsor in gold—​for which the ritual is named—​occurs only after this rather complex consecration.116 Nonetheless it is the entire ritual structure, consecration and gift, that is called “Instruction for the Tulāpuruṣa” (tulāpuruṣavidhi) and praised for its efficacy to destroy sin: This excellent [gift] was previously given by Indra for the obtainment of imperial overlordship, for the destruction of all sins, and for the increase of all merit. This gift is unsurpassed among all the Great Gifts (mahādānas) and excessive gifts (atidānas).117 It is most excellent and

used here (AVŚ 7.89.3) is recited at the washing of the hands in the upanayana ceremony (KauśS 7.8[57].24). The first three verses of the hymn are used in another act of cleansing at Vaitānasūtra 3.18. See Whitney’s comments in Lanman, Atharva-​Veda Saṁhitā 1:453. Finally, the same verse occurs in another śānti-​related aspersion, the ghṛtakambalam (AVPŚ 33.6.4). 115. Whitney’s translation of the full verse AVŚ 2.33.2: “From my neck, nape, vertebrae, backbone, (two) shoulders, (two) fore-​arms, I eject thee the yakṣma of the arms” (Lanman, Atharva-​ Veda Saṁhitā 1:76). 116.  The next sentence in the text reads:  “Sprinkling the scale and the gold with purifying verses, he makes him mount with the seven verses beginning, “puruṣasaṃmito ‘rtha’ (?)” (tulāṃ hiraṇyaṃ ca pavitrair abhyukṣya puruṣasaṃmito ‘rtha’ iti saptabhis tadārohayed || AVPŚ 11.1.10 ||). “puruṣasaṃmito ‘rtha’ ” is cited at KauśS 13.27[119].4 but does not seem to appear in either Atharvan saṃhitā. The seeming heterogeneity between consecration and gift should not, however, be taken to mean that the two were originally separate. The close relation between the consecration and the gift is shown in particular by the employment of AVŚ 19.26 during the mixing of the saṃpātas with the consecratory waters. In the Śāntikalpa, AVŚ 19.26 is employed in the āgneyī variant of the mahāśānti. This particular mahāśānti is prescribed in the case of danger from fire, or for the attainment of all desires (ŚK 2.17.1). There the verse is employed during the part of the ceremony where the sponsor is bound with an amulet, and in this case the amulet takes the form of a gold earring (ŚK 2.19.1). According to Whitney, the verse is meant “for long life, etc: with something golden.” Hence the preparation of śānti water in the tulāpuruṣa of AVPŚ 11 seems to acknowledge the connection between the consecration and the gift of gold. Whitney’s translation of AVŚ 19.26: “The gold that, born out of the fire, immortal, maintains itself over mortals—​whoso knows it, he verily merits it; one that dies of old age becomes he who wears it [1]‌. The gold, of beauteous color by the sun, that men of old with their progeny sought—​that, shining, shall unite thee with splendor; of long life becomes he who wears it [2]. For life-​time thee, for splendor thee, and for force and for strength—​that with brilliancy of gold thou mayest shine out among the people [3].” 117. This is the only use of the term mahādāna in the AVPŚ. The context of the passage does not suggest that it denotes a specific group of gifts, as in Purāṇic sources.

109



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

109

bestows imperishable fruit; it increases the welfare of the donor. All that sin committed in his family by three groups of seven relatives is quickly destroyed like a tuft of grass in the fire.118 Having obtained a healthy state insurmountable by the gods, good deeds or gold, he of golden splendor, free from sin, reigns in the world of Sūrya like Indra in heaven.119 This passage seems to demonstrate an orthodox understanding of sin and expiation, according to which the destruction of sin leads to a better rebirth. In this sense it makes the foregoing ritual akin to the “atonements” of the Dharmaśāstric tradition. Hence the Atharvan version of the tulāpuruṣa, the gift of a man’s weight in gold, demonstrates most clearly, and perhaps for the first time, the combination of a ritual of appeasement with a ritual of expiatory gifting. Comparable structural combinations of sprinkling consecrations and elaborate ritual gifts recur in several other appendices.120 One further and rather important example will suffice: the “[Gift of ] the Golden Womb” (hiraṇyagarbha, AVPŚ 13). This elaborate ceremony once again includes a consecration framed by a fire sacrifice, which is offered to four gods: Hiraṇyagarbha, Agni, Brahmā, and Prajāpati. In this case the consecration takes the form of a bath in this “golden womb,” a large, golden vessel. The relevant passage is this: Bathing the king in the golden [vessel] with mantras having the word “gold” in them; pouring into that [golden vessel] water [and] pañcagavya, with golden pots; mixing in the remainders of the fire offering while reciting the hiraṇyagarbha, the aṁhomuca, and the śantātīya hymns, and with the five names.121 118. A passage quoted in the Kṛtyakalpataru would seem to suggest that the three groups mentioned here belong to the past, present, and future: sapta jātān naro hanyād vartamānāṃs tu sapta ca | atikrāntān sapta hanyād aprayacchan pratiśrutam || Dānakāṇḍa 1.50 || I thank David Brick for this reference. 119. indreṇedaṃ purā dattam adhirājyāptaye varam | sarvapāpapraṇāśāya sarvapuṇyavivṛddhaye || 2 || mahādānātidānānām idaṃ dānam anuttamam | akṣayyaphaladaṃ śreṣṭhaṃ dātṝṇāṃ śreyavardhanam || 3 || yat pāpaṃ sve kule jātais triḥ sapta puruṣaiḥ kṛtam | tat sarvaṃ naśyate kṣipram agnau tūlaṃ yathā tathā || 4 || anāmayaṃ sthānam avāpya daivair alaṅghanīyaṃ sukṛtair hiraṇmayaiḥ | suvarṇatejāḥ pravimuktapāpo divīndravad rājati sūryaloke || 5 || AVPŚ 11 || 120. The only gift instructions not mentioning an aspersion would seem to be the tiladhenu (AVPŚ 9, “[Gift of ] a Cow of Sesame”)—​which appears to be missing its ritual instruction—​ and the aśvarathadāna (AVPŚ 15, “Gift of a Horse Chariot”). We may, however, infer, by analogy with the model of the hastirathadāna (AVPŚ 14, “Gift of an Elephant Chariot”), that the aśvarathadāna also includes an aspersion. 121. hiraṇmaye rājānaṃ hiraṇyavatībhiḥ snāpayitvā || hiraṇyakalaśais tasmin pañcagavyam apa āsicya || hiraṇyagarbhasūktenāṃhomucena śantātīyena pañcabhiś ca nāmabhiḥ saṃpātān ānīya

10

110

Rit es of t he God -K ing

The king is addressed with the names of the four gods in the offering, and then in a golden vessel he is bathed with unspecified mantras containing the word “gold” (hiraṇyavat). Then water, together with the “five cow products” (pancagavya), is poured into the same vessel from golden pots.122 Finally, the dregs of the offering to the four gods are also mixed into the vessel while three hymns are recited:  the hiraṇyagarbha (AVŚ 4.2), the śaṃtātīya (AVŚ 4.13), and the aṃhomuca. Leaving aside the eclectic nature of this group of mantras, the connection between the gift and śānti ritual should be clear: technically speaking, the king is bathed in what amounts to a life-​size “śānti pot.”123 This pot is interpreted as the cosmic Hiraṇyagarbha out of which the king will be reborn.124 Yet the protective and rejuvenating effect of the ritual must in some measure be attributed to the variant of śānti waters that form the “amniotic fluid” of this golden womb.

|| AVPŚ 13.2.4–​6 || That hiraṇmaye (“thing made of gold”) here refers to the golden vessel is likely from the details of the preparations for the ceremony, given earlier in the text, after the king and his priest are directed to sleep for the evening on the sacrificial space: “On the following morning at the hour of abhijit setting down a golden, circular, vessel, waist-​high, with a cover” (śvo bhūte ‘bhijinmuhūrte hiraṇmayaṃ maṇḍalākṛti nābhimātraṃ pātram ādhāya sāpidhānam || AVPŚ 13.1.9 ||). 122. As Einoo observes, the “five cow products” in fact include six ingredients: cow’s urine, cow dung, milk, curd, clarified butter, and water mixed with kuśa grass. See Einoo, “Notes on the Image Installation Ceremonies,” 106–8. 123. The Hiraṇyagarbha hymn (AVŚ 4.2) is of obvious thematic relevance to the larger ritual. AVŚ 4.2 appears to be a version of ṚV 10.121, which begins, “In the beginning the golden embryo arose” (hiraṇyagarbhaḥ sam avartatāgre). This verse is relocated to verse 7 in the Atharvan version. We have already encountered the śaṃtātīya hymn (AVŚ 4.13), which is concerned with expiation from sin and removal of disease, and so named because it contains the word śaṃtāti, it forms part of the two original śānti gaṇas of KauśS 1.9, and it is also included in the so-​called āyuṣya gaṇa (AVPŚ 32.9). Keśava further considers it part of the aṃholiṅga verses used for medical rituals at KauśS 4.8[32]. See Bahulkar, Medical Ritual, 227. The aṃholiṅga gaṇa is prescribed for general medical rituals. The aṃhomuca, the “freeing from distress” mantra(s), is more difficult to identify, but we have already encountered a number of mantras in the śānti gaṇa seeking freedom from distress (aṃhasaḥ muñcantu). Those same mantras are included in what is our most likely source for this reference, in a group of mantras given in the gaṇamālā under the heading “[Mantras] having the Word ‘distress’ ” (aṃholiṅga). [ya] āśānām āśāpālebhyo (AVŚ 1.31.2) agner manva iti sapta sūktāni (4.23–​29) yā oṣadhayaḥ somarājñīr (6.96) vaiśvānaro na ā gamac (6.35.2) chumbhanī dyāvāpṛthivī yad arvācī[na]m (10.5.22) agniṃ brūmo vanaspatīn iti (11.6) muñcantu n[m]‌ā (11.6.7) bhavāśārvā (11.6.8) yā devīr (11.6.22) yan mātalī rathakrītam (11.6.23) ity etāś catasro varjayitvā aṃholiṅgagaṇaḥ || AVPŚ 32.31 || The bulk of this gaṇa is composed of AVŚ 4.23–​29, the so-​called mṛgāra hymns, and nineteen verses of AVŚ 11.6. The former hymn is included in the greater śānti gaṇa and the latter in the shorter. 124. Following this consecration the priest requests the attending brahmins as follows: “The king seeks the essence of the golden womb, may you be agreeable to him” (hiraṇyagarbhatvam abhīpsaty asmin bhavanto ‘numanyantām iti | AVPŚ 13.2.8 ||). Having thus obtained their

1



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

111

We must defer for the moment a fuller consideration of this ritual partnering between appeasement and gifting, which will become more apparent in light of other data. Whether or not the Appendices indeed represent the “origins” of the mahādāna practice, the Atharvan tradition has clearly insinuated śānti into its ritual structure. If, as the historical record proves, the performance of the mahādānas occasioned a crucial display of royal authority, it also represented another opportunity for the Atharvan tradition to publicize its own vision of that authority, as vested in a reiterative series of aspersions with the protective waters dependent on the purohita’s mantras. The hybridization of Atharvan aspersion rituals reaches another height of complexity in the “Blanket of Ghee” (ghṛtakambala), which combines śānti rituals with sorcery (abhicāra), a more traditional arena of Atharvan expertise. This particular ritual brings together numerous late Atharvan techniques in a ceremony that closely resembles the mahāśānti, including an introductory ritual worship of the goddess of destruction, Nirṛti, at the crossroads. In the main part of this ritual the sponsor is covered in a blanket and consecrated with a large portion of ghee, which is treated exactly like śānti water: Then, bathed, wearing white, clean, having consumed śānti water, having sprinkled the sacrificial ground, having kindled the fire, the preparation of the ghee is recommended as follows: he should offer ghee with these mantras: the śānti [gaṇa] preceded by the mahāvyāhṛtis followed by the sāvitrī [hymn]; AVŚ 4.1, KauśS 97.8, AVP 1.39.1, KauśS 72.14, ṚV 1.1, SV 1.1, AVŚ 7.51, and 20.17.12. He mixes the dregs in the ghee and he performs the ritual instruction for śānti water (śāntyudake vidhim)

permission, the king enters the golden womb accompanied by the recitation of the first two verses of AVŚ 13.1, a hymn to the sun (Whitney’s translation: “Rise up, O powerful one that art within the waters, enter into this kingdom that is full of pleasantness; the ruddy one that generated this all—​let him bear thee, well borne, unto kingdom. Up hath arisen the power that is within the waters; mount the clans that are sprung from thee; assuming the soma, the waters, the herbs, the kind, make thou the four footed, the two footed ones to enter here”). Then the priest uttering the verse AVŚ 19.27.10 (an exhortation to heroism) instructs the king, “Having restrained [your] speech, and having withdrawn the sense organs from their objects, with the mind meditate on the highest lord, the golden man, Hiraṇyagarbha” (vācaṃ niyamya pratisaṃhṛtya cendriyāṇi viṣayebhyo manasā bhagavantaṃ hiraṇmayaṃ hiraṇyagarbhaṃ parameṣṭhinaṃ pauruṣaṃ dhyāyasveti || AVPŚ 13.3.3 ||). When the king agrees, he is enclosed in the vessel for a period of seventeen (unspecified) intervals (saptadaśamātrāntara). Following the king’s emersion, he is pressed down with a golden disc accompanied by verses (AVŚ 5.30.15 and AVŚ 3.11.8c–​f ) that request freedom from death. The king is saluted by brahmins as being dear to and favored by Hiraṇyagarbha (brāhmaṇā brūyur uttiṣṭha hiraṇyagarbhānugṛhīto ‘sīty || AVPŚ 13.3.14 ||). Then the second offering is made with the apratiratha hymn (AVŚ 19.13) for success in war, and the fire offering scheme is completed.

12

112

Rit es of t he God -K ing

with the kṛtyādūṣaṇa mantras. He mixes the dregs in it (the ghee?) with the cātana and mātṛnāma mantras. . . . Having deposited the oblation, and set down the well-​prepared pot of ghee, he should put down the other two ghee-​portions east of the fire.125 Having placed the requisites, such as darbha grasses, perfumes, and white mustard, etc., in the pot (of ghee), he should place it west of the fire.126 The gaṇas are: the sāvitra, the śaṃtātīya, the kṛtyādūṣaṇa, the abhaya, the aparājita, the āyuṣya, the varcas, followed by the saṃsaktīya[?]‌, suṣuptīya, svastyayana, and śarmavarman; the cātana, mātṛnāma, the bhaiṣajya, and the nyāya. He mixes the remainders (of the offerings made with these gaṇas) into the [pot of ] ghee while reciting the ghṛtaliṅga and the rudra and raudra gaṇas. Then, while reciting AVP 2.24.1, AVŚ 2.33.1, 11.2.17, KauśS 97.8, AVŚ 17.1.24, and 7.89.3, he should asperse him with the ghee while facing east. He should asperse him while covered in a blanket and facing north.127 The ghee is prepared in two phases. In the first phase, a series of oblations is offered with the śānti gaṇa and several other mantras. Because of the ambiguity (or corruption?) of the text, it is unclear how the phrase “kūryāt śāntyudake vidhim” relates to the preparation of ghee.128 At any rate, in the second phase of

125. The measure of ghee (a “Māgadhan prastha”) is divided into four parts: one for abhiṣeka; one is offered into the fire; one portion is to be given to the superintending priests (sadasya); and one portion for the performer. 126. Later the performer faces east as he sprinkles the northward-​facing sponsor. Hence, the entire action is performed while the participants are facing the fire. 127. tataḥ snātaḥ śuklavāsāḥ prāśya śāntyudakaṃ śuciḥ | paryukṣyopasamādhāya ghṛtasaṃskāra iṣyate || 1 || pūrvaṃ mahāvyāhṛtibhiḥ sāvitryā tadanantaram | śāntiś ca brahma jajñānaṃ brahma bhrājad itīti ca || 2 || agne gobhir agne ‘bhyāvartinn agne jātavedaḥ saha rayyā punar ūrjeti || 3 || agnim īḍe purohitam agna ā yāhi vītaye | bṛhaspatir na ity ekā bṛhaspate yuvaṃ tathā || 4 || etair ājyaṃ ca juhuyāt saṃpātān ānayed ghṛte | kṛtyādūṣaṇamantraiś ca kuryāc chāntyudake vidhim || 5 || saṃpātān ānayet tatra cātanair mātṛnāmabhiḥ | vāstoṣpatyair vāṣṭoṣpatāv ānayet samadūṣaṇam || 6 || nidhāya havir āsādya ghṛtakumbhaṃ susaṃskṛtam | ghṛtabhāgau tu yāv anyau pūrveṇāgner nidhāpayet || 7 || darbhādīn tu vāsādīṃś ca saṃbhārān gaurasarṣapān | bilvaṃ ca kumbhe nidhāyāpareṇāgner nidhāpayet || 8 || AVPŚ 33.5 || sāvitraḥ śantātīyaś ca kṛtyādūṣaṇa eva ca | abhayāparājitāyuṣyā varcasyaś ca tataḥ paraḥ || 1 || saṃsaktīyaḥ suṣuptīyaḥ svastyayanaḥ śarmavarma ca | cātano mātṛnāmāni bhaiṣajyaṃ nyāya eva ca || 2 || ghṛtaliṅgau tathā raudrau saṃpātān ānayed ghṛte | gaṇānteṣu yathāśakti brāhmaṇān svastivācayet || 3 || yo ‘sminn akṣībhyāṃ te sahasrākṣaṃ brahma jajñānam | brahma bhrājad ud agād idam āpas tathāpaś ca || 4 || etair mantrair abhiṣiñced ghṛtena prāṇmukhaḥ sthitaḥ | prāvṛtaṃ kambalenai ‘vam abhiṣiñced udaṅmukhaḥ || 5 || AVPŚ 33.6 || 128. It is either the case that śānti water is separately prepared and somehow added to the ghee or, perhaps more likely, that the ghee is prepared according to the instructions for śānti water.

13



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

113

preparation the pot of ghee, into which have been mixed darbha grass, perfumes and white mustard, is placed west of the fire. Then it is mixed with the remains of a lengthy series of oblations that have been accompanied by the recitation of seventeen separate gaṇas. It is with this concoction that the performer sprinkles the sponsor, who is covered in a blanket (kambalena). An explanatory passage clarifies that the ritual takes its name from the second phase of the preparation, namely, the mixture of the dregs of offerings performed with a series of mantra gaṇas. Indra, once again conquered by the asuras, is afflicted with doubt. For him Bṛhaspati performs the ghṛtakambala ritual, which is called the “son of Brahman”: That very blanket of ghee has the sāvitrī as its body, the śaṃtātīya as its head, the triṣapta as its mouth, rudra and raudra as its eyes, the ghrtaliṅga as its face, the nairṛta as its tongue, the abhaya and aparājita as lips, the krtyadūṣaṇa and the cātana as its ears, the śarmavarman and the svastyayana as its arms, the mātṛnāma and the vāstoṣpati as its feet  .  .  .  the bhaiṣajya and the nyāya as its inhalation and exhalation. Thus is the secret explanation.129 Here the blanket is interpreted as a body composed of various mantra gaṇas, roughly corresponding to those mentioned in the ritual instruction. Finally, this ritual sprinkling is followed by an abhicāra ritual, wherein an effigy of the king’s enemy is assembled and then ceremonially dismembered.130 Afterward the sponsor is bound with an amulet made from, alternatively, the sraktya plant, the fig tree, udumbara wood, coral, or pearl.131 There follows a final aspersion and offering with the rudra and raudra gaṇas.132 The king is then anointed and gazes at himself in a mirror. He then grants the fee for the ceremony: ten cows, a bull, and ghee.133

In the latter scenario the ghee would itself be treated as if it were appeasement water, used in an act of aspersion. 129.  tasya ha vā etasya ghṛtakambalasya sāvitrīgaṇaśarīrasya śantātīyaḥ śiraḥ triṣaptīyo mukhaṃ rudraraudrau cakṣuṣī ghṛtaliṅga āsyaṃ nairṛto jihvā dantoṣṭhāv abhayāparājitau kṛtyādūṣaṇacātanau śrotre śarmavarmasvastyayanau bāhū mātṛnāmavāṣṭoṣpatyau pādau. . . . pāyuś ca bhaiṣajyaṃ nyāyaḥ prāṇāpānāv iti mīmāṃsata ity | AVPŚ 33.1.9 | 130. AVPŚ 33.5.6c–​9. 131. AVPŚ 33.6.1c–​12b. 132. AVPŚ 33.6.12. 133. AVPŚ 33.7.1–​2.

14

114

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Altogether, then, the ghṛtakambala virtually exhausts late Atharvan ritual techniques for the king’s protection. As the text says, “this protective cover (i.e. the blanket) is said to be a ritual of safety from demons for the one who is bathed. Neither the demons nor gandharvas, nor piśācas, nor asuras, nor the cruel experts in the human ‘mortal spots’ harm him who has been praised with ghee.”134 Again the term “knowers of mortal spots” (puruṣamarmajña) highlights the context of abhicāra. The same term occurs during the piercing of the effigy, when the performer “pierces the rival adversary in the heart or mortal spot with a sword.”135 Hence the ritual combines aggressive sorcery with protection from those who might make a similar attack: other experts in sorcery, those who know the mortal spots, cannot harm him who has been covered with the blanket of ghee. But this protection is accomplished using śānti-​based techniques. Indeed the central form of this ritual derives from the mahāśānti. As in that ritual, the fire offering and aspersion are preceded by the nirṛti rite and conclude with amulet binding. More important, the consecratory fluid is prepared with mantra gaṇas.136 Thus the ritual departs from the mahāśānti paradigm only in the substitution of ghee for water and the addition of a rite of abhicāra. The combination of śānti and abhicāra perhaps explains the numerous occasions recommended for the ritual’s performance:  “One should perform the blanket of ghee for a king who, desiring wealth, has invaded enemy territory and wants victory or, having been checked in his advance, desires to reclaim his wealth, and in the case of the manifestation of omens, and in the case of conflict among planets, or if there is fear of abhicāra.”137

Apotropaic Aspersions III: Mahāśānti Multiplied It should finally be emphasized that the variety of aspersion rituals I have reviewed emerged within an Atharvan tradition in which the mahāśānti had already assumed a privileged place. Perhaps the most explicit indication of this status is

134. śarmavarmaitad uktaṃ snātasya rakṣobhyo ‘bhayaṃkaram iti || 4 || na rākṣasā na gandharvā na piśācā na cāsurāḥ | krūrāḥ puruṣamarmajñā na hiṃsanti ghṛtārcitam || 5 || AVPŚ 33.7 || 135. sapatnaṃ bhrātṛvyam hṛdaye marmaṇi vā asinā āvidhya. 136. Recall that the mahāśānti was named according to the number of gaṇas recited during the preparation of the appeasement water: daśagaṇī (ten-​gaṇa mahāśānti) and aṣṭādaśagaṇī (eighteen-​gaṇa mahāśānti). 137. (paracakropasṛṣṭasya rājño vijayam icchataḥ | pratiruddhasya vā bhūyaḥ śrīkāmasyecchataḥ śriyam || 3 || prādurbhāvādbhutānāṃ ca grahāṇāṃ vigrahe tathā | śaṅkamāno ‘bhicārād vā kārayed ghṛtakambalam || 4 || AVPŚ 33.2 ||). The phenomenon of planetary wars was described in astrological texts. See for example BS 27: grahayuddhādhyāya.

15



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

115

its use as the paradigm for a complex ritual called “Ten Million Oblations” (AVPŚ 31: koṭihoma). From its location in the text—​following two rituals titled “[Ritual of ] 100,000 Oblations” (AVPŚ 30a: lakṣahoma) and “Greater [Ritual of ] 100,000 Oblations” (AVPŚ 30b: bṛhallakṣahoma), we might surmise that this ritual belongs to a tradition of homa rituals originally not embedded in the mahāśānti paradigm. Their most salient feature is the offering of a large number of ghee-​smeared kindling sticks into a fire pit (kuṇḍa), accompanied by vegetable offerings and recitations of the gāyatrī  mantra. Although one of these homa rites mentions the production of śānti water, to be sipped by the performer—​and both are prescribed for omens—​neither is explicitly related to the mahāśānti.138 The koṭihoma, on the other hand, explicitly takes the mahāśānti as its paradigm: “Having carefully kindled the fire by friction according to the procedure laid out in the mahāśānti, the wise one should perform everything up to the completion of the nairṛti rite.”139 This is an unambiguous reference to the mahāśānti as prescribed in the Śāntikalpa, with its preliminary ritual for Nirṛti. After the nairṛti rite the 10  million oblations and recitations of the sāvitrī are offered, and the ritual concludes, “When the koṭihoma is complete, the wise one worships the planets. And he should perform the amṛtā [mahāśānti] and the ghṛtakambala.”140 The subsequent text gives a number of mahāśānti variants that may optionally be inserted here, according to different circumstances.141 In this way the koṭihoma forms part of a chain of śānti-​ related rituals, the worship of the planets, and the “Blanket of Ghee” ritual, and of course, the mahāśānti itself.142

138. AVPŚ 30b 1.15. 139. mahāśāntividhānena nirmathyāgniṃ samāhitaḥ | tāvat kuryād budhaḥ sarvaṃ yāvan no nairṛtaṃ kṛtam || AVPŚ 31.5.6 || 140. koṭihome samāpte tu yajed grahagaṇān budhaḥ | kārayed amṛtāṃ caiva ghṛtakambalam eva ca || AVPŚ 31.7.5 || I take this to mean that after the 10 million oblations, the mahāśānti frame should be completed according to the amṛtā paradigm, along with the worship of the planets and the “Blanket of Ghee.” It could of course mean that the whole amṛtā mahāśānti is to be repeated at this point in its entirety. 141. “The amṛtā [mahāśānti], together with the ghṛtakambala, should be performed if there is fear of death. But if [the king] is entering enemy territory, the aindrī should be performed, along with the ghṛtakambala. In the case of any portent, the raudrī together with the ghṛtakambala; if there is drought, the salilā and the ghṛtakambala. If there is drought the salilā followed by the ghṛtakambala. He should perform the koṭihoma according to whichever desire (he has)” (kāryāmṛtā mṛtyubhaye ghṛtakambalasaṃyutā | paracakrāgame tv aindrī ghṛtakambala[m]‌ eva ca || 1 || raudrī sarvādbhutotpattau ghṛtakambalasaṃyutā | [salilā salilakṣaye ghṛtakambala eva ca ||] 2 || ghṛtakambalapṛṣṭhā ca salilā salilakṣaye | yena yena tu kāmena koṭihomaṃ prayojayet || 3 || AVPŚ 31.8 ||). 142.  As with the ghṛtakambala, this ritual also concludes with an abhicāra rite (AVPŚ 31.8.4–​9.5).

16

116

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Where we find the mahāśānti, we also find omens. In all, variants of the mahāśānti are prescribed twenty-​nine times in the Appendices.143 Twenty-​six of these prescriptions occur in the group of texts composing AVPŚ 50–​72, an amalgamation of diverse omen catalogs drawn from various astrological sources.144 Together these texts can be read as an supplementary appendix for the Śāntikalpa. For, assuming the reader’s familiarity with the mahāśānti, they omit specific ritual instructions and instead supply additional occasions (the omens) for its performance. As a result a rather consistent structure emerges. The bulk of each text lists the phenomena that are considered to be inauspicious signs, along with their specific consequences. In many cases the information is attributed to one or another sage of the Atharvan tradition (Bhṛgu, Aṅgiras, etc.), or to astrological authorities such as Garga. While the specific groupings of omens vary widely in terms of their complexity and organ­ ization, the prescriptions for the performance of the mahāśāntis themselves are simple and formulaic. Such formulations generally occur at the end of a chapter, following the enumeration of a specific class of omens. As a brief example, I offer a translation of the appendix on comets (ketucāra): Oṃ! Previously the sage Bhārgava said to the great glorious sages: “Listen to the movement of the comets and their appearance.” I will describe the signs which he mentioned—​all of which an expert in the knowledge of omens should know. A [comet] white in appearance slays brahmins; a red one slays kṣatriyas. Yellow [slays] vaiśyas, while black [slays] śūdras. Ketu [the comet] afflicts others when he appears in another colour. And then

143.  AVPŚ 18b.19.3; 31.5.6; 33.7.7; 52.16.6; 54.2.4; 58.1.13; 59.1.20; 63.5.6; 64.10.9–​10; 65.3.6; 68.5.28–​29; 69.3.5, 6.4; 70.1.8, 1.10, 2.5, 9.5; 70b.16.5, 23.15; 71.19.8; 72.1.3, 3.16, 5.2. 144.  Some indication of the breadth and diversity of these materials can be seen in their titles: AVPŚ 50. Explanation of the Moon (candrapratipādikam); 51. Planetary Conflict (grahayudham); 52. Compendia on the Planets (grahasaṃgrahaḥ); 53. Movement of the Eclipse (rāhucāraḥ); 54. Movement of Comets/​Meteors (ketucāraḥ); 55. Characteristics of Seasonal Meteors (ṛtuketulakṣaṇām); 56. Divisions of the Tortoise (Earth) (kūrmavibhāgaḥ); 57. Circles (omen classification) (maṇḍalāṇi); 58. Characteristics of “Sky-​Fires” (digdāhalakṣaṇam); 58b. Characteristics of Meteors (ulkālakṣaṇam) 59. Characteristics of Lighting Strikes (vidyullakṣaṇam); 60. Characteristics of the Whirlwind (nirghātalakṣaṇam); 61. Characteristics of Halos (pariveṣalakṣaṇam); 62. Characteristics of Earthquakes (bhūmikampalakṣaṇam); 63. Characteristics of Astral and Planetary Omens (nakṣatragrahotpātalakṣaṇam); 64. Characteristics of Omens (utpātalakṣaṇam); 65. Characteristics of Spontaneous Rains (sadyovṛṣṭilakṣaṇam); 66. Appeasement for a Cow (gośāntiḥ); 67. Appeasement of Omens (adbhūtaśāntiḥ); 68. Chapter on Dreams (svapnādhyāyaḥ); 69. Collection of Omens (atharvahṛdayam); 70. [Omens of ] Bhṛgu (bhārgavīyāṇi); 70b. [Omens of ] Garga (gārgyāṇi); 70c. [Omens of ] Bṛhaspati (bārhaspatyāni); 71. Omens of Uśanas (auśāsanādbhutāni); 72. Great Omens (mahādbhutāni). For a translation of excerpts from AVPŚ 57–​64, 70b,c, and 71, see Kohlbrugge, Atharvaveda-​Pariśiṣṭa über Omina.

17



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

117

[also] it indicates the death of the king within six months. A white comet would cause confusion in armed conflict (śastra), while a red one [causes] danger from fire. A yellow comet causes danger from hunger, and a black one [causes] terrible disease. In which direction the head [of the comet] appears, that direction is afflicted more. [In which direction] the middle appears, there is middling affliction. Where the tail [appears] there is victory. A [comet] shaped like a lance brings about utter destruction; one shaped like a club brings about suffering. One long and thin brings about prosperity; one short and thick causes destruction. Otherwise the appearance of comets is understood [to indicate] destruction. Therefore, a wise person causes appeasement to be done with Atharvan mantras. He should have either the māhendrī, the amṛtā, the raudrī, or the vaiśvadevī mahāśānti, with a large ritual fee, performed in case of omens. Those omens, when propitiated, will become appeased, no doubt, by various fire sacrifices and mantraic recitations, and by gifts of all kinds. In whatever country its head appears, he should rise up and flee that place. Or relinquishing all his wealth, he might be freed from death. [By] giving up the entire earth, the king bestows appeasement.145 The specification here of four different forms of the mahāśānti ritual (the mahendrī, amṛtā, raudrī, vaiśvadevī) known from the Śāntikalpa leaves no doubt regarding the canonical status of that text. Such citations of mahāśānti variants are typical of other divinatory chapters in the Appendices.146 As advertised in

145. oṃ bhārgavas tu purovāca maharṣīn bhagavān ṛṣiḥ | ketusaṃcāraṃ śṛṇuta utthānaṃ caiva yādṛśam || 1|| nimittani ca vakṣyāmi tasyoktāni hi yāni tu | tāni sarvāṇi jānīyād utpātajñānakovidaḥ || 2 || viprāñ śvetākṛtir hanti kṣatriyān hanti lohitaḥ | vaiśyāṃs tu pītako hanti śūdrān hanti tathāsitaḥ || 3 || itarān pīḍayet ketur anyavarṇo yadā bhavet | ṣaṇmāsābhyantare rājño maraṇaṃ ca tadādiśet || 4 || śvetaḥ śastrākulaṃ kuryāl lohitas tv agnito bhayam | kṣudbhayaṃ pītakaḥ kuryāt kṛṣṇo rogam atholbaṇam || 5 || AVPŚ 54.1 || yasmin deśe śiras tasya sa deśaḥ pīḍyate bhṛśam | madhye tu madhyamā pīḍā yato pucchaṃ tato jayaḥ || 1 || śaktyākāro ‘tināśāya duḥkhāya musalākṛtiḥ | dīrghaḥ sūkṣmaḥ sukhāyaiva hrasvaḥ sthūlo vināśakṛt || 2 || utthānaṃ caiva ketūnāṃ vināśāyaiva hi smṛtam | tasmād ātharvaṇair mantraiḥ śamanam kārayed budhaḥ || 3 || māhendrīm amṛtāṃ raudrīṃ vaiśvadevīm athāpi vā | utpāteṣu mahāśāntiṃ kārayed bahudakṣiṇām || 4 || ārādhitāḥ śamaṃ yānti tadutpātā na saṃśayaḥ | homair japyaiś ca vividhair dānaiś ca bahurūpakaiḥ || 5 || tasya yatra śiro deśe tata utthāya vāvrajet | dhanaṃ vā sarvam utsṛjya mṛtyor mucyetā vā na vā || 6 || dattvā vā pṛthivīṃ sarvāṃ rājā śāntiṃ niyacchati || 7 || AVPŚ 54.2 || 146. For instance, the amṛtā mahāśānti is mentioned no fewer than ten times, the raudrī nine times, the vaiśvadevī three times, the brahmī once, the prājāpatyā once, the aindrī twice, the

18

118

Rit es of t he God -K ing

the Śāntikalpa, then, the mahāśānti was indeed made applicable to all types of omens. The precise relation between such catalogs and their non-​Atharvan astronomical (jyotiṣa) sources is a fascinating issue in its own right, as it bears heavily on the interaction between Vedic ritual and the early Indian astrological tradition. Recent scholarship has begun to map out the connections between the Appendices and astrological sources like the Bṛhatsaṃhitā.147 The inclusion of astrological texts in the Appendices—​a Vedic ritual manual—​demonstrates the growth of Atharvan involvement with astrology since the Śāntikalpa. As I  discussed in c­ hapter  1, the mahāśānti paradigm (the amṛtā śānti) was said to ward off “omens of the earth, atmosphere and heavens.” Since the text prescribed a single ritual as remedy for all categories of omens, I speculated that it may have reflected a somewhat antagonistic relationship between the Atharvan and the astrological traditions. By the same logic, the Appendices, in contrast, suggest a much more engaged relationship between Atharvan purohitas and early astrologers (daivajña, sāṃvatsara). Whereas the Śāntikalpa neglects to mention particular omens, thus potentially nullifying astrological expertise, the Appendices incorporate this knowledge in a much more explicit way, while naming the astrologer as an essential member of the king’s retinue alongside the purohita.148 An additional passage illustrates how the evolution of Atharvan aspersion rituals based on the mahāśānti was correlated with this shifting relationship with astrology. One of the final appendices in the collection, “[The Omens] of Bhṛgu” (AVPŚ 70: bhārgavīyāṇi), appears to have been composed specifically to reorgan­ ize the relation between omen taxonomy and the new variants of śānti developed in the Appendices. Oṃ! Previously having correctly honored the wise one, the knowledgeable munis asked Bhṛgu, who is steadily intent on the good of all beings:  “Manifold are the omens, triply located in the world, but the mahendrī four times, and so forth. Usually the prescription comes at the end of the given appendix. The main difference pertains to the type of omen catalog. Nine of the appendices in this group deal with specific categories of omens, such as comets, celestial lights, and lightning (AVPŚ 52, 54, 58, 58b, 59, 60, 62, 63, 65). Four others are miscellaneous catalogs (AVPŚ 64, 69, 71, 72). 147. See Yano and Maejima, “A Study on the Atharvaveda-​Pariśiṣṭa 50–​57.” 148.  Recall that the opening chapter of the Appendices mentions the astrologer alongside the purohita as an essential member of the king’s ritual specialists. The implied cooperation between these two in part explains why such detailed descriptions of inauspicious omens were included among the Appendices.

19



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

119

appeasement of them, which are assorted, has not been explained. O sage, tell us about that with total clarity!”149 The essential problem enunciated here stems from the taxonomic diversity of the omens (utpāta), which are said to be manifold (anekadhā) and assorted (bhinna, literally “shattered” or “fragmented”). How to configure their appeasement (śamana) in a suitably diverse fashion? Bhṛgu responds by introducing the “three-​fold” organization of appeasement rituals, a scheme that mirrors the omens “triply-​located” (trayaniviṣṭa) in the world. After once more affirming the essential virtue of Atharvan performers of these rites, the text offers the corresponding ritual scheme (table 2.1). This arrangement of śānti rituals poses a significant update to the Śāntikalpa, which claimed that the mahāśānti appeases omens of all kinds (terrestrial, atmos­ pheric, and heavenly). Here, while the mahāśānti still represents a minimally required strategy for appeasement, its pairing with the ghṛtakambala, lakṣahoma, and koṭihoma signals a more considered appraisal of omen taxonomy. The numerical multiplication of homa offerings, in particular, seems to have been an obvious way to translate the relative gravity of omens into a scale of ritual “value,” a value also indicated in increasing financial cost (dakṣiṇā).150 This newfound ritual precision makes the earlier statement about the mahāśānti as a countermeasure for all omens appear overstated and somewhat naïve. Table 2.1  Scheme of appeasement rituals according to Bhṛgu (AVPŚ 70) Omen

Appeasement Ritual

Gift for the Guru

Earth

brahma? mahāśānti, 100,000 sāvitrī homas mahāśānti, 1 million sāvitrī homas, ghṛtakambala

milk cow, village, a pair of garments twelve milk cows, 100 gold coins

mahāśānti, koṭihoma

1,000 cows

Atmosphere Heaven

149.  oṃ saṃpūjya vidhivat prājñaṃ vidvāṃso munayaḥ purā | apṛcchan bhṛgum avyagraṃ sarvasattvahite ratam || 1 || lokatrayaniviṣṭānām utpātānām anekadhā | bhinnānāṃ śamanaṃ noktaṃ vada tv asaṃśayaṃ mune || 2 || AVPŚ 70.1 || 150. Note that the gosahasra mentioned here as a payment for the koṭihoma is also the name of one of the monumental dāna rituals (AVPŚ 16). This again raises the question of the link between śānti and dāna.

120

120

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Here, then, we find the Atharvans more conversant with the astrological milieu. For as Varāhamihira reports, there seems to have been a debate within astrological circles about the limits of the efficacy of śānti rituals: Some say, “terrestrial omens, being manifest in things moving or still, become appeased by śānti rituals; atmospheric ones become weakened [thereby]; but heavenly omens cannot be appeased.” Divine omens, however, become appeased through generous gifts of gold, food, cows, and land, and from the godoha on the grounds of a temple to Rudra, and also from the koṭihoma.151 I will return to Varāhamihira’s ritual eclecticism later, but for now we may appreciate how his testimony confirms the controversial claim—​ shared by the Appendices—​for the efficacy of the koṭihoma in the case of heavenly omens. In this way the Atharvans’ increasingly diverse roster of śānti-​related rituals informed ritual-​astrological debate. Even so we have seen that both the ghṛtakambala and the koṭihoma were nonetheless technically dependent on the mahāśānti paradigm. Even as they appeared to diversify their ritual services, the Atharvans remained committed to a consistent, underlying ritual frame.

Ritual Form and Ritual Discourse If there is a theme to be named amid all of this florid ritualism, it is the blurring of ritual forms and concepts in the wake of the rise of śānti. Appeasement provides an organizing discourse in the daily rituals of the king, lends its ritual structure to the development of monumental gifts, and then recombines with abhicāra (sorcery) to produce an armored “blanket” made of mantras. Underlying these various interactions is, I propose, a more fundamental hybridization: between śānti (appeasement) and abhiṣeka (aspersion/​ consecration). A partially corrupt pair of verses at the end of the “Blanket of Ghee” appendix is relevant here. The text lists a number of rituals that should be “performed by [a king] desiring welfare” (kartavyā bhūtiṃ icchatā). These include, in order, “the famous (siddha) abhiṣeka, the nightly (ritual), the Blanket of Ghee (ghṛtakambala), the lakṣa[-​homa], the Prosperity Aspersion (puṣyābhiṣeka), the pradhānāvabhṛt[h]‌a, and the thirty-​three mahāśāntis.” Apart from the avabhṛtha, a concluding bath of many solemn rituals (especially the Soma sacrifice), the list 151. bhaumaṃ carasthirabhavaṃ tat śāntibhir āhataṃ śamam upaiti | nābhasam upaiti mṛdutāṃ śāmyati no divyam ity eke || 5 || divyam api śamam upaiti prabhūtakanakānnagomahīdānaiḥ | rudrāyatane bhūmau godohāt koṭihomāc ca || 6 || BS 45 ||

12



The Ritual Culture of Appeasement

121

links together many of the rituals in the Appendices, enacting the tendency for ritual networking that I outlined in this chapter. But note in particular how it places the “well-​known” abhiṣeka—​most likely the king’s inaugural consecration (prathamābhiṣeka)—​alongside more apotropaic sorts of aspersion rituals such as the “Blanket of Ghee” and the mahāśānti. Meanwhile it also names the “Prosperity Aspersion” (puṣyābhiṣeka), which I have argued represents a median point on the spectrum between empowering and apotropaic aspersions.152 Thus the semantic range of abhiṣeka has been extended in the Appendices, such that the highly apotropaic “Blanket of Ghee” is elsewhere described as a “consecration” (mahābhiṣeka).153 Such statements suggest that the Atharvans were both creative and methodical in their appropriation of the Vedic abhiṣeka tradition. Not viewing these paradigms as sacrosanct, they freely adapted them to their own designs, bringing the structure of the mahāśānti to bear on other ritual themes, such as gifting, expiation, and sorcery. Given the rampant proliferation of aspersions within the royal ritual calendar, it makes sense that the inaugural consecration of the king has in the Appendices been renamed the “first consecration” (prathamābhiṣeka): it was now, quite literally, the first of many. Reinterpreting the iterative potential of abhiṣeka in apotropaic terms, the Atharvans circumscribe the king within a nexus of repeated consecrations; his body is no longer merely a receptacle of great powers but the premier site for preventing dangers of all kinds. The semantic blending of śānti and abhiṣeka thus yields a vision of the king as a nearly mute body, bound to a life of washing; his grueling schedule of aspersions proposes a discipline that could rival the average monastic rule in its rigor and relentlessness. The Appendices present not a pragmatic manual of kingship per se but a priestly vision; not the guidelines for the king as a sociopolitical agent but the scenes of his ritual objectification. We might say that the text is something like the purohita’s Arthaśāstra: a priestly counterpart to the science of statecraft. To be sure, this is in no way to dismiss the social and political efficacy of ritual and

152. The text is unclear: siddhābhiṣeko naiśaś ca ghṛtakambalam eva ca | lakṣaḥ puṣyābhiṣekaś ca pradhānāvabhṛtas tathā || 6 || mahāśāntitrayastriṃśat tatra ṣaṭ prastaraiḥ saha | niyatānye vadṛchāyā [niyatānye yadṛchayā?] kartavyā bhūtim icchatā || 7 || AVPŚ 33.7 || In their description Bolling and Negelein suggest that the rites in verse 6 are preliminary to the thirty-​three mahāśāntis. Alternatively the thirty-​three mahāśāntis may merely be included in the list of required rites. While the Śāntikalpa featured thirty variants of the mahāśānti ritual, three additional variants occur in the Appendices: the salilā (AVPŚ 31.8.3), the saurī (72b.6,5), and the kāpotā (70c.29.1). 153. The colophon of AVPŚ 33: iti ghṛtakambalākhyo mahābhiṣekaḥ samāptaḥ

12

122

Rit es of t he God -K ing

ritualists:  fate, consecration, appeasement, expiation, gifting—​all of these concepts will prove highly consequential for the theory and practice of kingship in early medieval sources, to say nothing of the very shape of royal ritual life. But what I want to emphasize here, at the close of our bird’s-​eye tour of the Appendices, is how deeply grounded in the objective, physical execution of ritual these concepts prove to be from the perspective of this peculiar textual history. It is no exaggeration to say at this point that śānti has already had a remarkable biography in the Atharvan tradition. We have just encountered it, at its most mature stage, in the Appendices, where—​as if self-​consciously—​it proclaims itself as the very heart of Atharvan praxis, multiplying its forms around the royal body. Yet we must remember that this robust and loquacious ritual tradition arose first as a seemingly innocuous implement, only gradually nurtured, on a growing stock of mantras and omens, into an independent ritual structure. And it is precisely at these incipient stages that we find śānti and its purveyors to be most taciturn. It could be argued that some theory, some discursive account of the ritual was always present—​though perhaps available only in the secret commentary of the ritual masters. But there is another possibility. The textual trajectory presented above permits us to understand the ritual arena itself as the location of genius: it is perhaps the chance juxtaposition of this (royal) body with that (śānti) water and those (Atharvan) mantras—​this person and those omens—​that occasioned speculation about the nature of kingship in relation to the signs of the heavens. One is reminded here of Michael Witzel’s remarks about the oral composition of the brāhmaṇas—the speculative, explanatory texts of the solemn sacrifice. Some features of these texts suggest that they were composed on the very grounds of the sacrifice.154 While I do not mean to rehearse the ritual origins of theology, I nonetheless find compelling the primal and deeply unpredictable power of the ritual space for the generation of soteriology and political theory. In other words—​ and without diminishing the agency of the Atharvan priests who produced our texts—​I suspect that Kauśika could not have predicted the destiny of śānti water, which almost seems to have presented itself to the authors of the Śāntikalpa as a possible remedy for omens, and, in that form, to the purohitas of the Appendices as a technology for the reform of the royal office. Ritual—​like other technologies—​ begets further, unrealized versions not only of itself but also, as we will see, of its subjects: in this case the kings and councilors of premodern South Asia.

154. Witzel, “How to Enter the Vedic Mind?,” 165.

123

3

Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

Beyond the Fourth Veda While describing the Puṣyabhūti king Harṣa as he prepared to depart for war against the king of Mālava, the poet Bāṇa briefly mobilized the literary and political potential of śānti water: Sitting on a throne set upon a taut tiger skin; smearing first his weapons, and then his body down to the feet with sandal paste, which became whitened by his glory; donning a pair of fine dukūla garments marked with rājahaṃsas; arranging on his head a chaplet of white flowers, like the digit of the moon that marks Parameśvara (that signifies supreme lordship); placing in his ear a fresh spear of dūrvā grass sprinkled with gorocanā, like a flash of emerald from his earring; binding on his forearm an amulet auspicious for travel, with an armlet for issuing royal decrees; his head doused with a spray of śānti water falling from the hand of the purohita, who was himself fully gladdened and honored; he (King Harṣa) summoned the expensive vehicles.1

1.  samupaviśya vitatavyāghracarmaṇi bhadrāsane vilipya prathamaviliptāyudho nijayaśodhavalenācaraṇataś candanena śarīraṃ paridhāya rājahaṃsamithunalakṣmaṇī sadṛśe dukūle parameśvaracihnabhūtāṃ śaśikalām iva kalpayitvā sitakusumamuṇḍamālikāṃ śirasi nītvā karṇābharaṇamarakatamayūkham iva karṇagocaratāṃ gorocanācchuritam abhinavaṃ dūrvāpallavaṃ vinyasya saha śāsanavalayena gamanamaṅgalapratisaraṃ prakoṣṭhe paripūjita prahṛṣṭapurohitakaraprakīryamāṇaśāntisalilaśīkaranikarābhyukṣitaśirāḥ saṃpreṣya mahārhāṇi vāhanāni. Text based on Kane, The Harshacarita of Bāṇabhaṭṭa. A. A. Führer’s edition reads “wet with a spray of śānti water” (śīkarābhyukṣitaśirāḥ) (Bāṇabhaṭṭa’s Biography of King Harshavardhana, 274).

124

124

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Śānti rituals did not arise in a vacuum, but naming the exact interlocutors of the late Atharvan tradition is no easy matter. Neither the Śāntikalpa nor the Appendices are attributed to a historical author, nor tied to a specific royal dynasty. Thus the exact Atharvan institution responsible for these texts remains beyond reach. Yet śānti rituals were certainly designed with kings in mind, and it is precisely the problem of kingship that dominates Brahmanical literature of the early Common Era, when canonical texts on dharma and artha underwent formative redactions. Didactic portions of the Mahābhārata, royal guidelines in the Arthaśāstra and Manusmṛti, and classical literary texts such as Kālidāsa’s Raghuvaṁśa ruminate at length on the subject of kings and their work. Occasionally ritual details creep into these accounts. Here, for instance, Bāṇa evokes the broader cultural setting in which political rituals, and ritual elements like śānti water, could inform depictions of right kingship and just war. But while such sources may at times refer to the purohita’s Atharvan affiliation, they only rarely—​as Bāṇa does—​mention specific details of the royal rituals of the Appendices. Hence they cannot serve to pinpoint when exactly the Atharvan mode of ritualized kingship impacted the discourse of rājadharma. At best they provide a broader discursive field in which we might situate the interventions of śānti-​wielding Atharvans and omen-​telling astrologers. We find better fortune with Varāhamihira, the famed sixth-​ century astronomer-​astrologer whose testimony marks a decisive shift in our ritual history. Following his lead, we will see that, within the larger scope of rājadharma as formulated in early Brahmanical sources, one topic stands out as being of central importance to the life of śānti:  the war march, or yātrā. It seems that the basic contingency of warfare made the yātrā especially ripe for the development of the astrological trade. As Manu says, “Between two combatants in battle, neither victory nor defeat is certain. Therefore one should avoid war.”2 And it is in his treatises on the yātrā that Varāhamihira confirms the Atharvan heritage of śānti, while indicating its destiny beyond the fourth Veda. Hence in this chapter I will first briefly survey the Dharmaśāstric account of the yātrā before examining Varāhamihira’s texts and the “astrological ritualism” they propose. In doing so I want to suggest a basic tension between Dharmaśāstra and Jyotiḥśāstra: in their formulations of the yātrā the early orthodoxy tends to render mute questions of fate, ritual, and astrological timing—​the very factors upon which, according to Varāhamihira and his Atharvan informers, the king’s political destiny largely depends.

2. anityo vijayo yasmād dṛśyate yudhyamānayoḥ | parājayaś ca saṃgrāme tasmād yuddhaṃ vivarjayet || 199 || MDh 7 || My translation. Text from Olivelle, Mānavadharmaśāstra.

125



Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

125

Kings in the Wild: The Military Expedition in Pre-​Gupta Sources The Atharvans were not the first Vedic priests to devise a recurring abhiṣeka. For Heesterman, the central “conundrum” of royal authority in ancient India involved the king’s need for a source of legitimacy that could be found only beyond the society he governed: “The king has to belong to the community, but at the same time he must stand outside so as to guarantee his authority.”3 In other words, “the king must belong to the grāma, but his authority must be based in the alien sphere of araṇya.”4 For Heesterman, one solution to this problem was achieved in classical Vedic rituals of royal consecration (the rājasūya and mahābhiṣeka), which present the ritual production of kingship not as a singular event but as an endlessly recurring cycle. Hence in the rājasūya a ritualized chariot drive intervenes between the king’s aspersion and his enthronement. Observing this structure at work in multiple royal śrauta rituals, Heesterman interprets it as follows:  “After the unction the king should go abroad on a raiding expedition. Then, after his triumphant return he mounts the throne and the cycle is closed.”5 The endless repetition of this cycle of “unction” (abhiṣeka), war, and enthronement connects the community (grāma) to the wilderness (araṇya), grounding the king’s temporal authority in the latter. The pattern, according to Heesterman, “enables the ritual to give full weight to the dilemma of kingship and to handle it effectively,” even though it remains “wrought with constant risk and the threat of violent breakdown.”6 According to this view, in the Vedic period some form of military campaign (if not yet explicitly called yātrā) already played a central role in the theory of kingship. And the theme would remain central to subsequent depictions of rājadharma. Most famously, the epics are strongly informed by an alternation between forest and civilization, both Rāma and the Pāṇḍavas sojourning in the forest before assuming the throne. The Pāṇḍavas in particular undertake their conquest of the four directions (digvijaya) during this forest sojourn. Nancy Falk has argued that certain recurring themes found in epic and early Buddhist texts represent the survival of an “ancient pattern”—​typified by the Buddha’s defeat of Māra under the Bodhi tree—​in which kingship is won in the wild.7 This pattern, according to Falk, implies that royal power depends on the king’s ability to control the “chaotic” powers of the wilderness. In one of the recurring motifs in this pattern, the forest shrine of a yakṣa (spirit)—​sometimes a simple seat or 3. Heesterman, “The Conundrum of the King’s Authority,” 117. 4. Ibid., 118. 5. Ibid., 119. 6. Ibid., 117, 124. 7. Falk, “Wilderness and Kingship.”

126

126

Rit es of t he God -K ing

throne—​forms the source of sovereignty. Controlling the shrine and defeating the yakṣa guarantees the control and security of the kingdom. In some instances the throne in the wilderness serves as the site of a coronation ritual.8 Although it may oddly resemble a scene from James Frazer’s The Golden Bough, we will have to return to the image of the throne in the wilderness. Likewise we will see that the cyclical pattern described by Heesterman survives in post-​Vedic, apotropaic abhiṣeka rituals, which develop their own distinctive relationship to the yātrā.9 To begin to understand this post-​Vedic continuity, note that in Heesterman’s scenario the violent campaign in the wilderness is encompassed by a complex structure of Vedic rituals. In what ways, then, was the digvijaya ritualized in the post-​Vedic period? As Bo Sax has noted, literary accounts from the epic period onward also tend to frame the war march with rituals.10 Sanskrit poets pay particular attention to a fire sacrifice performed prior to the king’s departure. A classical example may be drawn from ­chapter 4 of Kālidāsa’s Raghuvaṁśa, the digvijaya of king Raghu: At the ritual lustration of the horses (nīrājanā), the well-​fed fire, its flames turning clockwise, seemed to grant him victory with the semblance of an outstretched hand. Taking his six-​fold army, his borders and capital protected, his rear guard secured, he set forth with a desire to conquer the directions, full of good fortune.11 The ritual mentioned here, the nīrājanā (sometimes translated as the “lustration” of horses and elephants), is not part of the śrauta canon but emerges in the long, murky period “between the empires,” the centuries straddling the turn of the Common Era. It is mentioned in the Arthaśāstra, and a corrupted prescription survives in the Appendices. A  more readable account

8. Auboyer, Le trône et son symbolisme, 49–​51. 9. Heesterman argues that the cycle of violence preserved in rituals like the rājasūya was in fact broken by the ritual reformers in what he calls the “classical Indian formulation of the problem of authority,” in which extrasocial authority is provided by the brahmin renouncer (“The Conundrum of the King’s Authority,” 127). Here he follows a Dumontian line of reasoning that, I will argue, may not apply to all of the post-​Vedic materials. 10. Sax, “Conquering the Quarters.” 11.  tasmai samyaghuto vahnir vājinīrājanāvidhau | pradakṣiṇārcir vyājena hasteneva jayaṃ dadau || 25 || sa guptamūlapratyantaḥ śuddhapārṣṇir ayānvitaḥ | ṣaḍvidhaṃ balam ādāya pratasthe dig jigīṣayā || 26 || Raghuvaṁśa 4 || My translation. Text from Kale, The Raghuvaṃśa of Kālidāsa.

127



Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

127

is found in the Bṛhatsaṃhitā, a text I will discuss below. It is notable, then, that this relatively early literary account of the yātrā already reflects a post-​ Vedic milieu, which comprises not only new ritual forms but also a heightened astrological sensibility. The auspicious, right-​turning fire here seems, “by its own hand,” to grant Raghu victory even before he has taken a single step on his campaign. The same image is used by Bāṇa (udarciṣaṃ hutvā pradakṣiṇāvartaśikhākalāpam āśuśukṣaṇiṃ) to describe the auspicious moment of Harṣa’s departure, the day having already been “well-​calculated by hundreds of astrologers” (mauhūrtikamaṇḍalena śataśaḥ sugaṇite supraśaste ‘hani). It is perhaps because of this auspicious fire offering that Raghu is said to be departing with good fortune (ayānvita). Bāṇa and Kālidāsa show that by the Gupta period, a divinatory fire sacrifice had become a standard trope in descriptions of prewar preparations. Dharmaśāstric accounts of yātrā, which predate Kālidāsa by a few centuries, tend to minimize such details.12 In the texts of Manu and Kauṭilya—​who together represent the classical account of the yātrā—​the ritualistic and astrological aspects largely fall out of focus; both texts instead emphasize questions of military strategy. Take for instance the timing of the departure: When the king decides to undertake a campaign against an enemy country, then he should advance toward the enemy city slowly, according to this procedure. The king should depart on the campaign in the auspicious month of Mārgaśīrṣa; or in the months of Phālguna or Caitra, according to the strength of his army. Even at other times, when he foresees a quick victory, or when a calamity has befallen the enemy, then, declaring war, he should depart.13

12.  The subsequent Brahmanical tradition, as represented by the Rājadharmakāṇḍa of Lakṣṃīdhara, takes Manu’s discussion of kingship (MDh 7.182–​216) as the locus classicus for the topic of yātrā. Mark McClish, “The Dependence of Manu’s Seventh Chapter,” has recently argued that Manu’s text in fact forms a condensed summary of the more extensive account of the same topic in Kauṭilya’s Arthaśāstra. According to Olivelle, scholarship on the Arthaśāstra waned at the end of the first millennium ce (King, Governance, and Law, 51–​53). So while Manu remained a prominent source in the nibandhas, the Arthaśāstra made a less direct impact on the later Dharmaśāstric tradition. Because of its importance to the later tradition, and because its concise presentation allows us to view larger structural patterns, I will follow Manu here, while referring to further details supplied by Kauṭilya. 13.  yadā tu yānam ātiṣṭhed arirāṣṭraṃ prati prabhuḥ | tadānena vidhānena yāyād aripuraṃ śanaiḥ || 181 || mārgaśīrṣe śubhe māsi yāyād yātrāṃ mahīpatiḥ | phālgunaṃ vātha caitraṃ vā māsau prati yathābalam || 182 || anyeṣv api tu kāleṣu yadā paśyed dhruvaṃ jayam | tadā yāyād vigṛhyaiva vyasane cotthite ripoḥ || 183 || MDh 7 ||

128

128

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Although the text describes the month of Mārgaśīrṣa as “auspicious” (śubha) for the departure, this term seems intended in a strictly strategic sense. The corresponding passage from the Arthaśāstra explains that the month of departure depends on the enemy’s store of food and the timing of seasonal harvests.14 Significantly no mention is made of any prewar rituals at the time of departure. Kauṭilya goes on to pair the timing of the departure with the type of climate the would-​be conqueror is likely to face abroad and the duration of war that is expected. Manu’s account essentially summarizes the rest of Kauṭilya’s discussion of warfare.15 The diverse account includes the protection of the king’s home territories; the various possible formations and compositions of the army while marching and camping and during battle; and the conduct of a siege.16 None of these topics is the focus of ritual or divination. Manu’s and Kauṭilya’s advice for the king after he has conquered the enemy territory adopts a similar, strategic tone.17 We may visit it here, as it contains details that will be relevant for the ritual-​astrological version of the yātrā: “Having won, he should worship the gods and righteous brahmins. He should grant tax exemption, and should declare pardons (abhayāni) (to enemy combatants).”18 It is passages like this—​based on a section from the Arthaśāstra, “Pacifying the Acquired Territory” (labdhapraśamana)—​that have won Kauṭilya his reputation as a precursor to Machiavelli. Whereas Manu and Kauṭilya omit any preliminary rituals for the war campaign, postwar rituals become relevant only as part of a larger political strategy for pacifying the newly conquered realm. The worship of local gods and brahmins appears alongside the granting of tax exemptions, pardoning prisoners, and upholding prior legal precedents. The baldly ideological motivation for participating in local religion is even clearer in the underlying text from the Arthaśāstra. Arguing that a king “whose conduct is contrary to his subjects’ ” jeopardizes their trust, he says, “Therefore, he should adopt the habits, dress,

14.  “He should undertake a military expedition in Mārgaśīrṣa (November–​December) against an enemy whose old food stocks have been depleted and new food stocks have not been gathered and whose fort has not been repaired, in order to destroy his rainy season crop and his winter sowing. He should undertake a military expedition in Caitra (March–​April) to destroy his winter crop and his spring sowing” (AŚ 9.1.34–​35), translation from Olivelle, King, Governance, and Law, 351. The same rationale is given by Medhātithi at MDh 7.182. 15. Corresponding to sections of Arthaśāstra 9, 10, and 13. See McClish, “The Dependence of Manu’s Seventh Chapter,” 249. 16. MDh 7.184–​86; MDh 7.187–​94 (=AŚ 10.1–​10.6); MDh 7.195–​97 (=AŚ 13.1–​4). 17. MDh 7.201–​4 (=AŚ 13.5). 18. jitvā saṃpūjayed devān brāhmaṇāṃś caiva dhārmikān | pradadyāt parihārārthaṃ khyāpayed abhayāni ca || 201 || MDh 7 ||

129



Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

129

language, and conduct similar to theirs, and demonstrate his devotion to them during festivals in honor of the gods of the region, festivities, and recreational activities.”19 As we will see, subsequent accounts of the yātrā appear to be much more committed to the ritual aspects of military victory, especially the postwar motifs present here, including the worship of gods, gifting to brahmins, and the declaration of “safety” (abhaya). Outside of the Dharmaśāstric account, some of these elements took on relevance in the yātrā beyond their strictly strategic value. In these passages Manu and Kauṭilya appear somewhat disinterested in the topics that will most concern Atharvan purohitas and astrologers like Varāhamihira: fate, omens, and their ritual countermeasures. It may be that this disinterest merely reflects a division of labor: perhaps these topics were simply left to the treatises of other experts. But other passages in both sources may indicate a more complex relationship between the experts of dharma and artha on the one hand and those of vidhi and jyotis on the other. In particular Manu and Kauṭilya express some discomfort with the question of daiva, a term that, as we have seen, carried much weight in the Appendices. The subject appears in a verse from Manu’s code directly following the instruction for pacifying a conquered territory: “All activities here depend on divine and human dispensations. Of these, however, the divine is inscrutable; action is only possible with respect to the human.”20 Manu admits that the “dispensation” (vidhāna) on which royal campaigns are based includes “divine” as well as “human” components. But what exactly does he mean in saying that daiva is unfathomable? Manu’s verse summarizes the following passage from the Arthaśāstra: Good and bad policy (naya) pertain to the human realm. Good and bad fortune (aya) pertain to the divine realm. Divine and human activity, indeed, makes the world run. The divine consists of what is caused by an invisible agent. Of this, attaining a desirable result is good fortune, while attaining an undesirable result is bad fortune. The human consists of what is caused by a visible agent. Of this, the success of enterprise and security is good policy, while their failure is bad policy. This is within the range of thought, whereas the divine is beyond the range of thought.21 19. AŚ 13.5.7–​8. Olivelle, King, Governance, and Law, 418. 20. sarvaṃ karmedam āyattaṃ vidhāne daivamānuṣe | tayor daivam acintyaṃ tu mānuṣe vidyate kriyā || 205 || MDh 7 || Olivelle’s translation, Manu’s Code of Law, 265. 21.  mānuṣaṃ nayāpanayau daivam ayānayau | daivamānuṣaṃ hi karma lokaṃ yāpayati | adṛṣṭakāritaṃ daivam | tasminn iṣṭena phalena yogo ‘yaḥ aniṣṭenānayaḥ | dṛṣṭakāritaṃ mānuṣam | tasmin yogakṣemaniṣpattir nayaḥ vipattir apanayaḥ | tac cintyam acintyaṃ daivam | AŚ 6.2.6–​12 | Translation by Olivelle, King, Governance, and Law, 273.

130

130

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Whereas for the Appendices, the inscrutability (sugupta) of daiva served to justify the need for astrological expertise (daivavid), here Kauṭilya mentions daiva only in order to define his primary topic, yogakṣema, “enterprise and security,” which he defines as “good policy” (naya, vs. “bad policy,” apanaya). Policy falls within the sphere of human action (mānuṣa) and is therefore distinct from daiva. Since, unlike daiva, human action has a visible cause and is thus fathomable, daiva, being unknowable, is excluded from the rest of the passage (and indeed appears only sparingly in the Arthaśāstra as a whole). The implication seems to be that the king should concern himself most with what he can know with certainty, and thus control. Kauṭilya returns to the question of daiva in the section on warfare, when taking up the topic of calamities (vyasana). These he also classes as divine and human, arising, respectively, from bad luck and bad policy.22 Divine calamities are elsewhere called “afflictions” (pīḍana), “adversities” (āpad), or “dangers” (bhaya or mahābhaya), and they include fire, flood, disease, famine, and epidemic. Kauṭilya supplies various remedies for such afflictions, including homage to gods and brahmins, magic-​wielding ascetics, and indeed Atharvan rituals. We have already seen that he recommends the king employ a purohita, who “could counteract divine and human adversities through Atharvan means.” The same passage adds that this purohita should be well trained in divine portents (nimitte daive abhinivītam), and Kauṭilya mentions a “diviner” (naimittika) and an “astrologer” (mauhūrtika) among the king’s retinue on numerous occasions.23 Elsewhere he describes spies posing as astrologers.24 In one scenario he recommends that these spies, reporting an omen (adbhuta) to the king, should recommend a śānti ceremony that the king must himself perform as a means of drawing him out of his fort.25 Such

22. anayāpanayābhyām sambhavati | AŚ 8.1.2 | 23. For example, AŚ 1.19.23; 5.3.13; 10.1.1; 10.3.44; 13.1.7. 24. AŚ 1.13.23; 4.4.03; 13.2.22, 33. 25. “Or else, on nights of the junctures (saṃdhirātriṣu), they should point out a sanctuary with men eaten up while erect in a prominent area of the cemetery. Thereafter, someone assuming the appearance of a demon should demand a human offering. And others should kill whoever comes to see it, whether he claims to be brave or is just some man, by beating him with iron pestles or in such a way that people will reckon that he was killed by demons. People who have witnessed this, as well as secret agents, should report that wonder (adbhutam) to the king. Then, agents working undercover as soothsayers or astrologers should recommend a pacificatory ritual (śānti) and penance saying, ‘Otherwise a great affliction (mahad akuśalam) will strike the king and country.’ When he agrees, they should tell him, ‘On these occasions, the king himself should perform a fire offering with mantras each night for seven nights’ ” (AŚ 13.2.29–​33), translation from Olivelle, King, Governance, and Law, 409.

13



Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

131

passages assume the normalcy of astrological rituals and professional astrologers in the king’s orbit. It is not the case, then, that Kauṭilya is ignorant of ritual and astrological considerations but rather that he has excluded them from figuring too prominently in important strategic decisions (naya)—​especially those concerning warfare. While not dismissing divine dispensation entirely, such calculations as when to attack the enemy should not be determined by daiva alone, for an overdependence on daiva is a mark of weakness. Hence while the ideal king should, among other things, be possessed of good fortune (daivabuddhisattvasampanna), the ideal enemy, having precisely the opposite qualities, is “without energy” (nirutsāha), “overly dependent on fate” (daivapramāṇa) and thus easily defeated.26 Perhaps such wariness of daiva is at play in the following passage, in which Kauṭilya counsels against acting too rashly when a calamity strikes the enemy: Further, teachers for the most part counsel: “One should march during a calamity affecting the enemy.” “One should march when one has grown in power, given the uncertainty surrounding calamities,” says Kauṭilya; “or else, one should march when after marching one is able to weaken or to vanquish the enemy.”27 Although we have seen that calamities may have both human and divine causes, it is perhaps the latter that Kauṭilya has in mind. When viewed in the context of the astrological ritualism that was already popular in the Gupta period, such passages might indicate that some debate about the relevance of astrology to politics may already have been brewing in Kauṭilya’s time.

Varāhamihira the Ritualist Whether or not Manu and Kauṭilya were actively engaged with priestly astrologers in a debate over fatalism, by the early second millennium ce the orthodoxy embraced more openly the role of daiva in the yātrā. For the twelfth-​century

26. AŚ 6.1.13–​14. Kauṭilya expresses a similar view in a passage describing what types of persons the king should avoid settling on vacant land:  “A person trusting in fate and devoid of human effort perishes, as he does not undertake tasks, or the tasks he undertakes flounder” (daivapramāṇo mānuṣahīno nirārambho vipannakarmārambho vāvasīdati | AŚ 7.11.34). Olivelle, King, Governance, and Law, 309. 27.  prāyaśaś cācāryāḥ paravyasane yātavyam ity upadiśanti || 42 || śaktyudaye yātavyam anaikāntikatvād vyasanānām iti kauṭilyaḥ || 43 || yadā vā prayātaḥ karśayitum ucchetuṃ vā śaknuyād amitraṃ tadā yāyāt || 44 || AŚ 9.1 || Olivelle, King, Governance, and Law, 351.

132

132

Rit es of t he God -K ing

author Lakṣmīdhara, Manu remains the central resource for the military expedition, the above passage supplying the basic structure of his account. Lakṣmīdhara, however, sees fit to supplement Manu’s basic text with more explicitly astrological content from a later text, the Matsyapurāṇa, For instance, after Manu’s instruction on the timing of the king’s departure (quoted above), Lakṣmīdhara inserts selections from Matsyapurāṇa 240–​42. These include a chapter on omens derived from the throbbing of the king’s limbs (dehaspandana) and another dealing with the interpretation of dreams (svapnanimitta). Thus, in addition to a date most favorable for optimal grain supplies, the departing king must also await the manifestation of an appropriate dream. For example, he should dream that grass or trees have sprouted from his navel (drumatṛṇodbhavo nābhau) or that he has swallowed the earth and its oceans (bhūmyambudhīnām grasanam). We will return to the Matsyapurāṇa in ­chapter 4. For now we should simply observe that in the early medieval period—​before the twelfth century ce—​such mainstream “Hindu” sources on rājadharma and yātrā were heavily influenced by an astrological form of ritualism. Our best resources for examining such ritualism come not from the mainline dharmaśāstras—​which tend to distance themselves from ritual and astrology—​but rather from the texts of Varāhamihira, an authority in Jyotiḥśāstra. Varāhamihira lived in Ujjain in the sixth century ce, in the twilight of the Gupta dynasty, prior to the reign of Harṣa. He is credited with a number of widely read texts in the subfields of mathematical astronomy (gaṇita), omenology (saṃhitā), and horoscopy (jātaka).28 It should be noted that Varāhamihira was less an innovator of Jyotiḥśāstra than a systematizer; he inherits a tradition that, in his time, was already of significant antiquity. At the start of his most famous work, the Bṛhatsaṃhitā, he embraces the need to consolidate this extensive group of sources. Having reviewed the valuable meaning of the extensive canon, taught by the first muni, I became eager to explain it clearly in words neither too brief nor too extensive. [It is said,] “What is ancient is good, since it was written by sages—​not what is composed by men.” [But] aside from mantras, what can be gained from different syllables expressing the same meaning? If, in the words of Brahmā, it is said “the weekday of the son of the Earth (kṣititanayadivasavāra, i.e. Mars) is not auspicious,” or in our words, “Tuesday (kujadina) is inauspicious,” what is the difference between human and divine texts? Having reviewed sequentially the entire canon

28. On the issue of the tripartite classification, see Mak, “Indian Jyotiṣa,” 4n9.

13



Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

133

issued from Brahmā and those afterwards, I am prompted to [write] this composition more succinctly.29 Elsewhere in his texts Varāhamihira names a number of authorities on various topics, suggesting that the Jyotiḥśāstric tradition had indeed flourished during the Gupta period and earlier. For our purposes this means that while Varāhamihira supplies a firm, sixth-​century date for what I will argue was an important interaction between Atharvan ritualists and astrologers, it remains possible that the formative period of this interaction may have occurred earlier. In c­hapters  1 and 2 I  demonstrated a growing interest in omens in the Atharvan texts. The Śāntikalpa does not mention astrologers per se, yet it classifies portents according to the tripartite astrological scheme of “earth, atmos­ phere, and heavens,” while claiming that the mahāśānti ritual remedies all such portents. The subsequent Appendices, however, more openly advocate collaboration with astrologers, prescribing the king’s selection of a sāṃvatsara and purohita who are “expert in fate and ritual” (daivakarmavidau). Most significant, the text also includes an extensive series of omen catalogs attributed to astrological authorities. By itself this information gives significant indication of a professional interchange between astrologers and Atharvans. This suspicion is further corroborated by the testimony of Varāhamihira. In the first place, Varāhamihira’s well-​ known astrological work, the Bṛhatsaṃhitā, includes prescriptions for a number of royal rituals, three of which—​the indradhvaja, nīrājana, and puṣyasnāna—​are also found in the Appendices.30 These apparently discrete instructions are also interconnected at a deeper level of ritual structure, for each refers to additional ritual matters found in another text, which Varāhamihira simply calls the Yātrā. For instance, during a fire offering required by the festival of “Indra’s Banner” (indradhvaja), the text instructs the astrologer to observe the omens (nimittāni) derived from the condition of the fire (e.g., its fragrance, thickness, and shape), as has been “described extensively in the Yātrā.”31 Similar references to such a text occur in at least three other ritual chapters of the Bṛhatsaṃhitā, including the “Lustration”

29.  prathamamunikathitam avitatham avalokya granthavistarasyārtham | nātilaghuvipularacanābhir udyataḥ spaṣṭam abhidhātum || 2 || muniviracitam idam iti yac cirantanaṃ sādhu na manujagrathitam | tulye ‘rthe ‘kṣarabhedād amantrake kā viśeṣoktiḥ || 3 || kṣititanayadivasavāro na śubhakṛd iti yadi pitāmahaprokte | kujadinam aniṣṭam iti vā ko ‘tra viśeṣo nṛdivyakṛteḥ || 4 || ābrahmādiviniḥsṛtam ālokya granthavistaraṃ kramaśaḥ | kriyamāṇakam evaitat samāsato ‘to mamotsāhaḥ || 5 || BS 1 || Text from Tripāṭhī, Bṛhatsaṃhitā. 30. BS 42, 43, and 47. 31. yātrāyām vistaro ‘bhihitaḥ | BS 42.31d |

134

134

Rit es of t he God -K ing

(nīrājanā) and the “Prosperity Bath” (puṣyasnāna).32 Such passages suggest that these disparate ceremonies share a common, specifiable ritual basis. Accordingly we should take the yātrā texts as a starting point for a deeper investigation into Varāhamihira’s ritual program. Although Varāhamihira compiled three treatises concerning the military march, there are indications that the text he had in mind by the term Yātrā in the above passages should be identified with the “greater” Bṛhadyātra—​which nonetheless appears to be very closely related to the shorter Yogayātrā.33 Hence I base my discussion on the Bṛhadyātrā, supplemented by data from the shorter text. The secondary title of this text, Yakyṣeśvamedhīya, “that [text] which contains the words ‘I shall perform the Aśvamedha’ (yakṣye ‘śvamedhena),” vividly evokes Heesterman’s theme of ritualized warfare. It derives from the opening verse: “A king aspiring thus, ‘I shall perform the Aśvamedha sacrifice after having conquered the world,’ does not obtain sin while slaying opposing forces, which, according to the proper ritual sequence, are [mere] animals in sacrifices.”34

32. The instruction for the installation of images (BS 59.12) refers to BS 42.31 (indradhvaja) in connection with the fire omens, and hence may also be secondarily connected to the yātrā. Cf. BS 43.14: “Those characteristics of the altar, purohita, and fire described by me in the Yātrā, in the instruction for the Planetary Sacrifice, and in the [chapter] on Indra’s Banner, should be applied in this [ritual as well]” (yātrāyāṃ yad abhihitaṃ grahayajñavidhau mahendraketau ca | vedīpurohitānalalakṣaṇam asmiṃs tad avadhāryam || 14 || BS 43 ||); and BS 47.22: “Having performed pūjā for those [deities] that have been invoked, they should spend the night [there], [observing] the good and bad omens in their dreams. The instruction for dreams has been mentioned in the Yātrā” (āvāhiteṣu kṛtvā pūjāṃ tāṃ śarvarīṃ vaseyus te | sadasatsvapnanimittaṃ yātrāyāṃ svapnavidhir uktaḥ || 22 || BS 47 ||). 33.  The three yātrā texts are as follows:  the Bṛhadyātrā (also called Mahāyātrā or Yakṣyeśvamedhīya), the Yogayātrā, and the Tikanikayātrā. In his commentary on BS 2.18, which summarizes the subjects pertaining to the topic of yātrā, Bhaṭṭotpala glosses yātrāyām with yajñeśvamedhikāyām. This term seems to be a misreading of yakyṣeśvamedhikāyām, an alternative name for the Bṛhadyātrā. Also the term grahayajñavidhau mentioned at BS 43.14 seems to refer to BY 18, which is titled “grahayāga”; no such chapter appears in the Yogayātrā. The description of yātrā at BS 2.18 also includes the term grahayajña. Pingree describes yātrā, or military astrology, as a branch of catarchic astrology, that is, the form of astrology for determining the favorable moment to undertake a course of action—​ a specialization that would develop more fully in the Indian muhūrta system. See Pingree, Jyotiḥśāstra, 101–​9. Chapters dealing with yātrā are included in the early Gārgīyajyotiṣa. The subject is also addressed in ­chapters 73–​76 of Sphujidhvaja’s Yavanajātaka. For a discussion of predecessors to Varāhamihira on this topic, see Pingree, The Yavanajātaka of Sphujidhvaja, 389–​93. Pingree dated the Yavanajātaka to 269/​70 ce, though doubt has recently been cast on this date. See Mak, “The Date and Nature of Sphujidhvaja’s Yavanajātaka.” 34.  yakṣye ‘śvamedhena vijitya dhātrīm ity evam abhyudyamino nṛpasya | vinighnato vighnakarān na pāpaṃ kriyākrameṇaiva paśūn makheṣu || 1 || BY 1 || Text based on Laṃsāla, Aśvamedhīyayātrā. See also Pingree, Bṛhadyātrā. The verse is numbered second in Pingree’s edition. Though some of Pingree’s readings are preferable, my references generally follow

135



Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

135

Here Varāhamihira does away with much of the cause for moral dilemma that animated the Mahābhārata. For if the military conquest is seen as a prerequisite for the aśvamedha sacrifice—​what Inden has described as a kind of ritualized declaration of independence—​the violence of martial combat may be understood as a sanctioned part of the ritual sequence (kriyākramena) and not a source of royal sin.35 Hence, from the outset, Varāhamihira establishes the military campaign as a ritual process and concerns himself with divining the fortunes of the king undertaking this course of action. In light of Manu’s and Kauṭilya’s apparent caution regarding daiva, I would note in passing that the text opens with an extended discussion of fate and human effort (BY1: daivapuruṣakāra). Like Kauṭilya, Varāhamihira tends to steer a middle course between fatalism and humanism, but he nonetheless reserves a much larger role for the astrologer to influence the action. Prior to the yātrā the astrologer must first determine the proper date for the departure. He considers a number of factors, including the moment of the king’s birth (jātaka), the precise instant of his inquiry (praśna), the direction of departure, and the condition of the royal horse and elephant. The bulk of the text contains astrological data required to calculate the auspicious and inauspicious occasions for departure, along with catalogs of omens that should be observed at various points before and during the campaign. But it also weaves a number of ritual details together with this astrological information. For instance, on the morning of his formal inquiry to the astrologers, the king holds in his right hand a flower, a jewel, and a piece of fruit while facing the “direction of Hari” (the East, according to the commentator) and bows to the sun.36 Such details should hardly be dismissed as mere formalities, for the text goes on to prescribe a number of even more complex ritual trials that the king must undergo before his departure. A preliminary summary of the Bṛhadyātra clarifies this ritual process, which begins at the moment of the king’s inquiry (praśna) to the astrologer regarding the appropriate time for his departure (BY 2: praśnādhyāya). The text supplies a series of chapters with astrological information for determining the reply. Once this date has been fixed, the ritual sequence commences: “Beginning seven days

Laṃsāla’s edition, which I have found on the whole to be more readable and which is provided with the commentary of Bhaṭṭotpala. Laṃsāla’s edition, however, is missing Pingree’s chs. 13, 14, 30, 31, and 34. Aside from 34, most of these chapters are not treated in this study. Note also that Laṃsāla’s chapter numbering differs from Pingree’s:  Laṃsāla chs. 17–​31  =  Pingree chs. 15–​29. Where there is a difference, I indicate the chapter number for Pingree in square brackets. 35. See Inden, “The Ceremony of the Great Gift,” 96. 36.  tasmān nṛpaḥ kusumaratnaphalāgrahastaḥ prātaḥ praṇamya ravaye haridiṅmukhasthaḥ | 9ab | BY 2 ||

136

136

Rit es of t he God -K ing

before the journey, the ritual for securing help from the Guhyakas occupies the first three days, (followed by) three days for the Victory Bath. On the seventh day, the Planetary Sacrifice (is performed).”37 This verse lays out a sequence of rituals that I will discuss below. Note that the entire process is initiated by the balyupahāra, or presentation of edible substances, here dedicated to the group of beings known as the Guhyakas (sometimes called Pramathas)—​hideous figures said to dwell in wild, secluded places. The mantras pronounced at this offering are central to the larger yātrā: “O Pramathas, dwelling in gates, three or four road intersections, forests, cities, domestic groves, highways, river banks, caves, and caverns; of many forms, courageous, noble, taking mighty vows! Accept the offering! Namas to you! This king, together with his wife, sons, ministers and servants, should be protected! Strive together for his good!” After saying this, he should present arghya to the Pramathas. On that prepared ground (sthaṇḍila), he should then offer bali with the sāvitrī mantra ​[to them] and also to Yama, Indra, Varuna, Kubera, Viṣṇu, Agni, and Śūlin, as well as to the Yakṣas, Rakṣases, Piśācas, and Asuras. “Namas to them, whatever hosts of beings they may be! So let them follow, well armored, with their own weapons, those slayers of enemy armies! Let them follow behind with their own armies, wearing wondrous garlands, drunk with liquor, with wondrous garments, matted hair, diadems, those crooked dwarves with protruding bellies and gaping mouths! As soon as I have returned, I, having conquered enemies by your grace, will perform the most expensive bali offering [for you]—​even better than this one—​carried out according to rule!”38

37. yātrārvāk saptāhād guhyakasa[ā]hāyakaṃ tryahaṃ pūrvam | tryaham atha vijayasnānaṃ grahayajñaṃ saptame divase || 1 || BY 17[15] || 38.  dvāratrikacatuṣkāṭṭapuraniṣkuṭavāsinaḥ | mahāpathanadītīraguhāgahvaravāsinaḥ || 6 || viśvarūpā mahārūpā mahāsattvā mahāvratāḥ | pramathāḥ pratigṛhnīdhvam upahāraṃ namo ‘stu vaḥ || 7 || saputrāmātyabhṛtyo ‘yaṃ sadā naś caiva [sadāraś caiva] pārthivaḥ | rakaṣṇīyā[o]‌ hite cāsya prayatadhvaṃ samāhitāḥ || 8 || evam uktvā tatas tv arghyaṃ pramathebhyaḥ pradāpayet | sāvitryā sthaṇḍile tasmin sūtas [-​ṃstatas] tūpahared balim || 9 || yamendravaruṇārtheśaviṣṇupāv­ akaśūlinām | yakṣarakṣapiśācānām asurāṇāṃ tathāiva ca || 10 || ye syur bhūtagaṇās tebhyo namo ‘stv ity anuyānti[u] ca | sannaddhaḥ[āḥ] svaiḥ praharaṇair arisenāvadhāyināḥ [-​vighātinaḥ?] || 11 || camuṃ sametāṃ [camūsametā] anuyāntu pṛṣṭhato vicitramālyābharanā madotkaṭāḥ | vicitravastrā[_​]jaṭilāḥ kirīṭinaḥ karālalambodarakubjavāmanāḥ || 12 || nivṛttam[y]ātraḥ punar apy ahaṃ hi bh[v]o vijitya śatrūṃ[n] bhavatāṃ prasādāt[-​prasādataḥ] | ato viśiṣṭaṃ bahuvittam uttamaṃ baliṃ kariṣye vidhinopapāditam || 13 || BY 17[15] || Emendations based on Pingree’s edition. Compare the corresponding passage from the Yogayātrā: “May the hosts of Pramathas along with Bhūtas (ghosts) accept the bali offered to you by the king seeking victory! After

137



Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

137

The passage ends with the following warning: “Those [Pramathas] who are not worshipped destroy the king along with his vehicles, or overthrow (his) armies. Well-​worshipped, they bestow success as slayers in battle with the enemy army.”39 Here the purohita asks the Guhyakas to protect the king and ensure his success, while promising even greater offerings upon his safe return. The basic scenario recapitulates the pattern mentioned by Falk, which requires the conquering king to strike a bargain with a wild yakṣa to secure his victory, and thus the kingship. Note, however, that the agreement here is carried out by an overt ritual exchange of services:  bali offerings are taken; protection and victory are granted. The Pramathas, being fierce and well armed, seem well suited to the task. They may even turn against the king if not properly worshipped. Beginning with this bali for the Guhyakas, the three ritual prescriptions mentioned above proceed, interspersed with two chapters detailing two occasions for divination. The first concerns the portents to be found in the king’s dreams on the evening(s) prior to his departure, while the second details the signs that can be observed in the sacrificial fire, in which an offering is made (following a sacrifice to the planets). Needless to say, all of these omens are thought to contain important information regarding the success of the king’s campaign. Following the fire offering and divination, the action resumes with the ceremonial departure (BY 22[20]: prasthānika), during which the king, surrounded by his royal entourage, mounts a vehicle appropriate to the direction of his travel.40 Here again the text supplies two chapters detailing the auspicious and inauspicious characteristics of elephants and horses, followed by a series of chapters discussing various portents to be observed during the journey (during the king’s encampment and during the battle itself ). The last chapter describes the king’s return and completes the ritual cycle initiated earlier: “Having arrived at his own country, the king should confer bali and further favors to the hosts of Pramathas, Asuras, Bhūtas, and gods, according to the procedure [already] mentioned.”41 This statement fulfills the earlier promise of additional offerings to the Guhyakas and other deities, payable

having defeated the enemies we will give twofold (the amount of offerings), having returned to our own country by your grace” (gṛhnantu pramathagaṇā baliṃ sabhūtā bhūbhartrā vijigīṣuṇā niveditaṃ vaḥ | jitvārīn dviguṇam ato baliṃ vicitraṃ dāsyāmaḥ svaviṣayam etya vaḥ prasādāt || 27 || YY 6 ||). Text follows Jhā, Yogayātrā. 39.  anarcitā te[ye] nṛpatiṃ savāhanaṃ vināśayanti kṣapayanti vā camūm[n]‌| pra[su]pūjitāḥ siddhikarā bhavanti te pravādhakāḥ śatrugaṇasya cāhave || 14 || BY 17[15] || 40. An elephant, horse, chariot, or palanquin. 41. svaviṣayam upagamya mānavendro ‘v[b]‌alim upayācitakāni cādhikāni | nigaditavidhinaiva saṃpradadyāt prathamagaṇāsurabhūtadaivatebhyaḥ || 5 || BY 34 || My emendation. This chapter is available only in Pingree’s edition.

138

138

Rit es of t he God -K ing

upon the king’s safe and successful return. Hence the ritual agreement that inaugurated the departure shapes the larger scenario of the yātrā. Overall Varāhamihira seems to render the yātrā—​which the dharmaśāstras imagined in largely strategic terms—​as a divinatory event housed in a ritual structure. In doing so he produces a text that demonstrates the maturity of the relationship between ritual and astrological expertise. It envisions a practical partnership between purohita and astrologer: the former presides over the ritual action, while the latter intervenes at appropriate moments to observe the portents. As a necessary corollary to this partnership, the ritual apparatus itself provides a number of fruitful sites for divination, such as the measurements of the altar (vedi) and the qualities of the sacrificial fire.42 The partnership is also reflected in the structure of the text, which employs an overarching ritual narrative as a scaffold for organizing the various collections of astrological data. In this way Varāhamihira carves out a distinct niche for the role of the astrologer within the ritual process. Again the larger ritual is premised on a logic of exchange: the king purchases his military success with food offerings (bali-​upahāra) dedicated to a set of deities propitiated at the outset of his journey. I will refer to this scenario—​which essentially operates according to the guest-​host narrative of earlier Vedic as well as later “tantric” rituals—​as “the principle of divine exchange.” In what follows I explore this ritual structure in greater detail before pursuing its effects on Varāhamihira’s adaptation of śānti rituals.

The Astrological-​Ritual Set The ritual program preceding the king’s departure is described in the Bṛhadyātrā in five distinct chapters:  “The Guhyaka Service” (guhyakānuṣṭhāna); “Dream” (svapna); “Victory Bath” (vijayasnāna); “Planetary Sacrifice” (grahayajña); “Fire Omens” (agnilakṣaṇa). The corresponding chapters from the Yogayātrā—​“Bali Offerings” (balyupahāra); “Nakṣatra Victory Bath” (nakṣatravijayasnāna); “Fire Omens” (agninimitta)—​appear to omit the chapters on the Guhyakas, dream divination, and planetary sacrifice, but these are in some form included elsewhere in the text.43 A revised and detailed sequence of the two texts is in Table 3.1, showing the general consistency between them.

42. BY 21[19]/​YY 8. Similar fire omens appear in late Atharvan ritual texts as well. See for example AVPŚ 22, 24, 29. 43. First, the Yogayātrā includes the planets as presiding deities paired with the cardinal and intermediate directions at the outset of the chapter describing balyupahāra (YY 6.1–​18). Second, YY 6 also includes its own version of the offering to the Guhyakas (6.19–​29). Third, the final verse of YY 6 connects these Guhyakas to the dream sequence, asking them to “offer

139



Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

139

Table 3.1  Ritual elements of the Military March (yātrā) Yogayātrā (chapter)

Bṛhadyātrā (chapter)

“Bali to the Lokapālas/​Planets” (6.1–​18) “Bali to the Guhyakas” (6.19–​28) “Dream Omens” (16.29) “Nakṣatra Victory Bath” (7)

“Bali to the Lokapālas” (17[15].4) “Bali to the Guhyakas” (17[15].5–​15) “Dream Omens” (18[16]) “Victory Bath” (19[17)] “Planetary Sacrifice” (20[18])

“Fire Omens” (8)

“Fire Omens” (21[19])

Despite the divergent sequencing of the two texts, it is clear that the basic set of deities involved includes the Lokapālas, Guhyakas, Nakṣatras, and Grahas. Yet the text does not explain why this grouping of gods in particular is required for the military journey. There are a number of possible explanations. We have seen that the Guhyakas are essential to the overall narrative of the ritual; they are required to protect the king, perhaps as denizens of the liminal spaces he is required to cross on the journey. If, as is the case in the Yogayātrā, they are responsible for oneiric signs, their propitiation may also help indicate the outcome of the king’s expedition. The Nakṣatras and Grahas, for their part, are central to the timing of the journey by their respective positions in the celestial sphere.44 A similar argument could be made for the Lokapālas, since one of them would govern the direction of the king’s journey.45 At the same time the collection of deities was somewhat flexible. The two texts present each of the ritual services as mutually independent and arrange their order differently. Furthermore several of these rituals take place at separate locations and require new ritual spaces.46

a single indication of victory or defeat in the dream of this king” (svapne nimittam athavā manujeśvarasya yacchabdam [yacchadhvam?] ekatamam asya jayājayāya | YY 6.29ab). While the chapter on dreams from the Bṛhadyātrā attributes oneiric signs to Śiva (rather than to the Guhyakas), in both texts Varāhamihira understood the dream sequence to follow the offering to the Guhyakas. Fourth, the “Victory Bath” (vijayasnāna) of BY 19[17] partly corresponds with the “Nakṣatra Victory Bath” (nakṣatravijayasnāna) of YY 7 (see below). 44.  Yavanajātaka 73–​77 describes a number of ways in which the planets and Nakṣatras should be taken into account, on strictly astrological grounds, before and during the military expedition. 45. It appears that the bali offering to the Lokapālas (YY 6.1–​18) is to be carried out only for the direction of the king’s departure. 46. The worship of the Guhyakas occurs overnight at the crossroads (BY 17[15].3), while the overnight observation of dreams occurs in a private temple (svadevatāgāram anupraviśya | BY

140

140

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Table 3.2  Ritual elements in the yātrā texts and the Atharvaveda Śāntikalpa Yogyātrā

Bṛhadyātrā

Bali-​Lokapālas/​Planets Bali-​Guhyakas

Bali-​Lokapālas Bali-​Guhyakas

Dream Omens

Dream Omens

Nakṣatra Victory Bath

Victory Bath Planetary Sacrifice

Śāntikalpa Vināyaka Service Planetary Sacrifice Nakṣatra Service Sacrifice to Lokapālas Sacrifice to Nirṛti

Fire Omens

Fire Omens

mahāśānti (fire offering)

Comparison of the yātrā texts with the Śāntikalpa reveals that the grouping of deities in Varāhamihira’s ritual set shares a striking congruence with the set of gods addressed in the five preliminary rites of the mahāśānti: [1]‌the presentation to the Vināyakas (vināyakopahāra); [2] the Planetary Sacrifice (navagrahayāga); [3] the service to the Nakṣatras (nakṣatropacāra); [4] the Sacrifice to the Directions (digyāga); and [5] the Rite for Nirṛti (nairṛtakarma).47 If we accept a provisional identification of Guhyakas as Vināyakas, the group of deities in the Atharvan sources corresponds to a significant degree to those in Varāhamihira’s yātrā texts, as outlined in Table 3.2. As in the case of the yātrā rituals, the preliminary rites of the Śāntikalpa appear to amalgamate a series of discrete cultic practices, more or less independent of the central mahāśānti ritual itself.48 The origin of these discrete

18 [16].1c). The “Victory Bath” requires relocation to any number of appropriate “bathing spots” (snānapradeśāḥ | BY 19[17].1), where a perfect square is drawn (vāstu likhet sarvatobhadram | BY 19 [17].2cd), in which, presumably, the bath will take place. At the end of the bath, the king “exits through the northern door” (saumyena yāyāt . . . dvāreṇa | BY 19[17].16ab). The text for the planetary ritual does not mention a new location but requires the construction of a separate altar (vedi) (BY 20 [18].1–​2). 47. ŚK 1.4–​9; 1.10–​18; 2.1–​13; 2.14; 2.15. 48. This is especially true in the case of the Vināyakas and the planets. In the Śāntikalpa, each of these ritual instructions contains its own introductory passages, enumerating the individual deities included in each group as well as the rationale for their worship (ŚK 1.4; 1.11.1–​5). In the case of the Vināyakas, it is said, “If one is seized by these Vināyakas, princes desiring kingship do not obtain kingship; girls desiring husbands do not obtain husbands; women desiring sons do not obtain sons; teachers well versed in śruti do not obtain the state of the ācārya; the

14



Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

141

rites remains an open question; it is possible that both the Atharvans and Varāhamihira draw here on a common tradition.49 In either case the conclusion seems unavoidable that the Atharvan tradition remained an important authority for Varāhamihira, for although we find few direct textual parallels between the two sources, Varāhamihira makes sufficient reference to specific rituals found in Atharvan texts—​for instance, the mahāśāntis, the koṭihoma, and the puṣyasnāna—​to suggest his basic familiarity with Atharvan śānti conventions.50 In one case Varāhamihira mentions mantras “contained in the Atharvan kalpa” (atharvakalpāhitaiḥ), a term that may refer to any of the five known ritual texts of the Atharvaveda—​the Śāntikalpa being the most likely candidate.51 The shared grouping of preliminary deities between the yātrā and the mahāśānti becomes more significant in light of these explicit references to the Atharvaveda.

Preliminary Rituals of the Yātrā Elsewhere I  have detailed possible correspondences between these rites in the Śāntikalpa and Varāhamihira’s yātrā texts.52 Here I will examine the preliminary rituals as presented in the Bṛhadyātrā in order to familiarize the reader with this important ritual structure. A full summary is given in appendix 3.1.

readings of students are beset by great obstacles; the harvest of harvesters bears little fruit; the commerce of merchants bears little fruit” (etaiḥ khalu vināyakair gṛhītā rājaputrā rājyakāmā rājyaṃ na labhante kanyāḥ patikāmāḥ patiṃ na labhante striyaḥ putrakāmāḥ puntrān na labhante śrotriyā adhyāpakā ācāryatvaṃ na labhante ‘dhyetṝṇām adhyayanāni mahāvighnakarāṇi bhavanti kṛṣatāṃ kṛṣir alpaphalā bhavati vaṇijāṃ vāṇijyam alpaphalaṃ bhavati | 6 || ŚK 1.4 ||). As for the planets, we have seen that the ritual may be necessitated by horoscopy. While the basic function of both cults is generally congruent with the astrological and apotropaic bent of śānti, there is nothing unique about their association here with the mahāśānti. The situation is exactly as in later Purāṇic Hinduism, where the preliminary worship of Gaṇeśa (the successor to our Vināyakas) and the Navagrahas ensures the success of any ritual aim. Both rituals also appear independently elsewhere in literature of the period. A  nearly parallel version of the Vināyaka passage in the Śāntikalpa appears in the Mānavagṛhyasūtra (cf. also Yajñavalkyasmṛti 1.270 ff.), while a number of Navagraha rituals similar to that of the Śāntikalpa appear in roughly half a dozen other gṛhyapariśiṣṭa texts. See Yano, “Planet Worship.” In each of these cases the worship of these deities functions as a stand-​alone ritual. For present purposes, then, I stress the independence of the ritual logic of the mahāśānti from these preliminary ceremonies. 49. For further discussions of the origins of Vināyakas, see Dresden, Mānavagṛhyasūtra, 157–​ 59; Brown, Ganesh. 50.  BS 45.6 (koṭihoma); 45.80 (mahāśānti). The latter case appears to assume the stem mahāśāntī (as pl. mahāśāntyaḥ). 51. BS 47.71. The text includes the term sarudragaṇaiḥ, “including the rudra gaṇa,” and hence might be taken as another reference to the gaṇa system of the Śāntikalpa. 52. Geslani, “Astrological Vedism.”

142

142

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Although parts of this ritual structure differ slightly in Varāhamihira’s yātrā texts, an underlying sequence emerges: [1]‌the bali offering to the Guhyakas, [2] an aspersion, and [3] a fire offering, or bali-​abhiṣeka-​homa. One important consequence of this structure is that the entire sequence occurs outside of the city. The Guhyaka service takes place at the crossroads (step A.1); afterward the king must sleep outdoors or at a temple (step B.1). This overnight (adhivāsana) motif, which will recur throughout our study, provides an occasion for dream divination. The subsequent Victory Bath occurs in a hut at one of the locations earlier prescribed for bathing, all of which are outdoors (step C.1). The king departs this bathing hut by the northern gate (step C.12) and attends the final fire sacrifice (D–​E), for which another altar has been constructed (step D.1)—​we may assume—​near the location of the Victory Bath.53 The king’s departure takes place directly thereafter.54 Here again the yātrā recalls the earlier link between war and wilderness. The rituals, which include an aspersion (abhiṣeka), mark the king’s transition into the domain of the araṇya, requiring, as we have seen, that he first propitiate the Guhyakas who reside there. Having made his pact with these gods, the king is consecrated on a throne in the wilderness.55 Despite sharing many components with the mahāśānti, this ritual structure differs in significant ways from the Atharvan rites of the Śāntikalpa. As we have seen, the yātrā is highly dependent on the logic of exchange: the mantras dedicated to the Guhyakas assume that they will protect the king in return for bali offerings and the promise of further offerings upon his safe return. Above we see that the Lokapālas are also given a preliminary bali offering (step A.2). And while in the Bṛhadyātrā the planets are worshipped after the Victory Bath by means of a fire sacrifice (yajña), in the Yogayātrā the planets are worshipped at the outset, alongside the Lokapālas, in the chapter (titled balyupahāra) that prescribes the crucial offering to the Guhyakas.56 Thus Varāhamihira is dependent on bali worship for three of the four deity groups in the ritual set (the Nakṣatras being associated with the Victory Bath). By contrast, in the Śāntikalpa all of the preliminary deities are worshipped in separate ceremonies and, except for the Vināyakas, are treated to a fire sacrifice (yajña or yāga). Moreover, unlike the yātrā texts, the Śāntikalpa does not stipulate that the sponsor should receive any particular serv­ ice from these preliminary deities in return for their worship—​a point I return to below. 53. BY 18[20].1. 54. BY 22.1. 55. Recalling earlier Vedic abhiṣekas, the king stands on a pile of animal skins. 56. YY 6.1–​18.

143



Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

143

In general, then, we may say that the Śāntikalpa prefers yajña where Varāhamihira prefers bali. Immediately, however, the statement must be qualified:  although a conceptual distinction between bali and yajña is highly consequential, in practical terms they differ only minimally. The case of the planets is a useful example, since Varāhamihira treats them differently in his yātrā texts: in the Yogayātrā they form part of the bali chapter (balyupahāra; together with the Lokapālas and Guhyakas); in the Bṛhadyātrā they are dealt with in a separate chapter called “Planetary Sacrifice” (grahayajña). While for Varāhamihira bali offerings usually consist of simple, uncooked foods, in the Yogayātrā the Planets (and Lokapālas) receive a set of ritual elements as part of their so-​called bali: material for an image, mantra, perfume, food, and flowers. As part of their yajña in the Bṛhadyātrā, they receive precisely the same set of elements, with the addition of two: a species of kindling wood (samidh) and a payment (dakṣiṇā) to Vedic priests. The addition is no doubt significant: the sacrifice requires a fire and a costly Vedic presence. Nonetheless, in practice the categorical distinction bali/​yajña belies much in common. We will see that in the Bṛhatsaṃhitā Varāhamihira additionally employs the term pūjā to describe the supposed planetary “sacrifice.” The second major difference from Atharvan practice is that the central “Victory Bath” (snāna) or “Aspersion” (abhiṣeka) employs different bathing techniques from the mahāśānti.57 The king—​after being “protected” with a number of vegetable substances (step C.7; it is not clear whether this protection is also an aspersion)—​is consecrated with three pots, containing milk, curd, and ghee, then with eight types of clay, and finally with water containing “all herbs” (step C.8). This herbal bath appears to be grounded in a plant-​based bathing practice related to the Nakṣatras. In the Yogayātrā the ritual is called the “Nakṣatra Victory Bath” (nakṣatravijayasnāna). There the king is bathed with a concoction of vegetable substances corresponding to the unique Nakṣatra under which he departs.58 Then he is cleansed (śodhayet) with clay drawn from eight different sources. This plant-​ based bath differs significantly from the mantra-​based aspersion of the mahāśānti. Although in the Bṛhadyātrā a set of mantras is prescribed for the abhiṣeka, these mantras are not integrated with the bath waters by means of the saṃpāta dregs used by the Atharvans. We might infer, then, that the “power” of the concoction derives from—​or at least owes more to—​the vegetable substances themselves than from the mantras chanted at the moment of the aspersion. I suspect that this

57. The text reads jayābhiṣeka, whereas the colophon reads vijayasnāna. 58. For instance, under Kṛttikā, the king’s bath is performed with the “leaves of the nyagrodha, śirīṣa and aśvattha trees and scents” (nyagrodhaśirīṣāśvatthapatragandhāś ca kṛttikāsnāne | YY 7.2ab), but under Raudra, with “water containing (leaves etc. of ) the vacā, aśvagandhā and

14

144

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Nakṣatra-​related plant bath represents an independent tradition of ritual bathing. For our purposes this crucial difference in the type of consecratory water may explain the other major difference in the sequencing of the two texts: the order of abhiṣeka and homa. Recall that in the mahāśānti the fire sacrifice necessarily precedes the sponsor’s bath, since the dregs of the offering form the “key ingredient” in the bathing waters. In the Victory Bath, in which no such technique applies, the fire sacrifice is disintegrated from the abhiṣeka: it occurs at a separate location, following the Victory Bath, and serves as the occasion for a fire divination. It is in this concluding, divinatory fire offering that we find the most persuasive indication of a debt to Atharvan ritual conventions in the yātrā texts. Among the mantras prescribed for this sacrifice, both yātrā texts include five Atharvan mantra gaṇas: āyuṣya (longevity), abhaya (safety), aparājita (undefeated), śarmavarman (protective cover), and svastyayana (auspicious progress).59 These are the same mantras required for the performance the puṣyābhiṣeka; they also were part of the eighteen required mantra gaṇas of the mahāśānti.60 Hence—​although Varāhamihira gives no indication that these gaṇas are used to produce śānti waters by means of the saṃpātas—​his mention of them in the yātrā texts nonetheless signals the currency of the Atharvan śānti tradition within the prevailing ritual culture. Even more telling is that these gaṇas appear as part of a fire offering that was paradigmatic—​one to which he refers several times in the Bṛhatsaṃhitā—​within his own ritual system. His basic ritual format betrays a significant debt to the type of fire sacrifice that formed the distinctive center of Atharvan śānti.

Varāhamihira’s Vedism Before considering the further implications of this comparison, we may at this point take stock of the shared ritual culture preserved in the yātrā texts. To be sure, Varāhamihira’s mantric repertoire is not limited to the Atharvan mantra gaṇa collections. In total the mantras mentioned in the yātrā texts and in the ritual chapters of the Bṛhatsaṃhitā derive from a number of Vedic and non-​Vedic sources. Additionally in the planetary sacrifice the sacrificial fees are to be paid to representatives of each of the four Vedas. All of this assumes a somewhat more diverse set of Vedic expertise when compared with the mono-​Vedic view of the Atharvan texts.

priyaṃgu plants” (raudre vacāśvagandhāpriyaṃgumiśrair jalaiḥ | YY 7.3cd). Although the vijayasnāna (BY 17 [19]) seems to diverge from this practice, the text includes similar Nakṣatra-​ specific bathing substances elsewhere (cf. BY 4). 59. YY 8.6/​BY 21 [19].2–​3. 60. AVPŚ 5.3.5; ŚK 2.23.2; 24.1. See above, ­chapter 2.

145



Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

145

Table 3.3  Elements of astrological Vedism Ritual/​Deity Group

Bṛhadyātrā (chapter)

Yogayātrā (chapter)

Śāntikalpa (chapter)

Lokapāla Guhyaka/​Vināyaka dream (svapna) clay bath

17 [15].4cd 17 [15] 18 [16] 4.19–23

6.1–​18 6.19–​28 6.29 7.13–​15

2.14 1.3–​9 AVPŚ 68* 1.5–​6

Nakṣatra/​Vijaya-​snāna (Nava)graha

19 [17] 20 [18]

7.1–​12 6.1–​18

2.1–​12/​AVPŚ 1 1.10–​18

homa (with mantra ​gaṇas)

21 [19].1–​7

8.1–​7

2.24

fire divination

21 [19].8–​10

8.8–​19

AVPŚ 24/​29

* This text supplies information for the interpretation of dreams in the Atharvan school. On svapna see Negelein, Der Traumschlüssel des Jagaddeva.

Yet the underlying structure of his ritual repertoire nonetheless bears a striking resemblance to the ritual complex of the mahāśānti. To reiterate, this resemblance is apparent not only in the distinctive set of preliminary services—​the offerings to the Guhyakas/​Vināyakas, the Planets, and the Nakṣatras and the use of clay baths—​but also in his paradigmatic homa ceremony, which utilizes a crucial set of mantra gaṇas reserved for the central offering in Atharvan śānti rituals. I have summarized this information in Table 3.3. Varāhamihira’s ritual repertoire, replete though it may be with such generic Vedic techniques as the simple fire offering (homa) and the pres­ entation of edible offerings (balyupahāra), is in fact rooted in a very particular type of Vedism, that which we find in the late ritual texts of the Atharvaveda. Much clearer in Varāhamihira’s account of this late Vedic ritual structure are two distinctly Jyotiḥśāstric conventions: the observation of dreams and fire omens. Both divinatory sequences—​which are repeated in the rituals from the Bṛhatsaṃhitā—​can be seen as additions to the existing structure: the observation of dreams appears to take advantage of the “overnight” format of the Vināyaka ritual that commences the mahāśānti, whereas the fire omens are observed after the offering with mantra gaṇas, the structural core and climax of the mahāśānti paradigm. In this way divination is built directly into the existing structures of late Vedic ritual. Table 3.3 shows that the Atharvan tradition itself appears over time to have incorporated these astrological motifs. Although neither dreams nor fire omens are mentioned in the Śāntikalpa, corresponding texts appear in the Appendices. The overall effect is that the fully mature Atharvan ritual of the Appendices approximates the ritual-​astrological system seen in Varāhamihira.

146

146

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Although the specific steps in this interaction are difficult to delineate textually, the surviving evidence raises the possibility of a sustained interchange between Atharvans and astrologers, predating Varāhamihira, which may be reflected in the internal development of the Atharvan texts. However this interaction might have unfolded, the larger outcome is the infiltration of astrologers into the late Vedic ritual infrastructure. A  short passage from “Indra’s Banner” ceremony (indradhvaja) succinctly captures the workings of this interaction between Atharvan ritual and astrology: The purohita, dressed in a white garment and turban, should make an offering to the fire with mantras belonging to Śakra and Viṣṇu. The sāṃvatsara should observe the omens in the fire. A  fire having a favorable shape (shape of the desired object?), fragrant, glossy, thick and full of flames is auspicious. Otherwise it is inauspicious. This has been described extensively in the Yātrā.61 Here the offering, most likely performed according to Vedic norms, is interrupted at its climax in order to observe omens manifesting in the fire itself. Hence the astrologer gains access to the very heart of the sacrificial grounds. In small measure at least the quotation illustrates the claim of the Appendices, namely, that the astrologer and purohita should be daivakarmavid:  expert in fate and ritual, respectively.62 As we have seen with Kālidāsa, Bāṇa, and Lakṣmīdhara, divination sequences for dreams and fires were accepted beyond the technical texts examined here, in literary and Dharmaśāstric settings. The adoption of such forms of Vedic-​Jyotiḥśāstric ritual in mainstream Brahmanical sources, I would argue, may have deeper implications. It signals the at least tacit approval of a ritual-​political vision, as elaborated in Bhaṭṭotpala’s tenth-​century commentary to the first verse of the Bṛhadyātrā (in the chapter on fate and human effort). Protection of the people is the dharma of the king, but also of the astrologer and purohita. Regarding that [topic], fate and human effort should be known by the astrologer. Explanation: The purohita should perform

61.  sitavastroṣṇīṣadharaḥ purohitaḥ śākravaiṣṇavair mantraiḥ | juhuyād agniṃ sāṃvatsaro nimittāni gṛhṇīyāt || 30 || iṣṭadravyākāraḥ surabhiḥ snigdho ghano ‘nalo ‘rciṣmān | śubhakṛd ato ‘nyo ‘niṣṭo yātrāyāṃ vistaro ‘bhihitaḥ || 31 || BS 42 || 62. Cf. Bhaṭṭotpala’s introduction to the Bṛhadyātrā.

147



Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

147

the removal of inauspicious fate (daivasyāśubhasya) by means of śānti etc., which is approved by the astrologer. And the king should perform the suppression of hindrances to the king, ministers, country, granary, fort, or armies, by means of human efforts, such as conciliation, sowing dissent, gifts, and military force, with the approval of the astrologer, purohita, and ministers. Experts in policy (nīti) declare that protection of the people rests in the quartet of persons. Among the astrologer and purohita, and the minister and king, fate is known by the astrologer; the performance of that (fate) is done by the purohita. Human effort is known by the minister; the performance of it is to be done by the king. In this subject, another minister besides the astrologer is usually not approved by the authorities, since one not knowing the astrological science does not know the successful time for conciliation, sowing dissent, gifting or military force. The success of those (activities) is based in the strength of the planets.63 Here, at the start of Varāhamihira’s major text on the yātrā, Bhaṭṭotpala supersedes the worldly pragmatism of Manu and Kauṭilya. Where those authors relegated daiva to the realm of the inscrutable, Bhaṭṭotpala recovers fate, precisely, as both knowable (jñātavya) and actionable (kartavya). Whereas they placed the success of the state in good policy (naya) alone, he insists that even the classical strategies of Arthaśāstra—​conciliation, dissent, gifting, force—​are subject to the strength of the planets, that is, the whims of Jyotiḥśāstra. Such claims may be striking in their stridency, but they rely heavily on a much earlier and profound interpenetration of ritual and astrology in the highly contingent context of the yātrā.

Bali and Yātrā in Varāhamihira’s “Prosperity Bath” We have explored Varāhamihira’s ritual-​astrological vision of the yātrā, which emphasized the highly divinatory nature of military campaigns (contra Manu

63.  rājṇaḥ prajāpālanaṃ dharmas tathā sāṃvatsarapurohitayor api | tatra daivapuruṣākārau sāṃvatsareṇa jñātavayau | vivṛtiḥ  ​daivasyāśubhasya daivajñānumataśāntyādinopaghātaḥ purodhasā kartavyaḥ | svāmyamātyajanapadakośadurgadaṇḍānāṃ ye paripanthinas teṣāṃ rājñā sāmabhedadānadaṇḍādinā puruṣakāreṇa ca nigraho daivavitpurohitamantryanum­ atyā kartavyaḥ | puruṣacatuṣṭayasyāyattaṃ prajāpālanaṃ varṇayanti nītijñāḥ daivajñapurohitayor mantripārthivayoś ca daivajñena daivaṃ jñeyam | purodhasā tadanuṣṭhānaṃ kartavyaṃ, mantriṇā pauruṣaṃ jñeyam, rājñā tadanuṣṭhānaṃ kartavyaṃ | tatra prāyaḥ śāstrakārāṇāṃ daivajñavyatirikto ‘nyomantrī nābhipretaḥ | yasmāj jyotiśāstram ajānan sāmabhedapradānadaṇḍānāṃ siddhikālaṃ na jānāti teṣāṃ siddhirgrahabalāyat[t]‌ā | Laṃsāla, Aśvamedhīyayātrā, 1.

148

148

Rit es of t he God -K ing

and Kauṭilya) and was premised on the exchange of bali offerings for victory. In the process I noted the astrologer’s possible debt to—​and also independence from—​Atharvan ritual conventions. To close this chapter I  explore how the related themes of yātrā and bali shape what I  would argue is Varāhamihira’s most consequential ritual instruction:  the “Prosperity Bath,” or puṣyasnāna. Recall that the same ritual appeared in the Appendices, under the heading puṣyābhiṣeka (“Prosperity Aspersion”). It blended the techniques of the mahāśānti with motifs of traditional Vedic abhiṣekas, bringing into focus a new category of apotropaic aspersions. By examining Varāhamihira’s version of this ritual (appendix 3.2), we glimpse the sorts of negotiations that may have taken place in the Atharvan-​astrological interaction that, I propose, largely account for Varāhamihira’s corpus. I will argue, first, that the Prosperity Bath follows the overarching ritual structure of the yātrā and, second, that by means of its bali format and non-​Vedic mantras it produces a śānti ritual independent of the Atharvaveda. We have seen that the preliminary rites of yātrā follow the pattern of bali-​ abhiṣeka (or snāna)-​homa, with the addition of two divinatory elements: bali-​ [svapnanimitta]-​abhiṣeka-​homa-​[agninimitta]. Following this basic structure the Prosperity Bath begins in the evening. The royal party departs from the city in an eastern or northern direction, making a bali offering to the appropriate overlord of that direction (step 1).64 Thereafter the text prescribes an overnight stay with the “instruction on dreams” (svapnavidhi), again, “as described in the Yātrā” (step 2). On the following morning an elaborate pūjā offering is performed on a maṇḍala (steps 4–​9), and then at a nearby altar the king is consecrated, first with ghee, and then with an elaborate mixture of plants and minerals (steps 10–​16). Newly dressed (steps 17–​19), he moves to a second altar (step 20), where the purohita performs a fire offering and the astrologer observes the fire omens (step 21). Hence, although we will see that its bali sequence is somewhat complicated, the ritual recapitulates exactly the structure of bali-​abhiṣeka-​homa, including the two divination sequences of svapna-​ nimitta and agni-​nimitta. The Prosperity Bath completes this yātrā sequence in steps 23–​24: Then the king should honor the astrologer and purohita with copious payments, along with other leading Vedic brahmins (śrotriyaprabhṛīn) who merit sacrificial payment. Having granted safety (abhaya) to the people

64. Cf. YY 6.1–​18, whereby the lokapāla and presiding deity corresponding with the direction of the king’s departure are worshipped at the outset of the ritual sequence.

149



Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

149

(prajānām), having set animals free from slaughterhouses, he should release prisoners, except for those who cause internal harm.65 The passage recalls Manu’s description of the victorious king, who worships gods and brahmins, grants tax exemptions, and announces pardons (abhayāni). The root passage from Kauṭilya’s work also mentions that the king should periodically suspend the killing of animals.66 In the Dharmaśāstric setting these measures are meant to conciliate the conquered territory; according to the commentator Medhātithi, the “pardons” (abhayāni) mentioned by Manu are directed at the leading members of the country who may have previously opposed the conquering king while serving his rival.67 The location, however, is obscure in Varāhamihira’s account. In the puṣyasnāna the king has not in fact conquered any enemy country but merely moved to “a second altar” (dvitīyavedīm) (step 20). Hence the object of abhaya is merely “the people” (prajānām; Bhaṭṭotpala:  lokānām), likely the king’s subjects. While the location of this second altar is not clarified—​the commentator Bhaṭṭotpala merely says “the altar to the south”—​it appears that the event still takes place near the secluded spot selected for the consecration. Nevertheless the passage seems to depict the king returning to his own kingdom rather than entering a conquered territory. Such a scenario agrees with earlier Vedic enthronements, which also follow the king’s abhiṣeka and in Heesterman’s view suggest an intervening conquest.68 This may have been precisely the point, for at the end of the chapter Varāhamihira says that the puṣyasnāna, among other things, can serve as the king’s inaugural

65.  nṛpatir ato daivajñaṃ purohitaṃ cārcayed dhanair bahubhiḥ | anyāṃś ca dakṣiṇīyān yathocitaṃ śrotriyaprabhṛtīn || 80 || dattvāabhayaṃ prajānām āghātasthānagān visṛjya paśūn | bandhanamokṣaṃ kuryād abhyantaradoṣakṛdvarjam || 81 || BS 47 || 66.  cāturmāsyeṣv ardhamāsikam aghātam paurṇamāsīṣu ca cātūrātrikaṃ rājadeśanakṣatreṣv aikarātrikam || AŚ 9.5.12 || 67. “By the striking of a drum (such as the ātapa?) or mace, he should announce to the leaders of the city, country, and army, ‘Even those who, out of loyalty to the (previous) king, paid him undue honor, have (my) protection (?). They may go about their own business, each to themselves’ ” (uccānāṃ ca paurajānapadabalānām ātapādiḍiṇḍimakagadāpātena khyāpayet tair yaiḥ svāmy anurāgād asthānam apacitaṃ teṣām apy ārakṣāntaṃ yathāsvaṃ svaṃ vyāpāram anutiṣṭhaṃtviti | Medhātithi at MDh 7.201). 68.  The Atharvan version of the ritual, the puṣyābhiṣeka, can also be seen in this light. The text does not reflect the yātrā structure as strongly as Varāhamihira’s account; it lacks explicit instructions for the departure from the city, as well as any evidence of an overnight structure or bali offering. It does, however, conclude on a similar note. After the consecration, the king is seated on a lion throne and does favors for the people, freeing from taxes (or duties) brahmans, cows, women, children, the mentally ill, and the sick (upaviṣtas tato rājā prajānām kārayed dhitam | akarā brāhmaṇā gāvaḥ strībālajaḍarogiṇaḥ || AVPŚ 5.4.5 ||).

150

150

Rit es of t he God -K ing

consecration.69 Thus Varāhamihira’s yātrā-​inspired abhiṣeka reestablishes earlier thematic links between kingship, wilderness, and conquest. Like its Atharvan counterpart, the Prosperity Bath recalls earlier Vedic consecrations in a non-​śrauta ritual setting. Likewise, as we will see, it is self-​consciously understood as an apotropaic, śānti ritual. From the technical point of view, however, it represents a radical break from the practical conventions of Atharvan śānti. To appreciate this development, recall the central role played by the Guhyakas in the larger narrative scheme of the yātrā. During their preliminary bali offering, the purohita requests these deities—​in rather direct, non-​ Vedic speech—​to protect the king and augment his military resources during the campaign, while promising further payment upon his return. The very specificity of this request differs significantly from the notion, expressed in the Śāntikalpa, that prior worship of deities such as the Vināyakas and Planets enables any ritual undertaking. Thus the Vināyakas first must be “warded off ” since they “block” any ritual aim undertaken by those they afflict.70 In the Bṛhadyātrā, by contrast, the Guhyakas do not require offerings because they would otherwise block the king’s efforts; they are asked to intervene directly, as the very agents of the king’s conquest. This may be a subtle difference, but it is one that affords the Guhyakas and Vināyakas a much more consequential role in the yātrā than in the mahaśānti. As a result services that are mere preliminaries in the Śāntikalpa come to enjoy a greater structural relevance in the Bṛhadyātrā. The use of non-​Vedic mantras to make specific requests of divine agents remains a hallmark of Varāhamihira’s ritual logic in the Bṛhatsaṃhitā. A simple example can be found in “Indra’s Banner” ritual. There we find two separate mantric requests. The first is directed to the denizens of the trees that must be felled in order to fashion the banner pole: “Hail to those beings in this tree! Namas to you! Having received this offering (upahāra), please change your dwelling! The king chooses you for the purpose of the king’s banner! Hail to you, Excellent Plants! Please accept this worship!”71 The second set of verses is pronounced once the banner has been made and adorned with ornaments.72 The passage first asks that Indra accept the ornaments that have been placed on the banner, and then “calls”

69. adhirājyārthino rājñaḥ putrajanma ca kāṅkṣataḥ | tatpūrvam abhiṣeke ca vidhir eṣa praśasyate || BS 47.85cd || 70. The same argument is given for the planets. See ­chapter 1. 71.  yānīha vṛkṣe bhūtāni tebhyaḥ svasti namo ‘stu vaḥ | upahāraṃ gṛhītvemaṃ kriyatāṃ vāsaparyayaḥ || 17 || pārthivas tvāṃ varayate svasti te ‘stu nagottama | dhvajārthaṃ devarājasya pūjeyaṃ pratigṛhyatām || 18 || BS 42 || 72. BS 42.51–​56.

15



Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

151

or invokes (hvayāmi) him by his many epithets before the final request, “May our heroes be superior!” (asmākaṃ vīrā uttarā bhavantu). Like the Guhyakas, who, as fierce deities of the wilderness, were asked to protect the sojourning king and augment his army, these verses ask the tree spirits and Indra to perform discrete, appropriate tasks. The gods residing in the tree are simply asked to give up their dwelling places, while Indra—​here in his full martial aspect—​is entreated to ensure the superiority of the king’s soldiers. In each case the requisite action is secured at a cost: for the tree spirits, things edible, and for Indra, ornaments adorning his banner. Only after these offerings are accepted, the mantras assume, can the divinity in question be expected to fulfill the request. For our purposes, note the stark difference between these types of mantras and the mantra gaṇas of the Atharvaveda. Varāhamihira’s mantras dialogically engage a relationship of exchange between devotee and divinity. By contrast, as we saw in c­ hapter 1, the mantras of the Atharvan gaṇas are essentially organized according to theme or quality—​for example, appeasement (śānti), safety (abhaya), long life (āyuṣya)—​and are culled variously from the Atharvan collection on the basis of their semantic or phonetic properties. Moreover the total number of verses required in these ritual recitations easily runs into the hundreds: the mahāśānti requires eighteen such gaṇas; the puṣyābhiṣeka, five. Thus while some Atharvan hymns may be dedicated to specific Vedic divinities, the mantra gaṇas do not fit the prescribed ritual action as neatly as Varāhamihira’s mantras, which give explicit ritual directions to the gods they address. And in contrast to Varāhamihira’s rituals, the Atharvan mantra gaṇas are not related to any preliminary deities worshipped beforehand. The most important difference, of course, is institutional: Varāhamihira’s mantras do not derive from the Vedic canon. While the central pūjā offering in the Prosperity Bath may at first seem to differ from the bali offering of the yātrā, it nonetheless represents an enlarged version of that earlier offering, exactly following the model of divine exchange. On the evening prior to the main ritual action, the purohita invokes (āvāhanam kuryāt) “all the gods” (sarve surāḥ) to the sacrificial space (step 2): The purohita, concentrated and humble, should perform the invocation—​ the mantras for which have been taught by the sages: “May all the gods seeking worship (pūjā) come here, the quarters, Serpents (nāga), Sages and whoever else, partaking in a portion (of the offering)!” Then, having invoked them thus, the purohita should say to them all, “Tomorrow, having received pūjā you will depart after conferring śānti to the king.”73

73.  lājākṣatadadhikusumaiḥ prayataḥ praṇataḥ purohitaḥ kuryāt | āvāhanam atha mantras

152

152

Rit es of t he God -K ing

This invocation initiates a complex ritual sequence, which the text describes as a pūjā, beginning on the following morning (steps 4–​9). A maṇḍala representation of the entire earth is constructed, divided into individual compartments for various gods. The description of this maṇḍala names the deities earlier invited to the ritual: Having drawn a circle on that spot he should there fashion the earth, abounding in various mines of jewels, and then fashion the different places. The purohita should set down, each in its own place, the Nāgas, Yakṣas, Suras, Pitṛs, Gandharvas, Apsarases, Munis and Siddhas; the Planets, all of the Nakṣatras, and the Rudras along with the Mātṛs; Skanda, Viṣṇu, Viśākha, and the Lokapālas and wives of the Suras. Having made (i.e. fashioned) [them] with various colored [powders] which are pleasing and fragrant, the wise [purohita] should worship (pūjayet) with perfumes, garlands, unguents, and with various edible foods, [such as] vegetables, roots and meat, and with various pleasing drinks such as wine, milk and liquor.74 Although the Guhyaka-​Pramathas are absent form this list, it includes similar deities such as the Nāgas and Yakṣas. The Planets, Nakṣatras and Lokapālas are here, but they are augmented by many other gods and divine groups. The impression that this expanded roster is based on the earlier, smaller set of deities from the yātrā is confirmed in the following passage, which elaborates on the substances to be offered as part of the “worship” (pūjā) that each of these deity groups are to receive.75 Among those instructions, Varāhamihira remarks, “the instruction for the planets is to be done as explained in the Planetary Sacrifice.”76 This statement, as Bhaṭṭotpala takes it, refers yet again to the yātrā.77 In other words, the planets in the

tasmin munibhiḥ samuddiṣṭaḥ || 19 || āgacchantu surāḥ sarve ye ‘tra pūjābhilāṣiṇaḥ | diśo nāgā dvijāś caiva ye cāpy anye ‘ṃśabhāginaḥ || 20 || āvāhyaivam tataḥ sarvān evaṃ brūyāt purohitaḥ | śvaḥ pūjāṃ prāpya yāsyanti dattvā śāntiṃ mahīpateḥ || 22 || BS 47 || The phrase lājākṣatadadhi kusumaiḥ at 19a is construed with the previous verse (18). 74.  tasmin maṇḍalam ālikhya kalpayet tatra medinīm | nānāratnākaravatīṃ sthānāni vividhāni ca || 24 || purohito yathāsthānaṃ nāgān yakṣān surān pitṝn | gandharvāpsarasaś caiva munīn siddhāṃś ca vinyaset || 25 || grahāṃś ca sarvanakṣatrai rudrāṃś ca saha mātṛbhiḥ | skandaṃ viṣṇuṃ viśākhaṃ ca lokapālān surastriyaḥ || 26 || varṇakair vivikdhaiḥ kṛtvā hṛdyair gandhaguṇānvitaiḥ | yathāsvaṃ pūjayed vidvān gandhamālyānulepanaiḥ || 27 || bhakṣyair annaiś ca vividhaiḥ phalamūlāmiṣais tathā | pānaiś ca vividhair hṛdyaiḥ surākṣīrāsavādibhiḥ || 28 || BS 47 || 75. BS 47.29–​33. 76. grahayajñe yaḥ prokto vidhir grahāṇāṃ sa kartavyaḥ | BS 47.29cd | 77. At BS 47.29 Bhaṭṭotpala quotes BY 20[18].3–​5, the passage dealing with the elements of worship for Sūrya, the first of the nine planets. This quotation closes with the word ityādi (“and

153



Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

153

Prosperity Bath should be worshipped exactly as they were prior to the king’s departure for the yātrā, confirming that Varāhamihira has taken the preliminary rites of the yātrā as a template for the puṣyasnāna.78 Though he enlarges the number of deities and organizes them in a maṇḍala, the procedural logic remains the same. In the Prosperity Bath, however, this bali/​pūjā ritual with non-​Vedic mantras is offered as a fair exchange for śānti—​an undertaking rather different from the military conquest. We have seen that the Atharvan śānti process highlights the mantra gaṇas, which are recited at the fire sacrifice and whose dregs are mixed in the waters.79 As I have argued, the apotropaic consecrations of the Appendices—​ including the puṣyābhiṣeka itself—​would have operated according to these technical norms. But in the puṣyasnāna Varāhamihira circumvents the mantra-​based logic of Atharvan śānti by means of the “divine exchange” scenario.80 As in the yātrā, the fire sacrifice is relegated to the end of the ritual (step 21), after the aspersion, and thus is not involved in the preparation of the waters; no dregs are taken from it. Likewise Varāhamihira makes no explicit reference to the mantra gaṇas—​ a striking fact, given his earlier citation of the Atharvan mantra gaṇas in the yātrā texts. While it remains possible that Atharvan conventions were implicitly prescribed, explicitly Varāhamihira’s text makes a different move:  it asks the gods themselves to consecrate the king with the puṣya mixture. The request occurs at the very moment of the aspersion, in a fifteen-​verse text that names an encyclopedic number of deities (some of those explicitly worshipped in the maṇḍala and others not yet mentioned).81 The recurring operative phrase in this mantra is “May [x god/​group of gods] consecrate you (i.e. the king)!” (tvām abhiṣiñcantu). Most of the text is taken up by naming each deity group. It begins, “May the gods consecrate you—​the ancient Siddhas, Brahman, Viṣṇu, Rudra, the Sādhyas, along with the host of Maruts.”82 The list continues at length, and the final sentence reads, “May these and many other well-​named beings consecrate you with these auspicious waters, which are a means for removing all bad omens, and pleasing to the

so forth”), which I take as a direction to include the remaining eight planets, as described in BY 20[18].6–​24. 78. See my discussion of pūjā in ­chapter 5. 79. In many Atharvan texts these waters are also augmented by the addition of plant and mineral substances. See ­chapter 1. 80. We saw that the Victory Bath relied on a plant-​based mixture for its main ingredient. 81. BS 47.55–​70. 82.  surās tvām abhiṣiñcantu ye ca siddhāḥ purātanāḥ | brahmā viṣṇuś ca rudraś ca sādhyāś ca samarudgaṇāḥ || 55 || BS 47 ||

154

154

Rit es of t he God -K ing

mind—​just as Indra was consecrated!”83 The term “means for removing all bad omens” (sarvotpātanibarhaṇa) clarifies that, like the Atharvan śānti waters, the aspersion waters are instruments for the removal of inauspicious omens. Yet while in the Atharvan texts the potency of the waters was guaranteed by the mantric power of the Atharvaveda, here instrumental power is attributed to the agency of the gods. The deities invoked to the sacred space on the previous evening and worshipped in the maṇḍala make good on the terms of their agreement as ritual agents, themselves performing the king’s aspersion. At the concluding sacrifice the purohita dismisses them with thanks: “Let all the hosts of gods depart, having taken worship (pūjā) from the King and given extensive success! Come again!”84 Thus the use of non-​Vedic mantras, in conjunction with the “divine exchange” model, obviates the need for Atharvan mantras and makes possible the generation of non-​Vedic or “generic” forms of śānti. By promoting the “preliminary” deities to the status of ritual agents, Varāhamihira’s text essentially inverts the logic of the Atharvan mahāśānti while maintaining its basic shape with minimal change. The broader context provided by the yātrā texts shows that Varāhamihira was certainly familiar with Atharvan mantra gaṇas—​and thus perhaps also the saṃpāta technique so characteristic of Atharvan śānti. Nevertheless he—​or one of his predecessors—​has traded those techniques for a more “ecumenical” process, one that is less dependent on Atharvan specialists. The motivation for such a move is obvious. Varāhamihira appears to be suggesting that the purohita’s expertise—​especially in the śānti-​based royal consecration rituals—​need no long­er derive from the Atharvaveda alone. Śānti is hence born into a world that, if not entirely post-​Vedic, may accommodate non-​Vedic ritual actors.

Śānti Unbound From what we have seen in this chapter, Varāhamihira—​or one of his predecessors in Jyotiḥśāstra—​appears to be a ritualist of considerable invention, for he has produced a remarkable abhiṣeka ritual, one that, we will see, becomes the prototype for post-​Vedic (or Hindu) royal consecration (rājyābhiṣeka). Although it may recall earlier Vedic notions of kingship, the puṣyasnāna is not a śrauta ritual. Following an already post-​Vedic, Atharvan trend, Varāhamihira broadly recasts the royal consecration (rājyābhiṣeka) as an apotropaic aspersion that destroys omens, bringing the ritual-​astrological format—​and, as we will 83.  ete cānye ca bahavaḥ puṇyasaṅkīrtanāḥ śubhaiḥ | 69cd | toyais tvām abhiṣiñcantu sarvotpātanibarhaṇaiḥ | yathābhiṣikto maghavān etair muditamanasaiḥ || 70 || BS 47 || 84. yāntu devagaṇāḥ sarve pūjām ādāya pārthivāt | siddhiṃ dattvā tu vipulāṃ punar āgamanāya ca || BS 47.79 ||

15



Varāhamihira’s Astrological Ritualism

155

see, ritual-​astrological cosmologies—​to the heart of rājadharma. At the same time he has freed śānti from the rule of Atharvan mantras—​and thus from any potential Vedic monopoly. Instead, speaking in a decidedly non-​Vedic register, he contracts the hungry gods to perform the Atharvans’ priestly, ritual work. This last point too will have dramatic and unexpected consequences for śānti in the post-​Vedic world. This moment seems to have been made possible by a significant interaction between astrologers and Atharvans, visible to us—​if only fragmentarily—​in Varāhamihira’s yātrā texts, which undergird his Prosperity Bath. The interaction can be felt in Bāṇa’s description of the war-​bound Harṣa as being bathed with śānti waters by his well-​paid purohita and encouraged by the auspicious, right-​ turning fires. It also explains why, in the early second millennium, Lakṣmīdhara felt the need to supplement Manu’s depiction of the yātrā with a Purāṇic chapter on dream divination—​a requirement that was established in Varāhamihira’s predeparture ritual sequence. In doing so Lakṣmīdhara may have broken with an earlier Dharmaśāstric reticence about the role of fate in kingly affairs: contra Manu and Kauṭilya, the king’s daiva—​when carefully circumscribed by the proper ritual apparatus—​may indeed be fathomed by men (cintya). Indeed the sacrificial fire itself may—​“ by its own hand,” in Kālidāsa’s words—​announce its secrets, provided the astrologer is granted a place at the altar. Looking forward, a final note:  As a miniature yātrā, the puṣyasnāna also dramatically reenacts the king’s departure for the wilderness, his violent conquest, and his triumphant return. This in itself may be consequential. If we follow Heesterman, the śrauta rituals of consecration—​ the rājasūya and mahābhiṣeka—​already marked a significant domestication of the violent pattern of abhiṣeka, war, and enthronement. Soon the subsequent Dharmaśāstric tradition would substitute this cycle of violence for the more stable social structure of varṇāśramadharma, which institutionalized the divine, other-​worldly sanction for royal authority not in the king’s desperate conquest of the wild but in the timeless figure of the brahmin, who, having internalized the ascetic’s ethic of renunciation, rested permanently beyond society. It is the king’s patronage of this priestly class, rather than his martial prowess, that should guarantee his temporal command. On the one hand, if Heesterman was correct, then Varāhamihira—​at the advent of the tumultuous, early medieval period—​has revived a more primal, violent image of kingship. But, on the other hand, perhaps Heesterman, and the Brahmanical orthodoxy of early Dharmaśāstra, overstated the facts. As much as Manu (and Louis Dumont) may have longed for the stable transcendence of the retiring brahmin addicted to study and austerity, the legacy of Varāhamihira will teach us a different lesson: astrology and priestcraft demand a different kind of brahmin and a murkier kind of royal work.

156

4

Kingship in a Portentous Age It is perhaps the case that those textual discourses are alive and relevant to present-​day village life; it may not be the texts that are remote, but the alien interpretations of them. —​G loria Goodwin Raheja, The Poison in the Gift

Ethnography against Texts At the end of The Poison in the Gift, Gloria Raheja makes a startling claim:  in light of ethnographic data on gift-​giving and caste in North India, a number of prominent Indologists, including Heesterman, Trautmann, and Marcel Mauss, may have misread their classical sources and grossly misinterpreted the practice of gifting in premodern India. Implicit in this ethnographic correction of textual history is a critique of Louis Dumont’s theory of the caste system as a social hierarchy premised on purity, which assumes the subordination of the royal power of the kṣatriya to the priestly power of the brahmin. Following this line of thinking, Heesterman and Trautmann suggest that brahmins are reluctant to receive royal gifts for fear of jeopardizing their independence from lower-​caste kṣatriyas. Raheja suggests that this view is especially problematic for Heesterman, who himself cites Vedic sources that imply a much more interdependent situation, namely, that Brahmanical acceptance of gifts involves an acceptance of the sacrificer’s sin and death. In order to reconcile such data with a Dumontian theory premised on the purity and independence of the brahmin, Heesterman posits that a dramatic historical breakthrough occurred at the end of the Vedic period. This “axial moment,” which marked the advent of the “classical” Dumontian caste system, effectively terminated the older social arrangement wherein royal power and priestly authority were interdependently related through sacrifice and gifting.1 1. “In order, then, to reconcile his own depiction of the ancient role of the Brahman and others as recipients of evil and sin as they accept the gifts of the king with Dumont’s position that ‘caste refers exclusively to the value of purity’ and that the ritual and hierarchical aspects of

157



Kingship in a Portentous Age

157

Raheja’s central thesis, to the contrary, is that a purity-​based caste hierarchy is not the primary principle of social organization in the North Indian village of Pahansu, the site of her fieldwork in the late 1970s. Instead the dominant landholding group (Gujars), playing the role of kṣatriya and jajmān (landowning sponsor), occupies the center of a socio-​ritual network constituted by recurring gifts—​or prestations (dān/​dāna)—​given by these landholders to dependent groups, including brahmins. Since these ritual gifts are media for the transfer of inauspiciousness, such nonreciprocal exchanges and sustain the dominance of the central group: The centrality of the dominant Gujar landholders of Pahansu in the local configuration of castes, their role as jajmāns (“sacrificers”) and givers of dān par excellence, is not simply an empirical fact of their landholding or their “temporal power” in the village or the region, or a matter of their hierarchical position. The Pahansu data indicate that the central conception of dān as a prestation that, when given in the proper ritual contexts and to the appropriate recipients, transfers inauspiciousness and brings about the auspiciousness, well-​being, and protection of the person, the family, the house, and the village, is far more important than hierarchical considerations in structuring intercaste and kinship relations within the village. Gujars as well as other castes of the village view this sacrificial function—​the protection of the village through the giving of dān—​as the ideological core of Gujar dominance in Pahansu.2 In this way Raheja intends to displace priest for king, hierarchy for centrality, and purity for auspiciousness in the scholarly conception of Hindu society. We will see that she was not the only ethnographer to pursue this line of inquiry. In this chapter I examine precedents for this socio-​ritual configuration, which may indeed be found in premodern texts, as Raheja has suggested. But rather

caste have as their conceptual focus the preeminent position of the Brahman, Heesterman has argued that the patterns of giving and receiving delineated in his work on sacrifice are no longer to be found in South Asian Hindu society. Dumont too had found it necessary to postulate a historical transformation of Hindu society in order to maintain his position on the absolute distinction between the world of caste and the so-​called temporal power of the king or the dominant caste” (Raheja, The Poison in the Gift, 253). 2. Ibid., xii.

158

158

Rit es of t he God -K ing

than the Vedic, epic, and Dharmaśāstric sources most often elected to represent the “classical” account of Hindu kingship, I turn instead to the depiction of rājadharma in two somewhat later purāṇas of the early medieval period (Matsya and Viṣṇudharmottara). Exploring their genealogical links to astrological Vedism, we uncover in these texts more salient and systematic connections between kingship, gifting, sin, and inauspiciousness than in the earlier sources. Hence I hope to place the developments described in recent layers of ethnography—​especially the astrological reading of kingship—​in a relatively clearer historical perspective, highlighting the possible contribution of Atharvans and astrologers during the first millennium ce. The issue, to my mind, is not simply the potential sinfulness of gifts—​some such notion being evident already in Vedic sources, as Heesterman has shown—​but rather how and when the language of auspiciousness and inauspiciousness enters into discussions of kingship. Or, in broader terms, how questions of communal well-​being become tied to astrological anxieties. I propose one vector for this change in early medieval sources.

Rājadharma and Auspiciousness in the Premodern State Raheja’s work partakes in a series of critiques of Dumont that first emerged in the 1970s, when the question of kingship in Hindu society became a crucial preoccupation for historians, sociologists, and ethnographers of South Asia. Several studies within this broader inquiry criticized Dumont’s elision of the royal office in favor of the priesthood and simultaneously revived A.  M. Hocart’s earlier, king-​centric view.3 Within the ambit of this return to kingship, one pressing issue emerged:  How should one understand auspiciousness in relation to purity and hierarchy? According to Frédérique Apffel-​Marglin, the Dumontian emphasis on purity serves to occlude auspiciousness as a distinct cultural category, interrupting and ultimately obscuring a line of thought nascent in M. N. Srinivas’s pre-​Dumontian

3. See Hocart, Kings and Councilors. According to Karashima, the “primary concern has been to elucidate the relations between kings and brahmins or the position of the king in the caste hierarchy. The main thrust of their study seems to revolve around a criticism of Louis Dumont for his subordinating the king to brahmins in terms of the pure/​impure opposition and, instead, a revival and appreciation of A. M. Hocart for his placing of the king at the pinnacle of society in terms of the gift-​giving and receiving system” (Kingship in Indian History, 1). As Nicholas Dirks argues, turning the Dumontian hierarchy on its head, “In pre-​colonial Hindu India, the king . . . was a central ordering factor in the social organization of caste” (“The Original Caste,” 59).

159



Kingship in a Portentous Age

159

study of the Coorgs.4 Hence a number of Dumont’s critics highlighted the greater relevance of auspiciousness—​rather than purity—​to the institution of kingship. For example, in her own study of the devadasis of Puri during the 1970s, Apffel-​ Marglin found that the king and the devadasis stood largely outside of the caste-​ based social structure and were preoccupied with the ritual work of assuring auspiciousness and rectifying inauspiciousness. Like Raheja, Apffel-​Marglin was keen to highlight the importance of temporality to questions of auspiciousness; in her view the most important festivals in the cult of Jagannath—​the annual rath jātrā and the more infrequent naba kalebara—​may be read as rituals for the renewal of time.5 T. N. Madan even ventured the proposal that auspiciousness and inauspiciousness are strictly attributes of events, whereas purity and impurity pertain only to objects.6 Although this temporal-​physical distinction has been contested, its proposal confirms an emphasis on astrological notions of time in concurrent ethnography.7 Hence post-​Dumontian ethnography has already come a long way in appreciating the astrological dimension of Hindu kingship and society, though this advance has yet to be met adequately by medieval textual evidence. This robust ethnographic and historical reconsideration of kingship also connects to the more basic question of the nature of the precolonial or medieval Indian state, a central issue for postindependence historiography.8 While a number of models of statehood had been proposed by the 1960s, the issue of royal ritual became especially relevant with Burton Stein’s theory of the “segmentary state,” adapted from A. W. Southall’s earlier work in eastern Africa. In

4. See Carman and Apffel-​Marglin, Purity and Auspiciousness, introduction. 5. Apffel-​Marglin, Wives of the God-​King. 6. For example, a menstruating woman is ritually impure and should not worship at a temple, whereas an encounter with a funerary priest or a widow at the start of a journey, or at a wedding, is an inauspicious occasion. See Madan, “Concerning the Categories śubha and śuddha in Hindu Culture.” Cf. Parry, “The Hindu Lexicographer?,” and the rejoinder, Madan, “Auspiciousness and Purity.” 7. In addition to the work of Raheja and Marglin, see also Pugh, “Person and Experience” and “Into the Almanac.” 8. The basic outlines of the conversation are detailed by Hermann Kulke (The State in India, introduction) in terms of five models of statehood. At first a critique of Marx’s notion of “oriental despotism” and the “Asiatic mode of production” led to what Kulke calls the “Indian historiographic model” of a unitary, centralized, bureaucratic state, and then the model of Indian feudalism, championed by R. S. Sharma and others. Ronald Inden gives a longer view of these developments, beginning with pre-​Raj British accounts of Indian history (Imagining India, chap. 5).

160

160

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Stein’s formulation—​based on the Coḷa (871–​1279 ce) and Vijayanagara (1336–​ 1565 ce) empires—​the segmentary state comprises numerous “core areas” that are, materially and administratively, mutually independent. One of these areas, however—​the core zone commanded by the king—​dominates the others at the secondary level of ritual. Hence the king of the segmentary state exercises a “dual sense of territorial sovereignty”: direct political control over his own core area and ritual hegemony over the whole.9 Whether or not they follow Stein in all aspects of the segmentary state hypothesis, most scholars agree that some form of ritual (or otherwise religious) processes played a crucial, integrative function in premodern Indian polities. But what, precisely, is meant by “ritual sovereignty”? What were the ritual forms that accomplished the supposed integration of far-​flung core areas into a single state? Theorists of premodern statehood have overwhelmingly focused on two models derived from the history of Hinduism. Stein himself relies on Gonda’s comprehensive work on kingship (based largely on Vedic sources), supplemented by general accounts of rājadharma from classical Dharmaśāstra.10 In the following passage he appeals to Gonda (and Heesterman) to describe ritual sovereignty in terms of “divine kingship”: The major thrust of Gonda’s essay is the sacrificially attained divinity of the Indian king. Created from “eternal and essential particles of Indra and the seven other great devas” the king is one of the lokapālas (guardians of the world) according to Manu and later writers. The Vedic ratnins, seen by many historians as an “administrative council” of the ancient Indian king, are better seen, according to Gonda and his student Heesterman, as a group of persons endowed with “sacral qualities” which are incorporated by the king in a marriage-​like ritual. The king is married to his realm or to the goddesses of fortune, victory, and the earth are figures of speech frequently found in royal inscriptions of medieval India. As gods are honoured by man, so are kings because of the latter’s anointment in the mahābhiṣeka which consecrates (i.e., ritually transforms) each human

9. Stein, Peasant, State, and Society, 266. 10.  For Stein, the twofold nature of sovereignty in the segmentary state corresponds to the terms kṣatra and (rāja)dharma, which are found in Dharmaśāstric accounts of kingship (as recounted by Lingat). These terms denote the territorial and universal aspects of segmentary sovereignty. Hence “ritual” sovereignty would seem to fall under the purview of rājadharma. But while the dharmaśāstras theorize royal dharma in general terms, they hardly specify the requisite rituals themselves. Hence Stein reliance on Gonda’s Ancient Indian Kingship.

16



Kingship in a Portentous Age

161

king just as it did the primordial divine king, Indra. Sacrificially created power is thereafter passed through the king as in the aśvamedha sacrifices. Gonda points out that the royal horse sacrifice does not merely assert ownership over the territory circumambulated by the king’s sacrificial horse: the horse transmits to that territory its divine power acquired as a result of ritual. The horse sacrifice is repeated each year by the royal sacrificer and hence becomes a cycle of sacrificial regeneration of the land and its people.11 In this view divine kingship is essentially generated and renewed through the various royal sacrifices: the mahābhiṣeka invests the king with the powers of the realm, while the aśvamedha dispenses that power back to the territory. The second major locus for understanding ritual sovereignty in premodern India is the temple. Here both historians and ethnographers have drawn on a wealth of data from the massive temple complexes that emerged in regional kingdoms toward the end of the first millennium ce and flourished in the late medieval period. Again the Southern Coḷa and Vijayanagara kingdoms, and their successors, have loomed large in these discussions.12 The often-​cited work of Arjun Appadurai and Carol Breckenridge, for instance, considers the temple and its sovereign deity as the center of a “redistributive process,” organized through endowments but open to conflicts that are ultimately resolved by the king. In this model sovereignty is “divided” between god and king, while rājadharma is reconceived in administrative and donative terms: In purely cultural terms, therefore, we can see in the relationship of human kings to temple-​deities in south India, an elegant and symbiotic division of sovereignty. The sovereign deity is the paradigm of royal authority. By serving this deity, in the form of elaborate gifts which generate special royal honours, and by protecting the redistributive process of temples, pre-​British kings shared in this paradigmatic royalty. By being the greatest servant of the sovereign deity, the king sustains and displays his rule over men.13

11. Stein, Peasant, State, and Society, 277. 12.  See for example James Heitzman’s Gifts of Power, a study of Coḷa temple culture and economy. 13. Appadurai and Appadurai Breckenridge, “The South Indian Temple,” 206–​7.

162

162

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Elsewhere Appadurai further clarifies the king’s role in the temple system, showing how the basic royal duty of protection (prajāpālana) was understood in terms of the administration of temple disputes.14 It thus appears that when specific ritual processes are brought to bear on discussions of kingship in the Indian state, these tend to be understood in terms of the paradigmatic forms of Vedic and Hindu ritual, namely, fire sacrifice and temple-​based image worship. Needless to say, there is a long and diverse history of ritual forms that separates the solemn Vedic rites of mahābhiṣeka and aśvamedha from the great temple complexes of late medieval polities like Vijayanagara. Much of this ritual history, I would argue, has relevance for placing indigenous notions of kingship in their historical perspective. One scholar who has encouraged deeper thinking about early medieval ritual in relation to kingship and statehood is Ronald Inden. In the late 1970s and early 1980s Inden published a number of provocative essays on the topic of medieval kingship and priesthood, highlighting ritual topics such as gifting and astrology as being crucial to the medieval conception. Inden’s work culminated in the sixth chapter of Imagining India, in which he proposed his own model of the premodern Indian state as an “imperial formation.” Taking as his example the Deccanate Rāṣṭrakūṭa dynasty (753–​982 ce), Inden argues that the medieval imperial court should be understood as a “society of kings,” whose shifting hierarchical arrangement was repeatedly revised during courtly displays. These political assemblies were regularly held in conjunction with ritual performances, especially the “Great Gifts” (mahādānas) and the reiterative forms of abhiṣeka. In Inden’s view these abhiṣeka rituals conferred a kind of divinely ordained “luminous will” (tejas)—​what was essentially a theopolitical type of agency—​upon the king and his subordinates. Hence rather than an empty formality, the ritual constituted a veritable political process.15 I will return to some of Inden’s specific interpretations of medieval rituals later. For now I note that much of this work was based on a reading of the section on rājadharma in the Viṣṇudharmottarapurāṇa. In what follows I seek to refine some of his thinking about this text on the basis of the longer ritual-​textual history that I have thus far outlined. The basic argument that I pursue can be analyzed on three related levels. First, at the level of textual history, we can draw a clear line of historical development from the texts of Vedic astrology to the instructions for the royal rituals of Matsya and Viṣṇudharmottara, two purāṇas that contributed to later canonical accounts of royal ritual. Second, at the level of ritual structure,

14. Appadurai, Worship and Conflict, chap. 2. 15. Inden, Imagining India, chap. 6.

163



Kingship in a Portentous Age

163

when read in light of this longer history, it becomes clear that Atharvan śānti formed a paradigm of sorts for at least two important royal rituals:  the Great Gifts (mahādānas) and the Royal Inauguration (rājyābhiṣeka). Indeed not only did the Atharvan royal regime survive intact in these Purāṇic sources; it was in some ways standardized and amplified. Third, at the level of ritual interpretation, evidence from these ritual instructions indicates that the apotropaic and expiatory aspects of śānti rituals that were nascent in the texts of Vedic astrology were also carried forward, suggesting that the basic royal function of protection in these canonical purāṇas could have been understood—​at least from the priestly perspective of our texts—​in terms of the removal of sin and inauspiciousness. If this interpretation is correct, the Purāṇic texts pose a premodern precedent for the ethnographic scenarios presented by Raheja and others, one that is reducible neither to the Vedic sacrifice nor the Hindu temple.

Sins from Above: Toward a Theory of Ritual and Omens So far we have explored the emergence of an expansive network of śānti-​based rituals, centering on the format of aspersion, in Atharvan and astrological texts that outline rituals of kingship. But as we continue to track the subsequent fate of this ritual form, we must also confront the implicit theoretical premises—​ the broader cosmology and theory of efficacy—​that it presumes. Ultimately this means that we will have to place omens at the center of a conception of rājadharma. For this task Varāhamihira once again supplies a central text, the “Chapter on Omens” (utpātādhyāya).16 This important passage of roughly 100 verses mainly comprises a list of portents, including summaries of their effects and appropriate ritual countermeasures, organized according to ten separate categories.17 Varāhamihira and most subsequent authorities attribute the chapter to the sage Garga, whose associated text, the Gārgīyajyotiṣa, remains unpublished, although selected passages survive in commentarial quotations.18 A version of the same chapter is also included among the omen catalogs of the Appendices (AVPŚ 64). Most crucial for our present purposes, however, the “Chapter on Omens” survives—​with only minor differences from Varāhamihira’s text—​in two Hindu

16. BS 45. Not to be confused with the similarly-titled text from the Kauśikasūtra, which I have termed the “Book of Omens” (adbhutādhyāya) discussed in ­chapter 1. 17. These are, in order, divine images, fire, grain, trees, rain, abnormal births, domestic animals, wind, wild animals, and omens in the kingdom. 18. Kumagai, “The Construction of the Gargasaṃhitā Chapter 39.”

164

164

Rit es of t he God -K ing

purāṇas, Matsya and Viṣṇudharmottara.19 In each purāṇa the chapter forms part of a larger discussion of rājadharma; in each case it is also accompanied by two chapters on śānti rituals.20 As we have seen, Atharvan sources left few clues as to how śānti rituals might be thought operate in relation to omens. By contrast, Varāhamihira begins his “Chapter on Omens” with a highly succinct and explicit theoretical statement unlike any other that we have seen so far: An omen is a deviation from nature. The misfortune of men arises from the sins that accumulate by their misdeeds. Omens of the earth, atmos­ phere, and heavens indicate [these misfortunes]. The gods, displeased by the misdeeds of men, create those [omens]. In order to counterstrike them, the king should practice śānti in his realm.21 The argument is complex. After a brief definition of the omen (see c­ hapter 5), it begins with the claim—​essentially karmic in nature—​that human misdeeds (apacāreṇa narāṇām), “through the accumulation of sin” (pāpasañcāyād), are the ultimate cause of human suffering (upasarga).22 Then it supplies omens as an epistemic means for analyzing and ultimately intervening in this causality. Since omens are taxonomically organized, it also implicitly professionalizes this analysis. Furthermore it accommodates a theology, namely, that the gods mediate their relationship with men through these omens. Finally, it outlines the role of governance, placing the responsibility for ritual counteraction, through śānti, on the king. A number of these propositions will occupy us as I try to demonstrate that the astrological ritualism announced by Varāhamihira and elaborated in the purāṇas has essentially developed in fulfillment of this basic divinatory theory. From the outset we can assume a basic tension that is always at play in the amalgamation of omens and rituals: the ritualists tend toward streamlined, practical systematization, while the astrologers tend toward taxonomic miscellany. The Atharvan texts appear to oscillate within this tension over time. In their earliest experiment with divination, Kauśika’s “Book of Omens,” each omen is

19. MtP 229–​38; VDhP 2.134–​44. 20. MtP 228, 239; VDhP 2.132–​33. 21.  prakṛter anyatvam utpātaḥ || 1 || apacāreṇa narāṇām upasargaḥ pāpasañcayād bhavati | saṃsūcayanti divyāntarikṣabhaumās ta utpātāḥ || 2 || manujānām apacārād aparaktā devatāḥ sṛjanty etān | tatpratighātāya nṛpaḥ śāntiṃ rāṣṭre prayuñjīta || 3 || BS 45 || 22. On the textual history of this formulation, see Kumagai, “Pāpa.”

165



Kingship in a Portentous Age

165

met with a specific mantra: within the structure of the simple homa, the variety of signs (forty-​two in total) is made to correspond to the variety of Atharvan hymns. This relative mantric precision is reversed in the mahāśānti, a ritual paradigm (amṛtā śānti) that requires a standard set of hundreds of mantras, forming a single, generic solution to the more expansive, threefold taxonomy of omens. But the Appendices signal yet another reversal. There the generic value of the amṛtā mahāśānti is in fact denied. While in the Śāntikalpa only a few of the original thirty mahāśānti variants are prescribed for portents, in the Appendices each of these is prescribed on different occasions to counteract a much larger and more precise catalog of omens. It is as if the Atharvans only begrudgingly admitted the limits of the mahāśānti, their prized ritual form, to accommodate the ramified array of portentous signs, and were continually forced to propose new ritual solutions. It is not surprising that the Atharvan solution to omens would be contested. As mentioned in c­ hapter 2, one of the omen catalogs included in the Appendices already contradicted the earlier claim of the Śāntikalpa that the amṛtā mahāśānti reverses all portents. Instead it suggested that only when supplemented by other rituals (the lakṣahoma, ghṛtakambala, and koṭihoma, respectively) could the mahāśānti rectify the signs of the earth, atmosphere, and heavens. While defining the three omen categories in the “Chapter on Omens,” Varāhamihira testifies in part to this claim: Heavenly omens consist of irregularities in the stars and planets. Atmospheric omens are such things as meteors, whirlwinds, halos, cloud-​ cities, rainbows and so forth. Terrestrial omens are manifest in things moving or still. Some say that these (terrestrial omens) become appeased when struck by śānti rituals; atmospheric ones become weakened [thereby]; but divine omens cannot be appeased. Divine omens, however, become appeased through copious gifts of gold, food, cows, and land, and from the godoha on the grounds of a temple to Rudra, and also from the koṭihoma.23 The citation of a counteropinion (ity eke) gives a rare glimpse into the possible debates among ritualists and astrologers that must have accompanied the growth of astrological ritualism. In answer to those who would claim the irreversibility of portents belonging to the most serious (divine) category, Varāhamihira endorses

23. divyaṃ grahaṛkṣavaikṛtam ulkānirghātapavanapariveṣāḥ | gandharvapurapurandaracāpādi yad āntarikṣaṃ tat || 4 || bhaumaṃ carasthirabhavaṃ tat śāntibhir āhataṃ śamam upaiti | nābhasam upaiti mṛdutāṃ śāmyati no divyam ity eke || 5 || divyam api śamam upaiti prabhūtakanakānnagomahīdānaiḥ | rudrāyatane bhūmau godohāt koṭihomāc ca || 6 || BS 45 ||

16

166

Rit es of t he God -K ing

the Appendices’ opinion that the koṭihoma suffices to appease them. His solution also reflects a much more eclectic ritualism. In addition to the koṭihoma, he adds two other rituals qualifying as appeasements at the divine level: copious gifts and “cow milking” at a Śaiva temple. As in his ritual prescriptions, Varāhamihira here embraces a more expansive set of ritual practices and actors than the Atharvans might allow. This more eclectic understanding of śānti ritual is perhaps the most striking aspect of Varāhamihira’s “Chapter on Omens,” especially when compared to the systematic expansion of apotropaic aspersions in Atharvan sources. A few examples will suffice, first from the section on omens in the images of gods: The clever purohita, having recognized an irregularity in [the image of ] the god, should worship the image with bathing, flowers, unguents, and clothes. And he should serve it the madhuparka drink, and edible bali offerings according to rule. He should also perform a fire offering with a dish of sthālīpāka, with mantras appropriate to that (god). In this way, for those kings who, when such an irregularity of an image appears, correctly perform śānti rituals for seven nights, with the worship of brahmins and gods and festivals of song and dance, there is no ripening of the sin; it is blocked (ruddhaḥ) by the sacrificial fees (dakṣiṇābhis).24 Compare the prescriptions for omens related to rain and water receptacles: At the time of the irregular rains, a sacrifice to the Sun, Moon, Parjanya (the rain god), and Samīra (the wind god) is recommended, and sacrificial fees of grain, food, cows, and gold should be given. Then the sin will become appeased.25 If an irregularity in a water (receptacle) [appears], he should perform a pūjā ceremony for Varuṇa with mantras belonging to him, and japa and homa with these [same mantras]. In this way the sin becomes appeased.26 24. buddhvā devavikāraṃ śuciḥ purodhās tryahauṣitaḥ snātaḥ | snānakusumānulepanavastrair abhyarcayet pratimām || 15 || madhuparkeṇa purodhā bhakṣyair balibhiś ca vidhivad upatiṣṭhet | sthālīpākaṃ juhuyād vidhivan mantraiś ca talliṅgaiḥ || 16 || iti vibudhavikāre śāntayaḥ saptarātraṃ dvijavibudhagaṇārcā gītanṛtyautsavāś ca | vidhivad avanipālair yaiḥ prayuktā na teṣāṃ bhavati duritapāko dakṣiṇābhiś ca ruddhaḥ || 17 || BS 45 || 25. sūryenduparjanyasamīraṇānāṃ yāgaḥ smṛto vṛṣṭivikārakāle | dhānyānnagokāñcanadakṣiṇāś ca deyās tataḥ śāntim upaiti pāpam || 45 || BS 45 || 26.  salilavikāre kuryāt pūjāṃ varuṇasya vāruṇair mantraiḥ | tair eva ca japahomaṃ śamam evaṃ pāpam upayāti || 50 || BS 45 ||

167



Kingship in a Portentous Age

167

Surveying the countermeasures for each of the ten subcategories in the text yields a mixed set of rituals that one could class as both Vedic and Hindu: fire offerings and recitations of Vedic verses, on the one hand, and image-​worshipping pūjā ceremonies, on the other. But we may additionally note an emphasis on the dakṣiṇā, or sacrificial fee. While any nominally Vedic ritual might incur such a payment, these prescriptions for gifting gain new relevance in light of the causal theory of omens presented by Varāhamihira at the outset of the text, including the claim that generous gifts correct divine omens. The statement from the section on images is clearest. Those kings who perform śānti rituals do not reap the fruit of the sin (that is, the resulting misfortune), which is blocked by the dakṣiṇās of those rituals.27 In other words, the ritual gift plays a potentially unique, causal role in the removal of misfortune. Taken altogether, the “Chapter on Omens” insists on a basic refrain:  by some heterogeneous combination of Vedic mantras and fire sacrifice, image worship, and ritual gifts, the given sin  is appeased (śamam upaiti pāpam, etc.). To be sure, it is not the case that Varāhamihira means to exclude Atharvan forms of śānti; indeed in the final subcategory of inauspicious omens (rāṣṭrotpāta) he prescribes the “mahāśāntis” (mahāśāntyaḥ)—​perhaps from the Atharvan Śāntikalpa. Nonetheless he also seeks to enlarge the very notion of śānti beyond a strict ritual form: in the “Chapter on Omens” śānti is not a category of ritual but a ritual effect, not a means (sādhana) but an end (sādhya). As such it may result not only from Atharvan practices, or even only Vedic ones, but also from gifts (dāna) and image worship (pūjā). This ritual eclecticism would seem to align with his robust theoretical vision of omens, which includes sin and gods in a causal astrological process. Accordingly expiation through gifting and divine intercession through image worship may also provide appeasement.

The Transfer of Sin in the “Great Gifts” (mahādānas) I will return to the relation of śānti and image-​based temple worship in ­chapter  5. For the moment I  pursue the link between omens and sin, which brings us at last into the realm of the purāṇas. If, as Varāhamihira specifies, sin is the cause of misfortune, it should be possible to relieve or prevent that

27.  Bhaṭṭotpala makes the logic explicit:  “Those kings do not obtain the duritapāka—​the inauspicious consequence of the omen, since it is ruddho—​kept off by the dakṣiṇās” (teṣāṃ rājñāṃ duritapāka utpātāniṣṭaphalaṃ na bhavati | yato dakṣiṇābhiś ca ruddho nivārita iti).

168

168

Rit es of t he God -K ing

misfortune through expiation. And yet such expiation must respond neither to a vague sense of karmic debt nor a privately recollected tally of sins, but to those omens specified by astrologers. Varāhamihira’s argument thus poses in theoretical terms the question of the relation between expiation (prāyaścitta) and appeasement (śānti), a question that we (and the king) will have to answer in ritual terms. As seen in ­chapter 2, the Appendices already took us part of the way to a ritual solution to Varāhamihira’s proposal. Two of the king’s daily rituals in that text involved gifts of gold and grain that were said to “burn up” his sin. In one of these rites the king rubs a coin on his body before passing it to a brahmin, while citing this expiatory effect. In another daily ritual the king, gazing into a vat of ghee, and again touching his body with the curds, says: Ghee is called glory (or “sharp,” tejas); ghee is the best remover of sin (pāpa); by ghee the gods are satisfied; in ghee the worlds are firmly established. Whatever sin (kalmaṣa) has come from the earth, atmosphere, or heavens, may all that be obliterated from the touch of ghee. The very same mantra, which treats sin analagously to tripartite omens, was known to Varāhamihira, who prescribed it during the Prosperity Bath in his own version of the Atharvan “Blanket of Ghee.”28 Such rituals establish the astrological basis of sin and suggest that a gift removes sin through contact, and thus perhaps by physical transferal. The Appendices also prefigured another important development of Purāṇic royal ritual: the “Great Gifts,” or mahādānas. Seven such gifting rituals appear in the Appendices, including two of the most important in the inscriptional record, the Gift of the Man on a Balance (tulāpuruṣa) and the Gift of the Golden Embryo (hiraṇyagarbha). We saw that both of these gifts were influenced by śānti and could be classed as apotropaic aspersions. The Atharvan versions of these rituals were less well known in medieval India than the account of sixteen mahādānas found in the Matsyapurāṇa (274–​89). By the twelfth century these Purāṇic chapters were absorbed into Lakṣmīdhara’s orthodox compendium on gifting, the Dānakāṇḍa.29 How much earlier Matsya’s account was composed is uncertain, but given the popularity of mahādāna rituals in inscriptions beginning in the

28. The mantra, and an abbreviated ghṛtakambala rite, appears immediately prior to the main aspersion with the puṣya mixture (appendix 3.2, step 15). The mantra is recited as the king is covered in a blanket (kambala) and then bathed with ghee by the purohita. 29. Translated in Brick, Brahmanical Theories of the Gift, 91–130.

169



Kingship in a Portentous Age

169

early medieval period, and given this purāṇa’s awareness of Atharvan śānti rituals elsewhere, a date in the second half of the first millennium seems a reasonable guess.30 Elsewhere I have detailed the influence of śānti rituals on the Great Gifts of the Matsyapurāṇa.31 I review the most salient evidence here, using the instruction for the Gift of the Man on a Balance (see appendix 4.1). Since this text forms the paradigm for the remaining fifteen gifts, its analysis will apply to the entire class of Purāṇic mahādānas. The structure of the ritual opens with a sequence that the text calls the adhivāsana (steps 1–​9).32 It requires the construction of a square “pavilion,” or maṇḍapa, having one altar in the middle and another to the northeast (step 2), and surrounded by pot-​adorned archways and fire pits stationed in the four cardinal directions (step 3).33 At each fire pit stands a pair of priests representing each of the four Vedas (step 5). With their respective mantras, each priestly pair makes an offering to the “Vināyakas, Planets, Lokapālas, Vasus, Ādityas, and Marudgaṇas, Brahma, Acyuta (Viṣṇu), Īśa (Śiva), Arka, and Vanaspati” (step 6). Then the lead officiant (the guru), “taking bali, flowers and incense,” invokes these deities with a mantra, asking them to protect the sacrifice (step 7). Afterward the sponsor pays the officiants, and a group of brahmins recites the Śāntikādhyāya (ṚV 1.35) in all directions (steps 8–​9). The adhivāsana is most commonly known as the term for the first half of the image installation ceremony (pratiṣṭhā), sometimes understood as the “inhabitation” of the image by the deity.34 As I will discuss further in ­chapter 5, the term likely derives from the “overnight” format of the preliminary rites of the yātrā, which began with the bali offering and served as an occasion for observation of the departing king’s dreams.35 This account of the tulāpuruṣa does not mention the overnight setting nor the examination of dreams, but it does fulfill the

30. See ­chapter 2. 31. Geslani, “Appeasement and Atonement.” 32. This ritual sequence is not specific to the tulāpuruṣa but is in fact prescribed in shorthand—​ like a Vedic ritual convention (paribhāṣā)—​in each of the mahādāna rituals, referring to the more detailed instruction from the tulāpuruṣa as a paradigm. 33. According to the text the northeastern altar is “for the worship of Īśvara, and deities such as the Planets and so forth.” 34. A more detailed version occurs elsewhere in the text (MtP 265) as part of the image installation. See ­chapter 5. 35. As Varāhamihira says in the puṣyasnāna, the royal party should stay there (at the site of the preliminary bali/pūjā offering) overnight (tāṃ śarvarīṃ vaseyus te | BS 47.22b |).

170

170

Rit es of t he God -K ing

purpose of the bali offering in the yātrā, namely, to invoke a large group of deities, including the Vināyakas, Planets, and Lokapālas—​three of the deity-​groups worshipped in Varāhamihira texts. As in the yātrā, these deities have a protective role to perform, but rather than the king, here they are asked to guard the fire sacrifice. Notably the fire offering (homa) is not separate from but assimilated as part of this bali exchange. Following this complex offering, just as in the yātrā (and the puṣyasnāna), the adhivāsana sequence in the tulāpuruṣa culminates in a bath of the sponsor (i.e., the king) (step 10). Note that this important feature is shared by the other mahādānas. The bath is usually mentioned in a single, innocuous half-​verse, such as, “then with auspicious sounds he is bathed by Vedic experts.”36 With a few exceptions each mahādāna prescription specificies the bath in roughly identical terms, invariably with the verb “to bathe” (√snā).37 Hence the king is “bathed” (snātaḥ), or “made to be bathed” (causative, snāpitaḥ), usually “by those who are eminent in the Vedas” (vedapuṃgavaiḥ), and once “by twice-​borns” (dvijaiḥ).38 Often the bath is accompanied by auspicious sounds (maṅgalaśabdena) and/​or “Vedic recitations” (brahmaghoṣaraveṇa, maṅgalavedaghoṣaiḥ).39 Furthermore the bathing waters are thrice said to contain “all herbs,” recalling Varāhamihira’s (Nakṣatra) Victory Bath.40 The transferal of the gift takes place only after this bathing sequence (steps 11–​17). The freshly bathed sponsor dons a white garment and, with a flower in hand, circumambulates the gift (the scale) three times, reciting non-​Vedic verses (step 11). At this point he mounts the scale and his weight is balanced with gold

36.  tato maṅgalaśabdena snāpito vedapuṅgavaiḥ | MtP 274.58ab | Somewhat more elaborately, “Then with auspicious sounds and with the hum of Vedic recitations he is bathed by Vedic experts with water containing all herbs” (tato maṅgalaśabdena brahmaghoṣaraveṇa ca | sarvauṣadhyudakasnānasnāpito vedapuṅgavaiḥ || MtP 275.9 ||). Text follows Matsyapurāṇa, Ānandāśrama Sanskrit Series 54. 37. snāpitaḥ occurs in MtP 274–​78, 280–​82, 287; snātaḥ at MtP 279, 285, 286. snātvā occurs once, in MtP 279. Only three of the sixteen Great Gifts omit the term for bathing, though these passages all mention the adhivāsana (283.11, adhivāsayet; 284.9, adhivāsanapūrvakam; 288.14, tadvaddhomādhivāsanam). 38.  The instrumental plural vedapuṅgavaiḥ occurs most commonly, MtP 274–​79, 282, 287; dvijaiḥ at 281. The agents of the bathing are altogether omitted in MtP 280, 281, 283–​86, 288, 289. 39.  maṅgalaśabdena, MtP 274, 275, 279, 282, 285, 286. brahmaghoṣaraveṇa, MtP 275; maṅgalavedaghoṣaiḥ 279; gītamaṅgalaniḥsvanaiḥ, “songs and auspicious sounds,” 278. 40. sarvauṣadhyudakasnāna, MtP 275, 278; sarvauṣadhisnāna, 280.

17



Kingship in a Portentous Age

171

(steps 12–​15).41 The text concludes with the donation of the gift to the officiants, sealed with the pouring of waters (step 16). Mutatis mutandis, each of the sixteen mahādānas follows this basic structure, appending the gift to the modified yātrā sequence in the form homa-​bali-​snāna-​dāna. The further formalization of astrological ritualism here is striking. This can be seen first of all in the standardization of the term adhivāsana as a textual shorthand for a lengthy instruction, variously embedded in larger ritual structures.42 The physical infrastructure has also been formalized in the maṇḍapa. In late Vedic and Purāṇic rituals this structure is generally understood as a “bathing hut” (snapanamaṇḍapa).43 Descriptions of it are highly consistent. In the Matsyapurāṇa it measures sixteen, twelve, or ten cubits (hastas) in length, with an altar of seven or five cubits, four fire pits in the cardinal directions, and adorned by flags and four pairs of pots.44 The Appendices describe a structure identical in size but rather called the “śānti house” (śāntigṛha).45 Varāhamihira

41.  As the mantras in these passages make clear, the tulā is identified with Viṣṇu. For the question of the integration of bhakti and dāna in the Purāṇic Great Gifts, see Brick, “The Incorporation of Devotional Theism.” 42. Here in the mahādāna; elsewhere, in the pratiṣṭhā. 43. MtP 265.7. 44. These dimensions, given at MtP 274.26, are identical with the dimensions of the maṇḍapa described at MtP 264.13–​14. 45. As the text says, “This (structure) is always praised and worshipped in śānti rituals, known as the śānti house” (arcitaṃ pūjitaṃ nityam śāntau śāntigṛhaṃ smṛtam | AVPŚ 21.6.1cd |). The full passage on the maṇḍapa (AVPŚ 21.4.3-​6.6b) belongs to the sambhāralakṣaṇa. As we have seen, this text enumerates the physical requisites of śānti rituals, which are treated as if they were variations of the implements of the normal Vedic sacrifice (śāntika-​vikalpa). In this way the maṇḍapa or śānti house forms one of a larger class of requisite objects for śānti rituals. The conclusion of AVPŚ 21 further elaborates the relation between maṇḍapa and śānti in the Atharvan scheme: “Being worshipped with incense, bali offerings and the victorious shouts of heralds, the sounds of conches and instruments, lutes, drums, and laughter, the king should enter [the maṇḍapa] with his purohita. Then making śāntyudaka with the cātana mantra-​group, sprinkling [him?] with mantras as prescribed, he should then bring the two araṇi-sticks [for producing the fire]. When the fire has been churned according to rule, performing a homa offering with śāntyudaka and mantras, he should observe the signs as mentioned” (dhūpair balyupahāraiś ca jayaghoṣaiś ca bandinām || 6.6 || śaṅkhatūryaninādais tu vīṇādundubhisasmitaiḥ | pūjyamāno hi nṛpatiḥ praviśet sapurohitaḥ || 6.7 || tataḥ śāntyudakaṃ kṛtvā cātanenānuyojitam | saṃprokṣya vidhivan mantrair ānayed araṇī tataḥ || 6.8 || mathite ‘gnau vidhānena śāntyudakena samantrakam | homaṃ kṛtvā yathoktaṃ tu nimittāny upalakṣayet || 7.1 || AVPŚ 21 ||). Here the king and his purohita enter the maṇḍapa, produce śānti water, and kindle the fire, in which omens are interpreted. The text concludes with a description of how to interpret the various possible signs in the fire, as in Varāhamihira’s texts. See c­ hapter 5 for a translation of the preceding description of the maṇḍapa.

172

172

Rit es of t he God -K ing

also prescribes a śānti house (sadman) in his Lustration (nīrājana) ritual (BS 43.5–​6). While the Matsyapurāṇa does not name the connection to śānti as explicitly, its maṇḍapa likewise houses a bathing sequence, as we have seen, directly preceded by the recitation of the śāntikādhyaya mantra from the Ṛgveda.46 In this way, technical conventions stemming from Vedic astrology, and ultimately, from Atharvan śānti rituals, became standardized in the Great Gifts of the Matsyapurāṇa. Partly as a result of this technical combination, in these complex ritual gifts the logics of appeasement and atonement operate simultaneously. Hence the texts repeatedly describe the mahādānas as “removers” or “destroyers of sin” (sarvapāpahara, sarvapāpakṣayakara).47 I  suggest we read such descriptions as more than priestly hyperbole. As I have shown, the daily gifts of gold and grain mentioned in the Appendices suggest that gifts can expiate sins—​either through a logic of transference or through the attainment of merit that accrues from well-​ intentioned donations. A hint of the logic of sin transference may be detected in the following passage from the tulāpuruṣa instruction: A wise person should not keep the sprinkled gold in [his] house for long, since, should it remain [there, it would become] a vehicle for danger, causing the grief and disease of men. From quickly making [it] the property of someone else, a man obtains good fortune (śreyas).48 As with Raheja’s “poisoned gifts,” this passage suggests that the gold meant as a gift (being consecrated, or “sprinkled” in the mahādāna ceremony) is a dangerous substance, productive of disease and grief. Its physical removal through redistribution is therefore essential to the efficacy of the ceremony. Other passages from the Matsyapurāṇa claim that after the ritual the sponsor is “cleansed of all his sins” (sakalapāpavidhauta), and his “body is purified from the

46.  japeyuḥ śāntikādhyāyaṃ jāpakāḥ sarvatodiśam | MtP 275.53cd | The śāntikādhyāya (ṚV 7.35) is also found at AVŚ 19.10–​11. In the Atharvan gaṇamālā, this mantra is included in the two shorter śānti gaṇas, AVPŚ 32.1 and 32.20. 47.  Such attributes are employed regularly among the instructions for these rituals:  sarvapāpakṣayakara at MtP 274.4; mahāpātakanāśana, 275.1, 276.1, 279.1, 281.1, 283.1, 285.1, 286.1, 289.1; sarvapātakanāśana, 277.1; sarvapāpahara, 278.1; pāpakṣayakara, 284.1; sarvapāpapraṇāśana, 287.1. 48. na ciraṃ dhārayed gehe suvarṇaṃ prokṣitaṃ budhaḥ || 63cd || tiṣṭhed bhayāvahaṃ yasmāc chokavyādhikaraṃ nṛṇām | śīghraṃ parasvīkaraṇāc chreyaḥ prāpnoti mānavaḥ || 64 || MtP 264 || Matsya does not specify that the gift itself should be sprinkled (prokṣita), but the Atharvan version (AVPŚ 11.1.10) states that the scale and the gold are to be aspersed following the king’s aspersion (tulāṃ hiraṇyaṃ ca pavitrair abhyukṣya).

173



Kingship in a Portentous Age

173

destruction of sins (ogha) and difficulties (durita) in this life” (bhavaduritaugha vighātaśuddhadehaḥ). Such language seems to refer to the “cleansing” nature of the apotropaic bath. At the same time Great Gifts such as the tulāpuruṣa take this expiatory logic one step further. By framing the gifts within the structures of appeasement, the mahādānas also appear conducive to Varāhamihira’s astrological theory of sin, according to which karmic faults could be identified as omens signifying misfortunes, and copious gifts could allay divine portents. A theoretical link between gifts and celestial portents may explain why the Matsyapurāṇa prescribes the performance of the mahādānas on some of the following occasions: (The mahādānas are to be given) on the auspicious ayana or viṣuva, on the vyatīpāta, on the omitted day, at the beginnings of the yuga and manvantara, during eclipses, on the saṃkrānti, on vaidhṛti days, on the fourteenth or eighth day of a fortnight, on the eighth day after a full moon, on the twelfth day of a full moon, on the parvan days, and on the fifteenth day of a bright fortnight, and when dreams or omens are sighted at a sacrifice, festival, or wedding.49 A chapter in the Bṛhatsaṃhitā describes at length many forms of eclipses, all of which have calamitous effects of varying scope.50 Other occasions mentioned here appear to have been similarly inauspicious. For instance, the Bṛhatsaṃhitā prescribes that a wedding, the most auspicious of events, should not be performed on the vyatīpāta or vaidhṛti day. Likewise the saṃkrānti, the passing of the sun into a new zodiac sign (rāśi), was also considered a dangerous event.51 Thus the canonical Great Gifts operate according to a theory of “gift-​as-​appeasement,” correcting calendrical moments of inauspiciousness, and prescribed much like a standard śānti ritual, when a bad dream or omen threatens an auspicious ritual event, such as a sacrifice, festival, or wedding. The mahādānas have received much attention as part of the medieval state process. Inden for one argues that they represent an orthodox response to

49. ayane viṣuve puṇye vyatīpāte dinakṣaye || 19cd || yugādiṣūparāgeṣu tathā manvantarādiṣu | saṃkrāntau vaidhṛtidine caturdaśyaṣṭamīṣu ca || 20 || sitapañcadaśīparvadvādaśīṣvaṣṭakāsu ca | yajñotsavavivāheṣu duḥsvapnādbhutadarśane || 21 || MtP 274 || I have taken dinakṣaya tentatively as the “omitted day,” or kṣayadina, the lunar day on which no sunrise occurs. See Yano, “Calendar, Astrology, and Astronomy,” 387. 50. BS 5. The Appendices (11.1.2; 13.1.2) also prescribe gifts at the time of the eclipse (grahaṇakāle). 51. MtP 98 prescribes a bathing gift similar to the mahādānas on each of the twelve changes of the zodiac (saṃkrāntis).

174

174

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Buddhist imperial gifting ceremonies. “Muting” the sacrificial violence of earlier state rituals such as the aśvamedha—​which was still performed for the purpose of signaling independence—​the mahādānas, according to Inden, subordinated (“hierarchized”) Vedic sacrifice to the vegetarian form of Hindu image worship (pūjā) and theology. They offered a means of “vertical” integration for the Hindu imperium.52 But whatever role a debate over vegetarianism may have played in the popularity of the mahādānas during the post-​Vedic period, we should be careful not to overplay the Vedic-​Hindu distinction in our understanding of their formation. While the mahādānas may indeed incorporate a Vaiṣṇava theology, their ritual structure replicates—​and indeed formalizes—​the format of astrological ritualism, which, we have seen, was greatly inspired by Atharvan śānti. And there is scant evidence that their logic departed from Varāhamihira’s expiatory theory of appeasement.

The Legacy of puṣya: Purāṇic Royal Inauguration (rājyābhiṣeka) Already Varāhamihira prescribed his version of the Prosperity Bath (puṣyasnāna) on multiple, if incongruous occasions. While praising it as an incomparable śānti ritual effective for all omens, he also recommended its effectiveness for the traditional interests of kingship.53 This instruction, being performed every month, increases happiness, fame, and wealth. It brings half of the result [if performed under a nakṣatra] other than puṣya. Śānti in conjunction with the puṣya asterism is the best. And he should perform the puṣyasnāna should any portent afflict the country—​if an eclipse or comet appears, or if there are planetary wars. There is no omen in the world that is not appeased by this ritual; no further auspicious ritual which surpasses this one. This instruction is

52. Inden, “The Ceremony of the Great Gift.” Conversely, in “Mahādāna” Vijay Nath suggests that the mahādānas were suited to the legitimating needs of “newly established” dynasties of peripheral regions. 53. In the Appendices there is no direct claim that the puṣyābhiṣeka may serve as the king’s first consecration, besides the statement that the king who has performed the ritual “enjoys the earth” (rājā snāto mahīṃ bhuṅkte | AVPŚ 5.5.7c |). The inaugural consecration appears to be covered in AVPŚ 3 (prathamābhiṣeka), which takes as its basis the consecration of the earlier Kauśikasūtra. Nonetheless a basic ambivalence between the inaugural and puṣya consecration is evident in subsequent scholarship and traditional exegesis. Sāyaṇa, in his commentary on AVŚ 4.8, the Atharvan royal consecration mantra, quotes passages from the puṣyābhiṣeka prescription, which he seems to treat as an inaugural consecration.

175



Kingship in a Portentous Age

175

recommended for a king desiring overlordship, being anxious for the birth of a son, and prior to that, for the abhiṣeka.54 Bhaṭṭotpala takes the last phrase (tat pūrvam abhiṣeke) to mean “even on that abhiṣeka which is the first” (tat prathamam yo abhiṣekas tasminn apy abhiṣeke). In other words, the puṣyasnāna is effective not only for the promotion of a king to the position of overlord but also for his inaugural consecration. Thus, balancing the stately and apotropaic functions of the puṣyasnāna, Varāhamihira fulfills the Atharvan ambition to promote śānti as the essential ritual function of kingship. As we have seen, the result is highly ambiguous, for the royal coronation now doubles as an explicitly apotropaic ritual.55 The purāṇas and nibandhas sided overwhelmingly with Varāhamihira:  in one form or another, the ritual of puṣya became the basis for the Hindu royal inauguration (rājyābhiṣeka). Purāṇic texts absorbed several variants of the puṣya ritual. A shorter version of the rājyābhiṣeka, which was based on the Atharvan puṣyābhiṣeka, is recorded in the Kashmirian Nīlamatapurāṇa and also in the Ādi or Brahma purāṇa. A longer and more complex version is found in the Vi ṣṇudharmottarapurāṇa, also a Kashmirian text, which Inden has dated to the Kārkoṭa dynasty of the eighth to ninth centuries. This rājyābhiṣeka, slightly modified, was adopted by the Agnipurāṇa.56 Sometime before the twelfth century in Bengal the Kālikapurāṇa recorded yet another puṣyābhiṣeka ritual.57 The subsequent nibandha compilers of the second millennium canonized a number of these ceremonies. The twelfth-​century exegete Lakṣmīdhara adopted the shorter rājyābhiṣeka from the Brahmapurāṇa as the canonical form of royal consecration

54.  etat prayujyamānaṃ pratipuṣyaṃ sukhayaśo′rthavṛddhikaram | puṣyād vinārdhaphaladā pauṣī śāntiḥ parā proktā || 82 || rāṣṭrotpātoparsargeṣu rāhoḥ ketoś ca darśane | grahāvamardane caiva puṣyasnānaṃ samācaret || 83 || nāsti loke sa utpāto yo hy anena na śāmyati | maṅgalaṃ cāparaṃ nāsti yad asmād atiricyate || 84 || adhirājyārthino rājñaḥ putrajanma ca kāṅkṣataḥ | tatpūrvam abhiṣeke ca vidhir eṣa praśasyate || 85 || BS 47 || 55. We have already seen Gonda’s opinion of this ritual. And while he notes that Kern (1870–​ 75) “incorrectly” called this ritual an “inauguration ceremony,” Gonda nonetheless admits that the puṣyasnāna is “considered very salutary . . . on the occasion of his [i.e., the ruler’s] inauguration” (Ancient Indian Kingship, 94). Gonda has no doubt taken the earlier Vedic (śrauta) forms of inauguration as paradigmatic in his discussion of kingship, leaving the puṣyasnāna to occupy an anomalous position. 56. See Losch, Rājadharma. 57. Shastri, Kālikāpurāṇa 86. This version of the puṣya ritual is prescribed for the royal inauguration. Further indication of the decline of śrauta inaugurations and the popularity of śānti by the second millennium can be found in Caṇḍeśvara’s Rājanītiratnākara, which claims that the purohita should “consecrate the king with śānti-​mantras” (abhiṣiñcec chāntimantraiḥ) at the apex of its consecration ceremony.

176

176

Rit es of t he God -K ing

in his Rājadharmakāṇḍa. By the late medieval period nibandha authors subsequent to Lakṣmīdhara—​Anantadeva in his Rājadharmakaustubha, Mitramiśra in the Vīramitrodaya—​overwhelmingly preserved the longer account from Viṣṇudharmottara. The seventeenth-​century Maratha ruler Shivaji, for instance, is said to have employed Gagabhaṭṭa, a brahmin from Vārāṇasī, to perform this version of the ritual for his coronation.58 In what follows I will examine the instruction for the rājyābhiṣeka from the Viṣṇudharmottarapurāṇa. This account, we have seen, stands at the center of the web of Purāṇic-​era rituals that inherited the puṣya ritual format. Thus my analysis should apply in large measure to the version of the Agnipurāṇa and, at least in part, to the shorter rājyābhiṣeka of the Nīlamata and Ādi/​Brahma purāṇa and the independent version of Kālikapurāṇa. A detailed summary follows in appendix 4.2. The ritual is highly complex, but by now it should be easy to parse from the perspective of astrological Vedism. Another reason to focus on Viṣṇudharmottara is its importance to Inden’s arguments. Like Hans Losch before him, Inden was attracted to the Matsya and Viṣṇudharmottara purāṇas in particular for their lengthy and explicit discussions of rājadharma, and thus their potential for explicating a theory of the medieval Hindu state—​a key blind spot of orientalist historiography.59 The rājadharma section of Viṣṇudharmottara plays a decisive role in a number of his major publications, and I  would argue that the rājyābhiṣeka stands at the center of these arguments. Inden’s aim is to present medieval Indian kingship as a culturally unique institution, surpassing any theory of royal authority as either immanent or transcendent—​a dichotomy based largely on comparisons with other political cultures and implicit in scholarly accounts of the Indian state as either centralized or decentralized.60 According to Inden, the rājyābhiṣeka accomplishes this feat by its oscillating structure, which, in the first, aspersion half of the ritual, centralizes power and authority in the king and then, after the aspersion, distributes those same powers to his land and subjects.61 Inden’s ritual exegesis thus informs a much larger project, carried out in Imagining India, to rehabilitate the agency of Indic historical actors through a recovery of

58. See Bendrey, Coronation of Shivaji the Great. 59. Inden speculated that Viṣṇudharmottara contains the original version of the Purāṇic treatise on rājdharma, parts of which would then have been borrowed by the Matsya and Agni purāṇas (“Ritual, Authority, and Cyclic Time,” 83–​84, n9). For Inden’s critique of orientalist accounts of the Indian state, see Imagining India, chap. 5. 60. Inden, “Ritual, Authority,” 41–​43. 61. Ibid., 79–​80.

17



Kingship in a Portentous Age

177

medieval forms of politics. For Inden the aspersion—​the abhiṣeka at the heart of the rājyābhiṣeka—​accomplishes a kind of investment of political agency. The Sanskrit term he prefers to use in reference to this agency is tejas, or more precisely vaiṣṇavatejas. In this view the rājyābhiṣeka—​and the recurring abhiṣekas that crowd the royal calendar—​invest and reinvest the king, as a microcosm of the Cosmic Lord (mahāpuruṣa/​Viṣṇu), with this “luminous,” divine will, which he then redistributes to the “society of kings” over which he presides as overlord, and to his own subjects.62 As compelling a vision of medieval Indian politics as this may be, it does not entirely suffice as a reading of the Purāṇic rājyābhiṣeka. The problem is that Inden draws too heavily on the overtly Vaiṣṇava framing of Viṣṇudharmottara. This he takes as expressing the appropriately theistic, Hindu political theory of the early medieval imperial formations, which had superseded both the earlier Buddhist imperial ethos as well as the pre-​Buddhist Vedic kingship of the smaller, peripheral states that continued to flourish and decline during the medieval period. But at the level of the text, this Vedic-​Buddhist-​Hindu stratification ends up occluding the sources—​Dharmaśāstric, Vedic, and astrological—​which Inden himself admits lie at the root of the rājadharma section of the Viṣṇudharmottara. It is true that the text opens with the statement “For the protection of the people the king is born as a man, strengthened by the tejas of Viṣṇu (viṣṇutejopabṛṃhita), bearing in his body the essence of the gods (devasattvavapurdhara).”63 But we find this theology largely absent from the ritual instruction itself. Despite the Vaiṣṇava leanings of their redactors, the institutional and theoretical commitments of these sources cannot so easily be assimilated to Vaiṣṇava theology; they remain a challenging, embedded countertext. I will argue, then, that we cannot read the rājyābhiṣeka primarily as an infusion of vaiṣṇavatejas. At first glance the abhiṣeka portion of the rājyābhiṣeka (appendix 4.2, steps 1–​20) appears to comprise a bewildering series of aspersions, including showers of clay, pañcagavya (cow products), and herbs. Employing the Vedic-​Hindu or yajña-​pūjā analytic, Inden distinguishes two corresponding portions in this section of the ritual: vaidika (steps 8–​17) and a paurāṇika (steps 18–​20).64 At

62. Inden, Imagining India, 233–​39. 63. prajānāṃ rakṣaṇārthāya viṣṇutejopabṛṃhitaḥ | mānuṣye jāyate rājā devasattvavapurdharaḥ || 9 || VDhP 2.2 || Text follows Śrīviṣṇuḍharmottarapurāṇam. Recall Heesterman’s thesis, that the śrauta rājasūya represents the birth of the king. 64.  “The vaidika segment cast in the śrauta/​smārta idiom features a homa or fire oblation. The paurāṇika portion employing the pūjā idiom features the honouring or adoration of an enlivened water jar” (Inden, “Ritual, Authority,” 63). This coincides with Inden’s earlier comment that yajña and pūjā were the two modes of worship “distinguishable in Indic texts” (52).

178

178

Rit es of t he God -K ing

first glance these attributions appear warranted: most of the ritual agents and mantras up to step 17 are indeed Vedic, the others, non-​Vedic. There are, furthermore, some obvious details of this sequence that find precedent in earlier śrauta forms of Vedic royal consecration.65 Most conspicuous is the king’s consecration by four ministers standing in each of the cardinal directions (step 9).66 A similar fourfold consecration forms the climax of the Vedic rājasūya consecration, though the precise roster of ministers does not follow the four-​varṇa-​four-​ direction scheme exactly.67 Comparison with the rājasūya also seems apposite, since the text refers to that ritual by name, immediately after the previous action (steps 11–​13): Then taking up the pot with the dregs, the purohita, having placed the protection of the fire in the care of the attendant priests, [should consecrate the king] according to rule. Most fortunate one! With those mantras, known in the Rājasūya Abhiṣeka, he should give [away the pot], accompanied by the sound of the brahmins.68 This reference to the rājasūya seems striking in the midst of the Purāṇic text. Most commentators agree in identifying these mantras with those recited

65. Tsuchiyama, “Abhiṣeka in the Vedic and post-​Vedic Rituals,” identifies three basic types of coronation abhiṣekas in śrauta texts: the rājasūya and rājābhiṣeka/​mṛtyusava of the Yajurveda and the mahābhiṣekas of the Ṛg and Atharva Vedas. 66. “Then the king, the chief of the varṇas, who has gone to the altar attended by a quartet of ministers, should be consecrated according to [the following] rule: from the east a brahmin [should consecrate him] with a golden pot filled with ghee; from the south a kṣatriya with a silver pot filled with milk; from the west, O sage, a vaiśya with a copper pot with curds; from the north, a śūdra minister with water in a clay pot” (varṇapradhānaṃ bhūpālam abhiṣiñced yathāvidhi | pūrvato hemakumbhena ghṛtapūrṇena brāhmaṇo || 8 || rūpyakumbhena yāmyena kṣīrapūrṇena kṣatriyaḥ | dadhnā tāmrakumbhena vaiśyaḥ paścimato dvija || 9 || māheyena jalenodak śūdrāmātyo ‘bhiṣiñcayet | 10ab | VDhP 2.21 |) For this ritual instruction I have generally followed Losch, Rajadharma, 286–310. 67. According to Heesterman (Ancient Indian Royal Consecration, 114–​15), the roster for the Taittirīya versions includes the adhvaryu (E), rājanya (S), vaiśya (W), and janya (N), whereas the roster for the Maitrāyaṇīya versions includes the janya-​mitra (E), brahman priest (S), vaiśya (W), and rival (N). The rājasūya therefore seems to differ, insofar as it does not complete the quartet following the scheme of the four varṇas. 68. saṃpātavantaṃ kalaśaṃ tathā nutvā [-āhṛtya] purohitaḥ || 11 cd || vidhāya vahnirakṣāṃ tu sadasyeṣu yathāvidhi | rājasūyābhiṣeke tu ye mantrāḥ parikīrtatāḥ || 12 || tais tu dadyān mahābhāga brāhmaṇāṇāṃ svanena tu | 13 ab | VDhP 2.21 |. Emendation follows the nibandha-​authors (Anantadeva, Nīlakaṇṭha, and Mitramiśra). Anantadeva glosses the phrase as follows:  saṃpātavantaṃ sauvarṇaṃ kalaśam ādāya rājasamīpaṃ gatvā (Bhattacharya, Rājadharmakaustubha of Anantadeva, 344).

179



Kingship in a Portentous Age

179

during the climax of the rājasūya, when the king is bathed from the four cardinal directions.69 If we accept this traditional identification, we might conclude that this point of the ritual has been designed to resemble the traditional śrauta rājasūya consecration. Such a conclusion is supported by the appearance, immediately following this aspersion, of a Vedic (according to some variants, Yajurvedic) expert who consecrates the king with a 100-​hole vessel (step 15). This would appear again to emulate the central aspersion act of the rājasūya, in which, prior to his aspersion, the king is also covered with a vessel of 100 holes.70 But even with these śrauta motifs identified, a number of questions remain.71 In the first place, Inden’s labeling of steps 8–​17 as Vedic leaves the first portion of the ritual (steps 1–​7) oddly unidentified. He appears to group these together as part of a “preliminary bath of clays” (mṛt-​snāna), highlighting the bath using twelve

69. According to Anantadeva: “I consecrate you with the glory of Soma, with the brilliance of Agni, with the lustre of Sūrya, with the power of Indra. You are the lord of kingly powers, protect against the thunderbolt. O gods, impel this [Name of the king] to freedom from rivals, to great lordship, to great preeminence, to great rulership of the people, to the power of Indra. [Name of king] the son of [Name of his father], son of [Name of his mother]. This, O people, is your king! Soma is the king of us Brahmins” (somasya tvā dyumnenābhiṣiñcāmy anger bhrājasā sūryasya va[r]‌casendrasyendriyeṇa kṣatrāṇāṃ kṣatrapater ārghāditi [?] dyun pāhi | imaṃ devā asapatna[ṃ] sa[u]vadhvaṃ mahate kṣatrāya mahate jyeṣṭhāya mahate jānarājyāyendrasyendriyāya imam amuṣya putram amuṣyai putramasyai viśa eṣa vo[_​]mī rājā somo ‘smākaṃ brāhmaṇānāṃ rājeti |” (Bhattacharya, Rājadharmakaustubha, 345). Repeated in the Rājanītiprakāśa (Prasad, Vīramitrodaya Rājanītiprakāśa, 65)  and in the Nītimayūkha (Bakre and Lele, The Fifth Mayūkhya, 18), on whose basis I have made emendations to Anantadeva’s text. This mantra is an amalgamation of Taittirīyasaṃhitā 1.8.14g–​i and Vājasaneyisaṃhitā 9.40. See Heesterman (The Ancient Indian Royal Consecration, 114–​15) for variants of these verses and their place in the rājasūya proper. In the Rājadharmakaustubha Anantadeva gives variant mantras from each of the four Vedas. 70. In his translation of the Baudhāyanaśrautasūtra Kashikar translates suvarṇaṁ śatātṛṇṇam (12.10) as “the golden sheet with 100 pores.” Heesterman calls it a “plaque” (Ancient Indian Royal Consecration, 107–​8, 114–​15). The Aitareyabrāhmaṇa consecrations are comparable here. The punarabhiṣeka (Aitareyabrāhmaṇa 8.6–​7) requires that the waters pass through an udumbara branch, while the aindra mahābhiṣeka (Aitareyabrāhmaṇa 8.18) supplies a golden strainer. 71. For instance, the comparison with the rājasūya does not explain the series of baths with clay and pañcagavya (appendix 4.2, steps 6–​7). Furthermore the order of consecrations in the rājyābhiṣeka differs significantly from that of the rājasūya. In the latter the 100-​hole vessel is placed over the king prior to the fourfold consecration, whereas in the former it occurs afterward. Additionally the placement of the 100-​hole vessel appears to precede another set of ablutions (step 16) using a series of different types of waters (mixed with herbs, perfume, seeds, flowers, and fruits). Though accompanied by Vedic mantras, these materials are not used in the śrauta rājasūya, mahābhiṣeka, or rājābhiṣeka/​mṛtyusava. On the rājasūya bathing materials see Heesterman, Ancient Indian Royal Consecration, 84–​85. The ingredients of the other two forms of śrauta consecration are given in Tsuchiyama, “Abhiṣeka,” 67–​70.

180

180

Rit es of t he God -K ing

different types of mud (step 6), which he interprets as the symbolic marriage of the king with the earth.72 Nonetheless we can identify a number of these rites with motifs from the yātrā cycle of Varāhamihira. As in the Vedic-​astrological structure, the homa ceremony (step 2)—​here placed at the start of the ritual for reasons that will be explored—​serves as the occasion for a fire divination (step 4). The subsequent bath of clay (step 6) is also characteristic of Varāhamihira’s “Victory Bath.”73 So far, then, the “preliminary” portion of the rājyābhiṣeka sets up an inverted yātrā structure, placing the homa and fire divination first, followed by the purifying bath of clay, anticipating the sequence of homa-​abhiṣeka. This brings us to the most important discrepancy raised by Inden’s Vedic-​Purāṇic reading of this ritual: the recitation of the “rājasūya mantra” quoted above does not accompany the fourfold aspersion as it does in the original rājasūya, but instead highlights a new actor, the purohita, who consecrates the king with a water pot containing the “dregs” of the fire sacrifice (saṃpātavantaṃ kalaśam). These details at the very heart of the supposedly Vedic portion of the rājyābhiṣeka are certainly not found in the solemn ritual texts. A new aspersion technique has displaced the older forms and is now featured alongside the venerable mantra of the rājasūya. The detail of the dregs refers to an earlier part of the ritual (steps 2 and 3): The śānti belonging to Indra is to be performed by the purohita prior to it (i.e. the scheduled hour of the abhiṣeka). When the day of the abhiṣeka has arrived, the purohita, fasting, wearing a turban, dressed in white, adorned with white sandal paste, wearing a white garland and sacrificial string, and all sorts of ornaments, preparing the altar according to rule, should make an offering [while reciting] mantras addressed to Viṣṇu, Indra, Sūrya, the Viśvedevas and Soma, according to rule. And [he should make offerings reciting] the śarmavarman gaṇa, the svastyayana gaṇa, and also the āyuṣya, abhaya, and aparājita [gaṇas]. He should prepare a golden pot filled with the dregs [of those offerings].74

72. Inden, “Ritual, Authority,” 61–​62. 73. See c­ hapter 3. Together with the pañcagavya (step 7), the clay bath would come to form a standard part of adhivāsana ceremonies. 74. kāryā paurandarī śāntiḥ prāg evāsya purodhasā | prāpte ‘bhiṣekadivase sopavāsaḥ purohita || 1 || soṣṇīṣaḥ śvetavasanaḥ sitacandanabhūṣitaḥ | sitamālyopavītaś ca sarvābharaṇabhūṣitaḥ || 2 || vedim ullikhya yatnena kṛtvā ca vidhivat tataḥ | juhuyād vaiṣṇavān mantrāṃs tathā śākrān vicakṣaṇaḥ || 3 || sāvitrān vaiśvadevāṃś ca saumyāṃś ca vidhivat tataḥ | śarmavarmagaṇaṃ caiva tathā svastyayanaṃ gaṇam || 4 || āyuṣyam abhayaṃ caiva tathā caivāparājitam | saṃpātavantaṃ kalaśaṃ tathā kuryāc ca kāñcanam || 5 || VDhP 2.19 || See Losch, Rājadharma, 284–​85. The chapter, prior to the rājyābhiṣeka proper, is titled “Appeasement of Indra” (puraṃdaraśānti).

18



Kingship in a Portentous Age

181

The “śānti belonging to Indra” may refer to the aindrī variant of the Atharvan mahāśānti. The exegetical tradition assumed the full performance of this variant as a preliminary to the inauguration.75 Indologists have likewise correctly labeled the ritual an “introductory ceremony” but have thereby divorced it from their analysis of the main consecration.76 What has not been explained is the basic congruity between śānti rituals like the mahāśānti and the specific type of aspersion carried out by the purohita in the rājyābhiṣeka. Given our familiarity with śānti rituals, however, the correspondence should be clear: Like Varāhamihira, the Viṣṇudharmottara here employs the five Atharvan mantra gaṇas prescribed in the royal puṣyābhiṣeka.77 As in the Atharvan rituals, here the dregs (saṃpāta) of this offering are placed in the water pot used by the purohita to consecrate the king during the so-​called Vedic portion of the consecration (see steps 3, 11, 12). This explains why, unlike in Varāhamihira’s ritual sequence, the homa has been placed at the start of the ritual, since its dregs are required for the subsequent abhiṣeka (Varāhamihira:  bali-​abhiṣeka-​homa; Viṣṇudharmottara:  homa-​ abhiṣeka). The Vedic portion of the rājyābhiṣeka (steps 8–​17), then, should be redescribed as a revision in the Atharvan style—​rather than a mere repetition—​ of the older solemn rājasūya. Or, more strongly: it is an Atharvan puṣyābhiṣeka that incorporates motifs from the rājasūya and non-​Atharvan experts, without compromising the centrality of the purohita. Turning to the Purāṇic sequence of the ritual (steps 18–​20), the key moment occurs at step 19: 75.  According to Viṣṇudharmottara’s description of the mahāśānti variants, the aindrī śānti is “recommended  .  .  .  when the (royal) consecration is imminent” (bhavyiṣyati abhiṣeke  .  .  .  śāntir aindrī praśasyate) (VDhP 2.133.10). Anantadeva (Bhattacharya, Rājadharmakaustubha, 264–​319) and Nīlakaṇṭha (Bakre and Lele, The Fifth Mayūkhya, 8–​16) likewise agree that a full mahāśānti ritual precedes the rājyābhiṣeka. These sources also follow, in rather meticulous detail, the instruction for the mahāśānti as recorded in the Śāntikalpa and thus provide the best available exegesis for that text, whose performance is said to last for six days. Since the mahāśānti itself culminates in a ritual aspersion, the rājyābhiṣeka described in Viṣṇudharmottara would then have entailed an additional aspersion prior to the main, “double” bath of the rājyābhiṣeka. A similar construction is attested in the simpler rājyābhiṣeka (from the Brahma and Nīlamata purāṇas), which also required the mahāśānti ritual as a prerequisite: ādau kṛtvā mahāśāntiṃ puṇyāṃ vaināyikīṃ śubhām | grahaśāntiṃ tathā śreṣṭhāṃ tṛtīyām āhutiṃ [Ādipurāṇa:  adbhutāṃ] tathā || (Aiyangar, Rājadharmakāṇḍa 10, quoting Brahmapurāṇa; cf. Ādipurāṇa, lines 262829). The mention of vināyaka and the planets Grahas likely indicates the preliminary rituals of the mahāśānti. 76. Inden, “Ritual, Authority,” 60–​61; Law, Aspects of Ancient Indian Polity, 198–​200; Aiyangar, Rājadharmakāṇḍa, 31; Bhattacharya, Rājadharmakaustubha (xv). All of these scholars stress the preliminary nature of the aindrī-​śānti. 77. The same gaṇas are also prescribed at the corresponding juncture in the “simple” form of rājyābhiṣeka in the Brahma/​Nīlamata Purāṇa, suggesting that the earlier Purāṇic version was based on the Atharvan prototype. See verses 841–​42 of the Nīlamatapurāṇa, and lines 2632–​33

182

182

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Likewise, the astrologer—​himself taking from (?)  the king a firm, new, golden pot, which contains a mixture of water, all herbs, all perfumes, jewels, seeds, fruits and flowers; reinforced, its neck wrapped with a white string; closed over with plates, mangoes, and white cloth, well adorned; draped with milk-​wood creepers—​[should consecrate the king]. At the conclusion of the mantra he should give the pot away.78 This final consecratory act of the rājyābhiṣeka is punctuated by the recitation of a lengthy mantra of 185 verses, which is only mentioned here (“at the conclusion of the mantra”) but is recorded in full in the following chapter of the text (VDhP 2.22).79 The massive mantra requests, in order, the entire pantheon of deities to consecrate the king (the operative verb being abhiṣiñcantu, occurring fifty-​ four times). It opens, “May the gods, Brahman, Viṣṇu, Śiva consecrate you! May Vāsudeva, Lord of the Universe, lord Saṅkarṣaṇa, Pradyumna and Aniruddha be for [your] victory!”80 But although it begins with these ostensibly Hindu gods—​ including the four emanations (vyūhas) of the Vaiṣṇava Pāñcarātra tradition—​ the mantra then names an encyclopedic list of entities that could be described as properly Vedic (the maruts, ādityas, etc.) cosmic (Nakṣatras, planets), or quasi-​ Śaivite (the Mātṛs), and it includes semidivine humans (sages and kings), abstract principles (time itself ), sacred texts (vedas, purāṇas, etc.), cows, as well as tīrthas (pilgrimage sites) and rivers. The list of rivers receives particular emphasis, taking up no fewer than twenty verses. And these seem to carry logical significance, for the mantra concludes, “May these and other rivers, these pure waters, these means of appeasing all sins, these mothers of all the world, consecrate you, Lord of Kings, with pots filled with their own waters!”81

of the Ādipurāṇa. The text of the Brahmapurāṇa (Aiyangar, Rājadharmakāṇḍa, 10) cites apratiratha (=aparājita), satyadharma (=śarmavarma), āyuṣya, abhaya, and svastyayana. 78.  saṃmiśrajalamiśritam || 24d || sarvauṣadhiyutaṃ puṇyaṃ sarvagandhayutaṃ tathā | ratnabījasamāyuktaṃ phalabīja[puṣpa]yutaṃ tathā || 25 || ūrjitaṃ sitasūtreṇa veṣṭitagrīvam eva ca | śvetavastrāmrapatraiś ca saṃvītaṃ suvibhūṣitam || 26 || kṣīravṛkṣalatāchannaṃ sudṛḍhaṃ kāñcanaṃ navam | ādāya kalaśaṃ rājñaḥ svayaṃ sāṃvatsaras tathā || 27 || mantrāvasāne kalaśaṃ dadyād bhṛgukulodbhava | 28ab | VDhP 2.21 | See Losch, Rājadharma, 289. Emendation based on Bhattacharya, Rājadharmakaustubha, 323. 79. On a similar mantra found in the Śivadharmaśāstra, see Bisschop, “Invoking the Powers.” 80. VDhP 2.22: surās tvām abhiṣiñcantu brahmaviṣṇumaheśvarāḥ | vāsudevo jagannāthas tathā saṅkarṣaṇo vibhuḥ || 4 || pradyumnaś cāniruddhaś ca bhavantu vijayāya ca | 5ab | 81.  etāś cānyāś ca rājendra nadyas tvāṃ vividhodakāḥ | sarvapāpapraśamanāḥ sarvalokasya mātaraḥ | svatīrthapuṇyaiḥ kalaśair abhiṣiñcantu pārthiva ||183|| VDhP 2.22 ||

183



Kingship in a Portentous Age

183

Despite its length, the abhiṣeka mantra of the Viṣṇudharmottara is stylistically identical to the shorter mantra from Varāhamihira’s puṣyasnāna, which also invokes a host of deities to consecrate (abhiṣiñcantu) the king.82 Recall that Varāhamihira’s instruction requires that these deities have been previously summoned to receive pūjā. Viṣṇudharmottara appears also to utilize this logic of exchange, for although their pūjā is not specified in the text, the divine agents named in the abhiṣeka mantra are often said to have “come together” for the consecration.83 Likewise the final verses of each mantra are nearly identical. Varāhamihira’s mantra reads, “May these and many other auspicious [gods] famed for their merit consecrate you with waters that remove all calamities, just as Indra was consecrated with those [waters], pleasing to the mind.”84 Here the waters are called sarvotpātanibarhaṇa, literally “the means for removing (or destroying) all calamities.” This phrase can be compared to two similar statements in the mantra of the rājyābhiṣeka. First, after a long list of tīrthas: “May these and other auspicious [tīrthas], famed for their merit, consecrate you with waters that destroy all sins.”85 Second, in the final verse of the mantra, translated earlier. I will discuss the juxtaposition of sins and omens proposed by this comparison, but, bracketing this difference for a moment, note that these two terms are functionally (and metrically) equivalent. It seems clear, then, that the consecratory mantra of the Purāṇic rājyābhiṣeka forms an expanded version of the mantra employed by Varāhamihira in his puṣyasnāna. In fact the brief chapter that follows this mantra claims that it should be recited both for the king’s consecration and also for the Prosperity Bath (puṣyasnāna), implying the equivalence of both mantras and, by extension, their respective aspersion rituals.86 That this mantra,

82. See ­chapter 3. 83.  The participle “gathered” samāgatāḥ occurs ten times, while related absolutives, “having come together” (samāgamya, sametya), occur four times. 84.  ete cānye ca bahavaḥ puṇyasaṅkīrtanāḥ śubhaiḥ || toyais tvām abhiṣiñcantu sarvotpātanibarhaṇaiḥ | yathābhiṣikto maghavān etair muditamānasaiḥ || 69c–​70 || BS 47 || The term muditamānasaiḥ may alternatively refer to the gods, whose minds are pleased by the acts of worship they have received. 85. ete cānye ca bahavaḥ puṇyasaṅkīrtanāḥ śubhāḥ | toyais tvām abhiṣiñcantu sarvapātakanāśanaiḥ || 165c-​166b || VDhP 2.22 || The two mantras are nearly identical with the exception of śubhaiḥ/​ śubhāḥ in the b pāda. 86.  “[These mantras] are to be honored by those desiring good, on the consecration-​day of kings, and at the Prosperity Bath, and also at the two conjunctions of the year” (abhiṣekadine rājñāṃ puṣyasnāne tathaiva ca || tathā saṃvatsaragranthau sarve pūjyā hitaiṣiṇā | 9c–​10b | VDhP 2.23 |). The passage concludes a long praise of the consecratory mantra of VDhP 22.

184

184

Rit es of t he God -K ing

and the aspersion it accompanies, is performed by the astrologer (sāṃvatsara) himself in fact seems to fulfill the astrological-​ritual agenda pursued by Varāhamihira. One last detail must be addressed. The astrologer’s aspersion (step 19 quoted above) makes use of a ritually prepared water pot, much like the water pots used in the puṣyasnāna.87 Inden takes this pot to suggest that “the golden water jar, anthropomorphically adorned and dressed, honoured and empowered, has itself been made into a microcosmic image of the Cosmic Man.”88 Such an interpretation seems based on the alternate reading of pūjitaṃ in the passage. The reading itself is dubious; the published version of the Viṣṇudharmottarapurāṇa reads ūrjitam (“strengthened” or “fortified”).89 Pūjitaṃ could certainly be taken to specify that the jar has been “worshipped.” The exegetical tradition concurs; it interpreted this word as prescribing a full service of worship to be rendered to the pot.90 Yet even if we agree on this reading, there is little indication in the immediate text or in the commentarial tradition that the object of veneration in the pot is, as Inden claims, Viṣṇu as the “Cosmic Man.” It would seem more consistent with the actual contents of the abhiṣeka mantra, and the ritual precedent of the puṣyasnāna, to suggest that the astrologer’s pot is thought to contain all the various powers of the cosmos—​especially the rivers and tīrthas—​rather than the presence or powers of one specific god.91 This difference in interpretation is crucial, for Inden’s reading informs his claim that the ritual instills Viṣṇu’s “luminous will” (tejas) in the king. In contrast to Inden’s theological reading, however, the ritual history of the text points to an apotropaic interpretation. The reference to “sin appeasement” in the consecratory mantra confirms that the waters represent a non-​Atharvan (or non-​Vedic) successor to the earlier śānti waters. In this way the astrologer’s śānti pot, wielded by (or perhaps even containing) the gods and tīrthas, forms the counterpart, the “Purāṇic twin,” of the Vedic/​Atharvan śānti pot earlier used by the purohita (prepared with mantra gaṇas and saṃpātas). The astrologer’s consecration therefore demonstrates the complete assimilation of the Atharvan

This reference suggests that the authors of Viṣṇudharmottara are aware of the place of the puṣyasnāna in the lineage of the rājyābhiṣeka. 87. Cf. BS 47.37–​42. 88. Inden, “Ritual, Authority,” 71. 89. VDhP 2.21.26a. See Losch, Rājadharma, 71. 90.  Anantadeva:  pūjitaṃ sarvato gandhādyabhyarcitam (Bhattacharya, Rājadharmakaustubha, 323). 91. This “cosmic” rather than specifically “Vaiṣṇava” interpretation is confirmed by the following chapter of Viṣṇudharmottara (2.23). That text praises the consecration mantra itself, and in particular the tīrthas and rivers mentioned therein. It makes no reference to Viṣṇu.

185



Kingship in a Portentous Age

185

śānti water technique by a non-​Vedic, astrological group. All of this suggests that the “Purāṇic” rājyābhiṣeka—​even in its most “Purāṇic” parts—​was modeled on the puṣyasnāna/​abhiṣeka, an apotropaic consecration ultimately deriving from late Vedic Atharvan types but subsequently appropriated by Jyotiḥśāstra. Striking from the historical perspective is how the Atharvan techniques, which were seemingly muted by Varāhamihira, have been reinstated in the first part of Viṣṇudharmottara’s rājyābhiṣeka. As a result the entire structure of the ritual seems riveted by a tension—​not between Vedic yajña and Hindu pūjā but rather between the purohita and the sāṃvatsara, each carrying out his own model of apotropaic aspersion. The Atharvan model is faithfully preserved in the purohita’s aspersion with Atharvan mantra gaṇas and saṃpātas.92 The astrological model is recapitulated in the astrologer’s aspersion, when, at the precise moment of consecration, a non-​Vedic mantra is recited, commanding the gods, who have gathered together, to consecrate the king, following Varāhamihira’s precedent. It seems, therefore, that one underlying principle in the design of the rājyābhiṣeka is to include as many ritual specialists as possible: the older śrauta specialists, the late Vedic purohita, and the post-​Vedic astrologer. Yet within this set of officials there remains a hierarchy:  the purohita and the astrologer appear in positions of greatest prominence, with emphasis on the latter. Thus the ritual distinctions I have described here may have less to do with theological commitments and more to do with the growing circle of ritual authority in the early medieval period.93 Needless to say, ritual meaning is as a rule difficult to fix, even when we limit our observations solely to those meanings named or implied by the ritual prescriptions. A  ritual as complex as the rājyābhiṣeka is a case in point; it amalgamates numerous ritual actors and techniques, each potentially assuming a different ritual logic. As I mentioned in c­ hapter 2, the royal śrauta consecrations had as their primary function the empowerment of the king. They endowed the king with various powers, enumerated at length in the brāhmaṇa texts, sometimes as abstract principles, sometimes as attributes associated with specific Vedic gods, and sometimes as qualities inhering in the consecratory substances. These powers were also named in the mantras that accompanied the aspersions. Consider the attributes named in the mantra from the rājasūya (and repeated during the rājyābhiṣeka): “the glory

92.  Note that beginning with the simple version of the rājyābhiṣeka the texts add, in addition to the five Atharvan gaṇas, mantras dedicated to a number of gods, such as (in the Nīlamatapurāṇa verses 842–​43) Viṣṇu, Indra, Sūrya, Brahman, Rudra, and Varuṇa. None of these deities is mentioned in the puṣyābhiṣeka of AVPŚ 5. 93. In fact this reading follows more closely Inden, “Changes in the Vedic Priesthood.”

186

186

Rit es of t he God -K ing

(dyuman) of Soma, the brilliance (tejas) of Agni, the splendor (varcas) of Sūrya, the power (indriya) of Indra, the strength (vīrya) of Mitra-​Varuṇa, the force (ojas) of the Maruts.”94 The mantras used in other śrauta consecrations are comparable.95 As the rājasūya mantra suggests, in the classical forms of royal abhiṣeka the consecratory waters themselves often possess these powers and hence may have been thought to transfer them to the king’s body. A  passage from the Aitareyabrāhmaṇa explains the mahābhiṣeka mixture as follows: By sprinkling the king with curds, the priest makes his senses sharp; for curds represent the sharpness of the senses in the world. By sprinkling him with honey, the priest makes him vigorous; for honey is the vigour in herbs and trees. By sprinkling him with clarified butter, he bestows upon him splendour; for clarified butter is the brightness of cattle. By sprinkling

94.  somasya tvā dyumnenābhi ṣiñcāmy agneḥ tejasā sūryasya varcasendrasyendriyeṇa mitrāvaruṇayor vīryeṇa marutām ojasā | TS 1.8.14g | See Heesterman, Ancient Indian Royal Consecration, 115. As Tsuchiyama notes, this mantra appears to multiply the powers bestowed by consecration, when compared to the consecratory mantra of the Atharvaveda (AVŚ 4.8): “The close relationship of the water for sprinkling with the power of varcas seen in the AV is no longer a central feature of abhiṣeka in the YV and the Brāhmaṇas; varcas in the new context becomes merely one of the powers which are to be bestowed on the king when sprinkled upon (anointed)” (“Abhiṣeka in the Vedic and post-​Vedic Rituals,” 57). Note the distinction in this comparison between the splendor of the waters (in the AVŚ) and the various powers of the gods (TS). 95.  Nonetheless the Vedic consecratory mantras are not necessarily identical in terms of emphasis. The two other mantras to consider are Aitareyabrāhmaṇa 8.7.2–​5, used for both the punarabhiṣeka (reconsecration, Aitareyabrāhmaṇa 8.5–​7) and the mahābhiṣeka (Aitareyabrāhmaṇa 8.15–​19), and Taittirīyabrāhmaṇa 2.7.15.4–​5, used in the rājābhiṣeka/​ mṛtyusava, the simpler royal consecration of the Yajurveda. Both of these mantras are composites. Aitareyabrāhmaṇa 8.7.2–​5: “These waters are most auspicious, cures for all; these are increasers of the kingdom; these nectars (amṛtāḥ) bear the kingdom. I consecrate you with those waters with which Prajāpati consecrated Indra, Soma, king Varuṇa, Yama, Manu. Become the overlord of kings in this world! The divine mother bore you great ruler of great peoples. The excellent mother bore [you]. In the impulse of god Savitṛ I consecrate you with the arms of the Aśvins, the hands of Puṣān, the brilliance of Agni, the splendor of Sūrya, the power of Indra, for strength, for fortune, for fame, for the consumption of food.” The mantra here clearly falls into three parts; it begins by praising the waters and reenacting of the divine consecration, followed by the introduction of birthing motifs. Both of these parts clearly refer to the investiture of the king into the office of kingship. The final part repeats and expands the mantra of the rājasūya, which reintroduces the various divine powers. The coda “for strength, fortune, fame, food” reinforces the notion of investment. Taittirīyabrāhmaṇa 2.7.15.4–​5 redeploys the same splendor (varcas) of the “milk-​waters” from the mantra of the AVŚ (see previous note) but introduces the theme of a consecration with the Vedic meters “chandasā” from the four directions.

187



Kingship in a Portentous Age

187

him with water, he makes him free from death; for waters represent in this world the drinking of immortality.96 Such passages may amount to speculative rationalizations, but they make obvious the general principle of the śrauta ritual: the transference to the king’s person of qualities inhering in the consecratory substances.97 At the risk of taking such explanations too literally, we can see by comparison how the mood of royal consecration rituals might have changed by the early medieval period, once the mantra gaṇas of the Atharvan school were, so to speak, added to the mix. I have noted that the logic of the reversal of malefic influences was fundamental to Atharvan śānti. The names of the mantra gaṇas employed in the mahāśānti suggest that the waters produced by the rite (through their dregs) are thought to contain a variety of qualities that are most often protective in nature. Following the puṣyābhiṣeka, the purohita’s waters in the rājyābhiṣeka are made with five gaṇas named as follows:  “longevity” (āyuṣya), “auspicious progress” (svastyayana), “no-​danger” (abhaya), “unconquered” (aparājita), and “protective cover” (śarmavarman). These are the “qualities” that may be said to inhere in the mixture contained in the purohita’s water pot. They must somehow cooperate with the qualities of the older śrauta consecration waters that are invoked when the chaplain recites the mantra from the rājasūya: Soma’s glory, Agni’s brilliance, Sūrya’s splendor, and so forth. In this way even the Vedic phase of the consecration is at best a hybrid, simultaneously protecting and empowering the king. As I have emphasized, “protection” here carries an undeniably astrological aspect, carried forward from the earlier mahāśānti and reiterated in Varāhamihira’s puṣya bath, which is said to apply especially to the appearance of omens and other disasters and whose mantra describes the bathing waters as a “means for removing all omens” (sarvotpātanibarhaṇa). From this angle the assimilation of both Atharvan and astrological versions of puṣya in the rājyābhiṣeka entails the notion of astrological appeasement. There is also evidence of expiation at work in the rājyābhiṣeka. The astrologer’s mantra twice repeats the final verse of Varāhamihira’s mantra, almost 96. Haug, The Aitareya Brahmanam, 359. A similar and much longer passage describing the qualities of the consecratory waters of the rājasūya can be found in the Śatapathabrāhmaṇa (5.3.4). In Eggling’s translation the passage begins, “He collects (various kinds of ) water. The reason why he collects water is that—​water being vigour—​he thereby collects vigour, the essence of the waters. In a vessel of udumbara wood—​the udumbara being sustenance (that is) food: hence in an udumbara vessel (he mixes the different liquids)” (The Satapatha-​Brâhmana, 3:73). 97. A similar passage in the same text gives a different interpretation: “As to curds, honey, and melted butter, they represent the liquid (essence) in the waters and herbs. The priest, therefore, places the essence of the waters and the herbs in him” Haug, The Aitareya Brahmanam, 349.

18

188

Rit es of t he God -K ing

verbatim, except that it substitutes the term “means for appeasing all sins” (sarvapātakapraśamana) for “means for removing all omens.”98 This substitution lays emphasis on the expiatory nature of the king’s consecration, one that is nonetheless compatible with astrological thinking, since, like omens, the sins are “appeased.” The text offers an additional detail confirming this interpretation and suggesting the integration of appeasement and atonement at the practical level. After each of the two aspersions, the text says that the water pot should be given away. The language is most direct in the astrologer’s case: “O descendant of Bhṛgu! At the end of the mantra he should give the pot [away].”99 A corresponding gift is prescribed earlier in the ritual, after the consecration by the purohita: “With these [mantras] he should give [the pot], O you of great fortune, with the sound of brahmins.”100 Given our earlier study of the mahādānas, I view this detail as an example of atonement through gifting, according to which the sins of the king are somehow “physically” transferred to the recipient.101 If this interpretation is correct, mahādāna and rājyābhiṣeka would appear symmetrically related: the Great Gift instructions highlight the gift but assume an aspersion; the Royal Inauguration highlights the aspersion while assuming a gift. Furthermore the incorporation of expiatory gifting (dāna) at both aspersions would substantiate the descriptions of the consecratory waters as “sin-​appeasers” (rather than “omen-​removers”)—​a further illustration of Varāhamihira’s causal link between sins, portents, and misfortune. This expiatory logic is confirmed by the brief (thirteen-​verse) chapter that follows the lengthy consecratory mantra (VDhP 2.23). The text repeatedly praises the mantric verses (and also the tīrthas

98. VDhP 2.22.167 and 183. 99. mantrāvasāne kalaśaṃ dadyāt bhṛgukulodbhava | VDhP 2.22.28ab | 100. tais tu dadyāt mahābhāga brāhmaṇānāṃ svanena tu | VDhP 2.22.13ab | Or, “he should give it to the brahmins”? 101. This would explain why the astrologer takes the pot directly “from the king” (rājñeḥ). Or perhaps the pots are thought to contain the remains of the waters used to bathe the king? To be sure, the precise means of this physical transfer is unclear, as is the identity of the recipient in either case. Yet there seems to be little alternative explanation for why these two consecratory acts in particular—​the two that were directly modeled on śānti rituals—​would prescribe the donation of the pots, except by considering them to be analogous to the hybrid “appeasement-​ gifts.” None of the many other pots used in the rājyābhiṣeka is explicitly given away immediately after it is used. Note in this connection that water pots are popular gifts in the mainstream tradition of dāna:  one of the sixteen mahādānas prescribed in Matsyapurāṇa is called the “Gift of a Pot of the Elements” (mahābhūtaghaṭadāna) (MtP189). Similarly, in the “Gift of the Golden Embryo” (hiraṇyagarbha) (MtP 275), the large vessel representing the “seed” or “womb” of Brahmā, in which the king is ceremonially bathed, is also given away at the end of the king’s bath. See ­chapter 2.

189



Kingship in a Portentous Age

189

and rivers listed there) for their capacity to destroy sin.102 Again such comments amount to more than poetic adjectives; they may in fact describe ritual effects. All of this leads to the conclusion that both Atharvan and astrological phases of the Royal Inauguration are, like the Great Gifts, doubly effective: explicitly the rites remove the king’s personal sin (sarvapātakapraśamana), and implicitly they protect him from dangerous astrological influences (sarvotpātanibarhaṇa). It is this complex “double” notion of consecration—​appeasement and atonement—​ that operates side by side with the earlier śrauta notions of royal empowerment. Since śrauta motifs were selectively preserved in the rājyābhiṣeka, we may assume that some idea of the aspersion as a positive conferral of powers remained applicable. Even so, we have seen that the empowering message of the rājasūya mantra was already diluted in the purohita’s consecration by the use of śānti waters. Likewise the astrologer’s consecration further attenuates the older theories. For in the astrologer’s mantra the naming of the gods is no longer accompanied by a specification of their powers (as it was in the rājasūya). Only their presence, it seems, is required to ensure the (now expiatory) effect of the sprinkling. What has perhaps been lost in this newer aspersion is some of the poetry of the śrauta-​era consecratory waters. The expansive array of godly powers—​glory (dyuman), brilliance (tejas), splendor (varcas), power (indriya), strength (vīrya), force (ojas)—​is nowhere to be found in the astrologer’s mantra. Instead this rich Vedic vocabulary for empowerment is reduced to the single promise of victory (jaya), the only positive outcome offered by the ceremony.103 This outcome too can hardly be said to derive from divine transference, but rather from the removal of the king’s sin and misfortune. To reiterate: On the one hand the śrauta consecrations contribute to an image of the king as a being endowed with the various powers of the gods, an image thereafter enshrined in the early Dharmaśāstric tradition.104 To the extent that 102. I count six references to the sin-​destroying effects of the mantra and/​or the places mentioned therein: VDhP 2.23.1, 2, 4, 5, 11, 12. 103.  I  have found at least eleven variants of “victory” in the mantra. The notion of powers associated with specific consecratory substances is perhaps taken up in the consecration by the Yajurvedic expert at step 16 of my summary, where the king is bathed with a series of different substances, each accompanied by a separate mantra. Perhaps this suggests a division of labor: these “Vedic” waters empower, whereas the late and post-​Vedic waters protect. 104.  For instance, Manu:  “When the world was kingless, overrun on all sides by danger (bhaya), the lord (Brahman) created the king for the sake of the protection of all beings, gathering up the eternal elements of Indra, Anila (Vāyu), Yama, Arka, Agni, Varuṇa, Candra and Vitteśa (Kubera). Since the king was fashioned from the elements of these gods, therefore, he surpasses all beings by his luster (tejas). So like Āditya he burns the eyes and minds [of all beings], and indeed, none whatsoever in the world is able to look upon him. Let him be Agni, Vāyu, Arka, Soma, Dharmarāṭ (Yama), Kubera, Varuṇa, Mahendra, according to his might”

190

190

Rit es of t he God -K ing

motifs from these earlier aspersions were preserved in the rājyābhiṣeka, we can say that the ritual empowered him. On the other hand it is the later apotropaic consecrations that contribute overwhelmingly to the design of the ritual. These derive their positive effects (victory, safety, health) from the reversal of harmful influences. Even if the rājyābhiṣeka can be said to empower or perfect the king, it does so negatively, by removing sin and preventing inauspiciousness.

Kingship in a Portentous Age At the start of his description of the puṣyasnāna, Varāhamihira announces that the protection of the king has statewide consequences: “The king is the root of the tree of [his] subjects. Misfortune and fortune arise (respectively) from his injury and his fortification. Hence from this [reasoning] there should be concern for the king’s person.”105 That just such a “fortifying” consecration became the central format of the royal coronation suggests that the office of kingship itself may have been retheorized within this astrological idiom. Here the king’s authority may derive less from his supposed identification with the gods or his investment with their multifarious powers than from his ritually perpetuated state of sinlessness and immunity from inauspiciousness. In this view it is above all his status as a repository of auspiciousness (i.e., freedom from inauspiciousness) that enables him, as the “root” of his subjects, to ensure the safety (abhaya) of the kingdom. Perhaps it is such safety that the king “redistributes” to his subjects in the second half of the ceremony, when, after he is crowned and enthroned, he is presented (darśayet) to his subjects (step 30). Indeed numerous versions of the simpler rājyābhiṣeka confirm this point, after the enthroned king has paid his sacrificial fee (dakṣiṇā) to the priests: “and he should bestow complete safety on all beings.”106 Here “safety” may be understood in terms of an astrological reformulation of the king’s basic duty to

(arājake hi loke ‘smin sarvato vidruto bhayāt | rakṣārtham asya sarvasya rājānam asṛjat prabhuḥ || indrānilayamārkāṇām agneś ca varuṇasya ca | candravitteśayoś caiva mātrā nirhṛtya śāśvatīḥ || yasmād eṣāṃ surendrāṇāṃ mātrābhyo nirmito nṛpaḥ | tasmād abhibhavaty eṣa sarvabhūtāni tejasā || tapaty ādityavac caiṣa cakṣūṃṣi ca manāṃsi ca | na cainaṃ bhuvi śaknoti kaś cid apy abhivīkṣitum || so ‘gnir bhavati vāyuś ca so ‘rkaḥ somaḥ sa dharmarāṭ | sa kuberaḥ sa varuṇaḥ sa mahendraḥ prabhāvataḥ || MDh 7.3–​7 ||). The origin of kingship proposed by Manu, and supported by other Dharmaśāstric sources, is repeated for instance by Lakṣmīdhara, who quotes the above passage from Manu and replicates similar dharma texts (e.g., from the Nāradasmṛti) in “Praise of the King” (rājapraśaṁsā), the first section of his Rājadharmakāṇḍa (Aiyangar, 2–​8). 105. mūlaṃ manujādhipatiḥ prajātaros tad upaghātasaṃskārāt | aśubhaṃ śubhaṃ ca loke bhavati yato ato nṛpaticintā || BS 47.1 || 106.  abhayaṃ sarvabhūtebhyaḥ samyak tatra dadāti ca | (Aiyangar, Rājadharmakāṇḍa, 12 = Ādipurāṇa line 2725. Also compare Nīlamatapurāṇa verse 860d: abhayaṃ caiva ghoṣayet |

19



Kingship in a Portentous Age

191

protect (pālana, rakṣaṇa) his subjects (prajā). As we have seen in Varāhamihira’s “Chapter on Omens,” the astrological tradition reconceived of all possible dangers to the state within a comprehensive scheme of omen classification while reiterating the king’s responsibility to remove these dangers ritually. This acutely astrological interpretation of kingship helps to explain the highly iterative nature of royal bathing rituals in this period, since, theoretically speaking, bathing rituals could be correlated with temporal inauspiciousness.107 Repetitive aspersion was necessary because the recurrence of misfortune was an inevitable aspect of the cosmic order—​at least as inevitable as human misdeeds. Periods of inauspiciousness were thus at the very least frequent, if not entirely predictable. Already Varāhamihira had fully expected the continual manifestation of omens in the form of “irregularities” in nature. The more omens specified by astrologers, the more appeasements required by the king and state. Bad times were good for the business of śānti. This point forcefully illustrates the essential difference between apotropaic aspersions and their earlier empowering predecessors. The latter may be described as “rites of passage” (saṁskāras) insofar as they bestow on the recipient a particular status or competence (in this case, kingship). Consequently the earlier royal consecrations were comparable to the earlier dīkṣā of the soma ceremony, and the later upanayana from the gṛhyasūtras, rituals that prepared their subjects to occupy a given position (student, householder, etc.). By creating such “qualified” persons, they brought about primarily social effects. More important, they were effectively permanent, not requiring repetition except in those cases—​loss of caste due to impurity, loss of kingdom due to political upheaval—​when the duties of the qualified actor were interrupted. Despite their eventual application to the king’s inauguration, however, apotropaic aspersions were not mere rites of passage but circumstantial adjustments to inauspicious occasions. Each ritual was effective for one situation. However hyperbolic the claims for their powers may have been, there could be no permanent state of auspiciousness in the system of ritual appeasement, only an endless series of ritual reactions. Thus while the rājyābhiṣeka retains some of the saṁskāra-​like quality of the rājasūya, producing a king who was “qualified to rule,” it initiated him into an endless series of ritual corrections necessary for the continuity and prosperity of the kingdom. If it can be said to have a social effect, it legitimates the king by recognizing the efficacy of his body in the service of the larger program of constant ritual adjustment, which, in the imagination of the

107. Inden explains the repetition of abhiṣeka in terms of the inherently “entropic” nature of viṣṇutejas (Imagining India, 236).

192

192

Rit es of t he God -K ing

texts, will preoccupy him from the moment of his inauguration.108 Hence apotropaic aspersions might therefore be considered members of the “occasional” (naimittika) subcategory of ritual.109 The rule of śānti could be justified even beyond this occasional logic. Periods of inauspiciousness became a regular aspect of the Hindu calendar, while a corresponding tendency is already evident in the prescriptions for apotropaic consecrations in the Appendices and the Bṛhatsaṃhitā. The ritual of puṣya found in these two texts represents an important watershed in this regard, insofar as it regularizes the apotropaic consecration at monthly intervals. The Appendices likewise fixed apotropaic aspersions throughout the royal calendar, for instance on the king’s birthday (janmadina) and as part of the annual buildup to the war march (nīrājana). Given what we have seen in the most monumental rituals of Purāṇic rājadharma, it should not be surprising that, after describing the rājyābhiṣeka, the second khaṇḍa of the Viṣṇudharmottara leads us through a maze of aspersion rituals, largely corresponding to the plan of the Appendices. In all, the text displays a seemingly reflexive tendency to asperse the king and the members of his extended body. The chapter on the annual schedule of royal rituals (sāṃvatsarikavarṇana) includes a bath on the king’s birthday, a monthly puṣya bath, and a year-​long performance of the koṭihoma (VDhP 2.152). At least once a year a śānti-​style consecration (nīrājana) was also to be performed for his military animals, the royal horse and elephant (VDhP 2.159). As in the Appendices, these regular consecrations supplemented the various mahāśāntis prescribed “irregularly” for the different omens mentioned in the same text (VDhP 132–​44). Beyond the annual schedule borrowed from the Atharvans, Viṣṇudharmottara supplies several baths to cure illness and facilitate childbirth.110 Especially telling is one rather lengthy series of instructions for astrologically timed bathing rites.111 These can roughly be described as Purāṇic adaptations of the earlier Nakṣatra-​ related baths in Varāhamihira’s ritualized yātrā. They usually require bathing the

108. The peculiar ritual importance of kingship is perhaps why the texts pay so much attention to the physical qualities of the king (e.g., VDhP 2.2), for an irregular body may portend ritual inefficacy. The Bṛhatsaṃhitā takes for granted that the king, once recognized and selected, is centralized, insofar as he is the “root” of his subjects. Thus by definition is he able to be both “central” to the kingdom and yet perpetually active (in the ritual protection of his body). This scenario itself would solve the contradiction between immanence and transcendence that Inden proposes in his article. It does not, however, require the king’s divinity. 109. Or alternatively, as revisions of the earlier śrauta notion of reconsecration (punarabhiṣeka), multiplied by astrological timing. 110. See for instance VDhP 2.53–​55, 57, 60, 83, 84, 96, 98–​108. 111. VDhP 2.96–​110.

193



Kingship in a Portentous Age

193

sponsor with waters mixed with various plant substances—​their timing highly attuned to the position of the Nakṣatras and planets. This basic format may be supplemented by the worship of specific deities, especially Viṣṇu and the Nakṣatras, either by pūjā or yajña. Corresponding gifts are also prescribed. Quite often the relevant deities are summoned into the water pots used for the bath, mimicking the ritual logic of mantras used in the puṣyasnāna and the rājyābhiṣeka. In fact one ritual, “The Bath of the Gods of the Directions” (dikpālasnāna), prescribes the recitation of the very same astrologer’s mantra employed in the rājyābhiṣeka and closes with bali offerings to “each of the gods mentioned in the mantra”—​ thus reenacting in reverse order (homa-​abhiṣeka-​bali) Varāhamihira’s scenario of divine exchange.112 The multiplication of these sorts of non-​Vedic aspersions in Viṣṇudharmottara thus seems logically to extend the earlier tendencies of astrological Vedism. Yet even more striking is the repeated claim that these rituals fulfill desires (kāmam avāpnuyāt). The section, which follows a chapter dedicated to the duties of the householder (gṛhasthadharma), opens with the interlocutor, Rāma, asking Puṣkara to tell him about the “desiderative rituals” (kāmyāni) of householders.113 Accordingly the various rituals included in these chapters are said to satisfy all manner of desires, both general and specific, yielding a set of baths that operate in the manner of Purāṇic vows. Again echoing a desiderative impulse in the Śāntikalpa, the Viṣṇudharmottara seems to suggest that astrologically sensitive rituals are not merely compensatory. Even rituals for positive gain (health, childbirth, and conquest) have been channeled through the logic of appeasement.

The Work of the Royal Body Raheja’s critique of Indology was only partly correct: it was not the interpretations of Heesterman and others that were misguided, but the occlusion of post-​Vedic and extra-​Dharmaśāstric sources in their accounts of kingship. There are other texts that perhaps remain “alive and relevant to present-​day village life.” The basic outlines of the theory of kingship presented in the Matsya and Viṣṇudharmottara purāṇas—​that is, in mainstream Hindu texts—​correspond precisely to the socio-​ ritual arrangement announced in the work of Raheja and others. Rather than a

112. VDhP 2.104.97. 113.  karmāṇi śrotum icchāmi kāmyāni gṛhiṇām aham | tvattaḥ samastadharmajña yādogaṇanṛpātmaja || 1 || VDhP 2.96 || Later on he asks again, “Tell me the other desiderative baths! By which bath, O knower of dharma, might one obtain a given desire?” (kāmyāni tvaṃ samācakṣva snānāny anyāni devaja | kena snānena kaṃ kaṃ kāmam avāpnuyāt || 1 || VDhP 2.98).

194

194

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Dumontian hierarchy premised on Brahmanical purity, Purāṇic rājadharma presumes the ritual centrality of the king, and thereby his responsibility to ensure social welfare, defined in astrological terms as a state of auspiciousness. Such auspiciousness can only be negatively achieved, by the removal—​through bathing and gifting—​of inauspiciousness, for which sin is the ultimate cause. Quite apart from an upsurge of Hindu theism, these texts exhibit a profound tension between ritual and omenology that comes to bear on the body of the king. If omens are irregularities in nature, they can manifest anywhere, casting vectors of sin and misfortune to every corner of the cosmos: images, fires, grains, trees, rains, pools, cattle, children, winds. The gaze of the diviner wanders. But arresting all of this centrifugal movement is the centripetal will of the ritualist. Unwieldy nature is bound to the contours of the state, and the state, to the body of the king. Two lines from Varāhamihira summarize our understanding of rājadharma in this portentous age. The first comes from the “Chapter of Omens,” which, as we have seen, has laid the burden of appeasement at the feet of the king: “For the king, fate fructifies in eight ways: in [his] body, sons, treasury, cities, military, wife, purohita, and his people.”114 We have already encountered the second example, the first line of the instruction for the Prosperity Bath:  “The king is the root of the tree of [his] subjects. Misfortune and fortune arise (respectively) from his injury and his fortification. Hence from this [reasoning] there should be concern for the king’s person.” The Arthaśāstra famously defined the kingdom as made up of seven constituents (prakṛtis): lord, ministers, populace, fort, treasury, army, and allies. According to Kauṭilya, which of these constituents was most crucial was a matter of some debate. Nonetheless, from the view of politics, the operation of the state distributes rather evenly among these parts.115 But for Varāhamihira the hierarchical arrangement is much more decisive. Wherever in the larger kingdom fate should manifest its effects, it remains, ultimately, the fate of the king alone and not his subsidiaries. The king’s relationship to his subjects is as a root to the tree; his condition—​physical and otherwise—​is the source of their woe and their fortune. Varāhamihira’s emphasis on the body of the king, then, presents a decisive ritual solution to the unending taxonomies of omens, the theoretically limitless materiality of the signs of suffering. It is not just that the

114.  ātmasutakośavāhanapuradārapurohiteṣu loke ca | pākam upaiti daivaṃ parikalpitam aṣṭadhā nṛpateḥ || BS 45.7 || Bhaṭṭotpala understands this verse as saying that it is the divine portents that manifest in these eight objects. The phrase pākam upaiti would seem to suggest, however, that it is the effect of fate (i.e., misfortune, not the omens) that strikes them. This reading is supported by the rest of the “Chapter on Omens,” which describes the portentous results of the omens among the different parts of the kingdom. 115. AŚ 6.1; Olivelle, King, Governance, and Law, 271–​73.

195



Kingship in a Portentous Age

195

king is responsible for the omens that arise in his realm; in the astrological view his very person is the condition of his realm’s possibility, his health its anxiety (cintā), or as some might put it, his (ritualized) body its politics. Perhaps this is one reason  why aspersion remained the hallmark of the culture of appeasement—​even after the Atharvan monopoly was broken and multiple ritual devices could satisfy śānti. For no other ritual mode could so effectively magnify a single body—​and do so repeatedly—​as abhiṣeka. It is here, then—​in the priestly imagination—​that we will have to part with Inden’s theory of royal abhiṣeka as an investment of agency, however the theists might seek to convince us that the waters carry the liberating will of god. Ritual passes into routine, routine into compulsion, compulsion into reflex. Of whose agency can we speak? The priesthood has long made the royal office into a position of utmost servitude, a station of endless debt and constant rectification. Are we not in the territory of the scapegoat? Although the texts avoid admitting as much, when we bring omenology to bear on ritual practice, it is hard to shake the conclusion that the ruler’s body bears the burden of the sins of the entire kingdom. Periodically, annually, monthly—perhaps even daily—this king must be scrubbed clean of every karmic flaw, and present himself, thus made auspicious, to the gaze of his citizens. The waters recede only briefly. There will be no one else to stand in the current—​that is, until another body, suitably divine, can be installed in his place.

196

5

Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots I can see no obstacle to the suggestion that this rite originated long ago with the primitive and still very wide-​spread daubing and painting of the stones, logs or idols with red dyestuffs. From this it follows that the only etymology of the word pûjâ which can possibly be correct is the one which derives it from the Dravidian pûcu-​, pûsu-​“to paint, to daub, to smear.” —​J arl Charpentier, “The Meaning and Etymology of Pūjā”

The Historicity of the Image Historical treatments of early Hinduism have consistently assumed that image worship derives from a popular—​especially non-​Aryan or Dravidian—​source. Such a theory forms the basis of Jarl Charpentier’s derivation of pūjā, the Sanskrit term for the characteristic ritual of Hindu image worship. The argument, first proposed in 1926, is laden with by now familiar and acutely colonial assumptions. Chief among these is the image of the elite Vedic-​Aryan “invaders,” hemmed in on all sides by a dense mass of aboriginal tribes, “speaking another language, of different colour, stature and facial features, and adoring absolutely different deities.”1 For Charpentier, image worship becomes a function of this sociological origin myth. Vedic religion “can never have been that of the great masses, because its ideas are too complicated, its rituals too expensive.”2 By contrast, the Dravidians, who appear to partake of a global primitive religion, exert an upward counterpressure on the Vedic-​Aryan elites, leading to the elites’ adoption of idol worship and local gods. According to this variant of the theory of a degenerative, original

1. Charpentier, “The Meaning and Etymology of Pūjā,” 94. 2. Ibid., 93.

197



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

197

religion, such Vedic-​Aryan accommodations essentially bring about Hinduism as we know it:3 But, as always, the lower classes were by far the more numerous. It was apparently impossible to convert them all to the Aryan religion, which, by the way, in wholly new surroundings soon lost some of its most characteristic features; and for that reason Aryan Brahmanism already at an early date began to compromise, and thus created the most heterogeneous religion in the world, which, for want of a better term, we call Hinduism. As the Brahmans then got more and more people to adopt the caste-​system and declared numerous local godlings to be apparitions of Vishṇu or Śiva or the originally foreign Kâlî, Hinduism spread over even wider areas. . . . Hinduism has taken over temples and idols from the non-​Aryan religions. . . . The idols, inside and outside the temples are adored by a certain series of ceremonies which are comprised under the name pûjâ.4 It may seem as though we have come a long way from this sort of religious history.5 But however divested of the embarrassing term “Aryan” and problematic overtures to primitive religion, the narrative of a popular origin for image worship continues to dictate historical accounts of Hinduism. In fact we find it more delicately reanimated in recent times by the embracing concept of bhakti. Typical is the still frequently cited article, first published in 1977, of Heinrich von Stietencron, who interprets references to permanent temple shrines in pre–​Common Era texts as reflecting a fundamental shift in religious attitudes linked to devotion:  “The change that occurred was essentially at the emotional level. The ideal of bhakti, which found expression in the Śvetāśvatara Upaniṣad and the Bhagavadgītā and implied a devotional approach to a personal god, started becoming more and 3. “This religion is awe-​inspiring and terrifying, a religion of eternal and illimited fright, like those known from certain parts of Africa. Man is always surrounded by a countless crowd of evil and nearly always female demons and ghosts, the wicked dangerous spirits of the dead buried in the earth. These malignant beings prove their existence by plagues and epidemics amongst men and cattle, by famines and all sorts of harassings; and it is only a continuous pouring out, drinking and smearing with blood that can avert their horrible assaults” (ibid., 96). 4. Ibid. 5. Already in 1939 the Sanskritist Paul Thieme roundly rejected Charpentier’s hypothesis, arguing instead for an Aryan (i.e., Sanskritic) derivation, namely, that pūjā could have derived from the Sanskrit root pṛc, “to mix,” as in the term madhuparka, or “honey mixture,” a drink served in the Brahmanical custom of guest reception. See Thieme, “Indische Wörter und Sitten.”

198

198

Rit es of t he God -K ing

more important.”6 Once again an upward social pressure impinges on the Brahmanical establishment: The permanent presence of the deity in an image and his free accessibility for all devotees was an open threat to the Vedic priest’s social position. The Brahmins, therefore, resented this development. But they could not hind­er the rapidly increasing popularity of the devotional approach. It proved much more attractive than the sophisticated ritual of the Brāhmaṇas and offered a path to salvation that appeared easier and required less spiritual or material prerequisites than jñānamārga, the path of philosophical knowledge, or karmamārga, the path of sacrifice and ritual.7 As a result of the “rapidly increasing popularity of the devotional approach,” Stietencron argues, brahmins are forced into a dilemma: some reject image worship outright as contrary to Vedic norms, while others (devalakas) decide to administer the image cult directly, inviting orthodox disapproval. Compelling though it may be, the narrative of image worship as a concession to a popular upsurge of devotion faces serious, though rarely acknowledged obstacles as a viable historical thesis. One major problem is the assumption—​ often repeated by both scholars and informants—​ that nonelite devotees require material, especially anthropomorphic forms of their gods for worship, whereas elites gravitate to abstract representations and contemplative practices. In a challenging article Gilles Tarabout argues that this common assumption decisively contradicts the ethnographic evidence. Material representations of divinities in fact form the minority of divine presences in India. And among these material forms of divinity, anthropomorphic statues are by far the most rare, tending to be found at the higher levels of society, especially in temples patronized by high-​caste brahmins. All of this opposes exactly what we would expect from the thesis that material image worship is a concession to the popular or “vulgar” devotee.8 Tarabout parlays his ethnographic argument into a prescription for historical inquiry that I take as a starting point for the present chapter. Citing the precedents of Peter Brown in the study of Christianity and Gregory Schopen in the study of Buddhism, he begs that we abandon the elite-​popular heuristic altogether and instead pursue the early development of image worship among the 6. Stietencron, “Orthodox Attitudes,” 56. 7. Ibid., 56–​57. 8. Tarabout, “Theology as History.”

19



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

199

social—​if not strictly Brahmanical—​elite. He also questions the continued use of bhakti as the main causal force in this historical shift: Devotion, bhakti, might not be the sole answer to the problem, since it evolved and reached the forms we know today through the very development of image worship. We should therefore be cautious not to project in ancient times forms of devotion evolved in later cults. I would suggest that bhakti was not necessarily the only, or the main, force behind early image worship, and that at least a few other factors should be considered.9 At issue, then, is not whether image worship “originated” in non-​Brahmanical circles or whether devotionalism played an important role in its growth. Both propositions may contain some truth.10 But, especially when combined in the idea of a “popular bhakti movement,” populism and devotionalism may not suffice for historical explanation.11 They may obscure more than they explain, especially when it comes to such vexing questions as why image-​related rituals in Hinduism take the particular forms they do. What would a historical account of early image worship look like if we bracketed bhakti populism as a primary causal force? What other factors might we consider? This chapter attempts a preliminary departure in this direction by articulating the priestly perspective of the image. While seeming to form one part of the social elite recommended by Tarabout, priestly groups are in fact located by Gérard Colas in an intermediate social position, between scholars and philosophers, on the one hand, and “the population which sought simply to live and believe,” on the other. These social intermediaries, who were “lettered without being erudite,” formed a heterogeneous set of patrons and professionals with unique interests in image-​related practices.12 In line with other recent studies of image-​worshipping brahmins, Colas’s more complex sociological framing helps render the problem of early image worship with greater precision by illuminating the relatively independent discourses that may have operated among different

9. Ibid., 71. 10.  Most scholars remain open to the notion that image worship was originally “non-​ Brahmanical,” if not popular/​Dravidian. For example, see Einoo, “The Formation of the Pūjā Ceremony.” 11. On the idea of a “bhakti movement,” see Hawley, A Storm of Songs. 12.  “En relevaient des millieux hétérogènes, religieux, économiques, politiques, techniques: moines, prêtes, astrologues, auteurs de textes techniques et prescriptifs, bardes, copistes, plapicides et lecteurs d’inscriptions, artisans, architectes, enfin diregeants, millieux fortunés et commerçants qui financaient constructions et rites” (Colas, Penser l’icône, 14).

20

200

Rit es of t he God -K ing

social groups who intersected at the image.13 A full history of the image would seem to require a precise understanding of these interests and their mutual negotiations. To pursue this logic I suggest that priestly groups, who formed one section of this broad middle class, may have been decisive in generating the forms of image worship that we now recognize as commonplace in contemporary (popular) Hindu practice. In this chapter, then, I turn to some of our earliest sources for image-​related practices, beginning again with Varāhamihira’s Bṛhatsaṃhitā but expanding our view to include some of the pariśiṣṭas belonging to the orthodox (non-​ Atharvan) Vedic schools. These are the texts that scholars most consistently turn to for our earliest prescriptions for image worship (pūjā) and installation (pratiṣṭhā).14 I  propose that royal ritual and astrology—​two major factors of concern throughout this study—​should be seen together as a formative context for the image cult in these early sources. Restoring this context reveals that, in contrast to the devotional gaze, in which the image is seen as an incarnate deity (a sui generis object), the priestly view tends rather to deny the distinctiveness of the image, subsuming it within the two related frames of astrology and ritual.15 In the first instance the image serves as but one locus for the manifestation of omens, inscribed in what Colas has called a “network of signs.” In the second instance the image is but one ritual object or instrument among others. This is especially clear prior to its activation in the ritual of installation: the image must originate on the hither side of the dialectic of material and deity. Both of these basic parameters of the image’s materiality—​its ritual and astrological objectivity—​continue to operate after the image cult as been inaugurated. The transformation rendered in the image installation ritual is not merely the instantiation of divine presence into a physical body; it is also the activation of one otherwise arbitrary object at the center of a ritual-​astrological system of meaning. In other words, I will argue that the body of the god can be viewed as a double for the body of the king, a ritual position that highlights its centrality

13. For further recent research on the brahminical contribution to image worship, see Willis, The Archaeology of Hindu Ritual, chap. 2; Lubin, “The Vedic Homa.” 14. Again Varāhamihira (sixth century ce) is our only firmly datable source. The other early text dealt with here is the Bodhāyanagṛhyaśeṣasūtra, the pariśiṣṭa level text of Bodhāyana, a school of the Black Yajurveda. This school is usually understood to represent the mainstream of Vedic ritualism. A selection of chapters from this text concerning image worship were edited and translated in Harting, Selections. The text contains references that date it after the first few centuries ce, but there is no further limit on its possible date (xxv). 15. On the broader ritual context of the image, see Granoff, “Images and Their Ritual Use.” For an exposition of the devotional perspective, see Narayanan, “Arcāvatāra”; Waghorne et al., Gods of Flesh/​Gods of Stone. More recently, see Colas, Penser l’icone, chap. 4.

201



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

201

in the network of signs. At the same time the ritual process for producing this god-​king both recruits and extends—​in unanticipated directions—​techniques from the history of śānti.

The God Image as Sign Holder It remains a largely unexplored fact that some of the earliest references to images in the history of Hinduism occur in omen catalogs. For example, the section on images from Varāhamihira’s “Chapter on Omens” begins as follows: “The spontaneous breaking, shaking, sweating, crying, falling, speaking and so forth of a liṅga, image (arcā), or temple [indicates] the destruction of the king and [his] territories.”16 This opening verse reprises similar references to images in omen catalogs among the pariśiṣṭas that describe the strange behavior of images.17 Harry Falk argues that the “image-​divinities” mentioned in such passages may in fact have taken over an older section from the “Book of Omens” in the Kauśikasūtra, where the word “divinity” (daivata) referred euphemistically to weapon-​carrying brahmins.18 Falk’s reading suggests that divine images may not have been an original concern of omenology, though they were well established in divination literature by Varāhamihira’s time.19 If he is correct, the aberrant image entered into omen catalogs at some point after Kauśika’s “Book of Omens.” We will need to explore, then, what it might have meant to include images in the larger class of portentous objects. In Varāhamihira’s “Chapter on Omens,” the image forms but one category in a broader taxonomic scheme (containing nine additional categories). Despite the earlier statement that the gods themselves are responsible for these portents, the text places no special emphasis on any one deity-​image in particular, nor does it

16.  animittabhaṅgacalanasvedāśrunipātajalpanādyāni nareśadeśānām || 8 || BS 45 ||

|

liṅgārcāyatanānāṃ

nāśāya

17. The root passage from Garga, as quoted by Bhaṭṭotpala (at BS 45.8): devatārcāḥ pranṛtyanti vepante prajvalanti vā | muhur nṛtyanti rodanti prasvidyanti hasanti vā || uttiṣṭhanti niṣīdanti pradhāvanti patanti vā | kūjanti vikṣipante ca gātrapraharaṇadhajān | avāṅmukhā vā tiṣṭhanti sthānāt sthānaṃ vrajanti vā | vamanty agniṃ tathā dhūmaṃ snehaṃ raktaṃ payo jalam || prasarpanti ca jalpanti vā ceṣṭante śvasanti vā | samantād yatra dṛśyante gātrair vāpi viceṣṭitaiḥ || iti || Two other texts of the “pariśiṣṭa level,” the so-​called Adbhutabrāhmaṇa (in the Ṣaḍviṁśa Brāhmaṇa of the Sāmaveda) and the Mānavagṛhyasūtra mention images (daivatapratimā, arcā) that behave in similar ways. For a discussion, see Falk, “Von Götterfiguren.” 18. Falk, “Von Götterfiguren,” 319. 19. By the time of the Mānavagṛhyasūtra, the language of the divine image, arcā, replaces the earlier reference to brahmins. In Varāhamihira and Garga the image and temple context is unmistakably indicated by the terms liṅgā, arcā, ayatana, and devatārcā.

20

202

Rit es of t he God -K ing

indicate that an image functions differently from other omen loci, such as rains, crops, or animals. In fact the image category conveniently serves the text’s larger taxonomic purpose; it includes a variety of deities and deity types, and these subcategories can be correlated with specific effects: The breaking or falling of the axle, wheel, yoke, or flag at the procession of a divinity (daivatayātrā)—​and the tendency of [the cart] to upturn or get stuck—​these are inauspicious for king and country. An irregularity that appears in [an image] of an Ṛṣi, the god Dharma, or Brahmā [indicates misfortune] for brahmins. One which appears in Rudra or the Lokapālas [indicates] misfortune for domestic animals. One arising in an image of Jupiter, Venus, or Saturn [indicates misfortune] for purohitas; one in Viṣṇu, for the people; one arising in Skanda or Viśākha, for vassal kings; one in Vedavyāsa, for the minister. An irregularity in Vināyaka pertains to the general. One in the Earth or Viśvakarman indicates destruction of the populace. That irregularity which might arise in the son, daughter, wife, or servant of the god belongs to the son, daughter, wife, and attendant of the king. Likewise for [an irregularity in an image of ] a Rakṣas, Piśāca, Guhyaka, or Nāga. All of these fructify in eight months.20 Since the pantheon of deities figured therein reflects the social hierarchy of the kingdom, the image helps to specify how misfortune will manifest in the various parts of the king’s domain. This division roughly approximates the eightfold body of the king mentioned earlier in the text. As we have seen, Varāhamihira defines the omen (utpāta) in terms of “irregularity” and “deviation” (vikāra, vaikṛta). An omen is not a new object in itself but rather an “alteration in nature” (prakṛter anyatvam).21 This definition has important consequences. The recognition of such omens depends on a heightened sensitivity to the dialectic of normal and abnormal. It therefore assumes

20.  daivatayātrāśakaṭākṣacakrayugaketubhaṅgapatanāni | samparyāsanasādanasaṅgaś ca na deśanṛpaśubhadāḥ || 9 || ṛṣidharmapitṛbrahmaprodbhūtam vaikṛtaṃ dvijātīnām | yadrudralokapālodbhavaṃ paśūnām aniṣṭaṃ tat || 10 || gurusitaśanaiścarotthaṃ purodhasāṃ viṣṇujaṃ ca lokānām | skandaviśākhasamutthaṃ māṇḍalikānāṃ narendrāṇām || 11 || vedavyāse mantriṇi vināyake vaikṛtaṃ camūnāthe | dhātari saviśvakarmaṇi lokābhāvāya nirdiṣṭam || 12 || devakumārakumārīvanitāpreṣyeṣu vaikṛtaṃ yat syāt | tan narapateḥ kumārakakumārikāstrīparijanānām || 13 || rakṣaḥpiśācaguhyakanāgānām evam eva nirdiṣṭam | māsaiś cāpy aṣṭābhiḥ sarveṣām eva phalapākaḥ || 14 || BS 45 || The reading guhyaka in verse 14 follows Bhaṭṭotpala. 21. This definition is commonly repeated in omen literature. See Adbhutasāgara, 7–​9.

203



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

203

a quasi-​empirical, normative view of nature: to recognize (buddhvā, gṛhṇīyāt) a deviation, one must first internalize the norm. Consider an earlier example: How, without considerable experience in lighting Vedic fires, could one tell whether a given fire was “normally” bright or sufficiently full of flames? What does a “normal” fire look like? The same could be asked of each of the other subcategories in the “Chapter on Omens”:  each type presumes normal behavior against which the abnormality can read. Furthermore, for such a system of signs to be meaningful and ritually actionable, the abnormality must signify a negative and inauspicious outcome. And if abnormality or irregularity signifies inauspiciousness, then the normativity or regularity of nature implies a positive, auspicious baseline condition. Thus the “Chapter on Omens” concludes with a description of natural occurrences that operate regularly, “in accordance with the seasons” (svartubhava). These form a list of “auspicious” omens that do not indicate a fault (adoṣāya).22 It is from this perspective that the image becomes a somewhat paradoxical locus for the manifestation of signs. For what, exactly, is a “normal” image? Unlike the other categories in the “Chapter on Omens,” the image is an artificial and not naturally occurring object. As Colas has shown, this paradox comes through most clearly in the use of the word lakṣaṇa, “mark” or “sign,” in relation to images. Throughout the Bṛhatsaṃhitā, Varāhamihira uses lakṣaṇa to refer to all sorts of natural objects, usually to denote an omen. A  number of chapter titles include the term lakṣaṇa, for example, saṃdhyālakṣaṇādhyāya, “Chapter on the ‘Signs’ at Dawn/​Twilight.” In such cases a “sign” or lakṣaṇa denotes a deviation (vikāra) or an inauspicious omen. By contrast, in the chapters dealing with the image, lakṣaṇa takes on a positive meaning. The chapter on the “Characteristics of Images” (BS 57: pratimālakṣaṇa) describes the iconographic rules of image manufacture, such as the correct proportions of the image’s face and body. These prescriptive details are also called lakṣaṇas, but here they take on an iconographic sense, as “characteristics” or “identifying marks.”23 Indeed an entire genre of prescriptive iconographic literature will develop in the centuries following Varāhamihira in order to catalog such standard identifying marks for the various Hindu deities. But given the fact that the image is also a sign holder, might this term also have divinatory significance? Varāhamihira says, “Endowed with lakṣaṇas, the image, which should be made with a body, clothing, and ornaments according to geographical region, becomes inhabited [by the god] [and] conducive

22. BS 45.83–​94. 23. Colas, Penser l’icône, 132–​34.

204

204

Rit es of t he God -K ing

of good fortune.”24 In this passage the word lakṣaṇa denotes both a prescribed iconographic specification as well as a positive astrological sign. In iconographic terms, such “marks” no doubt aid in the recognition of a specific deity and produce a beautiful object in which the god is more likely to reside—​two frequently cited reasons for the highly prescriptive nature of Hindu image making. But in astrological terms they also produce good fortune. I suggest, then, the following explanation: the lakṣaṇas delimit the auspicious normativity of the image. It is by means of these prescribed signs that it is “produced” and thereby artificially inscribed in the “natural” order. An image possessed of lakṣaṇas is not merely made attractive to its host deity; more important, it is rendered iconographically “normal” and, therefore, auspicious. Conversely, as treatises on art tell us, an image without these prescribed, normative signs is dangerous and inauspicious.25 In this way the irregularities in the images described by Varāhamihira in the “Chapter on Omens” represent inauspicious signs insofar as they violate these normative specifications (lakṣaṇa). Hence, despite the counterintuitive use of the term lakṣaṇa as applied to the image, there is no contradiction between the iconographic and the astrological, the beautiful and the auspicious. For if we understand the image’s status as a sign holder, astrological normativity may be seen to form an important backdrop to the rigorous canons of iconometry and iconology in South Asian art. The “normal” and, hence, beautiful image could serve as a baseline for the manifestation of irregular omens; its perfection must therefore be precisely produced and subsequently well-​maintained. This divinatory potential relates to another inconsistency in Varāhamihira’s discourse on images, also noted by Colas. Whereas omens elsewhere in nature are mere indicators of misfortune, some of the “signs” produced in the manufacture and placement of the image possess a causal efficiency. They bring about positive or negative consequences: An image that is one cubit high is auspicious. One that is two cubits bestows wealth. That which is three and four cubits would bring prosperity and abundant food. If it is long of limb, it brings danger to the king; if short of limb, illness for its maker. If it has a thin belly, it brings danger of famine; if its limbs are thin, loss of wealth.26

24. deśānurūpabhūṣaṇaveṣālaṅkāramūrtibhiḥ kāryā | pratimā lakṣaṇayuktā sannihitā vṛddhidā bhavati || 29 || BS 57 || 25. Colas, Penser l’icône, 133. 26.  saumyā tu hastamātrā vasudā hastadvayocchritā pratimā | kṣemasubhikṣāya bhavet tricaturhastapramāṇā yā || 49 || nṛpabhayam atyaṅgāyāṃ hīnāṅgāyām akalyatā kartuḥ |

205



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

205

Again this causal potential may be explained within the discourse of omens. If the image can be artificially inscribed within the natural system of signs, then it acts as a loophole in the logic of divination and appeasement: in the process of producing a “natural” object, the artists in effect “produce” an auspicious sign. To make a beautiful image is to cause an auspicious effect. In theory this would seem to render the image an object of peculiar value within the otherwise natural taxonomy of omen objects. Such potential, we will see, also raises the stakes for the work—​artisanal and ritual—​of image production.

Image Installation as Apotropaic Consecration The foregoing considerations pertain to the image as a material, “natural” object, prior to its status as a site of devotional attention and theological interest, and it is precisely such a nonsectarian view that Varāhamihira famously takes up in his chapter on image installation, or pratiṣṭhā. By his own account, Varāhamihira’s description of the installation is “condensed” (samāsato) (twenty-​ two verses total) and “general” (sāmānyam), leaving aside details that might differ according to sect. In a frequently cited passage, Varāhamihira names some of these image-​worshipping groups: the Vaiṣṇava Bhāgavatas, Sun-​worshipping Magas, the “ashen priests” of Śiva, the “experts in the maṇḍalakrama” who worship the Mātṛs, the “mentally composed” Śākyas of the Buddha, and the naked ascetics of the Jinas.27 The verse might be taken as a statement of the sectarian diversity at play in early medieval India or of Varāhamihira’s ecumenical religiosity—​his openness to various devotional leanings.28 But for our purposes it also signifies the broad applicability of his pratiṣṭhā prescription, a ritual that can be divested of sectarian details and yet maintain a coherent structure. Furthermore this generalizable aspect cannot simply be seen as peculiar to Varāhamihira, for much of the ritual structure he describes survives in later Purāṇic and Āgamic versions. A number of these—​for example the version in the Matsyapurāṇa, which was canonized by Lakṣmīdhara—​also present a “general” (sāmānya) account of the pratiṣṭhā. Thus as a broader ritual tradition, the pratiṣṭhā must be seen as a streamlined structure, not designed for any one god in particular.

śātodaryāṃ kṣudbhayam arthavināśaḥ kṛśāṅgāyām || 50 || BS 57 || The passage follows the description of the images of the Sun, but Varāhamihira specifies that they apply equally to all other deities (BS 57.52). 27. BS 59.19. 28. Despite himself being a devotee of the Sun. See Bhaṭṭotpala at BS 1.1.

206

206

Rit es of t he God -K ing

A study of Varāhamihira’s instruction (appendix 5.1) confirms that the ritual was not designed for a god at all but in fact draws extensively on the royal rituals with which our author was intimately familiar.29 The ritual is structured over two days: the titular act of the “emplacement” or “establishment” (pratiṣṭhā) of the image on a plinth in the temple occurs on the second day (step 14), at the conclusion of the ritual, whereas the majority of action (steps 1–​8) takes place on the first day, during the so-​called adhivāsana. This portion occurs outside of the temple, in a specially constructed pavilion (maṇḍapa). On the basis of later versions of this ritual, the term adhivāsana is sometimes identified with the act of immersing the image in water for one or more nights prior to the installation, but here no such immersion occurs. We will see that, when placed in the context of Varāhamihira’s ritual corpus, the adhivāsana more clearly represents the overnight or “sleepover” segment of royal rituals, ultimately deriving from the structure of the military march (yātrā). Most conspicuous during the preliminary adhivāsana is the bath of the image with a complex series of concoctions, including waters infused with tree leaves, clay drawn from various locations, pañcagavya, tīrtha water, and jeweled water (step 3): It (the image) is bathed facing the East, with waters infused with plakṣa, aśvattha, udumbara, śirīṣa and vaṭa [leaves]; with all herbs having auspicious names, such as kuśa; with clay dug up by elephants and bulls, from mountains, anthills, and the banks of confluent rivers; with clay found in lotus ponds, with pañcagavya and with tīrtha water, with waters having gold and jewels, and with perfumed waters—​all accompanied by the sounds of various drums, puṇyāha, and the sounds of the Vedas.30 The various ingredients mentioned here recall those used in the Victory Bath of the yātrā rituals, which combine a set of plant-​based concoctions with a purifying bath of clay.31 Likewise the types of clay prescribed for the image closely

29. My analysis has been influenced by Witzel, “Coronation Rituals,” 428–30. On this text, see also Willis, Archaeology of Hindu Ritual, 131–​34. 30.  plakṣāśvatthodumbaraśirīṣavaṭasambhavaiḥ kaṣāyajalaiḥ | maṅgalyasaṃjñitābhiḥ sarvauṣadhibhiḥ kuśādyābhiḥ || 8 || dvipavṛṣabhoddhataparvatavalmīkasaritsamāgamataṭ­ eṣu | padmasaraḥsu ca mṛdbhiḥ sapañcagavyaiś ca tīrthajalaiḥ || 9 || pūrvaśiraskāṃ snātāṃ suvarṇaratnāmbubhiś ca sasugandhaiḥ | nānātūryaninādaiḥ puṇyāhair vedanirghoṣaiḥ || 10 || BS 59 || 31. The list of various fig trees in BS 59.8 (plakṣa, aśvattha, udumbara, śirīṣa, and vaṭa) resembles the list recommended for Kṛttikā—​the first of the twenty-​eight Nakṣatra asterisms—​at YY 7.2 (nyagrodha, śirīṣa, aśvattha).

207



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

207

resemble those prescribed for the king in the yātrā texts.32 Other included materials—​milk, curd, clarified butter (three of the six elements in pañcagavya), and water containing all herbs (sarvauśadhi) and perfume—​are also mentioned in the king’s “Victory Bath.”33 Many of these substances were also incorporated in the royal puṣyasnāna. Following the image’s “Victory Bath”—​and again as in the prewar cycle—​ Varāhamihira prescribes a fire offering that includes the observation of fire omens (step 5): “A twice-​born (brahmin) should make an offering in the fire with mantras related to the god who is to be installed. The fire-​omens have been explained by me in [the chapter on] raising Indra’s banner.”34 We have already seen how this fire offering connects Varāhamihira to the Atharvan tradition, even though the śānti-​related mantra groups from the Atharvaveda go unmentioned. Here, without citing any specific mantras, Varāhamihira simply instructs the application of mantras appropriate to the specific god to be installed (yo devaḥ saṃsthāpyaḥ tanmantraiḥ). Rather than applying appeasement mantras for the aspersion, Varāhamihira appears to revisit a simpler Vedic scenario:  invoking a deity to come hither to the sacred space—​in this case a pavilion where the image awaits. This will prove to be a crucial difference, and we will look more closely at these types of mantras below. For now we can note again how closely Varāhamihira has replicated the earlier yātrā-​based structure (abhiṣeka-​homa). The symmetry of the image installation with the royal ritual cycle continues after this fire offering (steps 1–​5), when a new specialist, the sthāpaka or “image handler,” lays the image on a bed (step 6). The now sleeping (suptām) image is attended through the night by worshippers who stay awake, singing and dancing (step 7): The sthāpaka should lay the image on a well-​strewn bed. Having kept the sleeping image [there] over [night?] with [attendants] who stay awake

32. Four of the types of clay used for the king (from a mountaintop, anthill, bull and elephant horns, and river banks) are included in the bath of the image. Cf. YY 7.13–​15/​BY 19[17].10. BS 59 includes clay from lotus ponds, whereas YY 7 adds clay from the king’s gate, a courtesan’s dwelling, and Indra’s banner. Clay from a lotus pond or tank is mentioned for the nakṣatra bath under Hasta (YY 7.6/​BY 4.22[verse 20 in Pingree, Bṛhadyātrā]). 33. Compare BY 19[17].10. On the pañcagavya, see Einoo, “Notes on the Image Installation Ceremonies.” At YY 7.4, cow’s dung is included under the substances required for the bath under the Nakṣatra Punarvasu. 34.  yo devaḥ saṃsthāpyas tanmantraiś cānalaṃ dvijo juhuyāt | agninimittāni mayā proktānīndradhvajotthāne || 12 || BS 59 ||

208

208

Rit es of t he God -K ing

singing and dancing, he should fix it in place (i.e. complete the physical installation) at a time indicated by the astrologer.35 We have seen this sleepover motif before, both in the prewar yātrā rituals and in the puṣyasnāna. In the Bṛhadyātrā, prior to his ceremonial departure for the military expedition, the king is instructed to spend a night at his private temple and observe his dreams, along with his minister, astrologer, and purohita. As part of this instruction he is laid down on a pillow.36 While no dream divination is included for the image, which cannot—​one presumes—​report its own dreams, the sleeping motif remains. Bathing, fire offering, and the vestige of the overnight dream sequence: the structural analysis appears to establish the essential symmetry—​from the view of Varāhamihira—​of divine image and royal person. This correlation, whose implications we will continue to analyze, may further explain two additional details common to other versions of the image installation. First, we may interpret the “opening of the eyes” of the image (netronmīlana)—​a common element in pratiṣṭhā not mentioned in the Bṛhatsaṃhitā—​as the awakening of the king after his night sojourn. Second, on the following day the image is taken clockwise around the temple before it is installed (or enthroned) in the temple. This pradakṣiṇa journey, which also recalls the chariot drive of ancient Vedic royal consecrations, seems to reenact in miniature the king’s yātrā, or digvijaya conquest. After its successful campaign the image returns to its own country (here the temple) and grants bali and other favors to the various beings who safeguarded him during the military campaign (step 11). Thus, like the king’s Prosperity Bath, the physical installation of the image not only enacts the coronation of the image but marks its triumphant return from war.

35. pratimāṃ svāstīrṇāyām śayyāyām sthāpakaḥ kuryāt || 14cd || suptāṃ sagītanṛtyair jāgaraṇaiḥ samyag evam adhivāsya | daivajñasampradiṣṭe kāle saṃsthāpanaṃ kuryāt || 15 || BS 59 || Bhaṭṭotpala glosses jāgaraṇa as asvāpaniṣevaṇas, “waking (un-​sleeping) attendants.” It is at this point that Varāhamihira employs the verb adhivāsya, confirming that he understands the term adhivāsana as related to an overnight vigil. 36. Appendix 3.1.B, steps 2–​3: “Having made a pillow of brahmī (leaves) or nāga flowers with dūrva blades, at the head of the king, he should place four full pots filled with flowers and fruits in the directions. He carefully repeats the mantra ‘yaj jāgrato dūram udaiti daivam’ (VS 34.1) three times. Lying on his right side, having eaten a small meal, he quickly observes the dream according to instruction” (brāhmīṃ sadūrvām atha nāgapuṣpīṃ kṛtvopadhānaṃ śirasi kṣitīśaḥ | pūrṇān ghaṭān puṣpaphalābhidhānān āśāsu kuryāc caturaḥ krameṇa || 3 || yaj jāgrato dūram udaiti daivam āvartya mantrān prayatas trir etān | laghv aikabhug dakṣiṇapārśvaśāyī svapnaṃ parīkṣeta yathopadeśam || 4 || BS 18[16] ||).

209



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

209

Varāhamihira’s text is certainly more forthcoming about the equivalence between god and king than it is about the essentially theological question of the relation between the physical image and the god who should inhabit it. When exactly does the god take possession of the image, and how does this process work? The text opens with a discussion of the various types of materials from which the image could be made, and their corresponding effects (step 1). Following its construction, the image is placed in the pavilion by a distinct ritual specialist, the “placer” sthāpaka (step 2), about whom we are told very little. It is then bathed (step 3), as we have seen, with the ingredients of the “Victory Bath.” While it resembles a royal body at this point, is it now a divinity or still merely a physical object? The crucial moment of transformation would seem to occur during the fire offering in step 5. After this offering, the image is laid to rest and worshipped by singing and dancing attendants—​again as if it were a living entity. Without further details we are left to assume that the unspecified mantra “related to the god who is to be installed” does the work of invocation, as in the case of a simple Vedic fire sacrifice. We can assume that Varāhamihira’s brevity here is merely another manifestation of his ecumenism. While seeming to prescribe a most generic, minimally Vedic procedure, the terseness of the statement seems as if to imply, “Here the sectarians take over.” Indeed while subsequent instructions for image installation tend to repeat much of Varāhamihira’s ritual structure, they differ markedly in how they solve the ritual problem of material and deity. But as we explore some of these answers, we should remind ourselves that if the foregoing analysis is correct, if for Varāhamihira the image installation forms a condensed ritual replica of the yātrā rituals and thus comprises a royal consecration like the puṣyasnāna, then the crucial fire offering in step 5 forms a structural counterpart of—​it is perhaps “genetically” linked to—​the gaṇa-​based fire offering of śānti rituals. To be clear, no Atharvan śānti mantras are prescribed here, nor does this fire offering figure in the preparation of any aspersion waters. And unlike the Prosperity Bath, the text includes no explicit connection to the theme of śānti. Nonetheless other versions of the image installation will raise more forcefully the structural similarity of śānti and pratiṣṭhā, and this relation pertains directly to the invocation of the deity into the material image. We will have to turn to other sources to trace its full effects. Ritual instructions for image installation proliferate in post-​Vedic literature, including the gṛhyapariśiṣṭas, purāṇas, and āgamas—​the latter group of texts eventually coming to determine the format of image worship in South India, where some of the most extravagant monuments to temple Hinduism remain in operation today. Without indulging an exhaustive study of this literature, there is substantial evidence in some of these texts to suggest that the Atharvan technique

210

210

Rit es of t he God -K ing

of infusing mantric powers into aspersion waters—​whether by direct speech or by means of the dregs of a fire offering—​was broadly adapted to the problem of instantiating divine presence into the image. Although alternative modes of invocation and instantiation developed in these texts, water remained a preferred medium for the transfer of divine presence. To begin with, a number of image installation instructions prescribe a second aspersion in addition to the “Victory Bath” identified in step 3 of Varāhamihira’s instruction. In fact Varāhamihira may have himself prescribed a second bath. Following the fire sacrifice that appears to “invoke” the deity (step 5), and prior to the laying of the image “to sleep” (step 7), he says that the image is “bathed, clothed, adorned, and worshipped with flowers and perfume” (step 6).37 Does the adjective “bathed” (snātām) simply refer to the previous bath, as the commentator seems to understand it?38 Or might it in fact refer to a second bath? This second case would in fact restore the homa-​ abhiṣeka sequence of Atharvan śānti and might give us a better clue as to the relationship between the god invoked in the fire (step 5) and the god-​image put to sleep in step 7.  Varāhamihira does not confirm this scenario, but the possibility gains traction when we shift to a broader view of the image installation ceremony. Among available texts at the “pariśiṣṭa level,” three variants of the image installation ceremony may be compared with Varāhamihira’s testimony.39 Each is on the whole more complex than his version, adding such details as the opening of the image’s eyes (netronmīlana) and touching its limbs (nyāsa). But most crucial for our purposes: all of these texts prescribe a second aspersion that coincides with the invocation of the god. In the account of the Bodhāyanagṛhyaśeṣasūtra, ​often considered to be our oldest instruction besides Varāhamihira’s version,​ a second aspersion takes place after the adhivāsana half of the ritual, just after the image has been installed in the temple (on the second day in Varāhamihira’s scheme): Now setting down perfume, flowers, incense, and a lamp—​ making them face upward—​standing before (the image), he performs the invocation with the Vyāhṛtis preceded by the syllable “Oṃ,” singly and in 37. snātām abhuktavastrāṃ svalaṅkṛtāṃ pūjitām kusumagandhaiḥ. 38. Bhaṭṭotpala at BS 59.14: tāṃ pratimāṃ snātāṃ kṛtasnātām. 39. In fact there are five. The account of the Agniveśyagṛhyasūtra (2.4.10) is exceedingly short and concerns the production of the image rather than the ritual procedure of installation. Another, Hiraṇyakeśigṛhyaśeṣasūtra 1.7.11–​12, is identical to Bodhāyanagṛhyaśeṣasūtra 2.13 and 16, discussed here. For a discussion of these, see Einoo, “Notes on the Image Installation Ceremonies.”

21



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

211

combination: “Oṃ bhuḥ, I invoke Puruṣa, Oṃ bhuvaḥ, I invoke Puruṣa, Oṃ suvaḥ, I  invoke Puruṣa, Oṃ bhūr, bhuvaḥ, suvaḥ, I  invoke Puruṣa.” Thus having invoked the deity, he sprinkles (the image) from a jar filled with water and jewels.40 This example pairs invocation with aspersion. But how, conceptually, does one relate to the other? If the mantra is meant to invoke the god directly into the image, then what is the role of the aspersion?41 If, in contrast, the waters are somehow meant to assist the invocation, the precise process seems unclear.42 In a second example, the account of the Vaikhānasas, a Vedic school that adopted the cult of Viṣṇu, the pairing of invocation and aspersion operates more clearly.43 On the evening before the installation the head priest fills a jar with water and places it beside the image of the god. In this pot he visualizes (dhyātvā) the god, “provided with his distinctive qualities” (sakalam), and then performs a fire sacrifice invoking the god with Vedic and non-​Vedic mantras. On the following day, having set up the image in the temple or home, he again “performs the invocation, imagining the water in the pot to be possessed of the [god’s] power, having poured it over the head of the image with a bunch of kuśa grass.”44 Here, together with an invocatory fire offering, the priest uses a meditative technique to “place” the god in the water pot. Then, during the final installation, he invokes the god again by pouring this water from the pot over the head of the image. In this context it is the fire offering that seems redundant to the priest’s powers of visualization; the aspersion waters mediate these powers, serving as a conduit for the god.

40.  atha gandhapuṣpadhūpadīpāny ākāśonmukhāni kṛtvopotthāyāvāhanaṃ karoti praṇavayuktavyāhṛtibhir vyastais samastaiś ca oṃ bhūḥ puruṣam āvāhayāmy oṃ bhuvaḥ puruṣam āvāhayāmy oṃ suvaḥ puruṣam āvāhayāmy oṃ bhūr bhuvas suvaḥ puruṣam āvāhayāmīty āvāhya ratnāmbukalaśenābhiṣiñcati || BodhGŚS 2.13.18 || Text from Harting, Selections, 30, with slight alteration. The text adds, “By means of the Praṇava (the syllable Oṃ) he should support the Brahman. Thus it is declared [in the Veda]” (praṇavena dhārayet brahmeti vijñāyate). 41. In the broader context of the passage, this invocation initiates a full service of regular worship (pūjā), which usually includes a bath or aspersion (abhiṣecanīyam dadāti). But the aspersion that follows the invocation cannot be identified with this one included in pūjā, since it occurs out of the regular order of pūjā services (see below). Indeed another aspersion is prescribed separately, in the correct order. 42. While the aspersion may seem to mimic a royal consecration, no such mantras are given. 43. VaikhGS 4.10–​11. See Einoo, “Notes on the Image Installation Ceremonies,” 97–​98. Text and translation in Harting, Selections, 59–​64. On the Vaikhānasas, see Colas, Viṣṇu. 44.  devaṃ dhyāyan kuṃbhastham ādhāvaṃ śaktiyutaṃ kūrcenādāya bimbasya murdhni viṣṇum āvāhayāmīti saṃsrāvyāvāhanaṃ karoti || Vaikhānasagṛhyasūtra 4.11 ||

21

212

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Perhaps the clearest example of this second invocation-​aspersion can be found in a late text, the Ṛgvedic Āśvalāyanīyagṛhyapariśiṣṭa.45 This highly elaborate version of the ceremony includes the first “Victory Bath” examined above, including clay, herbs, jewels, and other ingredients (ĀśvGPŚ 4.5). This first bath takes place in a separate pavilion (snānamaṇḍapa). Afterward the image is carried to a second maṇḍapa, where an elaborate sacrifice is performed at five separate fire pits (kuṇḍa). The goal of this sacrifice is clarified in the following passage: Then the ācārya, taking the fire from the house of a śrotriya (i.e. Vedic) brahmin, installing it in his own fire pit as mentioned, rekindling it, declaring the intention, saying “I will sacrifice for the purpose of attaining the presence of a portion of the god here,” doing everything up to placing down the praṇīta waters; placing (the image) there, invoking the god with mantras having his form or with the vyāhṛti syllables, he should make an offering with palāśā, udumbara, aśvattha, or āpamārga kindling wood, with ghee, rice, [or] sesame, 1008, 108, or 28 times.46 Here the performer of the fire sacrifice explicitly states its purpose:  to “attain the presence of a portion of the god in this [image]” (devasya atra kalāsaṃniddhyartham). He then initiates the basic procedure for a Vedic fire sacrifice. Immediately following this passage the text continues: He should throw the dregs (saṃpāta) of the ghee offering into śānti pots (śāntikalaśa) that are set down at each fire pit. Then (the performer) touching the feet of the image with (his) head, offering those offerings beginning with the sviṣṭakṛt, he should offer the final oblation (pūrṇāhuti). Similarly the ṛtviks should make offerings in their own fire pits. Then sprinkling (the image) with water placed in the pavilion, with the four verses beginning “samudrajyeṣṭhā,” and with the three verses, beginning “āpo hi ṣṭhā,” installing the image, bathing it with water from the pot(s?) with the remainders, sprinkling it with pure waters with the hymn “ambayo yanty adhvabhir,” wrapping it with a pair of cloths, worshipping it with the five

45. ĀśvGPŚ 4.4–​6, summarized in Einoo, “Notes on the Image Installation Ceremonies,” 98–​ 100. Not to be confused with the earlier Āśvalāyanagṛhyapariśiṣṭa. For the difference between the two texts, see Aithal, “Āśvalāyanagṛhyapariśiṣṭa.” 46.  athācāryaḥ śrotriyāgārād agnim āhṛtyo‘ktavat svakuṇḍe pratiṣṭhāpyānvādhāya devasyātra kalāsaṃnidhisiddhyarthaṃ yakṣya iti saṃkalpya praṇītāsthāpanāntaṃ kṛtvā tatra pratiṣṭhāya devam āvāhya tatprakāśamantrair vyāhṛtibhir vā palāśodumbarāśvatthāpāmārgasamidājyacar­ utilair aṣṭāsahasram aṣṭāśatam aṣṭāviṃśatiṃ vā juhuyāt || ĀśvGPŚ 4.6 ||

213



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

213

services, he should perform the adhivāsana for three nights, or one night, or a single day.47 In this scenario the link to śānti rituals is unmistakable. The dregs of the fire offering—​intended to obtain a portion of divine presence—​are mixed into “śānti-​pots,” which are then used to bathe the image in the culminating act of the adhivāsana. As indicated by the phrases that frame this instruction, this is the main offering (yājyā) of the Vedic fire sacrifice.48 After the conclusion of the sacrifice, a pot called the saṃsrāvakalaśa—​most likely the śānti pot with the “dregs” or saṃpātas—​is used to bathe the image. By employing the dregs of the fire sacrifice in a “śānti pot” the text reconstitutes the close relation between fire sacrifice and aspersion (homaabhiṣeka) from Atharvan śānti rituals as a means of instantiating divine presence. That this late Vedic installation ritual deploys the structure and techniques of Atharvan śānti does not necessarily imply that the image installation serves the function of appeasement. Despite the use of a śānti pot, the offering is meant to obtain the presence of the god. Here the difference between śānti and pratiṣṭhā essentially comes down to a difference not in the ritual structure but rather in the mantras recited during the fire sacrifice. Since the topic will become relevant in the next chapter, we can discuss these mantras here. Āśvalāyanīya prescribes two optional mantric types: “mantras having the form of that [god] or [mantras] with the vyāhṛti syllables” (tatprakāśamantrair vyāhṛtibhir vā). The option appears to distinguish Vedic and non-​Vedic mantras. The “mantras resembling that god” or “well known [to belong] to that god” (tatprakāśamantra) are most likely those such as—​in the case of Viṣṇu—​the puruṣasūkta (ṚV 10.90) or the verse that begins “Viṣṇu bestrode this world” (idaṃ viṣṇur vicakrame) (TS 1.2.13.e/​ ṚV 1.22.17). In the post-​Vedic era such mantras from the old hymn collections became associated with the Hindu gods and were recited regularly in their associated rituals of pūjā and pratiṣṭhā.49 At the same time the non-​Vedic mantras also

47.  tatrājyam  āhutisaṃpātaṃ pratikuṇḍaṃ sthāpitaśāntikalaśeṣu nikṣipet | tataḥ śirasyupari pādayoḥ pratimāṃ spṛṣṭvā sviṣṭakṛdādi hutvā pūrṇāhutiṃ juhuyād evam ṛtvijo ‘pi svayaṃ kuṇḍe juhuyuḥ | atha maṇḍapasthakalaśodakena samudra jyeṣṭhā iti catasṛbhir āpo hi ṣṭheti tiṣṛbhirasi[bhi]ṣicya pratiṣṭhāya devamantreṇa saṃsrāvakalaśodakena saṃsnāpyāmbayo yantyadhvabhir iti sūktena śuddhodakakalaśenābhiṣicya vastrayugmenācchādya pañcopacāraiḥ saṃpūjayed ity adhivāsanaṃ trirātram ekarātraṃ vā sadyo vā kuryāt || ĀśvGPŚ 4.6 || 48. That is, the two phrases, “having performed [everything] up to setting down the praṇīta waters” (praṇītasaṃsthāpanāntam kṛtvā) and “having offered the sviṣṭakṛt and so forth he should pour the final oblation” (sviṣṭakṛdādi hutvā pūrṇāhutiṃ juhuyād). 49. The selections from the pariśiṣṭa of Bodhāyana edited and translated by Harting, Selections, provide a number of examples of this application of Vedic mantras to newer rituals dedicated to Śiva, Viṣṇu, and other Hindu gods.

214

214

Rit es of t he God -K ing

appear in many comparable ritual contexts.50 These mantras, similar in essence to those we have encountered in Varāhamihira’s rituals, use direct, verbal commands to prompt the deity, by name, to action. For example, Varāhamihira used such commands to solicit the god’s acceptance of offerings (pratigṛhyatām).51 As we have seen, these mantras, which do not presume Vedic expertise, express more directly—​in a less poetic or “metonymical” fashion—​the particular ritual action that they accompany.52 In this case the purpose of obtaining divine presence is directly marked by the verb āvāhayāmi (“I invoke”). It is striking that the Āśvalāyanīya, a nominally Ṛgvedic text, would include such non-​Vedic mantras in its prescription. This suggests that this most recent of pariśiṣṭa texts already operates in a Purāṇic milieu, where such mantras are commonly used in image-​ related rituals and where, therefore, the option of Vedic and non-​Vedic ritualists is granted.53 With these mantras Āśvalāyanīya’s version of the image installation easily adapts the saṃpāta “dregs” technique to the distinctive problem of obtaining the presence of a god in an image, following the ritual format of śānti. Despite the relatively late date of the text, I suspect that this use of śānti waters—​what I would call an “emergent property” of the ritual—​must have been an available mode of transference already in Varāhamihira’s time, even though he himself did not apply the saṃpāta technique in his version of the image installation. To restate what has happened:  the ritual form of śānti—​originally designed to impart specific apotropaic qualities inhering in the Atharvan mantras to waters used in a ritual bath—​is now adapted to an entirely different problem, namely, the transference of divine presence into a physical object. We will return to this important shift in ­chapter 6. For now, let us conclude our account of the image installation with a brief glimpse at a mainstream Purāṇic account.

50.  See Einoo, “Notes on the Image Installation Ceremonies,” 100–​104; Colas, “On the Baudhāyanagṛhyapariśiṣṭasūtra and the Vaiṣṇavāgama.” 51. In the case of the invocation, such literal speech may be combined with the Vedic syllables of praṇava and vyāhṛti, as in the following specimen from Bodhāyana’s invocation (2.13.18): oṃ bhūḥ puruṣaṃ āvāhayāmi | oṃ bhuvaḥ puruṣaṃ āvāhayāmi | oṃ suvaḥ puruṣaṃ āvāhayāmi | oṃ bhūr bhuvaḥ suvaḥ puruṣaṃ āvāhayāmi | 52. On metonymy and Vedic mantra, see Patton, Bringing the Gods to Mind. 53.  Nevertheless, apart from accommodating ritual specialists outside the traditional Vedic fold, the literal, non-​Vedic mantras do not functionally differ from the older Vedic verses, which were also meant to attract the gods to the sacrifice—​albeit in a more poetic register. As the Āśvalāyanīya suggests, both types of mantras could suffice for the invocatory purpose of the fire offering. The mantra must simply relate, conventionally or explicitly, to the god who will be installed in the image.

215



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

215

Some Purāṇic versions of the image installation ritual feature similar applications of the saṃpāta for the purpose of divine  invocation.54 Nonetheless other purāṇas both incorporate saṃpātas in the second bath of the installation but associate this bath with the older apotropaic functions. Take, for instance, the canonical account of the Matsyapurāṇa 264–​65 (appendix 5.2). Prior to the second bath an elaborate fire offering is performed at five fire pits constructed in and around the pavilion. The main performer of the ritual (sthāpaka) is stationed at the central fire pit, while attendant priests (mūrtipas), along with representatives of each of the four Vedas, are stationed at those in the cardinal directions. Note again how the dregs of these offerings are used to bathe the image (steps 12–​15): The sthāpaka should offer a homa near the head [of the image] with such mantras as those pertaining to śānti and puṣṭi, preceded by the vyāhṛti syllables. . . . [Every priest] should offer oblations to these [image-​protecting deities] with Vedic mantras appropriate to each, procure a śānti-​pot, and set it down at his respective fire pit. The full (i.e. final) oblation is recommended [to occur] after one hundred or one thousand [oblations]. [Each priest] should put [the pot?] down calmly, with his feet evenly spaced on the ground. He should then place the dregs (saṃpāta) of the oblations into the full water pots. He should bathe the god on the lower, middle and upper limbs, with that [pot]. He should bathe it standing upright with the water containing the dregs (saṃpāta) of the offerings.55 This version of the second bath is structurally identical to that of Āśvalāyanīya, insofar as it takes place in a pavilion equipped with five fire pits. The central offering occurs near the head of the image, which has been laid down on the evening of the adhivāsana. But rather than with mantras related to the invocation of a specific deity, the main offering is performed “with such mantras as those pertaining to śānti and puṣṭi, preceded by the vyāhṛti syllables.” Whatever specific

54. For example, the Garuḍapurāṇa, which delays the second bath until the moment on the second day when the image is installed in the temple, employs a “pot of dregs” (saṃpātakalaśa) for this activity (1.48.95). See Hikita, “Consecration of Divine Images.” 55.  śiraḥsthāne tu devasya sthāpako homam ācaret | śāntikaiḥ pauṣṭikais tadvanmantrair vyāhṛtipūrvakaiḥ || 30 || etebhyo vaidikair mantrair yathāsvaṃ homam ācaret | tathā śāntighaṭaṃ kuryāt pratikuṇḍeṣu saṃnyaset || 43 || śatānte vā sahasrānte saṃpūrṇāhutir iṣyate | samapādaḥ pṛthivyāṃ tu praśāntātmā vinikṣipet || 44 || āhutīnāṃ tu saṃpātaṃ pūrṇakumbheṣu vai nyaset | mūlamadhyottamāṅgeṣu devaṃ tenāvasecayet || 45 || sthitaṃ ca snāpayet tena saṃpātāhutivāriṇā | 46ab | MtP 265 | Omitting verses 31–​42.

216

216

Rit es of t he God -K ing

mantras may be intended here, it is clear that they are not simply mantras of invocation but also encompass the effects of our earlier śānti rituals. Note once again that the pots containing the remainders appear to be called “śānti pots.” I would suggest the following explanation. This Purāṇic version of image installation seems to have accommodated a different mode of divine invocation. The moment of instantiation—​when the image becomes invested with divinity—​seems to occur after the overnight portion, during the second half of the ritual, when the god is physically installed in the temple.56 This transformation is brought about through direct visualization of the god and the recitation of non-​ Vedic, literal mantras, a direct method of invocation that obviates the need for transferring divine presence through water. And since the coveted moment of invocation is to be accomplished in this way, the second bath of the adhivāsana has reverted, so to speak, to its earlier apotropaic function. Like the body of the king in the rājyābhiṣeka, the image is protected—​appeased and rectified—​before it is enthroned in its “kingdom.” Given that this text was reproduced in the Pratiṣṭhākāṇḍa of Lakṣmīdhara’s influential Kṛtyakalpataru, the incorporation of an apotropaic consecration within the pratiṣṭhā seems therefore to have remained current during the early second millennium ce.57 Taken as a group, these examples support the hypothesis that the śānti-​based combination of fire offering and aspersion provided an early and influential model for divine invocation among image-​worshipping groups, who operated well beyond the Atharvan fold. In some cases other means of invocation, such as direct speech with non-​Vedic mantras or visualization and nyāsa (the imposition of mantras by touching the limbs of the image), were preferred. In such cases the fire offering and/​or aspersion might play only a secondary or redundant role in the coveted act of pairing material and deity. We might interpret these as “vestig­ ial” ritual structures. Nonetheless—​without foreclosing the possibility that other models of image installation might have existed apart from these early sources—​ such a hypothesis explains the broad structural consistency among versions of this ritual that span the Vedic pariśiṣṭas as well as Hindu purāṇas and āgamas.

Bathing and pūjā in Bodhāyanagṛhyaśeṣasūtra For an astrologer like Varāhamihira, the image may be seen to house two distinctive types of values: the signs of auspiciousness or inauspiciousness, on the one hand, and divine presence, on the other. One might suppose, however, that as

56. MtP 266.33–​54. 57. Aiyangar, Pratiṣthākāṇḍa, 68–​89.

217



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

217

theistic Hinduism proceeded to flourish in the age of temples, the devotional view of the image would have superseded this earlier astrological frame. I tentatively propose, however, a much more ambivalent situation: Is it possible that the astrological underpinnings of the royal ritual regime continued to thrive at the heart of the devotional cult? On the one hand, we have seen that the image installation ceremony, as it appears in its formative period—​the second half of the first millennium ce, from Varāhamihira’s time to the composition of the Matsyapurāṇa—​mimics the royal abhiṣeka rituals that developed in the wake of the śānti-​based Prosperity Bath. Those abhiṣekas, I have argued, reframed the royal inauguration in apotropaic terms, essentially redefining abhiṣeka as śānti. But while the image installation ceremony follows the same ritual procedure, it departs more decisively from the apotropaic purpose of śānti.58 Here it may be that the theological commitments of the various sects required stricter mantric content than in the case of the rājyābhiṣeka; perhaps śānti is simply more difficult to harmonize, semantically, with image installation (pratiṣṭhā) than with royal inauguration (abhiṣeka). From this angle the introduction of divine presence into the heart of the śānti paradigm might pose a fundamental change to the nature and purpose of the ritual. On the other hand, when we examine the ritual calendar of the cultic, temple image, the parallel between image and king—​as well as the apotropaic nature of those rituals—​is affirmed rather than denied. To explore this parallel let us return to the Bodhāyanagṛhyaśeṣasūtra.59 In this text, which is affiliated neither with the Atharvaveda nor with any explicit astrological tradition, the apotropaic logic of astrological Vedism nonetheless continues to operate in full force. This will confirm what Varāhamihira already suggested for omens that manifest in images: pūjā functions as a ritual means for śānti. According to contemporary accounts, pūjā is often elaborated in a ritual sequence of sixteen services (ṣoḍaśopacāra). Although specific elements of the ritual may vary, the conventional sequence follows a fairly standard format: the invocation of the deity (āvāhana); its reception with a seat (āsana), foot water (pādya), and drinking water (arghya); a bath (snāna); dressing in clean clothes (vastra and yajñopavīta); the presentation of perfume (gandha), flowers (puṣpa), incense (dhūpa), and lamps (dīpa); a food offering (naivedya), rinsing water (ācamana), fruit (phala), and betel nut (tāmbūla); and finally

58. Although we have seen that in some cases, an apotropaic aspersion might still be included. 59. Again this text is taken as a crucial early exemplar of pūjā. See Harting, Selections, xvi–​xxix; Bühnemann, Pūjā, 32–​34.

218

218

Rit es of t he God -K ing

circumambulation (pradakṣiṇa).60 The broader logic of the sequence, as Paul Thieme first noted, centers on the honorific reception of an eminent guest. Accordingly the guest—​presumably having taken an arduous journey—​is at first greeted with a seat and water (for washing the feet and for sipping) and then given a chance to bathe. He or she is then presented with fresh clothes and a set of comforting substances (perfume, flowers, incense, and lamps), followed by a culminating meal. In an analysis of the earliest prescriptions for pūjā in pariśiṣṭa texts, Einoo pursued Thieme’s line of thinking.61 He showed that the “core” of the pūjā sequence in these sources includes four essential components:  [1]‌invocation (āvāhana); [2] bath (snapana); [3] presentation of perfume, flowers, incense, and lamps (gandhapuṣpadhūpadīpa); and [4] a food offering. This core set was then variably combined with elements from two different Vedic domestic rituals: the simple fire sacrifice (homa) and/​or the old ritual of guest reception (madhuparka).62 Within the core set of services the four substances of perfume, flowers, incense, and lamps (often aggregated in the compound gandhapuṣpadhūpadīpa) are largely alien to earlier Vedic rituals and are supposed to have originated among non-​Vedic (or non-​Aryan) groups. The invocation (āvāhana) can be viewed as a new, theological element, required to obtain the presence of the deity, though it recalls the basic Vedic logic of summoning an invisible god to the sacrifice.63 The food offering (naivedya) can be prepared in a Vedic fire or take the form of a simple, uncooked offering (bali), as in Varāhamihira’s rituals. The final, unaccounted-​for element in these early pūjā ceremonies, then, is the bath (snāna). This element may be linked to earlier Vedic practices, as Einoo suggests, but it does not derive from either the Vedic homa or the guest reception (madhuparka).64 However logical it may seem to offer a visitor a bath, the original reception ritual did not include bathing (nor, we might add, dressing in new clothes). Thus the bath forms a seemingly independent component of pūjā. Although the full historical formation of the pūjā ritual remains unclear, a number of examples in the crucial text of Bodhāyana suggest that the bath,

60. See Bühnemann, Pūjā; Einoo, “The Formation of the Pūjā Ceremony.” 61. The bulk of Einoo’s sample (fifteen specimens) comes from Bodhāyana. 62. Compare Willis, Archaeology of Hindu Ritual, chap. 2; Lubin, “The Vedic Homa.” 63. The invocation is often omitted in cases of pūjā applied to a permanently installed image. See, for example, BodhGŚS 2.14 (Harting, Selections, 5, line 5) and 2.15.13. 64. Einoo, “The Formation of the Pūjā Ceremony,” 79.

219



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

219

which by the time of the pariśiṣṭas was regularly included in pūjā, could serve the function of śānti. Perhaps the clearest example is the “Bath of Viṣṇu” (viṣṇoḥ snapanam) (appendix 5.3). The encompassing frame of this instruction assumes a standard pūjā sequence. In the first place the text specifies that if the god has not been permanently installed, an invocation must be performed (step 7). Second, the image is given “a seat, and so forth, in proper order” (āsanādi kramāt) (step 9). Third, the ritual concludes with a food offering (step 11) and the completion of “the rest” of the ritual (śeṣaṃ parisamāpayet) (step 12). Given the placement of this text among other pūjā rituals, the abbreviated instructions such as those in steps 9 and 12 can be taken to refer to conventional elements of pūjā—​the opening elements of the guest reception ritual (āsana, pādya, arghya, ācamana), and the four “non-​Vedic” substances (gandhapuṣpadhūpadīpa), a food offering, and a circumambulation (pradakṣiṇa). At the same time this ritual frame encompasses an elaborate bath. Much of the text concerns the preparation of a bathing pavilion (snapanamaṇḍapa), where the image is stationed on an altar (steps 1–​2, 8), along with nine pots. The eight surrounding pots are filled with water “resembling pure crystals” (śuddhaspaṭikasannibha); the central pot is filled with pañcagavya (steps 3–​ 5). The main action of this ritual appears to be the bathing of the god with each of these pots, along with the recitation of Vedic mantras (step 10). These mantras, to be sure, are associated with generic bathing rites; they convey no special apotropaic sense.65 Nonetheless the erection of the bathing pavilion with its pots and the use of pañcagavya recall the yātrā-​based rituals of astrological Vedism, especially the Victory Bath. Furthermore the passage concerning the timing and effects of the ritual recalls the astrological setting of śānti: At the passage of the solstice or equinox, during an eclipse of the sun or moon, and whenever there is interruption of the worship (of an image) it [the ritual] should happen; also during any other affliction (upaghāta), after a fearful, bad dream one should immediately (ādyam) perform the bathing ritual; there will be complete śānti (sarvaśāntir bhaviṣyati). And should he perform a festival at the equinox he is released of all sins. His

65. “The following mantras have to be recalled when bathing Paramātman: the Viṣṇu-​hymn (TS 1.2.13i), the seven [verses] (i.e. the three beginning), ‘āpo hi’ (TS 4.1.5b), (and the four verses beginning), ‘hiraṇyavarṇāḥ’ (TS 5.6.1), and the chapter, ‘pavamānaḥ,’ etc. (TB 1.4.8). These are generally prescribed [for bathing]” (mantrā ete tu mantavyā snāpane paramātmanaḥ || 15 || vaiṣṇavaṃ sūktam āpo hi hiraṇye ‘ti casaptakam | pavamānānuvākaṃ ca sarve sādhāraṇās smṛtāḥ || 16 || BodhGŚS 2.15 ||).

20

220

Rit es of t he God -K ing

happiness increases in this world and the next. Afterwards, he will be united with Viṣṇu—​of this there is no doubt.66 Here the occasional bath of Viṣṇu should be performed at dangerous astrological moments: the solstice or equinox, the eclipse, and upon the manifestation of an affliction or a bad dream. It yields complete appeasement (sarvaśānti) and release from sin (sarvapātaka). Among the inauspicious events prompting this bath, the text adds the interruption of the regular worship of the god and, as an auspicious result, union with Viṣṇu. But these theological points do not appear to undermine the astrological rationale. In reference to images permanently installed in temples, Bodhāyana prescribes similar occasional baths, including a parallel bath for Rudra (rudrasnānārcana) and a “reinstallation” (punaḥpratiṣṭhā) ceremony, presumably applicable to both Viṣṇu and Śiva.67 Each of these rituals explicitly names śānti as an outcome. The reinstallation, meant for an image whose worship has been “willfully interrupted” (buddipūrveṇa arcanāvicchede), is especially clear on this point. The ritual repeats the overnight (adhivāsana) portion of the image installation, followed by the bathing of the god with pañcagavya and jeweled water and an offering of flowers and food. The text ends by saying, “When this is done, he (i.e. the god) will obtain śānti” (evaṃ kṛte ‘sya śāntir bhavati). In these occasional rituals the bathing element in the pūjā sequence—​roughly placed after the reception of the god and prior to the offering of perfume, flowers, and so forth—​appears, as it were, enlarged or highlighted. But elsewhere, in the instructions for the daily service to Viṣṇu and Śiva (aharahaḥparicārya), the bath (using the same mantras) receives no special emphasis, forming a seemingly innocuous, regular element in the pūjā ceremony.68 In this way śānti and pūjā (and indeed pratiṣṭhā) are essentially harmonized as ritual structures. The pūjā ceremony at once forms a regular “service” to the god, instituted immediately after its installation and continued daily thereafter, and at the same time it may be performed on special occasions, when the god’s worship has been interrupted or some (astrological) danger arises. In the latter case the bathing element of pūjā

66.  viṣuvāyanasaṅkrāntau candrasūryagrahe tathā | 20cd | arcanāyāś ca vicchede kadācit kālabhedataḥ | upaghāte ‘pi vānyasmin dussvapne tu bhayaṃkare || 21 || ādyaṃ tu snāpanaṃ kuryāt sarvaśāntir bhaviṣyati | atha devotsavaṃ kuryān mucyate sarvapātakaiḥ || 22 || iha loke paratrāpi sukham evāsya vardhate | paścād viṣṇoś ca sāyujyam etīty atra na saṃśayaḥ || 23 || BodhGŚS 2.15 || 67. BodhGŚS 2.18 and 19. See also the general bathing prescription, BodhGŚS 2.21. 68. BodhGŚS 2.14 and 17.

21



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

221

becomes more pronounced—​and the ceremony will outwardly appear like a conventional śānti ritual—​but bathing is nonetheless present in inaugural and daily pūjā as well. From this angle pūjā can be seen as a combination of the following, more or less independent parts: [1]‌guest reception, [2] (simple or apotropaic) bath, [3] presentation of the four substances, and [4] food offering (simple bali and/​ or Vedic yajña). In the “Chapter on Omens,” Varāhamihira already establishes such an analysis when he prescribes the following remedy to omens manifesting in divine images: Seeing such an alteration of a god (i.e. image), the purohita, purified, fasting for three days, bathed, should worship (abhyarcayet) the image with baths, flowers, unguents, and clothing. The purohita should praise [it] according to rule with the madhuparka, and with edible bali offerings. He should offer, according to rule, a sthālīpāka (rice oblation), with mantras having the marks [of the deity in question].69 Varāhamihira has made this kind of description before, in the preliminary worship (pūjā) of the deities invited to the king’s inauguration (puṣyasnāna) and the gods who were involved in the king’s military march (yātrā). Those rituals included a food offering (bali or yajña) and the presentation of fragrant substances (such as perfume, flowers, and unguents). At least some versions of those rituals also incorporated the reception of the deity to a seat and other components of guest reception. We see all of the same elements here in the case of an alteration or "flaw" of the image: flowers and unguents, bali offerings, and a Vedic sacrifice (sthālīpāka), likely with Vedic mantras. While madhuparka may be taken (as does the commentator) to refer to a special drink given to a guest, it is also the name for the guest reception ceremony on the whole. The new element here, then, is the bath: whereas in Varāhamira’s royal inauguration (puṣyasnāna) the preliminary deities were invited with a pūjā ceremony as guests and agents of the king’s bath, here the god himself is both a guest and, additionally, an object of bathing. Varāhamihira must have had in mind something like the pūjā ceremony envisioned in Bodhāyana’s “Bath of Viṣṇu”: image worship (pūjā) can serve as a means of appeasement (śānti) not only insofar as the god himself is “pleased”—​or appeased—​by the worshipper but also insofar as he is bathed, as a king would be.

69.  buddhvā devavikāraṃ śuciḥ purodhās tryahoṣitaḥ snātaḥ | snānakusumānulepanavastrair abhyarcayet pratimāṃ || 15 || madhuparkeṇa purodhā bhakṣyair balibhiś ca vidhivad upatiṣṭhet | sthālīpākaṃ juhuyād vidhivan mantraiś ca talliṅgaiḥ || 16 || BS 45 ||

2

222

Rit es of t he God -K ing

Table 5.1  Parallel rituals for gods and kings King in Appendices of the Atharvaveda

First Aspersion Daily Rituals

prathamābhiṣeka abhiṣeka, svastyayana, etc.

Image/​liṅga of Viṣṇu/​Śiva in the Appendix of Baudhāyana First Aspersion adhivāsana/​pratiṣṭhā Daily Rituals aharahaḥparicaryā (svastyayana)

Annual Aspersion janmadina, puṣyābhiṣeka Occasional Aspersions

puṣyābhiṣeka, ghṛtakambala, mahādānas, various mahāśāntis

Occasional Aspersions

snapana, punaḥpratiṣṭhā

One further detail from Bodhāyana helps to confirm this equivalence between god and king: the daily pūjā services of Viṣṇu/​Śiva are called svastyayana—​the term, we may recall, that served as the morning ritual for the king in the Atharvan Appendices.70 As a result the full schedule of rituals for the temple image in the Bodhāyana mimics the aspersion-​heavy royal regime, as in Table 5.1. Note that the assimilation of the image to the cult of śānti is not surprising in the context of this appendix, for, aside from these rituals of image worship, the text includes numerous aspersion-​based śānti rituals both for kings and for others, including sick persons, menstruating women, and animals.71 It also includes explicit instructions for the preparation of śānti waters.72 These passages need not detain us here, but their existence—​relatively ignored when compared to the attention garnered by the passages on image installation and worship—​establishes that the ritual culture of appeasement persisted in this early, orthodox Vedic group that adopted image worship. The upshot, however, seems rather clear: just as the king in the Appendices was subject to a seemingly unending calendar of apotropaic aspersions, so we might see the image similarly bound.

70. From this perspective the image is treated not as an arriving guest but as a king waking from sleep. This may explain why the image is shown the sun during the daily service (see BodhGŚS 2.14, line 8). 71. See, for example, BodhGŚS 1.18–​20, 24, and parallel passages in Hiraṇyakeśigṛhyaśeṣasūtra. Roughly the same set of objects is imagined in Varāhamihira’s taxonomy of omens. 72. BodhGŚS 1.14.

23



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

223

The Temple as Petrified Appeasement? Viewed from the perspective of pūjā, the image installation ceremony qualitatively transforms the material of the image in more ways than one. In the devotional register the inert matter becomes a living, serviceable body. Simultaneously, in what I have called the priestly view, the same object becomes recognized in a network of astrological signs and, like the king’s body, inaugurated as an object of recurrent aspersion, the ongoing ritual work of appeasement. If this proposed symmetry between god and king is correct, the image is more than an arbitrary locus for the manifestation of omens, as it first appeared in the “Chapter on Omens”; it inclines toward the royal center of the signifying network. Is it possible that the image could replace the body of the king at the apex of this ritual-​ astrological system? What I have proposed so far certainly points to such a conclusion, at least in the limited sources I have explored. But the degree to which appeasement continues to operate, explicitly or implicitly, in the manifold temple cults of medieval South Asia remains to be seen. Certainly we can assume significant variation in the persistence of śānti according to local historical factors. Nonetheless the hypothesis of an essential and enduring symbiosis between śānti and pūjā gains further traction when we consider standard features of temple architecture from the priestly perspective. Given what we have seen in the early development of the image installation ceremony, I will tentatively suggest that the material infrastructure of royal bathing rituals—​especially the “pot and pillar” motif of bathing pavilions and iconographic representations of river goddesses and planets—​may have survived in aspects of temple design. While this hypothesis cannot be fully explored here, an outline will help at least to raise the possibility that the ritual culture of appeasement endured into the mature period of temple Hinduism. In the first place, we have seen that image installation regularly takes place in a pavilion or maṇḍapa, sometimes called a “śānti house.” Image installation texts, regardless of sectarian affiliation, consistently describe this structure as a square open wooden structure consisting of pillars and arches, surrounded by adorned water pots: On the banks of a river, or better, at the place where the river meets the ocean, at a [spot] free of defect, in the north or northeast direction, the performer should purify the earth at a pleasing [spot] sloping to the northeast. Having carefully purified the eastern direction, there he should have the maṇḍapa made. [It should] consist of nine equal compartments, or measure sixteen cubits. [It should] be square with four doors or have only a single high door. Then, in the northeast corner a bathing altar should be

24

224

Rit es of t he God -K ing

made. The altar should be of twelve cubits, or of the same measure as the canopy. The main pillars should be four times as high, and the secondary pillars on the side [?]‌are recommended to be half that size. Pots are to be furnished alongside these pillars, the doors in each direction should be as one wishes, the height of the sponsor or half of that height. He should make the hut in the shape of the fire pit, wrapped in two layers. [There should be] a wicker [cover?] in all directions, but it should not cover over the fire pit. [There are] twelve pillars all around and four in the middle. It is praised and worshipped in śānti rituals as the śānti-​house, adorned with a canopy such as a netra,73 and filled with various colored banners. The sixteen flags are known to be red, yellow, smoke, black, dark blue, yellowish white, motley, and emerald colored. [Or?] the sixteen flags should be rainbow-​colored, grey, black, dark blue, yellowish white, yellow, red, white, and dark green. Above the sixteen water pots there is a big banner. One should cover the water pots with cloth and [put] gold separately in each, with gems and pearls, pleasing flowers, and sweet fruits. And also [the maṇḍapa] is adorned with lamps set down in all directions.74 It seems quite possible that this bathing shed—​its pillars and doorways adorned with leafy water pots—​interacted with fixed temple architecture in several ways. Although the pavilions in the ritual texts seem to be built out of wood, in the architectural period of “early maturity”—​that is, from the eighth century ce onward—​a number of subsidiary structures, often called maṇḍapas, were regularly installed, some directly adjacent to the temple itself. Take, for example, the well-​known eighth-​century Sūrya temple (no.  2)  at Osian

73. Perhaps a kind of cloth. 74. nadītaṭe samudrasya saṃgame vā viśeṣataḥ | anindye digvibhāge ca uttare vāparājite || 4.3 || bhūmiṃ saṃśodhayet kartā prāgudakpravaṇe śubhe | prācīṃ saṃśodhya yatnena maṇḍapaṃ tatra kārayet || 4.4 || navakoṣṭhaṃ samaṃ vāpi hastaiḥ ṣoḍaśabhir mitam | caturaśraṃ caturdvāram ekordhvadvāram eva vā || 4.5 || tata īśānakoṇe tu snānavediṃ samācaret | daśadvādaśahastaṃ vā yathāvitānam eva vā || 5.1 || caturguṇocchrayāś caiva mūlastambhās tu ye tataḥ | upastambhās tu ye pārśve tadardhena prakīrtitāḥ || 5.2 || kumbhāḥ stambhais tathā deyāḥ kāmair dvāraṃ diśāṃ smṛtam | yajamānocchrayaṃ vāpi tadardhena prakīrtitāḥ || 5.3 || kuṇḍākṛti gṛhaṃ kuryād dviguṇaṃ pariveṣtitam | sarvadikṣu plavaṃ caiva kuṇḍasyordhvaṃ na chādayet || 5.4 || parito dvādaśasthūnaṃ catu[ḥ]stambhaṃ tu madhyataḥ | arcitaṃ pūjitaṃ nityaṃ śāntau śāntigṛhaṃ smṛtam || 6.1 || netrādyullocaśobhiṣṭhaṃ nānāvarṇadhvajākulam | raktā pītā ca dhūmrā ca kṛṣṇā nīlātha pāṇḍurā || 6.2 || vicitrā hīndranīlābhā patākāḥ ṣoḍaśa smṛtāḥ | [aindrāyudhadhū­ mrakṛṣṇanīlapāṇḍuravarṇakāḥ] || 6.3 || [pītaraktasitāḥ śyāmā patākāḥ ṣoḍaśa smṛtāḥ |] kalaśān ṣoḍaśān tatra upariṣṭān mahādhvajaḥ || 6.4 || vastreṇāchāditān kuryāt sahiraṇyān pṛthakpṛthak | maṇimuktāphalaiḥ puṣpair hṛdyaiś ca madhuraiḥ phalaiḥ || 6.5 || samantād dikṣu vinyastaiḥ pradīpaiś cāpy alaṃkṛtam | 6.6ab || AVPŚ 21 || See Einoo’s discussion and translation in “The Formation of Hindu Ritual,” 13–​20.

25



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

225

(Rājasthan).75 Attached to the front of the temple is what art historians call a “theatre pavilion” (raṅgamaṇḍapa), having sixteen pillars.76 The four central pillars of this structure feature a typical pot motif.77 A simpler example can be found at the Viṣṇu temple (no. 1), also at Osian, which has a simple four-​pillar structure directly in front of the main shrine.78 Two of the pillars frame the doorway to the shrine, as if the square pavilion—​often conflated with the front porch—​has been embedded into the front of the main temple. Note again that all of the pillars exhibit this conventional “full-​pot” motif.79 Following the seminal work of Stella Kramisch, standard art histories have presented the Hindu temple as a cosmic mountain housing the deity and permitting the devotee horizontal access to a salvific axis mundi.80 Such accounts sometimes emphasize the fact that the earliest temples, such as the Gupta-​era shrines at Udayagiri (Madhya Pradesh), were carved directly into hillsides, thus forming artificially produced mountain caves.81 Early Gupta freestanding structures also appear to mimic a mountainous cave form, as lithic masses of the dolmen type, with a single opening in the front. In the mature Hindu temple these cubic masses bear the weight of the towering “mountain peak” (śikhara) superstructure. Since the weight of the temple roof and superstructure is supported by solid stone walls, the dense cubic shrine differs markedly from the wooden pavilion described in our ritual texts, whose weight was supported by pillars and which was open in the four directions. Despite thus having no structural need for pillars, several Gupta temples of this closed type already include “decorative” pillar motifs reminiscent of the maṇḍapa pavilion.82 For example, the cubic stone temple of Kaṅkalī-​ Devī at Tigawā 75. Meister and Dhaky, Encyclopaedia of Indian Temple Architecture 2.2, 140–​44. 76. Ibid., pl. 330. 77. Ibid., pl. 332. 78. Ibid., 144–​46. 79. Ibid., pl. 341. Compare the image of the Sūrya temple at Madkheda (Madhya Pradesh), ca. 875, in Meister, “Prāsāda as Palace,” 259, fig.1. 80.  Kramrisch, The Hindu Temple See also Michell, The Hindu Temple, chap.  4; Meister, “Fragments from a Divine Cosmology.” For a critique, see Granoff, “Heaven on Earth.” 81. “Stone seems finally to have become acceptable through an extension of the temple as ‘cave’ (for in caves, according to texts, gods had always been seen to live), a conception which governs the small cells at Udaigiri, as also the structural cells at Sanchi and Tigowa, and which may partially operate at Nachna where the Pārvati temple has had its outer walls turned decoratively into rocks, encasing the cave within” (Meister, “A Note on the Superstructure of the Maṛhiā Temple,” 82). 82. Meister and Dhaky, Encyclopaedia of Indian Temple Architecture 2.1, chap. 2; Williams, The Art of Gupta India.

26

226

Rit es of t he God -K ing

(ca. mid-​fifth century) is fronted by a subsidiary pillared structure.83 From the south face the pot-​adorned pillars again appear as if squished into the main temple. Similarly, while the Parvatī temple at Nachna lacks a subsidiary pavillion, two pot-​ pillars are carved on the doorway.84 These temples are perhaps one or two generations prior to Varāhamihira, our earliest datable source for the image installation ritual. Although it appears earlier in the art historical record, Joanna Williams identifies the full pot-​and-​pillar motif as a form that became standard during the Gupta period, by the end of the fifth century.85 Williams also argues that the period shortly thereafter, the end of the Gupta period (mid-​sixth century), marked a significant, essentially religious shift: “Architecture became more complex and coherent as a religious experience, and sculpture was integrated into that larger purpose. This new role led to the patterning of detail, linking different parts of the temple’s decor.”86 I would suggest that the image of a full pot contributed significantly to this coherence. That is, if we entertain the suggestion that the pot-​adorned pillared structures that regularly appear in front of temple shrines are stone renderings of the maṇḍapa pavilion described in our ritual texts, the notion of the temple as a mountain cave would operate in tension, architecturally speaking, with the notion of the temple as a royal consecratory space.87 The natural plan of a mountain is encrusted with the artificial trappings of the pillared pavilion. Indeed in fully developed “Nāgara” or urban-​style temples, the central shrine is often marked by four pillars.88 In other words, as much as the designers of these temples wanted to convey the image of a natural mountain cave, they also appear to have taken pains to indicate, in highly artificial terms, the ritual work necessary to produce and maintain the god’s dwelling. In a closely related development, several of the deities commonly depicted on temple doorways—​the two river goddesses and the nine planets (Navagraha)—​ might also be read as gods of aspersion, since these deities are regularly invoked in the ritual manuals to perform the act of appeasement and inauguration. Discussions of the river goddesses Gaṅgā and Yamunā, who are conventionally depicted at the base of temple doorways holding water pots, have stressed their 83. Meister and Dhaky, Encyclopaedia of Indian Temple Architecture 2.1, 34–​35, pl. 38. 84. Ibid., 38–​40, pl. 57. 85. Williams, The Art of Gupta India, 48, 73. Compare the development of this motif at Ajanta and Ellora in Stern, Colonnes indiennes. 86. Williams, The Art of Gupta India, 274. 87. Consider the pavilion structures added to the cave shrines at Udayagiri (nos. 1 and 19) in Meister and Dhaky, Encyclopaedia of Indian Temple Architecture 2.1, pl. 11 and 19. 88. As is already the case in Udayagiri, cave 19.

27



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

227

political dimensions:  since these rivers together encompassed the geographic integrity of northern India, they may express hegemonic claims over the subcontinent and thus serve as appropriate royal symbols.89 Such political associations are also relevant to royal consecration rituals. In the ceremonies described in ­chapter 4, the ritual waters are to be drawn from the four oceans and great rivers, no doubt encouraging the medieval king to partake in military expeditions against far-​flung adversaries. Some of the mantras in these rituals invoke the rivers themselves among those deities asked to perform the king’s aspersion. In the context of such ceremonies, river water, especially as drawn from the Gaṅgā and the Yamunā, gains tremendous political valence as instruments in royal consecration ceremonies during the early medieval period.90 It is thus understandable that these two river goddesses became standard deities on temple doorways from the Gupta period onward. As a figuration of kingship, the divine image framed by the temple door would appear in the midst of consecration by the two great rivers, bearing water pots overflowing with fruits and foliage.91 Finally, we might also consider whether the same is true for the Navagrahas, the planetary deities that are also regularly depicted on the lintels of temple doorways. Usually the planets are described as having an essentially “protective” function, warding off malefic influences, but such descriptions fail to explain how, exactly, they perform this protective function. We have seen, however, that the planets formed crucial preliminary deities for śānti rituals from the earliest Atharvan sources; their astronomical nature naturally aided in explaining their role in astrologically timed appeasement rituals. Images of planetary deities first appear in the fifth and sixth centuries in central India, becoming standard on temple doorways by the eighth and ninth centuries. In the formative phase of planetary iconography, six of these gods are figured as identical.92 Aside from the Sūrya and Rāhu, the remaining planets, from the Moon to Saturn, are all described by art historians as Brahmanical

89.  See Viennot, Les divinités fluviales Gańgā et Yamunā. The issue is reviewed in Willis, Archaeology of Hindu Ritual, 47–​53. 90. A general of the eleventh century Coḷa king Rajendra I is said to have forced his vanquished enemies to carry water from the Gaṅgā to his lord, whom he met on the banks of the Godāvarī (Sastri, The Colas, 206–​7). 91.  Willis similarly interprets images of the pot-​wielding ocean god Varuṇa, which frame the famous Varāha at Udayagiri (cave 5), as depicting the aspersion of a Rājasūya abhiṣeka (Archaeology of Hindu Ritual, 68). The two flanking Varuṇa images are also accompanied by Gaṅgā and Yamunā. See Mitra, “Varāha Cave at Udayagiri.” 92. Sūrya and Rāhu receive distinctive iconographic markers based on their earlier mythologies. See Markel, Origins of the Indian Planetary Deities.

28

228

Rit es of t he God -K ing

“ascetics,” since they have matted hair, the sacrificial cord, their right hand in abhaya mudrā (the gesture of safety) holding a rosary, and a water pot held in the left hand at the waist or the knee. Usually this water pot is identified as an ascetic pot (kamaṇḍalu) rather than as a more generic ghaṭa, kumbha, or kalaśa pot, as is depicted on pillars and in the hands of Gaṅgā and Yamunā.93 According to A. K. Coomaraswamy and Francis Kershaw, the ascetic water pot can be identified by its second water spout, in distinction from the water pots we have seen, which have only one opening, which is either covered or overflowing with foliage.94 But a number of examples of the water pots carried by the planets appear to lack this second spout.95 Given the presence of other pot-​bearing deities on the doorway, we should consider the possibility that the planets, like the river goddesses, represent deities of aspersion. Such a possibility is also corroborated by ritual manuals, which mention the planets in mantras that invoke all the gods to attend the image installation. In fact one such invocatory mantra mentions the planets side by side with the mātṛkās, another set of “apotropaic deities” that are often depicted alongside or in place of the planets on temple lintels.96 As with the broader apotropaic function of the ritual, the presence of the planets in early śānti rituals seems to have persisted when those rituals were transferred to royal and divine forms of inauguration, and from there, perhaps, to the physical temple itself. In the recurring planetary motif, a distinctly astrological notion of appeasement is inscribed on the very entrance of the typical Hindu temple, as if bathing the image with aspersion waters.

From God to King The history of the rise of temple Hinduism concerns more than the triumphant spread of devotional sectarianism. It also presents the dramatic process whereby the image, figuratively and spatially, moved toward the royal center of the kingdom, the center of a cosmos of signifying matter. Olivelle has shown that where temples (ayatana) are mentioned in early Sanskrit literature—​roughly from the early centuries of the first millennium ce—​they generally refer to wilderness

93. The attribution of a brahmin ascetic may derive from the description of Jupiter/​Bṛhaspati from the Viṣṇudharmottarapurāṇa—​from a relatively late period. This description might have been retroactively applied to earlier versions of the navagrahas. 94. Coomaraswamy and Kershaw, “A Chinese Buddhist Water Vessel.” 95. See, for example, Markel, Origins of the Indian Planetary Deities, pls. 15, 16, 19, 23, etc. 96. See VDhP 3.97–​116.

29



Signs in the Gods, Gods in the Pots

229

shrines, far from the center of urban civilized life.97 By contrast, the period of mature temple Hinduism (eighth to twelfth centuries ce) is characterized by the appearance of great temple cities, particularly in the regional kingdoms of the South and East. I read this movement—​at least in some significant measure—​as the work of the ritualists behind the texts examined above: as far as we can tell, it is these priestly groups who recognized the full cultic potential of the image in its multiple dimensions. From the perspective of the royal cult previously envisaged by Vedic astrology, the potential they saw would seem obvious: the image forms a more durable and perfect body than the king. It combines the efficacious, ritual centricity of the royal body with the auspicious normativity of the image, a natural sign holder, crafted in metal or stone, largely invulnerable to damage and deviation from a perfect norm. When installed in the temple, the image realizes the Atharvan ideal of perpetual appeasement in a way that the king’s mortal frame never could—​ suspending the royal body at the height of auspiciousness in the ritual process, the moment when it has been bathed with the waters of appeasement and then presented (darśayet) to a viewing public. It preserves this state in petrified form. But at the same time as the rituals of image worship incorporate the god image in the place of the king, they also transfer our anxiety (cintā) to that image. The permanent body of the god should remain forever beautiful, shouldn’t it? For—​whether or not the god comes or goes from this station—​his physical form has taken on the existential value of the entire kingdom. If this is so, it helps to explain an important inconsistency that Hélène Brunner once noticed in connection with the temple cult as it appears in Āgamic ritual texts of the Śaiva tradition—​those texts that would eventually govern temple worship in South India.98 Brunner noted that the Tantric underpinnings of Śaivism, which focused on the salvation of the individual adept, did not easily account for the “altruistic” aims of the temple cult: it could explain worship for oneself (svārthapūjā) but not for another (parārthapūjā). In other words, the public value of temple worship, which assures the general prosperity of the kingdom, cannot be accounted for by sectarian theological discourse. If the foregoing analysis is correct, it suggests that the statewide good of worshipping the god image is not an outcome of Hindu theology; it represents an inheritance from the royal cult of astrological Vedism.

97. Olivelle, “The Temple in Sanskrit Legal Literature.” 98. Brunner, “Ātmārthapūjā versus Parārthapūjā.”

230

6

Ritual Change and the Problem of Presence The aspersion rite does not have any personal or basic meaning in the state of isolation, but it is meaningful if seen as a component part of a particular ceremony. The meaning of the rite can, consequently, only be found by determining the relation it has with other elements of the whole ceremony. —​A rnold van Gennep, “De la méthode à suivre dans l’étude des rites et des mythes.”1

This study is largely governed by the theme of ritual change. A  ritual instrument (śāntyudaka) becomes a ritual paradigm (śānti); that ritual appropriates other rituals (principally abhiṣeka) and is transformed into still another (pratiṣṭhā). But what, more precisely, is the object of this change: a ritual form or a concept in the form of a ritual name? If we are merely speaking of the life of a structure of action, what, if anything, does this life mean at the level of discourse? If we are also speaking of ritual concepts, what is their relation to these structures? What, finally, does all of this mean for the history of Hinduism at large? The situation becomes even more complicated when we consider that each of the major changes described here corresponds to a change in mantra. Not only do the name and form of the ritual change, but ritual speech changes as well. Consider the following: 1. Atharvan śānti rituals (e.g., the mahāśānti): “May the divine waters be an increase to us, for assistance, for drink; may they flow to us an increase of life.”2

1. Translated in Jean Jacques Waardenburg, Classical Approaches to the Study of Religion. 2. śaṃ no devīr abhīṣṭaye āpo bhavantu pītaye śaṃ yor abhi sravantu naḥ | AVŚ 1.6 |

231



Ritual Change and the Problem of Presence

231

2. Astrological royal consecration (puṣyasnāna): “May [all the gods] asperse you with waters that remove all omens!”3 3. Purāṇic image installation (pratiṣṭhā): “I set up the imperishable, ten-​armed, three-​eyed (Śiva), crowned with the crescent moon, lord of the Gaṇas, attended by the bull.”4 Each example represents a distinct stage in the ritual progression I have traced in the previous chapters. In the first case a preexisting Atharvan mantra is applied in the preparation of śānti water, and thereafter in independent rituals of appeasement (śānti). The mantra appears to have been selected on the basis of two criteria. The first is homophonic: the syllable śam is taken as a reference to śānti. The second is metonymic: since the mantra refers to waters, it is selected as appropriate to the use of—​the preparation of and bathing with—​śānti water.5 In the second case, from Varāhamihira’s Prosperity Bath (puṣyasnāna), the connection between mantra and ritual action appears more decisive. As the ritualist asperses the king with efficacious waters, he says, “May the gods asperse you with waters that remove all omens.” Thus, despite rendering the gods—​rather than the priest—​as ritual agents, the verb in the mantra mirrors the verb of ritual prescription. And since it has become roughly synonymous with the word “bath” (snāna), this action (abhiṣeka) occupies semantic proximity—​though not identity—​to the name of the ritual. Finally, in the third case, the ritual name, “installation” (pratiṣṭhā), matches in precise verbal terms the instruction of “placing” or “setting up” the image on its base in the temple and the corresponding mantra recited for this action. Here the agent of the mantra, in the first person, is both the speaker of the mantra and the agent of the rite. At first glance a major difference distinguishes the first case from the other two, a difference that seems to correspond to the categorical break of Vedic from non-​Vedic. In the Vedic example the application of ritual speech to ritual action is rather complex and oblique, given the highly stipulated nature of Vedic mantras. While the Atharvan ritualists could certainly invent or derive new ritual structures from within their tradition, they were nonetheless constrained by a fixed

3. toyais tvām abhiṣiñcantu sarvotpātanibarhaṇaiḥ | BS 47.70ab | 4. akṣaraṃ [Pratiṣṭhākāṇḍa: tryambakaṃ] daśabāhuṃ ca candrārdhakṛtaśekharam | gaṇeśaṃ vṛṣasaṃsthaṃ tu sthāpayāmi trilocanam || MtP 266.36 || 5. While it may appear as if the mantra contains a direct reference to the act of bathing the sponsor, and hence of “increasing” his life, it does not say so explicitly. And since the mantra is also used in other water-​based rites, it has no intrinsic relationship to śānti aspersions per se.

23

232

Rit es of t he God -K ing

repertoire of mantras.6 One cannot therefore infer from ­example 1 what, exactly, happens in a śānti ritual. By contrast, in the non-​Vedic sphere (­examples 2 and 3) ritual speech corresponds almost exactly with ritual action. That is, the ritualist’s speech denotes his action in an explicit, performative way:  he says what he does as he is doing it. Such cases also show a close correspondence between ritual speech and ritual name: not only does the ritualist say what he does, but what he says and does is identical with the nominal and conceptual sense of the ritual. Of course such ritual names imply much more than their literal, verbal meanings:  more than an “aspersion,” abhiṣeka connotes the consecration of a king, which might further suggest his rebirth, empowerment, and/​or fortification; more than “setting up” a statue on a pedestal, pratiṣṭhā implies the establishment of a particular god who is present in physical form. In other words, ritual speech and action may serve to indicate deep reservoirs of political and theological meaning. One might take from this analysis that the post-​Vedic or Hindu rituals are distinctively meaningful, whereas the Vedic example is less so. But that conclusion would be hasty. In the first place, while it is true that the mantras from the puṣyasnāna and the pratiṣṭhā (­examples 2 and 3) correspond to a high degree with their ritual prescriptions, this correspondence holds only between the mantra and one single ritual act (rite) among many. That is, “aspersion” and “installation” tell us nothing about the broader structures of action in which they occur. For as we have seen, all of the examples take place within a single ritual structure that persists—​with some variation—​in spite of changes in mantra and ritual name. From this perspective a verbal name such as “installation” does not logically imply such details as the overnight structure (adhivāsana), or a fire sacrifice, or the invocation of specific deities for a bali offering. Thus the whole of the ritual structure is neither reducible to its name (or “meaning”) nor to the privileged rite singled out by a given mantra.7 Neither can it be taken for granted that the Atharvan ritual in ­example 1 is any less meaningful for its more artful application of mantras. That ritual is also connected by name to a distinct (if semantically thick) notion

6.  Of course this does not prohibit new mantras from entering the Atharvan canon, but it seems clear that the impetus behind the Śāntikalpa is to rearrange the existing collection around a new form of ritual. 7. In fact it may be the case that the naming of such rituals under the verbal headings snāna, abhiṣeka, and pratiṣṭhā—​along with the application of mantras that repeat these verbs—​reveals a strategy for the extrinsic attribution of meaning to complex structures of actions that have no intrinsic meaning of their own.

23



Ritual Change and the Problem of Presence

233

of appeasement (śānti), which may be understood in terms of protection from malevolent agents (such as sorcerers) or from personal or impersonal astrological powers. Furthermore we have seen that the mahāśānti ritual is designed, more or less efficiently, to carry out this work of protection by physically applying mantras to the body of the sponsor through the media of water and offerings. According to the technical conventions of this one Vedic school, then, the ritual form in large measure facilitates its nominal ritual meaning and purpose. Certainly, significant changes become manifest in this ritual history. But to capture the picture with adequate complexity requires that we coordinate our analysis in three dimensions of change: mantra, structure (vidhi), and category (or name). In what follows I will present some general reflections on the theme of ritual change by appealing to recent thinking about the problem of ritual syntax and ritual meaning. That line of thought necessarily draws on questions raised by Frits Staal and pursued by his successors.8 Insofar as Staal’s ritual theory emanates from a description of the Vedic system, this legacy becomes doubly relevant, both as a context for thinking about the nature of ritual structure in general and especially for the present essay into the endurance of Vedic orthopraxy in the post-​Vedic age. I close with a reading of the image installation ceremony that highlights how ritual structure, as a historical transformation of orthopraxy, places constraints on notions of divine presence.

Syntax, Meaning, Orthopraxy Staal’s approach to ritual has been summarized many times, perhaps most rigorously and generously by Carl Seaquist, whose reading I follow closely here.9 As he puts it, Staal’s theory can be summarized by three theses. These are succinctly captured, in order of importance, in terms of “syntax,” “meaninglessness,” and “ethology.” Syntax Thesis: Religious rituals have a syntactic structure. Meaningless Thesis: Religious rituals are per se meaningless. Ethology Thesis: Natural language syntax evolved from ritual syntax.10

8. The major arguments are collected in Staal, Ritual and Mantras. Chapter 13 contains a version of the more regularly cited article, Staal, “The Meaninglessness of Ritual.” 9. Seaquist, “Ritual Syntax.” 10. Ibid., 84.

234

234

Rit es of t he God -K ing

According to the first thesis, ritual structure is strikingly similar to the syntax of natural languages. That is, in systems like the Vedic śrauta rituals, the application of a finite number of formative rules, such as embedding and modification, can theoretically generate an infinite set of unique ritual structures. Thus it should in theory be possible to construct “generative grammars” of ritual, just as we can construct generative grammars of natural languages. As Seaquist rightly points out, it is from this primary thesis that Staal derives the second, most controversial claim of ritual meaninglessness. He interprets “meaningless” here in two senses. First, Staal understands meaning in a referential sense:  rituals do not refer to anything but themselves. This is what Staal means in saying that rituals are “for their own sake.” Seaquist positively rewords this statement to mean that ritual has “ectypic” meaning: a given ritual performance refers to the ritual, that is, to the ritual tradition or its ideal form. In this way ritual is self-​referential; a ritual (i.e., a ritual performance) has to refer to the ritual.11 Second, although rituals may have syntax—​that is, a set of rules that organizes a group of elements compositionally—​Staal posits that no semantic meaning emerges from this composition in the same way that sense emerges from a syntactically correct sentence. As Seaquist notes, Staal does not in fact prove this position but rather posits a third thesis to account for the presence of syntax in ritual along with a lack of semantics: ritual preserves syntax before language. If ritual precedes language, Staal does not have to account for how it attains syntax, which is usually thought to be a property of language.12 Together with the third and most problematic thesis (which I  leave aside here), Staal’s most effective critics have opposed the second, while still entertaining the first. Hans Penner, for example grants that ritual may well prove to be structured according to syntactic rules, but if so, it must also entail some meaning (sense as well as reference). Otherwise the linguistic comparison reduces to a useless metaphor.13 Others, such as Robert Sharf and Poul Andersen, argue that Staal’s notion of “meaning” is too restrictive in its preference for sense (intrinsic meaning) to the exclusion of reference (extrinsic meaning).14 This restriction renders his thesis at best tautological: if meaning can only be a property of language, then ritual, being nonlinguistic in nature, must be meaningless. Furthermore

11. Ibid., 110–​14. 12. Ibid., 114–​16. 13. Penner, “Language, Ritual and Meaning.” 14. Sharf, “Thinking through Shingon Ritual”; Andersen, “Concepts of Meaning.”

235



Ritual Change and the Problem of Presence

235

Staal ignores the more interesting process whereby meanings are attributed, extrinsically, to ritual structures:  he ignores history itself. Additionally Sharf shows that structural changes in Japanese Shingon rituals were brought about with at least some awareness of overall patterns of meaning.15 Thus it may be the case that rituals not only have a syntax but, at least in some cases, a semantics as well.16 Such critics have tended to see Staal’s exclusion of referential meaning as forced and unnecessary and to suggest that the property of meaninglessness (qua senselessness) either derives from the idiosyncrasy of solemn Vedic ritual or at best constitutes a latent potential of ritual that is rarely manifested in real (historical) cases. It should be said that while the second thesis has been the most contested, the first remains unproven and problematic in its own right. As Seaquist points out, whereas syntax governs the relation between discrete types of words, Staal’s transformational rules only analyze a given ritual into further subrituals or ritual actions (rites). Here the implied analogy between types of words and types of ritual actions has not been clarified. Axel Michaels recently restates the problem: the basic morphology of ritual—​that is, the building blocks or terminal units of its structural analysis—​remains unestablished.17 Thus while it is now generally accepted that rituals are “structures” of some kind, the best model for this structure may prove to be something other than language. As a description of Vedic solemn rituals, however, Staal’s account has faced much less vociferous challenge.18 Few would deny the complexity and systematicity of śrauta ritual—​that a ritual like the agnicayana can be analyzed as a composite of simpler forms and that there are rules that govern this composition. Heesterman, for one, appreciated the elaborate, ordered rationalism of the śrauta system and ventured an equally elaborate historical explanation. Vedic ritualism—​what he called “second order ritual”—​results from a drive to eliminate the problem of death that was inherent in sacrifice (yajña) (first order ritual), by removing violence and contest and “fixing” the outcome.19 As he puts it (in

15. Sharf, “Thinking through Shingon Ritual,” 85. Recently Timothy Lubin has made a similar case for Vedic homa rituals that incorporated pūjā in “The Vedic Homa.” 16. Note that this alternative would actually strengthen the linguistic metaphor undergirding Staal’s first thesis. 17. See Michaels, Homo Ritualis, chap. 2. There is, however, some promising preliminary work. See Michaels and Mishra, Grammars and Morphologies; Meshel, The “Grammar” of Sacrifice; Payne, “Ritual Syntax.” 18. See, however, Houben, “Formal Structure.” 19. Heesterman, The Broken World of Sacrifice, especially chap. 2.

236

236

Rit es of t he God -K ing

terms that Staal must have appreciated), in classical Vedic ritual, “The ‘rules of the game’ were turned into the ‘game of the rules.’ ”20 If Staal has captured something true about the nature of Vedic orthopraxy, it bears directly on the present study. The Atharvan tradition, peripheral though it may have been to the schools of the Triple Veda, nonetheless relied on mainstream Vedic ritual conventions. Specifically the rituals of the Kauśikasūtra, and the mahāśānti itself—​which became a paradigm for other śānti rituals—​take as their paradigm the New and Full Moon Sacrifice (darśapūrṇamāsa), the simplest prototype in Staal’s hierarchy of solemn rituals. So while śānti falls strictly within the domestic (gṛhya) ritual category—​which Staal tended to ignore as the locus of derivative “rites of passage”—​it is still governed by the more abstract (“meaningless”) rules of the solemn (śrauta) system. And if, as I argue, structures like śānti continue to govern later Purāṇic rituals of abhiṣeka and pratiṣṭhā, they do so on the basis of these same Vedic conventions. The continued “governance” of Hindu ritual by Vedic rule deserves further thought: we must not only look forward, to the new elements added to rituals by enterprising agents of change, but also backward, to the orthopraxies that incorporate those novelties. Regardless of whether the study of ritual should continue to abide by the linguistic metaphor—​or whether a generative grammar of ritual formation or a cognitive theory of ritual competence can in fact be discovered—​I suggest that Staal’s theory of ritual formalism remains compelling precisely as an account of orthopraxy, and hence as a basis for capturing the change encountered in histories of rituals like śānti. Without fully endorsing the meaninglessness thesis, this perspective helps us to understand how, in the trajectory of this particular ritual history, ritual meaning tends to be circumscribed by ritual formality. In my view Staal’s most useful insight is that rituals are in large part structured—​or better, constructed—​according to rules that are self-​referential. This is what Seaquist calls the property of ectypic meaning (rituals “for themselves”), following Israel Scheffler’s discussion of ritual exemplification and repetition.21 Similarly Stanley Tambiah, adapting John Searle, discusses rituals in terms of constitutive rules, that is, rules that constitute the activity they govern.22 These concepts seek to capture the notion that the rules and metarules forming ritual structures are irreducible; they operate primarily on the level of ritual, and only secondarily on the level of, say, politics or theology. Hence if a ritual can be

20. Ibid., 76. Heesterman differs from Staal mainly in emphasizing that śrauta ritualism is a distinctly historical object. See 227nn6 and 10. 21. Scheffler, Symbolic Worlds, chap. 11. See Seaquist, “Ritual Syntax,” 111–​13. 22. Tambiah, “A Performative Approach to Ritual,” 127–​28.

237



Ritual Change and the Problem of Presence

237

said to “refer” to anything, that referent would most likely be an exemplary ritual, or at least other rituals, especially those within the same tradition. If rituals are constituted by rules, their self-​referentiality may account for their peculiar temporality. In a striking study Jan Houben compares self-​referential loops in Vedic ritual to similar patterns of self-​reference in formal systems like logic and mathematics. He argues that these patterns contribute to the “extraordinary stability, solidity, and resilience” of Vedic ritual over time: The self-​referential episodes in the canonical dimension [i.e., Vedic ritual structures] contribute to an independent momentum within the ritual that remains quite aloof from extra-​ritual reality but that, like the flywheel or drivewheel of a motor, can drag along other cycles which do have real-​ life involvement.23 Houben’s comment captures how structures of actions, while inviting all sorts of meaningful references, “live lives” of their own, why I find it convenient to speak of a “biography” of śānti as a ritual form persisting in the multiple guises of dāna, abhiṣeka, and pratiṣṭhā. Despite attempts to fix the reference of the ritual—​by promoting specific rites or ritual names or by attaching the ritual to myths—​its form cannot be reduced to those references. To put the matter in more concrete, historical terms, consider the survival of ritual manuals. This survival certainly reflects the persistence of the priesthood, in the sense of a real institutional continuity. The commentator Keśava, for instance, self-​consciously carried forward the Atharvan tradition into the second millennium ce, and we might likewise imagine other purohitas operating more or less explicitly under the Atharvan banner among the various monarchies of medieval India. But the persistence of priesthood might also be understood in the broader and less institutionally bound sense of the persistence of orthopraxy:  the continued inheritance of conventions, those professional standards that governed the activity of these priests as ritualists. Wherever possible, an orthopraxy will continue to operate according to its own rules, even in the generation of new practices. This means that ritualists will tend to derive new ritual structures from within their home tradition, despite other sources of inspiration. Orthopraxy, in this sense, does not so much resist historical change as delimit the field of available resources for pragmatic ritualization. We saw this especially in the case of the mahāśānti. Omitting the introductory rites dedicated to various deities (the Vināyakas, planets, etc.), we could

23. Houben, “Formal Structure,” 56.

238

238

Rit es of t he God -K ing

represent a structure of the mahāśānti paradigm (M) of the Śāntikalpa as follows, in the fashion of Staal’s “syntactic” analyses:24 M: m1D*m8 In such analyses capital letters refer to subrituals, whereas lowercase letters refer to what Staal calls “rites,” or discrete ritual actions. Hence capital letters can in principle be further analyzed into a set of lowercase letters. Here D* represents an iteration of the Vedic New and Full Moon sacrifice (darśapūrṇamāsa), modified for the purpose of śānti.25 Its analysis would look like this: D*: d1 . . . nŚ*m2 m3d*m4m5m6m7dn+1 . . . z Here, we stipulate Ś*: ś1 . . . n This yields as a final analysis:26 M: m1d1 . . . n ś1 . . . n m3d*m4m5m6m7dn+1 . . . z m8 From this angle the Vedic New and Full Moon Sacrifice (D*) forms a major part of the overall structure. D* is analyzed primarily in terms of d1 . . . n and dn+1 . . . z, representing its standardized introductory and concluding frames. But D* itself is both framed and interrupted by a number of rites, designated by m, that is, subrites on the level of the mahāśānti that do not derive from another stipulated ritual. m1 (gathering the waters) and m8 (feeding brahmins and paying the sacrificial fee) lie outside of D*, whereas m2–​7 are embedded within it.27 Like D*, Ś* 24. The analysis could also be rendered in the form of a tree-​diagram. See Payne, “Ritual Syntax.” 25. paurṇamāsatantra, according to ŚK 2.20.3. 26. The following gives the corresponding numbers of the ritual steps from appendix 1.1. m1=1; d1 . . . n=2; ś1 . . . n=3–​4; m2=5–​10; m3=11–​16; d*=17–​18; m4=19–​23; m5= 24; m6=25–​26; m7=27–​ 28; dn+1 . . . z=29; m8=30–​31. 27. Note that some of these have been simplified for the present exercise. In this account m2 corresponds to the offerings of various species of kindling and other vegetable substances; m3 to the sequence of protecting the dwelling and preparing the amulet; m4 to the sequence offering and feeding the rakṣas, including other offerings for the sponsor and his wife; m5 to the bathing of the sponsor; m6 to the binding of the amulet and dressing the sponsor; and m7 to the cooking of a rice-​porridge mixture (caru) that will be fed to brahmins (m8) after the New and Full Moon frame (D*) is completed.

239



Ritual Change and the Problem of Presence

239

also refers to an independent ritual sequence, namely, the instruction for making śānti water from the Kauśikasūtra. It can thus be analyzed into the subrites ś1 . . . n. Finally, at the center of the ritual structure is d*, referring here to the yājyā, the apex of a typical New and Full Moon Sacrifice, at which the primary mantra is recited together with the main oblation. In this case it is heavily modified, being occupied by the recitation of a series of Atharvan mantra gaṇas, whose dregs (saṃpāta) are placed in the pot of śānti water used to bathe the sponsor (m5). We can see that, at the level of structure, the mahāśānti relies on two preexisting rituals stipulated by the Atharvan orthopraxy, as codified in the earlier Kauśikasūtra: the New and Full Moon Sacrifice, which is essentially a pan-​Vedic ritual, and the instruction for making śānti water, which is specific to the Atharvan tradition. Indeed the ritual can be viewed as a unique combination of these two subrituals, along with several other Atharvan-​specific practices, such as the protection of the house and the binding of amulets. Clearly the Atharvan motifs—​ especially the production of śānti water, mantra gaṇas, and amulets—​may be seen as the distinctive and, for our purposes, most interesting elements. But when we take the New and Full Moon Sacrifice as the governing paradigm—​as the text itself does—​the analysis reduces these Atharvan elements (Ś* and m2–​7) to what Staal would call “embedded” rites, which interrupt the “syntax” of the orthoprax, host structure. Now consider the issue of ritual purpose. I have argued that divination formed one crucial, external source of inspiration for the mahāśānti, a ritual designed to counteract omens. But note how the Vedic-​Atharvan orthopraxy shapes its response. We cannot account for the mahāśānti simply by recognizing omenology as its potential motivation. Why counteract omens with a fire sacrifice, and with a bath? An adequate description of these formalities must refer to the prior, stipulated tradition. As Scheffler would put it, the mahāśānti “exemplifies” the Vedic New and Full Moon Sacrifice (D* exemplifies D). It also exemplifies śānti water (Ś* exemplifies Ś), which operates in other ritual contexts of the earlier Atharvan tradition. Hence, just as the Atharvavedasaṃhitā seems to “present” the hymn AVŚ 1.6 for the new purpose of—​as available in the sense of—​śānti, the Kauśikasūtra presents śānti water as a means for the resolution of the problem of inauspiciousness. Surely a ritual can be made responsive to external concerns, but a given, pragmatic motivation does not govern the precise mode of ritual response. To complicate Staal’s view, however, this mode of ritual formation does not mean that, in accepting the constraints of orthopraxy, the ritual structure lacks what I would call a “purposeful” or “efficient” design. While the Śāntikalpa inherits the New and Full Moon Sacrifice and the instruction for śānti water from the Kauśikasūtra, it certainly makes efficient use of them: through the technique of

240

240

Rit es of t he God -K ing

gaṇa and saṃpāta, the former becomes a necessary condition for the production of the latter. That is, D* is necessary for Ś* insofar as its main oblation (d*) is the active ingredient for śānti water (Ś* + d* + m5). Thenceforth the ritual sequence of fire offering–​aspersion (homa-​abhiṣeka) becomes a logically necessary, “syntactical” unit in any śānti ritual that would follow the Vedic-​Atharvan tradition (e.g., Viṣṇudharmottara). Hence while the “meaning” of śānti does not pervade all parts of the structure, (especially those rites originating in the inherited paradigm D [d1 . . . z]), from a wider perspective the set of D*, Ś*, and m5 (bathing)—​ what I  have previously referred to as the sequence “homa-​abhiṣeka”—​forms at least a “felicitous” phrasing of action. It yields a technically complex bath, which “invites” such a meaning, if extrinsically.28 This extrinsic interpretation, I suspect, is in some sense what the Śāntikalpa intends by its attribution of mantras and by ritual naming. As we have seen, one peculiarity of this ritual is how its design highlights a particularly large set of mantras, and furthermore materializes those mantras, through śānti water, so as to be applied to the body of the sponsor. Mantras have always had the potential to add linguistic sense to ritual structures insofar as they present immediate, in-​ performance commentary on ritual actions (rites). In variants of the New and Full Moon Sacrifice (D), for instance, the mantra that accompanies the central oblation (yājyā) usually provides a governing telos, insofar as it helps identify the god to whom the sacrifice is offered (devatā) and, in some cases, relates the desires of the sponsor. But in the mahāśānti the modified structure D* presents a peculiar case. Its primary oblation (d*) is not accompanied by a single, clear-​cut mantra but rather by a massive set: eighteen mantra groups containing hundreds of distinct, thematically organized verses from the Atharvavedasaṃhitā. The śānti group, which stands at the head of this set and originated in the earlier instruction from the Kauśikasūtra, forms a paradigm for this sort of textual grouping and seems intended as an organizing concept. Hence the ritual name mahāśānti succinctly captures this “super” (mahā) meaningful litany while shoehorning any resulting mantric ambiguity under the heading of “appeasement.” In spite of this priestly interpretation, however, the explosion of linguistic sense cannot be denied, for in this recitation the ritual pronounces a notion of appeasement that can hardly have a restricted semantic range. Not only does the set of gaṇas include many discrete mantric passages, but the concept of śānti is now accompanied by a host of further thematic effects of the Atharvan 28. More strongly put, this interpretation will concur with Sharf and Lubin, who argue that “semantics”—​as the “sense” of an overall structure—​can operate especially at the point of ritual innovation. Houben suggests that ritual structure requires a minimal meaning at the level of rites (“Formal Structure,” 41).

241



Ritual Change and the Problem of Presence

241

tradition: protection, longevity, safety, auspicious journey, and so forth. From this angle the development of the mantra gaṇa technique presents a case of what Tambiah felicitously calls “ritual involution,” as he puts it, “a seeming over-​elaboration and over-​prolongation of ritual action woven out of a limited number of technical devices and stylistic complexes. We must confront not only peasant inventiveness but also peasant tedium.”29 Whereas Staal might have celebrated this tedious elaboration of Atharvan concepts as yet another instance of the cacophony of ritual speech, Tambiah seeks to explain ritual involution “in relation to the dominant ethical and normative preoccupations of the actors.”30 But both positions would miss something crucial:  the redundancy and ambiguity of the mantra gaṇas constitute an effect of ritual self-​reference; they present an example of Houben’s “self-​referential loops.” We saw from the beginning that the word śānti indexes groups of Atharvan hymns, most of which do not even mention the word and can only be linked to it secondarily. Śānti is an artificial concept in the Atharvan lexicon; it has always stood for a complex semantic field, ambiguous at best. The expansion of the mantra gaṇa technique in the mahāśānti only magnifies this ambiguity. Yet as the gaṇa indices grew to include ever-​greater numbers of mantras from the Atharvan canon, did they not also come to embody that canon itself ? It is true that both the mantras and the name of the ritual seek to identify this specific, aspersive form with a singular notion of appeasement—​a goal that was widely achieved, if judged from the subsequent ritual tradition. But as mantra, “appeasement” also refers, simply, to the Atharvaveda. The ritual not only achieves the efficient application of vaguely “protective” mantras to the sponsor’s body; it also accomplishes thereby the objectification of the Atharvaveda, producing the ritual body as an exemplary text of the tradition. If the mantric recitation of the mahāśānti is ambiguous at the semantic level, there can be no doubt that it effectively communicates this particular Vedic institution at the level of social performance. This situation, then, not only confirms Staal’s point about the self-​referentiality of ritual syntax but also amplifies it at the level of meaning. Here is a ritual—​ itself structured in highly self-​referential ways—​that is very much about speech (mantras). But at the point of enunciation it turns away from any reference outside of the ritual tradition: it accepts only meaningful content that is grounded in orthopraxy. Whatever “appeasement” might mean elsewhere, in the mahāśānti it is reduced to the sense: Atharvaveda. Not only does the structure of ritual action

29. Tambiah, “A Performative Approach to Ritual,” 149. 30. Later in the same discussion, Tambiah also suggests that ritual involution may result from the atrophying tendency of “the ritual medium per se” (ibid., 162–​63).

24

242

Rit es of t he God -K ing

in this case present the property of ectypic or exemplifying meaning, so does the very content of ritual speech. Maurice Bloch, who proposes his own thesis of ritual meaninglessness, may offer a better account, for, turning toward the historical, pragmatic dimension, he applies ritual meaninglessness to a discussion of religious authority. For Bloch the formalization of ritual speech and action correlates highly with meaninglessness, where formalization is defined as restriction, and meaning as choice of movement and expression. The restriction of word and deed limits what can be “said,” and, to the extent that this restriction minimizes the referential aspect of language, it masks reality. Ritualization is then a prime exercise of religious authority.31 It would seem hard to deny a Marxist interpretation in the Atharvan case, in which the high volume of authorized speech literally drenches the mute body of the ritual patient. Were we to pursue such an interpretation of the history of śānti any further, we would surely find that the objective manifestation of priestly authority on the body politic reaches even greater heights in the Appendices, in which the Atharvans colonized royal political ritual with the same aspersion structure and mantra gaṇa technique. But the reading of ritual as authority also lends poignancy to the subsequent history of śānti, for given the Atharvans’ deliberate and innovative application of the resources of the Kauśikasūtra to the problem of appeasement, one cannot fail to note the violence with which the astrological tradition rejected that same Vedic-​Atharvan authorship by disrupting orthoprax self-​reference at both syntactic and mantric levels. Recall that in his Prosperity Bath, Varāhamihira reverses the sequence of homa-​abhiṣeka, rendering the fire sacrifice effectively inert and placing ritual efficiency in the gods, who grant the king’s appeasement in exchange for their worship. This reordering correlates directly with a new set of mantras, which are now evacuated of reference to the Vedas and filled with communiqués to divinity. Śānti is unbranded, given

31. Bloch, “Symbols, Song.” Tambiah contests Bloch’s reading because of its Marxist leanings. The example he gives, of the “repetitious chanting” of Buddhist monks during Thai mortuary rituals, is particularly apposite: “It is tempting to say that ritual incantations repeated again and again on the proper occasions carry no semantic and referential information as such, and can only have functional ‘indexical’ (i.e. social) uses. Such an inference is all the more persuasive when the ritual speech is in a sacred language largely not understood by the congregation, or in a high style laced with archaic expressions and weird vocabulary. But it is also relevant to point out that such recitations by appropriate officiants are believed by the actors to be powerful in themselves, irrespective of their unintelligibility and predictability, and that this conception of power is related to understandings and valuations of the superiority of the monk’s salvation quest and the powers it enables him to acquire, and the belief in the quality and efficacy of semantic truths coded in the sacred Pali words, even if they are not literally understood” (“A Performative Approach to Ritual,” 162–​63). This reading seems less applicable in the case of the Atharvan mantra gaṇas.

243



Ritual Change and the Problem of Presence

243

over to a purely conceptual (if still ritual) “meaning” of astrological protection, now seemingly free from institutional baggage—​now, simply, a gift of the gods. At the same time, even though its mantras appear to exercise the freedom of communicative speech, the astrological tradition still tacitly approved other aspects of the Atharvan scheme, especially the basic format of aspersion (snāna/​ abhiṣeka) as a primary ritual mode of śānti. In this form Vedic astrology, while revising the ritual syntax of the Atharvans, would in turn present that revised structure as a potential solution to the problem of divine instantiation. It is in this way that the idiosyncratic historical trajectory of śānti impinges on the format of temple Hinduism: there is no a priori reason to install an image by bathing it. But a ritual bath seems to have formed one condition of accepting divine images as objects of the (reformed) orthopraxy. All of this may be rendered in conceptual terms (appeasement, consecration, installation), provided that we accept how deeply those concepts lie in verbiage of the ritual manuals. The orthopraxy changes—​embraces history—​only on its own terms. What we saw in c­ hapter 5 was how a tradition operating according to the norms of Vedic astrology thought its way through (rationalized) the problem of images in the practical terms delimited by tradition. Precisely: concepts of worship (pūjā) and installation (pratiṣṭhā) were made intelligible in terms of consecration (abhiṣeka) and appeasement (śānti). We might say that the orthopraxy refused to speak of images except within the “syntax” of these existing ritual structures. Even though the pratiṣṭhā ceremony bears a different name (“emplacement” or “installation”) and pointedly employs mantras that highlight the new ritual action (the physical installation of a statue), this action/​concept is nonetheless embedded in—​it interrupts—​the broader ritual structure of apotropaic aspersion. Just as the production of śānti water “interrupted” the structure of the New and Full Moon Sacrifice, here the crucial act of installation takes the form of an embedded rite within the host ritual of apotropaic aspersion. In other words, the tradition says, we can speak of god only in the language of kingship.

Presence, Mantra, Ritual To be clear, I am not simply proposing that Hinduism does not exist as such, or that it is somehow categorically reducible to Vedism. I wish only to suggest that as much as we understand temple and image worship as a distinctive mode of religiosity that is constitutive of the concept of Hinduism, we might also remember how that cultic form takes shape within the constraint of an existing orthopraxy, one that happens to be rooted in Vedic norms. This shaping is most obviously viewed in historical terms, but I  suspect that it may also—​at some level—​be relevant to our rendering of image worship as a phenomenal experience. Here,

24

244

Rit es of t he God -K ing

then, I propose one consequence of what I have argued is the “governance” of the cult of kings over the cult of images (or the governance of Vedic astrology over temple Hinduism), by exploring what the ritual structure of śānti means for an account of divine presence in the image. Briefly put: in addition to establishing a metaphorical relationship between god and king, the ritual of image installation (pratiṣṭhā), in adopting the structure of śānti, effectively renders divine presence as a question—​a problem—​that must be solved through mantras. As I have just suggested, the structure of the mahāśānti placed tremendous weight on mantras; it represented a veritable showcase for the repertoire of the Atharvaveda. One might detect here a measure of self-​consciousness on the part of the Vedic tradition. Just as, say, Manu’s renewed emphasis on Brahmanism can be seen as a reaction to the political successes of Buddhists and Jains, the Śāntikalpa may reflect a need to proclaim the efficacy of Vedic ritual expertise in a post-​Vedic milieu crowded with other ritual specialists. If so this anxiety appears well founded: tracing the fortunes of śānti in astrological and Purāṇic texts shows that this central mantric recitation formed a focal point for the contestation of Vedic-​Atharvan orthopraxy. We can isolate this mantric variation as an important context for understanding the problem of presence in the ritual of image installation. When Varāhamihira (or his astrological lineage) contested the Atharvan version of śānti, he did so by composing a new mantra.32 We have seen how the basic difference between such non-​Vedic (astrological) mantras and the earlier mantra groups of the Atharvaveda centered on a new scenario, in which the ritualist calls on a host of deities to perform the priestly work of aspersion. That is, in a mantric speech act he defers his own ritual agency to the plane of divinity. The basic theological reorientation of these mantras, then, entails important differences when compared with the mantra gaṇas of the Atharvaveda. Whereas the Atharvan mantras illustrate a high degree of poetic variation, Varāhamihira’s verses impose stylistic simplicity. They reduce the verbal action to a minimum, repeating five times the command “May they asperse you” (tvāṃ te abhiṣiñcantu). The rest of the speech is filled with the individual names of the cosmic hosts. These include not only the classic gods of the Hindu pantheon, such as Brahmā, Viṣṇu, and Rudra and demigods such as the Maruts, Ādityas, and Vasus and the wives of the gods, but also the divisions of time (kalasyāvayavāḥ), Vedic sages, “all the worlds moving and unmoving,” the fires, the ancestors, the stars, clouds, the sky, space, and water.33 Already in this early example two features are apparent.

32. BS 47.55–​70. 33. BS 47.59–​69.

245



Ritual Change and the Problem of Presence

245

First, the great variety of Vedic mantras—​the pragmatic effect of the recitation of hundreds of unique Atharvan verses—​is replaced by a litany of divine names.34 Second, the ritual space is now transformed into a microcosmos, attended by all of these named presences. This transformation is not merely imagined via mantric verse; it is objectively produced in the prior establishment of a cosmic maṇḍala meant to house those presences. Varāhamihira’s alternative mantric text, then, depends on a relatively straightforward theology: the gods are mobile agents who must be coaxed to the ritual space. As I have suggested, a proximate model for this type of mantra can be found in the preliminary rituals of the yātrā, when the king, upon entering the wilderness, requests the liminal spirits (Guhyakas) to accompany him to war. This theology has certainly not been invented in the śānti-​inspired Prosperity Bath; it is only applied there. Looking further afield, the very idea of summoning mobile, invisible gods to a sacrificial space forms the central theological underpinning of the ancient, and aniconic, Vedic sacrifice. Heesterman thus writes of simultaneous sacrifices competing for the presence of the gods, while Vedic hymns often express a basic anxiety about divine absence as a result of divine invisibility. Mobility, moreover, seems at one point to have been a specific trait of Vedic gods. Michel Agnot has shown that a basic locative-​utopian distinction forms a primary trope by which brāhmaṇa texts differentiate Vedism at large from “native” religious discourse: whereas Vedic gods like Indra, Agni, and Soma are mobile and geographically unbound, native gods are strongly tied to specific places.35 In contrast, at least by the epic period, a simple theory of invisible divinity also characterizes local gods. The Mahābhārata abounds in stories about local yakṣa deities, not unlike the liminal Guhyakas of Varāhamihira’s mantras. From the same period early versions of the Kṛṣṇa myth cycle from the Harivaṁśa and the Viṣṇupurāṇa depict the cowherd god as both an eminently local and equally mobile deity.36 The theology of mobile invisible gods even extends, if paradoxically, to the emergent cult of holy places (tīrthas). Beginning in the Tīrthayātrāparvan of the Mahābhārata—​often taken to be the earliest textual evidence for the pilgrimage cult in the Vedic-​Hindu tradition (ca. 200–​400 ce)—​numerous pilgrimage texts claim that, on certain astrologically determined moments, all of the tīrthas in the cosmos will “gather together” at one

34. These names are, in the words of the text, “meritorious to mention” (puṇyasaṅkīrtanāḥ). 35. Agnot, “Land and Location.” 36. Vaudeville, “The Govardhan Myth.”

246

246

Rit es of t he God -K ing

site. For example, the Tīrthayātrāparvan praises the lake of Saṃnihitī near Kurukṣetra: One should continue to the ford of Saṃnihitī, where Brahmā, the Gods, the seers, and the ascetics gather every month, acquiring great sanctity. If one touches the water at Saṃnihitī when the sun has been swallowed by Rāhu, one has eternally offered up a hundred Horse Sacrifices. Whatever sacred fords (tīrthāni) exist on earth or in the sky, rivers male and female, tanks and all the streams, wells, ponds, and holy sanctuaries, they are all assembled (samāyanti) every month at Saṃnihitī, that is certain. Whatever wrong a man or a woman may have done, all that for a certainty vanishes as soon as one bathes there and he goes to the world of Brahmā on a lotus colored wagon.37 In claiming to be such a gathering place, texts associated with the lake at Kurukṣetra are certainly not unique; multiple Purāṇic texts in medieval India made similar boasts.38 But the name of the lake succinctly expresses a theory of presence that had broad purchase in early Hinduism. Indeed saṃnihita could simply mean “present,” a shorthand for the claim that the lake forms a cosmic

37.  tato gaccheta dharmajña tīrthaṃ saṃnihitīm api | yatra brahmādayo devā ṛṣayaś ca tapodhanāḥ | māsi māsi samāyānti puṇyena mahatānvitāḥ || 166 || saṃnihityām upaspṛśya rāhugraste divākare | aśvamedhaśataṃ tena iṣtaṃ bhavati śāśvatam || 167 || pṛthivyāṃ yāni tīrthāni antarikṣacarāni ca | nadyo nadās taḍāgāś ca sarvaprasravaṇāni ca || 168 || udapānāś ca vaprāś ca puṇyānyāyatanāni ca | māsi māsi samāyānti saṃnihityāṃ na saṃśayaḥ || 169 || yat kiṃcid duṣkṛtaṃ karma striyā vā puruṣasya vā | snātamātrasya tat sarvaṃ naśyate nātra saṃśayaḥ || padmavarṇena yānena brahmalokaṃ sa gacchati || 170 || MBh 3.81 ||. Translation from Buitenen, The Mahābhārata, 386. Purāṇic sources relay the lore of sites like the Saṃnihita Lake at Kurukṣetra, where all the tīrthas “gather” together. The claim about Saṃnihita was even reported by āl-Bīrūnī: “In Thāneṣar there is a pond which the Hindus visit from afar to bathe in its water. Regarding the cause of this custom they relate the following: The waters of all the other holy ponds visit this particular pond at the time of an eclipse. Therefore, if a man washes in it, it is as if he had washed in every single one of them” (Sachau, Alberuni’s India, 2:145). 38. Purāṇic māhātmya (glorification) texts often say that, at certain astrologically determined moments, all of the tīrthas and rivers may gather together at one site, thus heightening the efficacy of the place in question. Consider the following from the Matsyapurāṇa’s description of Prayāga (Allahabad), the site of the famous Kumbhamela festival: “In the month of Māgha, sixty thousand tīrthas and six hundred million rivers will come to the confluence of Gaṅgā and Yamuna. The merit of one who has correctly given six hundred thousand cows [is equal to] the merit from three days of bathing at Prayāga in the month of Māgha” (ṣaṣṭitīrthas­ ahasrāṇi ṣaṣṭikoṭyas tathāpagāḥ | māghamāse gamiṣyanti gaṅgāyamunasaṅgamam || 7 || gavāṃ śatasahasrasya samyagdattasya yatphalam | prayāge māghamāse tryahasnānāttu tatphalam || 8 || MtP 107 ||). For further examples, see Jacobsen, Pilgrimage, 31–​40.

247



Ritual Change and the Problem of Presence

247

gathering site for gods and tīrthas at certain astrological moments. (The form Saṃnihitī could be taken to mean “the lake of presence.”) The striking notion that fixed geographical places can move around like invisible deities also appears in astrological and Purāṇic versions of śānti rituals. The idea seems at least nascent in Varāhamihira’s mantra, which briefly mentions “meritorious places” (puṇyāni ayatanāni) among the deities that perform the king’s aspersion.39 The mantra in the Viṣṇudharmottarapurāṇa, which massively enlarges the list of deities, elaborates this theme at great length.40 It closes with a long recitation (roughly forty verses) of place-​names—​pilgrimage sites (tīrthāni) and rivers (nadyas)—​that have also “gathered” (samāgatāḥ) to asperse the king with their sin-​destroying waters.41 As a result the ritual space of the king’s consecration mirrors pilgrimage centers like the lake at Kurukṣetra, where all tīrthas and rivers are said to be centralized. We must leave aside for now this nexus between śānti and pilgrimage.42 What is more pressing to note is the way non-​Vedic mantras in post-​Atharvan śānti rituals adopt—​in quite specific ways—​a theory of divine presence known elsewhere in epic and Purāṇic sources. Once freed of the Vedas, astrological and Purāṇic mantras turned to mobile, invisible divinities to guarantee their efficacy. By 39. BS 47.68cd. 40.  One hundred eighty-​one verses in VDhP 2.22, compared to sixteen in BS 47. Most of this space is taken up by a more detailed, individual listing of divinities who were mentioned by group in the Bṛhatsaṃhitā. Echoing the earlier logic of Varāhamihira’s mantra, the text emphasizes the necessary presence of these deities. Eighteen times it tells us that these various divinities have “arrived” or “gathered together” (samāgatāḥ, samāgamya, sametya) to attend the king’s abhiṣeka. 41. VDhP 2.22.141c–​183. The brief following chapter, which praises this mantra, confirms the emphasis on pilgrimage sites: “By visiting all those tīrthas and rivers summarized [in the mantra] people—​though they may be sinners—​become praiseworthy. Bathing [at them] brings great fruit; penance and śrāddha should also be done among them. Giving [gifts there] is said to be very fruitful; seeing them destroys sin. Praising [them also destroys sin, etc.] no doubt, O best of Bhārgavas! The men who have bathed at these [tīrthas] go [to heaven] immediately, O foremost King of the Bhṛgus! Rāma! These tīrthas and all the auspicious rivers should thus be visited!” (yāni tīrthāni coktāni saritaś ca samāstaḥ | 10cd | teṣāṃ gamena pūjyante ye ‘pi pātakino janāḥ | snānaṃ mahāphalaṃ teṣāṃ tapaḥ śrāddhakriyās tathā || 11 || dānaṃ bahuphalaṃ proktaṃ darśanaṃ pāpanāśanam | kīrtanaṃ bhārgavaśreṣṭha na me cāsti vicāraṇā || 12 || tīrtheṣv athaiteṣu bhṛgupradhāna snātā narā yānti narendra sadyaḥ | tīrthāni gamyāni tataḥ prayatnāt puṇyāś ca sarvās saritaś ca rāma || 13 || VDhP 2.23 ||). This comment seems to reverse the effect of naming the hosts of pilgrimage sites as attendees to the king’s coronation: whereas the mantra imagines the tīrthas have come to the site of the ritual, here the consecrated king himself is exhorted to take up the pilgrim’s path. We see here another iteration of Heesterman’s alternation between abhiṣeka and yātrā, albeit at a time when “pilgrimage” meant something other than simply warfare. The abhiṣeka mantra has become an advertisement for the medieval cult of pilgrimage. 42. The Matsyapurāṇa, for example, prescribes a gift and a bath on the occasion of an eclipse, which could simultaneously serve as a substitute for a śānti ritual, or bathing at a tīrtha like

248

248

Rit es of t he God -K ing

means of these mantras royal rituals such as the puṣyasnāna and the rājyābhiṣeka require divine presence as necessary for appeasement and consecration. As I have already suggested, this is in many ways an elegant solution to the problem of ritual authority posed earlier, for here, it would seem, the gods of popular Hinduism have replaced the priests of the Veda; a theology of presence makes its first gesture to overcoming ritual. But when we turn to the image installation, we find that ritual endured, like an immovable log on the path to temple Hinduism. The pratiṣṭhā inherits similar types of non-​Vedic mantras, and it is likewise acutely concerned with divine presence. Recall, for example, that the appendix of the Ṛgvedic Aśvalāyana school explicitly declared that its fire offering was meant to obtain the “presence” (saṃniddhi) of a portion of the god (devasyātra kalāsaṃniddhyartham). This is a noun form of the adjective (saṃnihita) used to describe the attending gods in ritual and pilgrimage texts. But here, I  would argue, a dramatic shift occurs, leading the very concept of presence to interact with the inherited ritual structure in a new way. It is one thing to say that invisible gods visit a space to perform a ritual bath; it is quite another to say that the ritual—​which is designed more or less efficiently to bathe its object with mantras—​permanently instantiates divine presence in visible form. In one case presence is the means to an end; in the other, presence has become the end itself. From the perspective of this broader history we must consider how the application of such non-​Vedic mantras to the pratiṣṭhā ritual places the gods within new constraints, how it poses new relationships between divinity, ritual speech, ritual implements, and a restricted ritual body.

Prayāga or Kurukṣetra. The bath need not occur anywhere in particular, but it involves the preparation of four pots of waters, into which are invoked all the gods, as follows: “May all the oceans, lakes, tīrthas, clouds and rivers, come, those removers of the difficulties of the sacrificer! May he who bears the vajra, who is known as the lord of the Ādityas, the thousand-​eyed Indra remove the affliction of this eclipse! May that mouth of all the gods, the seven flamed, immeasurably bright Agni, remove the affliction arising from the eclipse of the moon [or sun]” (sarve samudrāḥ saritas tīrthāni jaladāḥ nadāḥ | āyāntu yajamānasya duritakṣayakārakāḥ || 8 || yo ‘sau vajradharo deva ādityānāṃ pradurmataḥ | sahasranayanaś cendro grahapīḍāṃ vyapohatu || 9 || mukhaṃ yaḥ sarvadevānāṃ saptārcir amitadyutiḥ | candroparāgasambhūtām agniḥ pīḍāṃ vyapohatu || 10 || MtP 67 ||). The chapter is titled “Instructions for Bathing During a Solar or Lunar Eclipse” (candrādityoparāgasnānavidhi). The hymn continues, invoking the entire pantheon of gods, both Vedic and Hindu. It implores them to burn up the sins of the sacrificer, which are juxtaposed with the “affliction” caused by the eclipse. The water, into which all of these gods and tīrthas have been invoked, is then sprinkled over the sponsor of the ritual. From this perspective it is assumed, within the logic of appeasement, that “presence” guarantees efficacy. Thus the place-​name Saṃnihita, the lake of “presence,” announces the lake at Kurukṣetra as the best site for the removal of sin and the appeasement of the dangers portended by an eclipse.

249



Ritual Change and the Problem of Presence

249

Let us accept that, beyond the mere emplacement of a statue on a pedestal, the installation ritual (pratiṣṭhā) instantiates divine presence in the image. As we have seen, this instantiation comes to be performed in multiple ways. The simplest option is to invoke the god to a traditional fire sacrifice, while the inert statue lies nearby. Varāhamihira’s early account of pratiṣṭhā appears to operate in this way. The god is invoked to the fire and—​we must assume—​takes up residence in the image of its own accord. Another early account, from Bodhāyana, imagines the key moment of instantiation occurs when the image is being raised on its plinth. After it is aspersed with jeweled water, the priest says, “Oṃ bhuḥ, I invoke Puruṣa, Oṃ bhuvaḥ, I invoke Puruṣa, Oṃ suvaḥ, I invoke Puruṣa, Oṃ bhūr, bhuvaḥ, suvaḥ, I invoke Puruṣa.” The mantra recalls the simple theory of presence assumed in early Vedic and later Purāṇic texts. Like the deities who come to a Vedic sacrifice or gather at a pilgrimage place during an eclipse, here Viṣṇu is thought to respond to the call of the priest and to take up residence in the statue. As one cost of this straightforward scenario, however, the aspersion remains anomalous. Again, why do we install the god by bathing? There were other solutions, as we have seen, that developed more systematic relations between divine presence and the aspersion water. The Vaikhānasas prescribe the prior visualization of the god in the pot, such that when the invocation is performed on the following day—​again using a simple mantra of the form “I invoke Viṣṇu”—​the accompanying aspersion functions as a transfer of the water-​borne god to the statue. The god is “invoked” from the water pot into his body-​image. Those forms of pratiṣṭhā that more faithfully preserved the Atharvan structure of śānti brought about an even more complex situation. Such image installation rituals essentially accomplished the physical application of mantras to a statue—​just as the Atharvan śānti rituals applied the mantra gaṇas (through the dregs of the fire sacrifice) to the body of the king. Here, where the physical relation between mantras and bodies is most heightened, mantras tend less to have communicative effects; they become essences of their own. Mantric interpretation, then, will be crucial for determining the nature of the divinity that is—​or is present in—​the image. Since the mantras are now concerned with the invocation (āvāhana) of a god, they will appear to have only two effective components, the verb of invocation (āvāhayāmi) itself and the name(s) of the deity. In the first case, if it is the conceptual sense of “invocation” that is applied to the image—​as the concept of appeasement was applied to the king—​then the image might be seen as the mere receptacle of an invitation rather than the divinity itself. Presence, in this reading, is deferred. But while notionally correct from an Atharvan view, this situation is obviously deficient from a theological perspective. In the second and more likely interpretation, it is a name that is applied to the image—​or rather the image is made into the name of god. This reading seems more promising for

250

250

Rit es of t he God -K ing

the theists, but it requires a theological elaboration: now the god’s name must be equivalent to the god’s essence. The latter is exactly the type of theology that develops in so-​called Tantric cults, which elaborate complex theories of the identity of god and mantra. For these groups the god is identical with a “root” mantra (mūlamantra). Brunner even suggests that this theology may have developed precisely as a result of the invocation (āvāhana) ritual, for if the deity was present as soon as his or her root mantra was recited, an essential relationship must obtain between them.43 While the hypothesis merits further study, the image installation rituals I have described would seem at least to present a highly practical and public forum for the development of such a theology, since they highlight the material proximity of mantras and the divine body. Where else would the question of god and mantra be raised so forcefully? It should also be stressed that the reduction of gods to names appeared in the Vedic sphere too, at least as theorized by the ritualist branch of Vedic philosophy (Pūrvamīmāṃsā). Because this school of thought tended to subordinate divinity to sacrifice, it also placed a strong emphasis on the correct enunciation of the name of the divinity, while minimizing the independent agency of the gods themselves. Charles Malamoud summarizes this position: What counts in a god is its name; the offertory formula must include the exact name of the divinity. The sacrifice would be completely null and void if the divinity were invoked with a name which, even though it were one of its names, was not the name prescribed by the Veda for that specific circumstance. In response to the adversary who objects that the divinity is, in such a case, nothing more than a word, the Mīmāṃsā philosopher says: “Here there is nothing, in fact, for us to refute. This idea does not contradict our doctrine. It confirms what we say: one must not use one name in place of the other.”44 It may seem odd to suggest that the image installation, the ritual that animates the very heart of temple Hinduism, inclines toward the borderline atheism of the Vedic sacrifice. Nonetheless the surprising compatibility of the pratiṣṭhā ritual with such Tantric and Vedic theologies merely serves to underscore the contortions required when divine presence is made to fit the strictures of orthopraxy. For whatever we make of these complex theories of god and

43. See Brunner, “Les membres de Śiva.” Discussed in Staal, Ritual and Mantras, 229. 44. Malamoud, “Bricks and Words,” 224. See also Clooney, “What’s a God?”

251



Ritual Change and the Problem of Presence

251

sound—​which appear quite logical from the perspective of the image installation ritual—​they take us rather far afield from the simple theory of invisible presence that characterized epic-​Purāṇic Hinduism. This again recalls Tarabout’s suggestion that invisible, temporary presences are proper to low-​ caste belief, whereas divinities permanently housed in images better serve the demands of the religious elite. Certainly it is the orthopraxy—​Vedic, Tantric, or otherwise—​that decrees divinity in need of ritual, and thus material, mediation. Within the ritual and material constraints of the Vedic-​astrological orthopraxy—​that is, when reduced to mantra—​the free-​ranging presence of the epic-​Purāṇic gods and tīrthas is not merely hindered but also, perhaps, fundamentally altered. Precisely because of this odd ritual history, gods become a matter of mantras. To pose this alteration in another way:  If the image installation reduces divine presence to a body of mantras, might we say that it proposes divinization as equivalent to (material) empowerment? The difference may seem minor at first, but consider that, according to the theory of presence outlined above, the divinization of an object would require mantras to form an effective means of communication in the strict sense of an invocation (āvāhana). By contrast, we could say—​in pragmatic, pan-​sectarian terms—​that in śānti-​ inspired forms of pratiṣṭhā a statue is not so much transformed into a god as it is empowered with mantras. Its objective condition has more in common with the field of ritual instruments well known from across the broad history of South Asian religions, of which śānti water itself is a prime example: the spoons, potions, blades of grass, and diagrams (yantra and maṇḍala) that are charged up, battery-​like, by priestly speech in order to accomplish certain pragmatic ends. Wade Wheelock, for example, shows that in the over 1,200 mantras that make up the liturgy of the classical Vedic New and Full Moon sacrifice (darśapūrṇamāsa), a major theme is the transformation of the physical components of the sacrifice into “manifestations of cosmic forces that can be manipulated and cajoled to work for the goals of the ritual.”45 Hence the adhvaryu, the Yajurvedic priest largely responsible for the physical labor of the sacrifice, directs a large proportion of his speech at the ritual instruments themselves: a horse’s rib, a clump of grass. Once again the theme of mantric empowerment is highly developed in Tantric circles, which use mantras to harness divine, cosmogonic power or efficiency (śakti). Reporting the testimony of a ritual healer in South India, Carl Diehl illustrates how such mantras contain a quantifiable sense of power:

45. Wheelock, “Patterns of Mantra Use,” 171.

25

252

Rit es of t he God -K ing

The effect increases with the number. A Mantra must be read 108 times, but if circumstances are difficult, it will be necessary to raise the number to 1008. The “Poison King” uses a small spear of silver for healing purposes. He informed the author that he had performed five Laṭārccanam (worship 100,000 times) to make it effective, and he produced proceedings signed by a number of people to prove it. Six Brāhmans had been showering flowers on the image of Subramanyan while muttering the name of the god 5 X 100 X 1008 times. It took three days and the ceremony was closed with a Homa sacrifice.46 Here the collective force of a half-​million mantric repetitions empowers a silver spear used in healing rituals. My point is that insofar as image installation rituals inherit the structure of aspersion discussed here, divine images share much in common with these ritual instruments. To select a final example somewhat far afield from early medieval India, consider Donald Swearer’s description of a bodhimaṇḍa pavilion during the consecration of a Buddha image in modern Thailand. The new image is to be placed at the center of the pavilion: A web of cotton cord extends from the hall’s previously consecrated, main Buddha image, stretching over the bodhimaṇḍa and forming a yantric canopy of 108 small squares. This is the same sacred thread (sāi siñcana/​ water-​lustration thread) held by monks during the parita ritual that makes holy water (nām mon/​water sanctified by mantras). The sāi siñcana plays a crucial role in transferring sacred power from a particular source such as a Buddha image to animate or inanimate objects. One lay devotee compared the sāi siñcana to an electric cord that conducts the power from a previously consecrated Buddha image in a lineage extending back to the original image commissioned by the Buddha himself, much like a cable conducts electricity from a generator. The power stored in the image is then released by the monk’s chanting. Another interpretation is that the chant itself generates power that is carried along the sāi siñcana and “recharges” the image’s power if it has inadvertently been drained.47

46. Diehl, Instrument and Purpose, 331–​32. 47. Swearer, Becoming the Buddha, 80. For an equally dramatic example from contemporary Hinduism, see Fuller, “The Renovation Ritual.”

253



Ritual Change and the Problem of Presence

253

Accounts of pratiṣṭhā have long taken for granted that these sorts of mantric recitations do the work of divinization. But if the Thai Buddha image is divine, it is so in the same way as the silver spear or the horse’s rib or, indeed, the śānti waters that inaugurated this study. To be sure, theological explanations for this sort of “worship of ritual tools” are legion, as are colonial-​era accounts that disparage such prime exemplars of “unbridled polytheism.” Yet, strictly at the level of priestly work, mantras might be better suited to empowerment than to divinization. The mantras of the Atharvan tradition were employed precisely at this level, as empowerments for the matter of water. And because of the abiding constraint of this orthopraxy—​reaching well beyond any originally “intended” target—​in the image installation ritual, mantras were also made to present god. We might ask of this god, as we have of the royal body, Does a body made of mantras make present divine grace or priestly instrumentality?

254

Conclusion

Ritual and Continuity Let me recapitulate what I take to be the major conclusions of this study. At some point by the middle of the first millennium ce, some members of the Vedic royal priesthood became creatively engaged with the problem of omens as delimited by the nascent astrological tradition. To counteract these inauspicious forces, they protected their patients by imprinting mantras on their bodies through the medium of “appeasement waters.” These rituals came to exert a strong formative influence on subsequent rituals of kingship within the mainline Brahmanical tradition, such that, by the early medieval period, the Purāṇic royal calendar became suffused with rituals of bathing and, it seems, a general astrological anxiety. During the same period the cult of permanently installed temple images was also standardized in a pan-​sectarian form, taking the existing royal cult as a paradigm. In this way (among others), patterns of ritual action were transferred from the trailing edge of the Vedic sphere into what we understand today as temple Hinduism. Despite the theoretical reticence of the texts, the overall logic of the royal cult seems at least traceable, especially when we combine astrological sources with the ritual manuals. This pair of sources places tremendous weight both on the king’s responsibility to counteract omens and on his body as a central ritual locus. But the case of the image is certainly less clear. While I have argued that, in formal terms, the temple cult indicates a ritual transfer, the texts I have discussed are less explicit about its function, perhaps because of the new theological nature of the ritual body. In any case the question remains for further consideration: To what extent does a ritual culture of appeasement govern the cult of images? Having said this much, I  must reiterate the quite limited scope of this study. I  have tried to draw a fairly distinctive line of connection from the late ritual manuals of the Atharvaveda to the corpus of the astrologer Varāhamihira

25

Conclusion

255

and, therefrom, to two Purāṇic sources on kingship and images, Matsya and Viṣṇudharmottara. It is largely because selected chapters of these purāṇas were adopted by the Dharmaśāstric tradition (in the second-​millennial nibandhas) as a basis for rājadharma and pratiṣṭhā that I feel justified to pose broader, though tentative hypotheses connecting this specific ritual history to a discussion of mainstream (smārta) Hinduism at large. The other basis for generalization, which I will address below, is the at least superficial congruence between śānti rituals and descriptions in recent ethnographic literature on kingship, auspiciousness, and materiality. In light of the obvious dangers of anachronism, such ethnographic comparisons must be taken with extreme care. I have somewhat deliberately avoided texts related to the two most well-​ traveled modes of medieval Hinduism, namely, bhakti and tantra. This is not because these religious idioms have no bearing on early medieval Hinduism; their importance can scarcely be overstressed. In a heuristic way, however, I have sought above all to give clarity to a part of the medieval tradition that is often mentioned though rarely called to testify to the shaping of religion in this crucial period. In different ways the narratives of bhakti and tantra both assume as interlocutor a mainstream Brahmanical tradition, which was to be either rejected or superseded. But what was that tradition? By tracing the shifting contours of rājadharma precisely in the same period that birthed the Tantric and the devotional, I have tried to establish that the mainstream Brahmanical king, at least, cannot be taken for granted as a static figure—​especially as either a Vedic sacrificer or a temple patron-​administrator. To demonstrate the dynamism of this aspect of the smārta tradition, my focus has been on elaborating the acute astrological and ritual concerns that—​at least theoretically and according to these limited sources—​came to govern the royal body from the mid-​first millennium onward. I hope the specificity of this description might contribute to thinking about the many moving parts of this formative period. Perhaps this drive to heuristic clarity risks a retreat from history or the reification of an ideal that may never have been realized as such on the ground. It remains to be seen—​through further empirical study of the historical and ethnographic record—​whether and how the ritual culture of appeasement was deployed as a basis for the royal cult and especially for the cult of the image. But if the results of this study must be relegated to the realm of ideas alone, then at least we will have glimpsed something of the peculiar mode of cross-​generational thinking in these particular ritual texts. Certainly it is in the purview of orthopraxy to deny history. This tendency may be one of the unique features of ritual, if not its raison d’être.1 1. Houben, “The Brahmin Intellectual.”

256

256

Rit es of t he God -K ing

This does not mean that śānti-​related rituals are ahistorical. When viewed over time the manuals discussed here disclose the circuitous pace of ritual change. As I have argued, the texts do not so much deny innovation as encounter new situations within the frame of existing rules. They carry forward conventions in the form of ritual techniques and “syntactic phrases” of rites. Partly because of this mode of change, moreover, they also tend to obscure the agency of their authors or, to put it positively, to reify the orthopraxy—​the ritual itself—​as its own kind of historical agent. No doubt we must acknowledge—​or at least imagine—​the authors and institutions, priestly and dynastic, that propelled the ritual culture of appeasement: the priests and scribes who wrote and rewrote ritual manuals, the kings who patronized those priests at court and temple, and, of course, the publics that came to gaze upon the royal body. Many of the transformations in this ritual history resulted from deliberate calculations by these actors within varied ritual-​political systems of patronage over time. Yet at the same time, if the history of śānti is the sum of these choices, then in a cumulative sense the ritual can also be seen as a kind of “thinking machine,” applying its internal rules to new problems as it encounters new partners in astrology, kingship, and theology. Hence its historical course can be charted by a series of properties that emerge from these juxtapositions—​most striking, perhaps, being the novel application of śānti water to the installation of a god. I have speculated that such an application could hardly have been anticipated by the programmers of the mahāśānti. Yet because of the will of the ritual paradigm to reiterate itself—​its self-​referential or ectypic propensity—​it survived to encounter the image, to impinge on the bodies of invisible gods. At the risk of capitulating to the personification of tradition, I find the metaphor of thinking convenient for highlighting the generative and adaptive aspect of this ritual tradition. Deploying its highly articulated parts in the encounter with history, śānti became generative not only of new ritual forms but also—​ at least potentially—​of new religious concepts. Wherever else the laboratories of religious thought might lay, questions about the relationship between bodies and omens or statues and mantras are, I  suggest, matters of ritual speculation. When we limit our perspective to the ritual manuals, the (explicit) theory of appeasement tends to lag behind the (explicit) practice. Appeasement, then, is no abstract idea. It emerges from an impulse to apply the protective mantras of the Atharvaveda to a new source of danger. It is, perhaps, only through the interaction of these mantras, that royal body, and those omens that the royal cult of appeasement takes shape, perhaps only when the royal body is replaced by a divine body that a theory of god and mantras becomes necessary. At the very least we must fathom the commonplace assumption—​still seldom appreciated—​ that ritual and theology are dialogically intertwined. I suspect that theoretical

257

Conclusion

257

concepts pertaining to fate, karma, auspiciousness, and even divinity owe much to this ritual laboratory. By pointing to the diachronic dimension of ritual change in this way, I have tried to contribute another case to the theme of change and continuity in the study of Vedism and Hinduism. It has often been noted that Hinduism is an “accretive religion,” in that it avoids jettisoning old practices even as it embraces new ones. This is true in the sources treated here, which together posit a developmental relationship between the Vedic royal cult and temple Hinduism. As it frames and embeds new rites, the ritual paradigm of śānti embraces novel elements, be they the mantras of the old Vedic royal consecration or the physical installation of statues. Thus the accretive formation of Hinduism can be seen, in part, as a function of ritual change. But this is hardly a random or organic process. What Michael Willis recently writes about the transfer of Vedic domestic rites to the temple, in the context of the early history of pūjā, could easily be applied here: To imagine that bali, caru, and sattra were elements of the pañcamahāyajña that have slipped their domestic moorings and drifted willy-​nilly into the temple framework would be to miss the point entirely. Something rather more important has happened: priests have carefully and deliberately moved sacrifices from the domestic environment to the temple and attracted funding to support these rites in the new location.2 In other words, the semblance of ritual change or accretion can be taken as the mark of a priesthood that endures by means of legitimate, institutional rights to enforce and adapt ritual conventions. I reiterate that the endurance of priesthood does not necessarily support the conclusion that Hinduism is reducible to Vedism. If, in professional terms, the dividing line between Vedic and non-​Vedic is a question of mantra, we have seen numerous, innovative non-​Vedic actors, such as astrologers and sectarians, at work in the history of śānti. In an institutional sense, then, the Vedic hold over the cults of kings and images was widely contested. It remains true, however, that even those non-​Vedic ritualists inherited and in some ways perpetuated ritual forms that originated in the Vedic sphere. So the common refrain that the Vedic sacrifice survives in Hinduism only in an attenuated, domestic form seems somewhat insufficient as an assessment of Vedic-​Hindu ritual continuity. Even where Vedic priests are not operative, Vedic ritual paradigms remain in full force, in arenas of highly public Hindu practice, including the

2. Willis, The Archaeology of Hindu Ritual, 111.

258

258

Rit es of t he God -K ing

royal calendar, temple worship, and pilgrimage. From the perspective of śānti and its descendant rituals, I emphasize that the relation remains one of paradigm and governance. This is a much stronger form of continuity than is usually acknowledged between Vedism and Hinduism, especially in theological and philosophical contexts. Furthermore this basic ritual continuity undermines the salience of the very distinction between Vedic and Hindu. Practical continuity borne of ritual govern­ance ultimately minimizes the distinction between Vedic and non-​Vedic actors, for what persists by means of orthopraxy is a ritual that puts mantras in a water pot and pours those mantras on a body. If this ritual structure could accommodate both Vedic and non-​Vedic mantras, then the Vedic ritual survives even where the Vedas themselves—​that is, the Vedic mantras—​do not. In keeping with this strong continuity, there is not even what Renou called the “simple ‘raising’ of a hat, in passing, to an idol by which one no longer intends to be encumbered later on.”3 We are left with a puzzling situation. Between Vedic and Hindu ritual there is a strong continuity of ritual paradigms emerging from the Vedic priesthood. These paradigms remain operative even when divested of Vedic mantras. In the very fabric of Hinduism, Vedism is, broadly speaking, active as ritual form and yet absent as authority. What endures is the ritual itself—​fire, mantra, aspersion—​and priests to perform it.

Ritual and the Ethnographic Past As other scholars of Vedic-​Hindu ritual have noted, the theme of ritual continuity also helps bring about a rapprochement between the world of medieval texts and the record of practice in South Asian ethnography and ethnohistory.4 Indeed this study has taken much inspiration from a previous generation of ethnographically inflected scholarship—​in particular the works of Marglin, Raheja, and Waghorne, among others—​ which, criticizing the Dumontian-​ Dharmaśāstric account of Hindu society, emphasized royal auspiciousness over Brahmanical purity and affirmed the highly material nature of ritual exchange and ornamentation. All of this seems to be corroborated by post-​Vedic, astrological, and Purāṇic ritual manuals. Here the royal body seems to have come under intense

3.  “Même dans les domaines les plus orthodoxes, il arrive que la révérance au Veda soit un simple ‘coup de chapeau,’ donné en passant à une idole done on entend ne plus s’encombrer par la suite,” “Le Destin du Veda,” 2. Translation from Chanana, The Destiny of the Veda, 2. 4. See Michaels on “ethno-​indology,” in Homo Ritualis, 27–​31.

259

Conclusion

259

scrutiny within a system of astrological signs and was thus installed in a rigorous regime of ritual bathing, combined with elaborate public gifts. The workings of this ritual complex were hardly powered by the internal piety and renunciation of the Bhagavadgītā or by the invisible, otherworldly ritual effect (apūrva) of Mīmāṁsā theories of sacrifice. Rather the ritual manuals consistently describe their work in highly physical terms: the removal of sin by gifting; the “burning” of inauspiciousness with butter; the protection of the body with mantric armor; the production of auspiciousness through ornamentation. Such corporeal techniques seem harmonious with an astrological view of nature that traded in material signs on a continuum of auspicious regularity and inauspicious deviation, wherein the royal body could operate as a central marker. At the very least these first-​millennial texts demarcate a line of historical continuity with ethnohistorical data on the patterns of royal ritual in colonial-​era princely states and in contemporary practice. They confirm, for example, the intuitions of Marglin, who defined the royal cult of Orissa as a cult of auspiciousness, and the thesis of Raheja that one model for Hindu society revolves around the transfer of inauspiciousness from the dominant social group to its dependents. These may not have been isolated aberrations from the Rules of Manu but end points in a long historical process of reiteration—​still to be uncovered—​that stretches back at least to the Gupta period. If this continuity has been obscured, it is, as Inden and Dirks might insist, because of our blindness to the pattern of medieval South Asian politics, our blindness to the royal body in its time. The alternative vision of Hindu society presented in ethnography cannot, then, be framed as a simple break between praxis and ideology or tribal and Sanskritic ways of life. In its textual corpus the Brahmanical tradition contained its own contradictions. This is especially evident in the case of the potential transfer of sin through gifting (dāna). As Brick has shown, the “orthodox,” Dharmaśāstric view of gifting staunchly denied any reciprocity, and hence any transfer of sin or merit, between donor and recipient (pātra). Both the donor and the recipient must operate in a state of purity and faith in an unseen ritual effect (apūrva), without any ulterior (political or economic) motive.5 Brick proposes that this theory of gifting operates in conversation with an implied interlocutor (pūrvapakṣa), who essentially affirms Raheja’s model of the “poison in the gift.” In this book we have seen more than one instance of the ritual transfer of sin, as well as quite explicit statements about the relation between sin and inauspiciousness in the

5. See the introduction to Brick, Brahmanical Theories of the Gift.

260

260

Rit es of t he God -K ing

astrological theory of omens. Thus the implied interlocutor of the Brahmanical orthodoxy may turn out to be another Brahmanical source: the ritual tradition of the purohita and astrologer. If these two perspectives differ in theory, they appear to have been relatively harmonized in the purāṇas and post-​Purāṇic nibandhas. Consider that the mahādānas, which, I  argued, typify the poison gift, are included in the Dānakāṇḍa alongside exponents of the orthodox theory of gifting. In ­chapter 3 I  suggested a similar phenomenon at work in the orthodox reception of fate and divination. Whereas authorities like Manu and Kauṭilya were reluctant to acknowledge these topics, in later orthodox texts that describe royal rituals, such as the yātrā, such astrological activities were nonetheless considered indispensible. It would seem, then, that the medieval royal priesthood was less concerned to rectify explicitly its implicit ritual sociology with orthodox notions of austere brahminhood. The source of this reticence is unclear. On the one hand, to the proposition that the sinfulness of kings and priests should remain secret for the sake of public relations, the Mahābhārata alone offers a hefty counterweight: the inherent violence of rājadharma was an ongoing, widely known problem. Is it possible that an astrological theory of kingship was openly accepted by the mid-​to late first millennium ce? If so, being constantly reiterated in the regular pattern of public life, perhaps it was hardly in need of explicit defense. Perhaps it was the orthodoxy alone that needed to rationalize these practices to itself. On the other hand, the orthodox rejection of the temple priesthood may provide a useful model.6 Perhaps like the devalakas—​the priests dedicated to serving the temple image—​the purohitas who served the king occupied a degraded position within Brahmanical society and were excluded from the production of Dharmaśāstric texts.7 These questions also remain unresolved, but they illustrate how a renewed focus on the textual history of the royal priesthood relocates the apparent tension between

6. Stietencron, “Orthodox Attitudes.” 7. One Dharmaśāstric passage from the late Vaiṣṇavadharmaśāstra (93.5-​6) and quoted in the Dānakāṇḍa’s chapter on the “proper recipient” (pātra) seems to accept the anomalous status of the purohita among the broader category of Brahmanical recipients: “However, one’s Purohita is a worthy recipient only for oneself; and this is also the case with one’s sisters, daughters, sons, and sons-​in-​law.” Lakṣmīdhara comments as follows: “ . . . the meaning is this: Even if they lack other virtues (anyaguṇarahitā api), a man’s Purohita, etc., are worthy recipients simply by virtue of being his Purohita, etc. (purohitāditvenaiva), but they are worthy recipients for that man alone” (Dānakāṇḍa 3.76-​77, Brick tr., Brahmanical Theories of the Gift, 85). Hence while the Dharmaśāstric text does not admit the purohita’s acceptance of sin, it suggests that his relationship with his patron (i.e. the king?) may not follow the same logic as the orthodox theory of the gift.

261

Conclusion

261

text and ethnography among medieval Brahmanical groups, some of whom, it would seem, were fully capable of imagining a “post-​Dumontian” society.

darśan, Before and After A final and related point concerns the representation of Hinduism in religious studies at large. The priestly view of images, as I  have tried to develop it in ­chapters 5 and 6, contradicts the well-​accepted theory of Hindu image worship denoted by the term darśan. Recently, however, the multisensory experience of mutual recognition popularized by Diana Eck has gained wide currency as the primary index for Hindu theories of presence and materiality. As a convenient example, the 2011 Cambridge Companion to Religious Studies refers extensively to the term in three separate essays: Bob Orsi on “the problem of the holy,” David Morgan on “the look of the sacred,” and Matthew Engelke on “material religion.”8 Each author takes darśan as a basic experience of Hindu devotees. Orsi and Morgan, in particular, further present that experience as indicative of pressing problems that remain unsolved—​or denied—​by religious studies at large: the immediacy of the holy, the affective, embodied dimension of “belief as practice.”9 The singularity attained by darśan at this broadest disciplinary level, I suspect, presents the triumphal avatar of a prior apology. In Eck’s words: Without some interpretation, some visible hermeneutic, icons and images can be alienating rather than enlightening. Instead of being keys to understanding, they can kindle xenophobia and pose barriers to understanding by appearing as a “wild mob of nightmares,” utterly foreign and unassimilable by our minds. To understand India, we need to raise our eyes from the book to the image, but we also need some means of interpreting and comprehending the images we see. . . . Worshipping as God those “things” which are not God has been despised in the Western traditions as “idolatry,” a mere bowing down to “sticks and stones.” The difficulty with such a view of idolatry, however, is that anyone who bows down to such things clearly does not understand them to be sticks and stones. No people would identify themselves as “idolators,” by faith. Thus, idolatry can only be an outsider’s term for the symbols and visual images of some other culture.10 8. Orsi, The Cambridge Companion to Religious Studies. 9. Morgan, “The Look of the Sacred,” 299. 10. Eck, Darśan, 18, 21.

26

262

Rit es of t he God -K ing

From the outset, then, darśan not only posed a theoretical challenge to Protestant-​ inflected concepts of religion; it also presented a theological explanation meant to bridge cultural and religious difference—​to erase the epistemic conditions that reduce living images to “mere idols.” An unassailable belief in an embodied god—​now largely taken for granted—​ may satisfy the needs of the pluralist society, but for historians of religion there is more to say. In spite of its continued success in the study of religion at large, more than one scholar of South Asian religions has questioned the essentialized and ungrounded status of this concept. Most persuasively John Cort has called for the “situating” of darśan: Nearly three decades after the first publication of Eck’s book, it is time to move beyond this simple definition of darśan as seeing and being seen by the deity who is incarnate in the image. A strength of Darśan lies in its phenomenological approach, by which it aims to provide a sweeping overview of the ritual under discussion. This is also, I argue, its major weakness, as it lumps together practices and theories from many centuries, from all parts of India and from a wide variety of sectarian, theological and philosophical perspectives into what we can call a single “darśan experience.”11 This situation, I have suggested, reflects broader trends in Hindu historiography. If darśan has been essentialized and decontextualized, it is in part because we have puzzled so long over the matter of god and image, to the exclusion of other factors. It does not suffice, then, to provide a worshipper’s-​level view of the image experience; the entire complex of image-​worshipping practices, including darśan, must be replaced within its broader, especially politicized, ritual setting. Only then can the web of concepts attendant to darśan be presented for theoretical purposes. Following Cort’s recommendation, the present study provides at least a preliminary reconstruction of the broader ritual context in which darśan became possible. According to the version of the image cult presented here, darśan is best conceived as the public presentation (darśayet) of a royal body, post-​abhiṣeka. In all cases—​even when speaking of the image of a god—​this is a ritual body. However theologians may have spoken of the image as avatāra—​a deity who deigns to descend into physical form—​from a priestly perspective the presentation forms an episode in a longer series (in Staal’s terms, one rite within a broader ritual structure) meant to produce an auspicious form: “Seated there [on a throne

11. Cort, “Situating Darśan,” 6.

263

Conclusion

263

covered with five animal skins] the doorkeeper presents (darśayet) [to him or him to?] the ministers, chief townspeople, merchants, servants and others in order.”12 When replaced within this setting, following the titular abhiṣeka, darśan forms an index of the long history of royal consecrations. Through its eventual placement in image-​worshipping rituals, it brings forward an entire prehistory of royal display within political ceremonial, from the Vedic solemn rituals to the purāṇas. From the priestly view, this ritual display depends on the formation, rectification, and adornment of the body. Whether or not it is explicitly understood as a direct effect of śānti, auspiciousness remains the most salient product of these procedures. However we understand it, the royal consecration creates a perfect body; darśan displays this body, adorned.13 Again, this much has already been seen in accounts of more recent royal cults. In her study of royal ceremonial in the southern kingdom of Puddukkottai, Waghorne emphasizes the close link between royal abhiṣeka, ornamentation, and ceremonial display in the durbar: The Pattabhishekam was carefully sandwiched between the crucial palace rituals: the processional display of the raja and the public viewing at the durbar. The durbar itself in such small kingdoms could function alone as an investiture ceremony. . . . Even in a more stable Pudukkottai, the durbar followed closely on the heels of the Pattabhishekam. Moreover, at least in the last edition of the ritual, the coronation was integrated into the basic ritual logic of the procession and the durbar. . . . In this Pattabhishekam, dressing the raja continued to be a vital part of the ceremony.14 Of the public display of the king, she reports the following: When asked today to explain this display of the raja, old members of the court agree: The raja was displayed in order to allow his subjects to “take

12.  Appendix 4.2, step 30:  tatropaviṣṭasya tataḥ pratīhāraḥ pradarśayet | amātyāṃś ca tathā paurān naigamāṃś ca vaṇigvarān || 36 || tataḥ prakṛtayaś cānyā yathāvad anupūrvaśaḥ | 37 ab | VDhP 2.21 | The same sequence in the earlier Nīlamata/​Ādi purāṇa says, “The king himself should be seated by the purohita on a resplendent, auspicious lion throne, set over a tiger skin. Seated on that lion throne he should observe the chief subjects who have come to meet [him]” (vyāghracarmottare ramye siṃhāsane śubhe | upaveśyo bhaved rājā svayam eva purodhasā || siṃhāsanasthaḥ saṃpaśyet prakṛtīś ca samāgatāḥ | Ādipurāṇa lines 2730–​32; Rājadharmakāṇḍa, 13). 13. Dehejia, The Body Adorned. 14. Waghorne, The Raja’s Magic Clothes, 235.

264

264

Rit es of t he God -K ing

darśan”—​a term usually used in connection with the ornamented images of deities displayed in the sanctum of a temple. The God embodied in the bronze or stone image within the temple is believed to grant devotees this power-​laden vision, a revelation of divine presence. So powerful was this vision of the raja that a person experiencing exceptionally good luck was asked, “Have you seen the raja’s face today?”15 Here, as elsewhere, Waghorne’s description may be taken to suggest that the king was treated in analogy to the image.16 This makes sense in a study of colonial India, when the temple cult was already fully developed. But the trajectory of the texts studied here suggests the opposite: the image cult emerged somewhat after the system of royal ritual, itself continuous with the long history of (aniconic) Vedic royal abhiṣekas. Thus the process of ritual transfer described here cannot be thought of in terms of the divinization of kingship but rather the regalization of divinity. To reconnect the divine image in this way to its royal heritage presents both a loss and a gain. What may no longer be taken for granted is the autonomy of the devotee, the spontaneity of the encounter, and especially the reciprocity of the gaze. Instead we face a visual encounter that emerges from a meticulous ritual performance. The royal body is made to be seen. Auspiciousness—​perhaps easily (mis)taken for liberation—​radiates outward from this body. The king’s subjects are hardly entitled to individual recognition; they are fortunate to gain sight of him as their blessing. At the very least, between seeing and being seen our texts posit a definite hierarchy, keyed to the monarchy. A  king gains little from the sight of his public; the public, everything from the sight of their king. In place of the embodied subjectivity so carefully conserved by the darśan movement, we must envision the devotee as a dependent, royal subject. In place of interiorized, privatized (modern-​liberal?) worship, public allegiance and political obedience. Nonetheless much also is gained by this ransom. It leads, in the first place, to a more complicated picture of Hinduism than the one popularized by the decontextualized image. Take, for example, the following claim from Engelke’s essay: “In contrast (to Protestantism), Hinduism might be understood as a religion of the eye.  .  .  . It is sight that organizes and undergirds Hindu religious experience as a whole.”17 Even if we accept this basic comparative description, we must also consider what it means for Hindu visuality to be undergirded by 15. Ibid., 9. 16. Ibid., 242. 17. Engelke, “Material Religion,” 224.

265

Conclusion

265

sonic orthopraxy. What does a juxtaposition of the eye of the devotee with the ear of the priest mean for our descriptions of Hinduism? Furthermore we will have to consider what, exactly, the “Hindu gaze” itself apprehends: rather than a single locus of affective divinity, a dense semiotic field of matter comprising ritual objects and astrological signs.18 These issues, to my mind, may be at least as pressing to the study of religion as the “fact”—​inconceivable to Protestants—​of gods incarnate. Second, and equally pressing: what we reconstitute by finding the ritual place of darśan is at least a part of the very form of premodern South Asian politics. The point has been made repeatedly that the temple formed the center of social and political life in medieval India, that British colonials constantly mistook the royal displays in the durbars of the princely states as “mere ceremonial.” We have seen that the ritualists largely left to theology the problem of how, precisely, the image presents god. What seems crucial from their perspective, as ritual agents of the state, was another kind of presence: the vision of the king enshrined in the heart of his temples. Consider the long record of royal temple patronage in South Asia—​the thousands of inscriptions decreeing, publicly, that the provisions for the god shall continue, that the lamps shall never go dim. In light of such ambition, it seems difficult to deny that, in the ongoing temple cultures of India and its diasporas, something of the medieval, ritual-​political project has succeeded, despite the regimes of the modern secular state—​that the perfect royal body endures.

18. Compare my discussion of mantras in ­chapter 6 with Engelke, A Problem of Presence.

26

267

Appendices

1.1 The Amṛtā Mahāśānti Paradigm (Śāntikalpa 2.20–​25) [1]‌The performer collects clean water from rivers or lakes, addressing it with the mantra AVŚ 19.1 (20.2). [2] He performs the New and Full Moon sacrifice up to the ājyabhāga (20.3cd). [3] Then he makes śānti water, including the mantras AVŚ 19.2 and 8.7.26 (20.4ab). [4] Sprinkling the fire, he pours the water into a pot, saving a portion in the original vessel (20.4c–​5b). [5] Offering aśvattha, the hair (of the sponsor?), barley, rice, (leaves of ) the horseradish tree with water, bdellium and poison (20.5c–​f ), [6] he makes an oblation with black pepper, sahā, alābunā, śaratūla and bhṛṣṭi, with the cātana mantra gaṇa (21.1). [7] Offering an oblation of iṅgida oil with the same gaṇa (21.2a), [8] he adds the kindling woods made of the following plants: atasī (flax), jātuṣī (gum), trāpusī, mausalī, khadira, palāśa, tārṣṭāgha, apamārga, and aśvattha (21.2b–​3c). [9] He worships with the same (cātana) gaṇa (21.3d). [10] Silently, he makes a single offering of khadira, apamārga, baja, piṅga, śatiṅga, śālmala, malā, sahamānā, and pṛśniparṇī (21.4–​ 5). [11] He makes an offering with AVŚ 5.10, covering the following objects with some of the dregs of the offering: a stick of tumbara wood, sadaṃpuṣpā, yellow mustard, ten leaves, stones, and sand (22.1–​2b). [12] He puts the other dregs in the appeased waters (22.2cd). [13] He smears circles in the ten directions, and in them strews sand, sprinkles the appeased waters, and places stones in the ten directions (22.3–​4a). [14] Smearing a circle above the door, he strews sand there and places the other substances (the tumbara stick, sadaṃpuṣpā, and yellow mustard) in it (22.4b–​d). [15] He makes an oblation to the (ten) directions with AVŚ 3.26, and [16] worships the directions with AVŚ 3.27 (22.5ab). [17] He makes an offering with eighteen mantra gaṇas, placing the dregs in the water pot (22.5c–​24.2b). [18] He has brahmins pronounce benedictions after each gaṇa (24.5). [19] Silently, he makes an offering of bdellium (guggulu) to the Rakṣas, [20] and obtains a gift for them, with a mantra (24.5a–​c). [21] He makes an offering with the āyuṣyagaṇa

268

268

Appendices

and smears the dregs on himself (24.6d). [22] He makes an offering with the patnīvanta-​ gaṇa and smears the dregs on the wife (24.6e). [23] He gives a drink of curds, liquor, and barley to the Rakṣas with his right hand (24.7a–​c). [24] He bathes the sponsor with AVŚ 4.40, 1.31, 4.18, 6.19, 51.1, 35.1 (24.7d–​8). [25] Reciting the Prāṇa hymn, he places the dregs on rice and barley and ties it as an amulet (25.1ab). [26] Adorning and praising him, he wraps him in two (upper and lower) garments (25.1cd). [27] He cooks a mess of rice (caru), and [28] offers it while reciting the appropriate (āvāpika) mantra (25.2a–​c). [29] He completes the frame of the New and Full Moon sacrifice (25.2d), and [30] feeds brahmins with the remains of the sacrifice and other food (25.3). [31] The sponsor pays the performer the appropriate sacrificial fee (dakṣiṇā).

2.1  Royal Ritual Calendar According to the Appendices Daily Rituals

1. “Morning Blessing” (svastyayana) (AVPŚ 4.1)1 2. “Gift of Gold” (suvarṇadāna) (4.2.1–​8) 3. “Gift of Sesame” (tiladāna) (4.2.9–​15) 4. “Worship of the Night [in an Image Made of Flour]” (piṣṭarātryāḥ kalpa) (4.3–​4; 4.5; 6) 5. “Nightly [Waving of Lamps]” (ārātrika) (7) 6. “Gazing into Ghee” (ghṛtāvekṣaṇa) (8) 7. “Sacrifice to the Planets” (grahayāga) (18b.19.3) 8. “Sacrifice to the Asterisms” (nakṣatrayāga) (18b.19.3) 9. “Ten Gaṇa Mahāśānti” (daśagaṇīśānti) (18b.19.3)

Weekly/​Monthly Rituals 1. “Sun-​Cake” (ādityamaṇḍaka) (12; 18b.17) every Sunday 2. “Sacrifice to the King’s Birth Asterism” (nakṣatrahomayāga) (18b.18)

Annual Rituals 1. “Birthday [Consecration]” (janmadina) (18b.1)2

1. I have tried to organize the calendar chronologically, but many difficulties remain. The complexity of the calendar is due in large part to AVPŚ 18b.2, which mentions a number of rituals not elsewhere explained in the Appendices. In the text the rituals are not always listed in chronological order. 2. The list is based in large measure on the group of pariśiṣṭas 17–​18b, which are collectively called the “Annual Rituals of a King” (rājakarmasāmvatsarīyam). This scheme may be a late

269

Appendices

269

A.  Bright Half of the Month of Āśvayuja3 2. “Consecration of Elephants and Horses” (hastyāśvadīkṣā) (18b.2.1; 18b.6.1) first nine nights 3. “Lamp Festival” (dīpotsava) (18b.6) first day 4. “Ritual for Horses and Elephants” (hastyaśvānāṃ nīrājana/​karma) (17.1; 18b.2.3) third day 5. “Viewing of the Horses and Elephants” (hastyaśvānāṃ darśanam) (18b.2.3) seventh day 6. “Worship of the Night in an Image of Sesame” (piṣṭamayīm, 18b.2.4) eighth day 7. “Ritual for the Removal of Danger from Vehicles” (vāhanānāṃ abhayam karma) (17.2; see also 18b.12.2) ninth day 8. “Worship of Durgā” (durgāpūjana) (18b.2.4) ninth evening 9. “Parahoma” (hastyāśvādīnām anīkānāṃ rathasya parahoma) (18b.7) ninth evening 10. “Departure” (prasthānika) (18b.2.6–​8) morning of tenth day 11. “[Waving the] Apāmārga [Branch]” (apāmārgatrayodaśī, 18b.5) thirteenth day 12. “Lustration of Elephants” (hastinīrājana) (18.1–​3) full moon 13. “Full Moon Sacrifice” (paurṇamāsa) (18b.4.1) afternoon of the full moon

addition to the text, whose description appears to concern the annual consecration of horses and elephants (nīrājana). The extant text, however (especially 18b), seems to have been the site of significant reworking of the ritual calendar, adding several new rituals to the program, and—​ like the daily rituals of the purohita—​also relocating other rituals, which are described independently and more extensively elsewhere in the Appendices. The caraṇavyūha (AVPŚ 49) lists hastidīkṣā and aśvadīkṣā in the place of AVPŚ 17 and 18, respectively. As Bolling and Negelein mention in their comments on the text, AVPŚ 17.1 (om atha pratisaṃvatsaraṃ rājakarmāṇi krameṇa vakṣyāmaḥ) concurs with the colophon to 18b (rājakaramasāṃvatsarīyaṃ hastyaśvādidīkṣā samāptā). This suggests that the entire group should be taken as the annual rituals. The colophon also mentions the hastyāśvadīkṣā, in agreement with the caraṇavyūha, so we cannot conclude for certain that the annual cycle was alien to the text. Together Sāyaṇa and Hemādri quote from all three texts (17, 18, 18b). In the extant texts of AVPŚ 17 and 18 both seem to deal with the nīrājana, or lustration. Identifying the vidhi of this ritual seems to be key to unraveling the entire complex of 17–​18b; 17 deals with horses and vehicles, while 18 deals with elephants. 18b seems to prescribe the nīrājana and a number of related rituals, such as the initiation (dīkṣā) of horses and elephants, and the ritual protection of vehicles (vāhana). The relation between these rituals is unclear due to lacunae and corruptions in the text. A further complication stems from the overlapping of dīpotsava, durgāpūjā, and hastyāśvadīkṣā, each of which falls at the beginning of Āśvina, concurrent with the contemporary Durgā navarātra festival culminating with mahānavamī, the ninth evening, followed by jaya or aparājita daśī, also mentioned in this text. 3. The majority of the rituals in the annual cycle belong to this month. They concern the preparations for military expedition, which usually take place in the fall. The following month, kārttika, belongs to the god of war.

270

270

Appendices

B.  Following Āśvayuja 14. “Releasing the Bull” (vṛṣotsarga) (18b.9; 19)  full moon of the months of Raivatī, Āśvayuja, or Kārttika 15. “Prosperity Aspersion” (puṣyābhiṣeka, 5; 18b.11) full moon of the month of Puṣya 16. “Holākā” (holākā) (18b.12.1) evening of the full moon of the month of Phalguna 17. “Splendor-​Vow” (tejovrata) (18b.14) three nights beginning on the full moon of the month of Caitra 18. Bathing Ritual (18b.15), midday on the thirteenth day of Spring/​Full Moon of the month of Viśākha 19. Bathing Ritual (grīṣmapratipad) (18b.13) first day of summer 20. “ Twelfth Night of Viṣṇu” (viṣṇudvādaśī) (18b.8)4 21. Amulet Binding and Nīrājana (18b.16) full moon of Śrāvaṇa 22. “Great Festival of Indra” (indramahotsava) (18b.19.2; 19) bright half of Prauṣṭapada or Bhādrapada

Occasional/​Desiderative Rituals 1. “First Consecration of a King” (rājaprathamābhiṣeka) (AVPŚ 3, KauśS 2.8[17])

A: Gifts (dāna) 2. “[Gift] of a Cow Made of Sesame” (tiladhenu) (AVPŚ 9) 3. “Gift of [an Image of ] the Earth” (bhūmidāna) (10) under the nakṣatra Rohiṇī “Gift of the Man on a Balance” (tulāpuruṣa) (11) in the northern course of the sun, in the waxing fortnight, under an auspicious star, or when inspired by faith, or during an eclipse 4. “Golden Embryo” (hiraṇyagarbha) (13) in the northern course of the sun, in the waxing fortnight, under an auspicious star, or when inspired by faith, or during an eclipse “[Gift of an] Elephant Chariot” (hastiratha) (14) full or new moon in Āśvina, under an auspicious star “[Gift of a] Horse Chariot” (aśvaratha) (15) no occasion specified “[Gift of ] 1000 Cows” (gosahasra) (16) no occasion specified

B.  Fire Sacrifice (homa) 5. “The Lesser 100,000 Oblations” (laghulakṣahoma) (30) no occasion specified 6. “The Greater 100,000 Oblations” (bṛhallakṣahoma) (30b) no occasion specified 7. “10,000,000 Oblations,” (koṭihoma) (31) on the occasion of sickness, various calamities, appearance of comets, fear of sickness, enemies, or drought. 4. This may refer to the day after the eleventh of Āṣāḍha, when Viṣṇu is “put to sleep” for four months. Bolling and Negelein place it in Āśvina.

271

Appendices

271

C.  Śānti-​Based Rituals 8. “Blanket of Ghee” (ghṛtakambala, AVPŚ 33) various occasions 9. Various mahāśāntis (50–​72), various occasions

2.2  Prosperity Aspersion (puṣyābhiṣeka) (Atharvavedapariśiṣṭa 5) [1]‌Waters for the aspersion are gathered, ideally, “from the four oceans and 100 rivers” with 1,000 or 100 pots made of gold, silver, or clay (1.2–​4b). [2] Eighteen herbs (oṣadhīḥ) are placed in the pots, which are also adorned with a series of eighteen plants and the buds from seven different plants (1.4c–​2.2). [3] The pots are covered with gold, jewels, herbs, bilva fruit, flowers, and perfumes, and wrapped with white cloths (2.3a–​ c). [4] The purohita addresses them with a set of mantras (for the preparation of śānti water) (2.3d–​4). [5] A seat made of gold or silver is placed on a bed of grasses, and on it are spread the skins of an ox, tiger, lion, and deer (2.5–​3.1). [6] The purohita performs a caturhotra fire offering (with four brahmins standing in the cardinal directions) (3.2). [7] Fasting on a diet of ghee, or bilva fruit and milk, he makes the offering with cow’s milk, using a golden spoon (sruva) (3.3–​4b). [8] During this offering he recites the first hymn of each of the four Vedas, preceded by the mahāvyāhṛti syllables (bhūḥ, bhuvaḥ, suvaḥ) and with five Atharvan mantra gaṇas (3.4c–​4.1).5 [9] At the appropriate moment, he has brahmins pronounce the “auspicious day” (puṇyāha) (4.2). [10] The king is aspersed with the sound of instruments, over which the purohita has recited AVŚ 5.20. He is also adorned (4.3). [11] He mounts the throne, which is adorned with royal implements, surrounded by door guards, and four elephants stationed in the cardinal directions (4.4–​5b).6 [12] Seated there, he performs good works for his subjects, exempting from taxes (akara) brahmins, cows, women, children, mentally disabled and diseased persons (4.5c–​f ).7 [13] He gives a visual audience to brahmins, prominent subjects, and guild-​leaders. And he greets (prominent?) women (5.1–​2). [14] He honors the purohita, minister, general, superintendents of horses and elephants, the superintend­ ent of the granary, the keeper of the utensils, doctor, and astrologer (5.3–​4). [15] The king entrusts the kingdom to the purohita and gives property to others (5.5). [16] Then

5. vedānām ādibhir mantrair mahāvyāhṛtipūrvakaiḥ || 4 || śarmavarmā gaṇaś caiva tathā syād aparājitaḥ | āyuṣyaś cābhayaś caiva tathā svastyayano gaṇaḥ || 5 || AVPŚ 3 || etān pañca gaṇān hutvā vācayeta dvijottamān | hiraṇyenākṣatārgheṇa phalaiś ca madhusarpiṣā || 1 || 6.  siṃhāsanaṃ samāruhya pīṭhikāṃ vā yathākramam | cāmarachattrasaṃyuktaṃ pratihāravibhūṣitam || 4 || mattadvipacatuṣkaṃ ca caturdikṣu prakalpayet | 7. upaviṣṭas tato rājā prajānāṃ kārayed dhitam | akarā brāhmaṇā gāvaḥ strībālajaḍarogiṇaḥ || 5 || AVPŚ 4 ||

27

272

Appendices

the purohita anoints the king with dūrvā grass, white mustard, śamī leaves, barley and rice, and white flowers (5.6–​7).

3.1  Preliminary Services for the Yātrā

A.  “Conciliating the Guhyakas” (guhyakānuṣṭhāna) (Bṛhadyātrā 17 [15]) [1]‌The king, wearing new clothes, goes to the crossroads of the city with a number of specialists, bringing the requisite materials for the offering (2–​3). [2] At midnight under an auspicious or inauspicious planet the purohita offers bali in the ten directions (4). [3] The purohita recites a number of Vedic mantras (5), and then [4] reads a non-​Vedic mantra asking the Pramathas to accept the offering and protect the king and his retinue (6–​8). [5] After the recitation, he offers arghya [6] and then bali to the Pramathas, along with another series of deities (Yama, Indra, Varuna, Kubera, Visnu, Agni, Śiva, and also the Yakṣas, Rakṣas, Piśācas, and Asuras) while reciting the sāvitrī mantra (9–​10). [7] Another mantra is recited—​either by the purohita or the king—​asking these beings to follow the king and promising further bali offerings upon his safe return (11–​14). [8] The king dismisses the Pramathas at the moment of the sixth watch (15).

B.  “Dream [Divination]” (svapna) (Bṛhadyātrā 18[16]) [1]‌The king, minister, and purohita camp overnight in a temple and worship the god of the direction (1). [2] The purohita prepares the ground and the king lies down to sleep (2–​3). [3] Having eaten a light meal, he thrice repeats a mantra (VS 34.1), and lies down on his right side to examine his dreams (4–​7).8 [4] Once he sees an auspicious dream he avoids sleeping further. He reports the dream to brahmins and they praise him (33).

C.  “Victory Bath” (vijayasnāna) (Bṛhadyātrā 19[17]) [1]‌In a spot appropriate for bathing, the purohita, who has offered bali (as in BY 15) and who has fasted for six days traces out a square area for a building (vāstu), [2] smearing it with grains, sesame, mudga beans, chick peas, flax, and [3] covering it with unbroken darbha and kuśa blades, [4] decorating the gates with kālamūla plants and pots filled with silver and jewels, milkwood shoots, and tied with string, [5] [placing inside it] brahmi, gṛhyasoma, and śaṅkhapuṣpa plants, and a seat (1–​5). [6] The king enters by the eastern gate and sits on his throne (7). [7] His bodily protection is performed with a number of vegetable materials (priyaṃgu, siddhārthaka, nāgadāna, gorocana, kṣaudra) (8). [8] The purohita performs the abhiṣeka of the king with a series of pots (made of clay,

8. The dream omens are described at BY 18[16].8–​32.

273

Appendices

273

silver and gold) each filled with a unique substance (milk, curd and ghee, respectively), with different types of clay, and with water containing “all herbs” (sarvauṣadhi), while reciting the specified mantras (9–​12). [9] The consecrated king, addressed with benedictions, sits on a series of animal skins (13).9 [10] The purohita, holding incense, clothing, flowers, and perfume, thrice waving herbs around the king, standing on the king’s left side or in front of him, sacrifices into a fire [with the smoke] blowing against [the king] (14). [11] The king, instructed by the purohita, honors a set of objects and directs the priests to pronounce the svasti (15). [12] Holding flowers and fruits, he exits through the northern door, not looking to the east, and lifting his right foot to the east (16).

D.  Planetary Sacrifice (grahayajña) (Bṛhadyātrā 20[18]) These two texts do not follow the traditional prescriptive vidhi style of the Vedic ritual manuals and as such do not allow for a sequential summary. The following aspects of the ritual, however, are clear. First, the ritual requires an altar, which is to be examined for omens. Second, the service for each planet requires the same set of articles, many of which are specific to each planet: [1]‌an image-​material; [2] a species of wood (for the sruc-​ladle and samidh-​kindling wood); [3] a Vedic mantra; [4] perfume; [5] foodstuffs; [6] flowers; [7] a sacrificial fee; and [8] priest to whom the fee is due.

E.  Fire Omens (agnilakṣaṇa) (Bṛhadyātrā 21[19]) [1]‌After the worship of the planets, the purohita makes another fire offering with various mantras (1–​4). [2] The purohita repeatedly alternates touching the fire and the king while reciting a mantra dedicated to the fire (5–​7). [3] He [likely the astrologer] observes the signs of the fire.10

3.2  Prosperity Bath (puṣyasnāna) (Bṛhatsaṃhitā 47) [1]‌At night, the astrologer, minister, and purohita leave the city by the east or north direction, having performed a bali offering to the corresponding lokapāla (18).11 [2] The purohita invokes the gods with a mantra and asks them to grant the king śānti in exchange for pūjā (19–​21). [3] Having worshipped those gods, they remain there overnight observing their dreams (22). [4] In the morning they gather the ritual requisites and go to a secluded location selected for the rite (23). [5] There the purohita draws a

9. The skins of a spotted antelope, a bull, cat, and wolf. 10. Omens supplied at BY 21[19].8–​10. 11. The previous passage describes appropriate sites for the ritual.

274

274

Appendices

maṇḍala and fashions in it the earth with places assigned for the various gods (24). [6] He sets down all the deities therein (25–​26). [7] He worships each of them with specific bali offerings (27–​33). [8] He makes a fire on an altar to the south or west of the maṇḍala, where he gathers the ritual requisites (34–​35). [9] He performs a pūjā there with those requisites (36). [10] He places pots in the corners of this altar and fills them with the ingredients for the bath (37–​42). [11] He places four animal skins on the altar (43–​45b). [12] At an auspicious moment, when the moon is in Puṣya he sets a new throne on the animal skins (45c–​47). [13] Placing a piece of gold on the throne, the king sits on it, surrounded by his retinue (48). [14] His bad luck is dispelled by auspicious sounds and acclamations (49). [15] Covering him with a blanket, the purohita asperses him with eighteen, twenty-​eight, or 108 pots of clarified butter (ājya), while reciting a mantra about the expiatory power of butter (50–​53). [16] Removing the blanket, the purohita bathes him with the aspersion waters prepared earlier, while reciting a mantra dedicated to all the gathered deities, and other Vedic mantras (54).12 [17] The bathed king dons a pair of cotton garments, blessed by mantras (72). [18] Purified (ācānta?) along with the sounds of conches, and puṇyāhas, praising gods, gurus and brahmins, he worships his parasol, flag, and weapon, and worships his chosen deity (73). [19] He dons new ornaments which have been blessed by mantras (74). [20] Going to a second altar, the king sits on animal skins (75–​76). [21] The purohita makes a fire offering, and the astrologer interprets the omens (77–​78b). [22] Concluding the fire sacrifice, the purohita thanks and dismisses the deities (78c–​79). [23] The king honors the astrologer and purohita with copious wealth, along with others worthy of dakṣiṇā, such as śrotriya brahmins (80). [24] He grants safety (abhaya) to the people, suspends animal slaughter, and releases prisoners (81).

4.1  Gift of the Man on a Balance (tulāpuruṣamahādāna) (Matsyapurāṇa 274) A.  “Overnight” Ritual (adhivāsana) [1]‌The benediction by brahmins (brāhmaṇavācana) occurs on an auspicious day (25ab). [2] He (the royal sponsor) has a “pavilion” (maṇḍapa) constructed, containing an altar (vedī) and surrounded by four fire pits (kuṇḍa), and an additional altar in the northeast direction (25c–​29). [3] It is decorated with banners, four archways and four pairs of pots (30c–​31). [4] He places the golden scale (tulā) with a golden man inside (32–​36b). [5] He appoints a lead officiant (guru) of the ritual and priests from each of the four Vedas at the four surrounding fire pits (36c–​39). [6] They perform four fire offerings

12. The non-​Vedic mantra in 47.55–​70; additional mantras mentioned at 71.

275

Appendices

275

(i.e., an offering at each fire pit?) to the Vināyakas, Planets, Lokapālas, Vasus, Ādityas, and Marudgaṇas, Brahma, Acyuta (Viṣṇu), Īśa (Śiva?), Arka, and Vanaspati (40–​54). [7] After the offerings, the Guru invokes these gods with appropriate mantras. [8] The sponsor pays (the officiating priests) and the guru ornaments and clothing (55–​56b). [9] A group of “reciters” (jāpaka) recite the śāntikādhyāya (ṚV 7.35) (56cd). [10] Next, the sponsor is bathed by Vedic brahmins (58ab).

B. Gift [11] Circumambulating (the scale) with a flower in his hand, he (the king) addresses it with a mantra (58c–​64b). [12] At the appropriate moment he circumambulates the scale again, and mounts it, fully clad with sword, skin, armor, and other ornaments (64c–​65). [13] He takes hold of the golden image of Yama that has been furnished with the sun, and, holding it tightly with both hands, he gazes at the face of Hari (66). [14] Brahmins place gold on the other side of the scale until it is equal to (or greater than) his weight (67–​68b). [15] He addresses the scale with a mantra (69c–​70). [16] Descending from the scale, he gives half of the gold to the guru and the other half to the officiants, after pouring out water, along with villages and jewels (71–​72b). [17] If permitted, he gives gifts to others (72cd).

4.2  Royal Consecration (rājyābhiṣeka) (Viṣṇu­ dharmottarapurāṇa 2.19–​21)13 A. Aspersion [1]‌ The purohita, clad in white and wearing a turban, prepares the altar and [2] performs a fire offering with the specified mantras (VDhP 2.19.3–​5b).14 [3] He places the remains of this offering in a golden pot (5cd). [4] Together with his attendants and those of the astrologer, he observes the signs of the fire (6–​8).15 [5] The king who has taken a preliminary bath [6] is then bathed with clay gathered from twelve different places (2.21.1–​6) [7] and he is bathed with pañcagavya. [8] Then a quartet of ministers approach the seat (7), [9] where the king is bathed by representatives of the four varṇas, stationed in the cardinal directions (8–​10a), and [10] by representatives of the two (or four) Vedas (10c–​ 11b).16 [11] Then the purohita, picking up the pot containing the remainders, leaves the

13. Based on the text of Losch, Rājadharma, 283–​91. 14. Note that the mantras in this offering contain those dedicated to the gods Viṣṇu, Indra, Sāvitṛ (the Sun), the Viśve devāḥ, and Soma (the Moon), in addition to the five gaṇas. 15. VDhP 2.20 comprises a list of these omens. Cf. BY 19/​YY 8. 16. According to the published versions of the VDhP (cf. Losch, Rājadharma, 287), only the representatives of the Ṛg and Sāma Vedas bathe the king. Nonetheless the Anantadeva (321),

276

276

Appendices

fire in the care of the attending priests, and [12] bathes the king with mantras known from the rājasūya. [13] He gives the vessel away [14] and returns to the fire (11c–​13).17 [15] Next a Vedic (or Yajurvedic) specialist showers the king with a vessel having 100 holes (14–​15b)18 [16] and with herbs, perfume, seeds, flowers, fruits, and jewels, each accompanied by the recitation of Vedic mantras, and finally cleanses the king with kuśa-​ water (15c–​18b).19 [17] Then an Ṛgvedin touches his head and neck with yellow pigment (rocanā) (18c–​19b). [18] Next, members of the four varṇas along with prominent ministers bathe the king with waters from various locations, together with representatives of the general populace (19c–​24b).20 [19] In the final act of bathing, the astrologer consecrates the king with an adorned golden pot, while reciting a non-​Vedic mantra. [20] He gives away the pot at the end of the mantric recitation (24c–​28b).21

quoting a reading in a text called the Kṛtakaratnākara (Kṛtyaratnākara of Caṇḍeśvara?) adds an extra half-​verse prescribing a Yajurvedic specialist (armed with ghee) and an Atharvan (milk and curd) in order to complete the quartet of Vedic specialists: tato ‘bhiṣekaṃ nṛpater bahvṛcapravaro dvijaḥ | kurvīta madhunā rāma ghṛtenādhvaryur eva ca | kṣīreṇa dadhnātharvā tu cchandogaś ca kuśodakaiḥ | 17.  Note that the text does not in fact give explicit verbal direction for the consecration, but this is likely because the verb abhiṣiñcāmi is contained in the consecratory mantra itself. Anantadeva (Rājadharmakaustubha, 344), Nīlakaṇṭha (Nītīmāyūkha, 18), and Mitramiśra (Rājanītiprakāśa, 65) all specify, in roughly identical terms, that the purohita should at this point consecrate the king with the pot of remainders. For example, Mitramiśra: tataḥ purohito vahniṃ rakṣadhvam iti sadasyān saṃpreṣya saṃpātavantaṃ sauvarṇaṃ kalaśam ādāya rājasamīpaṃ gatvā brāhmaṇasvarayutaiḥ śaṅkhabheryādiśabdayutai rājasūyagatarājābhiṣekamantrair abhiṣecayet | 18. For 15ab Anantadeva gives the alternative “A Dharma-​knowing expert in all of the Vedas”—​ rather than a Yajurvedic expert, as in the Purāṇic texts—​“should consecrate [the king]” (abhiṣiñcet tu dharmajñaḥ samyagvedaviśāradaḥ |). 19. It appears as if the Vedic/​Yajurvedic specialist is still the subject of these verses. For the Vedic sources of these mantras, see Inden, “Ritual, Authority,” 88n82. 20.  “Then the head brahmins, kṣatriyas, vaiṡyas, śūdras and chief courtesans, having come together with the general people, should consecrate the king [with waters] from various tīrthas, rivers, lakes, wells, placed in various pots, and if possible, with waters from the four oceans—​if not, with waters prepared by brahmins—​and with the waves of the Gaṅgā and Yamunā, and also with mountain water. At that moment, some head ministers should be holding umbrellas, others should be holding chowries, and some should be holding staves. [All this should be accompanied by] the sound of conch shells and kettle drums, the sounds of bards, the sounds of songs and instruments, and the uproar of priests” (tato brāhmaṇamukhyāś ca kṣatriyāś ca viśas tathā || 19 || śūdrāś cāvaramukhyaś ca nānātīrthasamudbhavaiḥ | nādeyaiḥ sārasaiḥ kaupaiḥ, nānakalaśasaṃsthitaiḥ || 20 || catussāgarajair lābhād alābhād dvijakalpitaiḥ | gaṅgāyamunayoś caiva nirjharaiś ca tathodbijaiḥ || 21 || chatrapāṇir bhavet kaścit kecic cāmarapāṇyāḥ | amātyamukhyās taṃ kālaṃ kecid vetrakarās tathā || 22 || śaṅkhabherīninādena nandinām nisvanena ca | gītavāditraghoṣeṇa dvijakolāhalena ca || 23 || rājānam abhiṣiñceyus sametya sahitā janāḥ | 24b| VDhP 2.21 ||). 21. The actual verb for the aspersion is contained in the mantra. Note also that the commentarial tradition (Rājadharmakaustubha 323; Nītimayūkha 5; Rājanītiprakāśa 53) reads pūjitaṃ for ūrjitaṃ in 26a.

27

Appendices

277

B.  Post-​Aspersion [21] After the foregoing series of baths, the king looks at his face in a mirror and in a dish of ghee (28cd). [22] Clothed and taking up the auspicious objects of kingship (maṅgalālambhana), [23] he worships (saṃpūjayet) a series of deities (Viṣṇu, Brahman, Śiva, the Lokapālas, planets, and Nakṣatras) (29–​30b). [24] Then he performs his own worship (svapūjāṃ kurvīta) and [25] goes to a couch covered with a tiger skin and white cloth (30c–​31b), and [26] the purohita honors him with the madhuparka ceremony (madhuparkeṇa) (31cd). [27] In return the king honors the purohita and the astrologer with the same ceremony (32a–​c). [28] Then the astrologer performs the coronation, and [29] the purohita sets him on a throne covered with various animal skins (32d–​34). [30] While the king is seated there, the doorkeeper presents (darśayet) to him the ministers, chief townspeople, merchants, servants and others in order (36–​37b). [31] The king then honors with lavish gifts the astrologer and purohita, followed by the three brahmins who consecrated him, attendant priests of the astrologer and purohita, and the head brahmins (37c–​40). [32] Taking again the auspicious objects he takes a bow and arrow, circumambulates the fire and bows to the guru (41c–​42b). Then [33] he touches from behind a bull, as well as a cow and her calf, [34] worships a consecrated horse, which has been addressed with a mantra in the right ear (42c–​43).22 [35] Mounted on that horse he tours the city by the main road (44ab). [36] Attended by his head ministers, feudatories, and astrologer and purohita, he visits the deities installed in temples in his city and worships them (44c–​45). [37] Then he returns to his inner apartment, his men and animals satisfied, and receives his ministers with good deeds (such as gifts and showing honors) (46). Finally [38] he dismisses them and takes pleasure in his own dwelling (47).23

5.1  Image Installation (pratiṣṭhā) (Bṛhatsaṃhitā 59) A.  adhivāsana [1]‌ The adhivāsana-​maṇḍapa is constructed, and the image is made of prescribed materials (BS 59.1–​6). [2] The sthaṇḍila is prepared, and the image is seated on a throne (7). [3] The image is bathed with water mixed with sprouts and leaves, clay gathered from different locations, pañcagavya, tīrtha water, and waters mixed with jewels (8–​10). [4] Mantras are recited in the east and southeast (11). [5] A fire offering is performed with mantras dedicated to the specific god who is being installed, and the astrologer

22.  Anantadeva (Rājadharmakaustubha 326)  inserts a half-​ verse here:  tam āruhya tato nāgaṃ pūjayec cābhiṣecitaṃ. This adds an elephant, which appears to be the mount for the following step. 23. The instruction concludes as follows: “Having completed this ritual instruction, the king subdues the entire earth” (vidhānam etat samavāpya rājā kṛtsnāṃ sa pṛthivīṃ vaśagāṃ hi || 47cd ||).

278

278

Appendices

observes the signs of the fire (12–​13). [6] The image is bathed [?], clothed, ornamented, worshipped with flowers (14ab), and [7] laid down on a bed (14cd). [8] The “sleeping” image is attended with songs and dances (15ab).

B.  pratiṣṭhā [9]‌When the appropriate time has come, the image is worshipped with flowers, clothing, ointments, drums, and conches (16ab) and [10] taken clockwise around the temple (16cd). [11] Performing a bali ​offering (17a) and [12] worshipping brahmins and assembly members (17b) [13] a piece of gold is set on the base (17c), followed by [14] the image (17d). Finally, [15] the performers involved in the ritual (sthāpaka, astrologer, priest, assembly, carpenter) are honored (18ab).

5.2  Adhivāsana (Matsyapurāṇa 264–​65) [1]‌ The maṇḍapa and bathing maṇḍapa are constructed (MtP 264.13–​26). [2] The image is brought into the maṇḍapa (27–​28). [3] [The artisan] traces the eyes (29–​34) and [4] divides it into parts (35–​40). [5] The image is bathed in the bathing maṇḍapa with pañcagavya, clay or ashes (265.7–​8). [6] The image is honored with perfume and unguents and covered with cloth (9–​11b). Then [7] the image is brought (to the main maṇḍapa?) on a cart (11c–​12) and [8] laid on a bed, with a water pot placed at its head (13–​15). [9] It is anointed with ghee, honey, and mustard seeds, honored with incense and flowers (16–​17), and [10] offered clothing, accoutrements and food (18–​22). [11] A bali offering is performed while image protectors (mūrtipa) and gatekeepers (dvārapāla) are stationed in all directions (23–​29). [12] The sthāpaka performs a fire offering near the head of the image (30–​32). [13] Four fire pits (kuṇḍa) are constructed around the maṇḍapa, and the presiding deities of the image are worshipped (33–​36). [14] At each fire pit an offering is performed, and the dregs (saṃpātas) are placed in the pots (37–​45b). [15] The image is bathed with saṃpāta-​water (45–​46b). [16] Incense and food offerings are made throughout the night (46c–​47).

5.3  The Bathing of Viṣṇu (viṣṇoḥ snapanam) (Bodhāyanagṛhyaśeṣasūtra 2.15) [1]‌A bathing pavilion (snapanamaṇḍapa) is made (2.15.1), with [2] an altar (vedikā) in the middle (2). [3] On a strewing of rice grains, eight pots are set down, clockwise, beginning in the East—​with a ninth in the middle (3–​6). [4] The pots are filled with water resembling pure crystals—​and the middle pot with pañcagavya (7–​8b). [5] Kūrca grass is set in the pots, which are covered with plates and (?) rice husks (8c–​9). [6] The pots are worshipped with perfume, flowers, and so forth (10ab). [7] The deity is invoked

279

Appendices

279

(10b–​11a), and [8] brought to the altar, worshipped on all sides with unhusked grain, and smeared with cow dung (11b–​12). [9] It is given the “seat and so forth” (āsanādi kramād dadāti) (14). [10] The image is bathed with pots, beginning in the East, to the recitations of Vedic mantras (15–​16). [11] The image is given “milky food” (pāyasam annaṃ) (18a) [12], and the rest of the ritual sequence is completed (18b).

280

281

Glossary of Sanskrit Terms

abhaya  safety, either in a political or astrological sense abhiṣeka  aspersion ritual adbhuta  omen or portent adhivāsana  “overnight” ritual sequence adhvaryu  priest of the Yajurveda āgama  what “comes” from tradition; scripture, especially liturgical codes governing temple worship in southern India agninimmita/​agnilakṣaṇa  fire omens ājya  ghee, clarified butter arghya  water for guest reception (offering substance) bahvṛc  priest of the Ṛgveda (literally, “having many verses”) bali/​balyupahāra  food offering bhaya  danger brahmán  priest brāhmnaṇa  genre of ritual explanations chandoga  priest of the Sāmaveda (literally, “singer of chants”) daiva  fate, divine will (literally, “from the sky or heavens”) daivajña  diviner, astrologer dakṣiṇā  sacrificial payment dāna  gift, gifting ritual dhūpa  incense (offering substance) gandha  perfume (offering substance) ghṛtakambala  blanket of ghee (ritual) gṛhya  domestic gṛhyasūtra  manual for the domestic rituals guhyaka/​pramatha  group of liminal deities hiraṇyagarbha  golden embryo, ritual gift homa  simple fire sacrifice

28

282

Glossary

hotṛ  priest of the Ṛgveda (literally, “invoker”) iṣṭi  simple fire sacrifice koṭihoma  10 million oblations (ritual) lakṣahoma  100,000 oblations (ritual) lokapāla  guardian deity of the cardinal and intermediate directions mahādāna  great gift (ritual) mahāśānti  great appeasement (ritual) maṇḍapa  pavilion mantra gaṇa  group of mantras nakṣatra  lunar asterism/​constellation navagraha  nine planets pariśiṣṭa  literally, “appendix”; genre of ritual manual, usually appended to a Vedic gṛhyasūtra pratiṣṭhā  image installation (ritual) prāyaścitti/​a  atonement (ritual) pūjā  worship, especially of images purohita  royal chaplain puruṣakāra  human effort (vs. fate/​daiva) puṣpa  flower (offering) puṣya  literally, “prosperity”; name of nakṣatra puṣyasnāna  bath of prosperity (ritual) rājā  king saṃhitā (Vedic)  mantra collection samidh  kindling stick saṃpāta  dregs of the fire offering sāṃvatsara  calendrist, astrologer śāntyudaka  appeasement water (ritual instrument) śrauta-​“solemn”  śrautasūtra-​ritual manual for the solemn sacrifice svapnanimmita  dream omens svastyayana  auspicious progress (ritual) tīrtha  holy place tulāpuruṣa  man on the balance (ritual gift) udgātṛ  priest of the Sāmaveda (literally, “singer”) utpāta  omen or portent vidhi  prescriptive ritual instruction yajña  sacrifice yātrā  military journey

283

Bibliography

Sanskrit Sources Acharya, Narayana Ram, ed. Yajñavalkyasmṛti:  Yajñavalkyasmṛti of Yogīśvara Yājñavalkya, with the Commentary of Mitākṣara of Vijñāneśvara. Bombay: Nirnayasagara Press, 1949. Adbhutasāgara. Vārāṇasī: Caukhambā Subhāratī Prakāśana, 2006. Aiyangar, K. V.  Rangaswami, ed. Pratiṣthākāṇḍa. Vol. 9 of Kṛtyakalpataru of Bhaṭṭa Lakṣmīdhara. Gaekwad’s Oriental Series 167. Baroda: Oriental Institute, 1979. Aiyangar, K. V. Rangaswami, ed. Rājadharmakāṇḍa. Vol. 11 of Kṛtyakalpataru of Bhaṭṭa Lakṣmīdhara. Gaekwad’s Oriental Series 100. Baroda: Oriental Institute, 1943. Apte, Vinayak Ganesha, ed. Āśvalāyanagṛhyasūtram. Ānandāśrama Sanskrit Series 105. Poona: Anandashrama Press, 1936. Aufrect, Theodor, ed. Aitareyabrāhmaṇa:  Das Aitareya Brāhmaṇa. Bonn:  A. Marcus, 1879. Bakre, Mahadeva Gangadhar, and Vyankatesha Ramachandra Lele, eds. The Fifth Mayūkhya. The Nitimayukha by Nilakanth Bhatta. Bombay:  Gujarati Printing Press, 1931. Bhattacharya, Bhabatosh, ed. Rājadharmakaustubha of Anantadeva. Gaekwad’s Oriental Series 72. Baroda: Oriental Institute, 1935. Bloomfield, Maurice, ed. “The Kāuçika-​Sūtra of the Atharva-​Veda.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 14 (1890): i–​424. Bolling, George Melville, ed. “The Çāntikalpa of the Atharva-​Veda.” Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association 35 (1904): 77–​127. —​—​—.​ “The Çāntikalpa of the Atharva-​Veda.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 33 (1913): 265–​78. Bolling, George Melville, and Juluis von Negelein, eds. The Parisistas of the Atharvaveda. 2 parts. Leipzig: O. Harrassowitz, 1909–​10.

284

284

Bibliography

Brick, David, ed. and trans. Brahmanical Theories of the Gift. A  Critical Edition and Annotated Translation of the Dānakāṇḍa of the Kṛtyakalpataru. Harvard Oriental Series 77. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2015. Caland, W., ed. Vaikhānasasmārtasūtram. The Domestic Rules of the Vaikhānasa School Belonging to the Black Yajurveda. Edited by W. Caland. Calcutta: Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1941. Diwekar, H. R., V. P. Limaye, R. N. Dandekar, C. G. Kashikar, and V. V. Bhide, eds. Kauśikasūtra-​Dārilabhāṣya. Poona: Tilak Maharashtra Vidyapitha, 1972. Führer, A. A. ed. Bāṇabhaṭṭa’s Biography of King Harshavardhana of Sthāṇviīśvara with Śaṅkara’s Commentary, Saṅketa. Bombay: Government Central Press, 1909. Gaastra, Dieuke, ed. Das Gopatha Brāhmaṇa. Leiden: Brill, 1919. Gairolā, Vācaspati, ed. Rājanītiratnākara of Śrī Caṇḍeśvara. Kāśī Saṃskṛta Granthamālā 196. Varanasi: Chaukhambha Surabharati Prakasana, 1970. Harting, Pieter Nicolaas Ubbo, ed. and trans. Selections from the Baudhāyana-​ Gṛhyapariśiṣṭasūtra. Amersfoort: J. Valkhoff, 1922. Haug, Martin, trans. The Aitareya Brahmanam of the Rigveda. Allahabad: Sudhindra Nath Basu, 1922. Originally published 1863. Hiraṇyakeśigṛhyaśeṣasūtra. Vol. 8 of Satyāṣāḍhaviracitam Śrautasūtram. Ānandāśrama Sanskrit Series 53. Poona: Anandashrama Press, 1907–​29. Ikari, Yasuke, and Takao Hayashi, eds. “Ādipurāṇa.” In A Study of the Nīlamata: Aspects of Hinduism in Ancient Kashmir, edited by Yasuke Ikari, 83–​136. Kyoto: Institute for Research in the Humanities, Kyoto University, 1994. Jha, Gaganatha, ed. Manusmṛti. With the Manubhāṣya of Medhātithi. Edited and translated by Gaganatha Jha. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidas, 1999. Jhā, Rāmacandra, ed. Yogayātrā (Varāhamihira):  Yogayātrā. Kāmeśvara Siṃha Granthamālā 23. Darabhaṅgā:  Kāmeśvarasiṃhadarabhaṅghāsaṃskṛtaviśvavidyāl aya, 1986. Kale, M. R., ed. and trans. The Raghuvaṃśa of Kālidāsa, Cantos I–​V. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidas, 2008. Kane, P. V., ed. The Harshacarita of Bāṇabhaṭṭa: Text of Ucchvāsas I–​VII. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidas, 1986. First published 1918. Kangle, R.P., ed. Arthaśāstra: Kauṭilīya Arthaśāstra. A Critical Edition with a Glossary. Bombay: University of Bombay, 1969. Kashikar, C. G., ed. and trans. The Baudhāyanaśrautasūtra. Kālamūlaśāstra Granthamāla. 4 vols. Delhi: Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts/​Motilal Banarsidas, 2003. Kumari, Ved, ed. Nīlamatapurāṇa:  The Nīlamata Purāṇa. 2 vols. Jammu:  J & K Academy of Arts, Culture, and Languages, 1968–​73. Laṃsāla, Devīprasāda, ed. Aśvamedhīyayātrā. Purā Tattva Prakāśana Mālā 46. Kāṣṭhamaṇḍapa: Raṣṭrīyābhilekhālaya, 1969. Limaye, V. P., R. N. Dandekar, C. G. Kashikar, V. V. Bhide, and S. S. Bahulkar, eds. Kauśikapaddhati. Pune: Tiḷaka Mahārāṣṭra Vidyāpīṭha, 1982.

285

Bibliography

285

Matsyapurāṇa. Ānandāśrama Sanskrit Series 54. Poona: Anandasrama, 1909. Olivelle, Patrick, ed. and trans. ed. and trans. The Law Code of Viṣṇu: A Critical Edition and Annotated Translation of the Vaiṣṇava-​Dharmaśāstra. Harvard Oriental Series 73. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2009. —​—​—​, Mānavadharmaśāstra: Manu’s Code of Law. A Critical Edition and Translation of the Mānava-​Dharmaśāstra. South Asia Research. New York: Oxford University Press, 2005. Pingree, David, ed. Bṛhadyātrā (Yakṣyeśvamedhiyam) of Varāhamihria. Tamil Nadu: Government of Tamil Nadu, 1972. Thite, G.U., ed. Āpastamba-​Śrauta-​sūtra. Text with English Translation and Notes. Delhi: New Bharatiya Book Corporation, 2013. Tripāṭhī, A. V., ed. Bṛihatsaṃhitā, with the Commentary of Bhaṭṭotpala. 2 parts. Sarasvatī Bhavan Granthamālā 97. Varanasi: Varanaseya Sanskrit Vishvavidyalaya, 1968. Originally published 1895–​97. Srinvasachar, L. and R Shama Shastri, eds. “Bodhāyanagṛhyaśeṣasūtra.” In Bodhāyanagṛhyasūtram of Bodhāyanamaharṣi. Edited by L. Srinvasachar and R. Shama Sastri, 187–​400. Panini Vaidika Granthamala 3.  Delhi:  Meharchand Lacchmandas, 1982. Originally published 1920. Prasad, Vishnu, ed. Vīramitrodaya Rājanītiprakāśa. Chowkhamba Sanskrit Series 221, 222, 223, 224, and 231. Benares: Chowkhamba Sanskrit Series, 1916. Viṣṇupurāṇa. Viṣṇupurāṇa. Bombay: Venkatesvara Steam Press, 1910. Śāstrī, Viśvabandhu, ed. Vaitāna-​śrauta-​sūtram. Woolner Indological Series 13. Hoshiarpur: Vishveshvaranand Vedic Research Institute, 1967. Śiromaṇi, Pandita Bharatacandra, ed. Vratakhaṇḍa. 2 Parts. Vol. 2 of Caturvargacintāmaṇi. Kashi Sanskrit Series 235. Varanasi: Chaukhambha Sanskrit Sansthan, 1985. Originally published 1871. Śrīviṣṇuḍharmottarapurāṇam. Delhi: Nag, 1985. Śāstrī, Viśvabandhu, ed. Atharvavedaśaunakasamhitā: Atharvaveda (Śaunaka) with the Pada-​Pātha and Sāyanācārya’s Commentary. 5 vols. Vishveshvaranand Indological Series 13–​17. Hoshiarpur: Vishveshvaranand Vedic Research Institute, 1960. Varma, L.A. Ravi, ed. Āgniveśyagṛhyasūtra. Trivandrum Sanskrit Series 144. Trivandrum: University of Travancore, 1940. S ec o n da ry S o u r c e s Agnot, Michel. “Land and Location:  Errant Gods, Erring Asuras and the Land of Men:  Place and Space in Vedic Literature.” In Territory, Soil, and Society in South Asia, edited by Gilles Tarabout and Daniela Berti, 41–​98. New Delhi: Manohar, 2009. Aithal, K. P. “Āśvalāyanagṛhyapariśiṣṭa.” Adyar Library Bulletin 27 (1963): 217–​87. Andersen, Poul. “Concepts of Meaning in Chinese Ritual.” Cahiers d’Extrême-​Asie 12.1 (2001): 155–​83.

286

286

Bibliography

Apffel-​Marglin, Frédérique. Wives of the God-​King: The Rituals of the Devadasis of Puri. New York: Oxford University Press, 1985. Appadurai, Arjun. Worship and Conflict under Colonial Rule:  A South Indian Case. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1981. Appadurai, Arjun, and Carol Appadurai Breckenridge. “The South Indian Temple: Authority, Honour and Redistribution.” Contributions to Indian Sociology 10.2 (1976): 187–​211. Auboyer, Jeannine. Le trône et son symbolisme dans l’Inde ancienne. Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1949. Bahulkar, S. S. “Āṅgirasakalpa:  A Brief Survey.” Annals of the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute 68 (1987): 571–​79. —​—​—​. Medical Ritual in the Atharvaveda Tradition. Shri Balamukund Sanskrit Mahavidyalaya Research Series 8.  Pune:  Tilak Maharashtra Vidyapeeth, 1994. —​—​—​. “The Nakṣatrakalpa and the Śāntikalpa.” Proceedings of the All-​India Oriental Conference 1982: 179–​84. Banerjea, Jitendra Nath. The Development of Hindu Iconography. Calcutta: University of Calcutta Press, 1956. —​—​—.​ “The Hindu Concept of God.” In The Religion of the Hindus, edited by Kenneth W. Morgan, 48–​82. New York: Roland Press, 1953. —​—​—​. Paurānic and Tāntric Religion: Early Phase. Calcutta: University of Calcutta Press, 1966. Barry, Colman James. The Catholic University of America, 1903–​1909: The Rectorship of Denis J.  O’Connell. Washington, DC:  Catholic University of America Press, 1950. Basham, A. L. The Origins and Development of Classical Hinduism. Edited by Kenneth G. Zysk. Boston: Beacon Press, 1989. Bendrey, Shri V. S. Coronation of Shivaji the Great. Bombay: P. P. H. Bookstall, 1960. Berti, Daniela. “Gestes, paroles, combats:  Pluralité rituelle et modalités d’action en Himalaya indien.” Annales de la Fondation Fyssen 17 (2001): 11–​31. Bhandarkar, R. G. Vaiṣṇavism, Śaivism and Minor Religious Systems. Strasburg: Trübner, 1913. Bhat, M. Ramakrishna, trans. Varāhamihira’s Bṛhat Saṃhitā. 2 vols. Delhi:  Motilal Banarsidas, 1982. Bisschop, Peter. “Invoking the Powers That Be: The Śivadharma’s Mahāśānti Mantra.” South Asian Studies 30.2 (2014): 133–​41. Bisschop, Peter, and Arlo Griffiths. “The Pāśupata Observance (Atharvavedapariśiṣṭa 40).” Indo-​Iranian Journal 46 (2003): 315–​48. Bloch, Maurice. “Symbols, Song, Dance and Features of Articulation: Is Religion an Extreme Form of Traditional Authority?” European Journal of Sociology/​Archives Européennes de Sociologie 15.1 (1974): 54–​81. Bloomfield, Maurice. The Atharvaveda. Strasburg: K. J. Trübner, 1899.

287

Bibliography

287

—​—​—. Hymns of the Atharva-​Veda:  Together with Extracts from the Ritual Books and the Commentaries. The Sacred Books of the East 42. Oxford:  Clarendon Press, 1897. —​—​—. “On the Position of the Vāitāna-​Sūtra in the Literature of the Atharva-​Veda.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 11 (1885): 375–​88. —​—​—. “The Position of the Gopatha-​Brāhmaṇa in Vedic Literature.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 19 (1898): 1–​11. —​—​—​. “Review of Caland’s Altindisches Zauberritual.” Göttingische Gelehrte Anzeigen 164 (1902): 489–​514. Bodewitz, Henk W. “The Fourth Priest (the Brahmán) in Vedic Ritual.” In Selected Studies on Ritual in the Indian Religions:  Essays to D.  J. Hoens, edited by Ria Kloppenborg, 33–​68. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1983. Bolling, George Melville. “A Contribution to the History of Religion in India.” Catholic University Bulletin 16 (1910): 113–​26. Bosch, Lourens van den. Atharvaveda-​Parisista, Chapters  21–​29:  Introduction, Translation and Notes. Groningen: VRB, 1978. Brereton, Joel P. “Bráhman, Brahmán, and Sacrificer.” In The Vedas: Texts, Language, Ritual, edited by Arlo Griffiths and Jan E. Houben, 325–​44. Groningen Oriental Series 20. Groningen: Egbert Forsten, 2004. Brick, David. “The Incorporation of Devotional Theism into Purāṇic Gifting Rites.” Journal of Indian Philosophy 45 (2017): 191–​205. —​—​—.​ “Social and Soteriological Aspects of Sin and Penance in Medieval Hindu Law.” In Sins and Sinners: Perspectives from Asian Religions, edited by Phyllis Granoff and Koichi Shinohara, 7–​30. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2012. Briggs, Ward W., ed. Biographical Dictionary of North American Classicists. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1994. Brown, Robert L., ed. Ganesh:  Studies of an Asian God. Albany:  State University of New York Press, 1991. Brunner, Hélène. “Ātmārthapūjā versus Parārthapūjā in the Śaiva Tradition.” In The Sanskrit Tradition and Tantrism, edited by Teun Goudriaan, 4–​23. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1990. —​—​—.​ “Les membres de Śiva.” Asiatische Studien 40 (1986): 89–​132. Bühler, Georg, trans. The Sacred Laws of the Âryas as Taught in the Schools of Âpastamba, Gautama, Vâsishtha, and Baudhâyana. 2 vols. Sacred Books of the East 2, 14. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1879–​82. Bühnemann, Gudrun. “The Heavenly Bodies (navagraha) in Hindu Ritual.” Sambhasa 11 (1989): 1–​9. —​—​—. Pūjā: A Study in Smārta Ritual. Vienna: Institut für Indologie der Universität Wien, 1988. Buitenen, J. A. B. van. The Mahābhārata. 2: The Book of the Assembly Hall. 3: The Book of the Forest. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1975. Caland, Willem W. Altindisches zauberritual:  Probe einer uebersetzung der wichtigsten theile des Kauṣika sūtra. Verhandelingen der Koninklijke

28

288

Bibliography

akademie van wetenschappen te Amsterdam. Afddeling letterkunde. Nieuwe reeks 3.2. Amsterdam: J. Müller, 1900. Carman, John B., and Frédérique Apffel-​Marglin, eds. Purity and Auspiciousness in Indian Society. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1985. Chanana, Dev Raj, tr. The Destiny of the Veda in India. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidas, 1965. Charpentier, Jarl. “The Meaning and Etymology of Pūjā.” Indian Antiquary 56 (1927): 93–​96, 130–​35. Clooney, Francis X. “What’s a God? The Quest for the Right Understanding of Devatā in Brāhmaṇical Ritual Theory (Mīmāṃsā).” International Journal of Hindu Studies 1.2 (1997): 337–​85. Colas, Gérard. “The Competing Hermeneutics of Images in Hinduism (Fifth to Eleventh Century ad).” In Images in Asian Religions: Texts and Contexts, edited by Phyllis Granoff and Koichi Shinohara, 149–​79. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2004. —​—​—.​ “Jalons pour une histoire des conceptions indiennes de yajña.” In Rites hindous:  Transferts et transformations, edited by Gérard Colas and Gilles Tarabout, 343–​421. Paris: Ecoles des hautes études en sciences sociales, 2006. —​—​—​. “On the Baudhāyanagṛhyapariśiṣṭasūtra and the Vaiṣṇavāgama.” In Pandit N. R. Bhatt Felicitation Volume, edited by Pierre-​Sylvain Filliozat, Satya-​Pal Narang, and Charanabali Panduranga Bhatta, 511–​25. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1944. —​—​—. Penser l’icône en Inde ancienne. Turnhout: Brepols, 2012. —​—​—​. Viṣṇu, ses images et ses feux:  Les métamorphoses du dieu chez les vaikhānasa. Paris: Presses de l’Ecole française d’Extrême-​Orient, 1996. Colas, Gérard, and Gilles Tarabout, eds. Rites hindous:  Transferts et transformations. Paris: Ecoles des hautes études en sciences sociales, 2006. Coomaraswamy, Ananda K., and Francis Stewart Kershaw. “A Chinese Buddhist Water Vessel and Its Indian Prototype.” Artibus Asiae 3.2–​3 (1929–​28): 122–​31. Cort, John E. “Situating Darśan: Seeing the Digambar Jina Icon in Eighteenth-​and Nineteenth-​Century North India.” International Journal of Hindu Studies 16.1 (2012): 1–​56. Davidson, Ronald M. Indian Esoteric Buddhism:  A Social History of the Tantric Movement. New York: Columbia University Press, 2002. Dehejia, Vidya. The Body Adorned: Dissolving Boundaries between Sacred and Profane in India’s Art. New York: Columbia University Press, 2009. Diehl, Carl Gustav. Instrument and Purpose: Studies on Rites and Rituals in South India. Lund: Gleerup, 1956. Dirks, Nicholas B. The Hollow Crown:  Ethnohistory of an Indian Kingdom. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1994. —​ —​ —.​ “The Original Caste:  Power, History and Hierarchy in South Asia.” Contributions to Indian Sociology 23.1 (1989): 59–​77. Dresden, M. J., trans. Mānavagṛhyasūtra: A Vedic Manual of Domestic Rites. Groningen: J. B. Wolters, 1941.

289

Bibliography

289

Dumont, Louis. “The Conception of Kingship in Ancient India.” Contributions to Indian Sociology 6 (1962): 48–​77. —​—​—​. Homo Hierarchicus: The Caste System and Its Implications. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980. Eck, Diana L. Darśan: Seeing the Divine Image in India. 3rd ed. New York: Columbia University Press, 1998. Edgerton, Franklin. “Kauśika and the Atharva Veda.” New Indian Antiquary 1 (1939): 78–​81. Egan, Maurice Francis. Recollections of a Happy Life. New  York:  George H.  Doran,  1924. Eggeling, Julius, trans. The Satapatha-​ Brâhmana according to the Text of the Mâdhyandina School. Sacred Books of the East 12. Oxford:  Clarendon Press,  1882. Einoo, Shingo. “The Formation of Hindu Ritual.” In From Material to Deity: Indian Rituals of Consecration, edited by Shingo Einoo and Jun Takashima, 7–​49. Japanese Studies on South Asia 4. New Delhi: Manohar, 2005. —​—​—.​ “The Formation of the Pūjā Ceremony.” Studien Zur Indologie Und Iranisk, Festschrift Paul Thieme, 20 (1996): 73–​85. —​—​—. “From Kāmas to Siddhis: Tendencies in the Development of Ritual towards Tantrism.” In Genesis and Development of Tantrism, 17–​40. Institute of Oriental Culture Special Series 23. Tokyo: University of Tokyo, 2009. —​—​—​, ed. Genesis and Development of Tantrism. Institute of Oriental Culture Special Series 23. Tokyo: University of Tokyo, 2009. —​—​—.​ “Notes on the Image Installation Ceremonies Described in the Gṛhyapariśiṣṭas.” In From Material to Deity:  Indian Rituals of Consecration, edited by Shingo Einoo and Jun Takashima, 95–​113. Japanese Studies on South Asia 4.  New Delhi: Manohar, 2005. Einoo, Shingo, and Jun Takashima, eds. From Material to Deity:  Indian Rituals of Consecration. Japanese Studies on South Asia 4. New Delhi: Manohar, 2005. Engelke, Matthew. “Material Religion.” In The Cambridge Companion to Religious Studies, edited by Robert A. Orsi, 209–​29. New  York:  Cambridge University Press, 2011. —​—​—. A Problem of Presence:  Beyond Scripture in an African Church. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007. Falk, Harry. “Von Götterfiguren und Menschlichen Göttern.” Studien Zur Indologie Und Iranistik (Festschrift Klaus Bruhn) 18 (1994): 313–​31. Falk, Nancy E. “Wilderness and Kingship in Ancient South Asia.” History of Religions 13.1 (1973): 1–​15. Flood, Gavin D. An Introduction to Hinduism. New  York:  Cambridge University Press, 1996. Fuller, C. J. The Camphor Flame: Popular Hinduism and Society in India. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2004.

290

290

Bibliography

—​—​—.​ “The Renovation Ritual in a South Indian Temple: The 1995 Kumbhābhiṣeka in the Mīnākṣī Temple, Madurai.” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 67.1 (2004): 40–​63. Gampert, William Die Sühnezeremonien in der Altindischen Rechtsliteratur. Monografie Archivu Orientàlnío 6. Prague: Orientalisches Institut, 1939 Gardner, Robert, and Frits Staal. Altar of Fire. DVD. Watertown: Documentary Educational Resources, 2007 (1976). Gennep, Arnold van. “De la méthode à suivre dans l’étude des rites et des mythes.” Revue de l’université de Bruxelles, 1911, 505–​23. Geslani, Marko. “Appeasement and Atonement in the Mahādānas, the Hindu ‘Great Gifts.’” Journal Asiatique 299.1 (2011): 133–​92. —​—​—.​ “Astrological Vedism:  Varāhamihira in Light of the Later Rituals of the Atharvaveda.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 136.2 (2016): 305–​23. —​—​—.​ “Śānti Rites in the Development of the Purāṇic Rājyābhiṣeka.” Indo-​Iranian Journal 55 (2012): 321–​77. —​—​—. “Vedic Astrology and the Prehistory of Varāhamihira’s Pratiṣṭhāpanādhy āya:  Image Installation as Apotropaic Consecration.” In Consecration Rituals in South Asia, edited by István Keul, 14–​44. Studies in the History of Religions 155. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2017. Geslani, Marko, Bill Mak, Michio Yano, and Kenneth Zysk. “Garga and Early Astral Science in India,” History of Science in South Asia 5.1 (2017): 151–92. Ghosh, Abhijit, ed. Ātharvaṇā: A Collection of Essays on the Atharva Veda with Special Reference to Its Paippalāda Tradition. Kolkata: Sanskrit Book Depot, 2002. Goldstücker, Theodor, and Horace Hayman Wilson. A Dictionary, Sanskrit and English: Extended and Improved from the Second Edition of the Dictionary of Prof. H. H. Wilson. Berlin: Asher, 1856. Gonda, Jan. Ancient Indian Kingship from the Religious Point of View. Leiden:  E. J. Brill, 1966. —​—​—​. “Atharvaveda II.7.” In Selected Studies 3: Sanskrit. Grammatical and Philological Studies, 439–​74. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1975. —​—​—​. Change and Continuity in Indian Religion. The Hague: Mouton, 1965. —​—​—​. Prayer and Blessing:  Ancient Indian Ritual Terminology. Leiden:  E. J. Brill, 1989. —​—​—. “Purohita.” In Selected Studies 2:  Sanskrit Word Studies, 320–​37. Leiden:  E. J. Brill, 1975. —​—​—. The Savayajñas: (Kauśikasūtra 60-​68. Translation, Introduction, Commentary). Verhandelingen Der Koninklijke Nederlandse Akademie van Wetenschappen. Afd. Letterkunde. Nieuwe Reeks 71.2. Amsterdam: Noord-​Hollandsche Uitg. Mij, 1965. Granoff, Phyllis. “Heaven on Earth:  Temples and Temple Cities of Medieval India.” In India and Beyond: Aspects of Literature, Meaning, Ritual and Thought. Essays in Honour of Frits Staal, edited by Dick van der Meij, 170–​93. New York: Kegan Paul International, 1997.

291

Bibliography

291

—​—​—​. “Images and Their Ritual Use in Medieval India: Hesitations and Contradictions.” In Images in Asian Religions:  Texts and Contexts, edited by Phyllis Granoff and Koichi Shinohara, 19–​56. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2004. —​—​—.​ “Reading between the Lines: Colliding Attitudes towards Image Worship in Indian Religious Texts.” In Rites hindous:  Transferts et transformations, edited by Gérard Colas and Gilles Tarabout, 389–​421. Paris: Ecoles des hautes études en sciences sociales, 2006. Granoff, Phyllis, and Koichi Shinohara, eds. Images in Asian Religions:  Texts and Contexts. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2004. Griffiths, Arlo. “The Ancillary Literature of the Paippalāda School:  A Preliminary Survey with an Edition of the Caraṇavyūhopaniṣad.” In The Atharvaveda and Its Paippalādaśākhā: Historical and Philological Papers on a Vedic Tradition, edited by Arlo Griffiths and Annette Schmiedchen, 141–​93. Geistekultur Indiens. Texte Und Studien 11. Aachen: Shaker Verlag, 2007. —​—​—.​ “Paippalāda Mantras in the Kauśikasūtra.” In The Vedas: Texts, Language and Ritual, edited by Arlo Griffiths and Jan E. Houben, 49–​99. Groningen Oriental Series 20. Groningen: Egbert Forsten, 2004. —​—​—​. The Paippalādasaṃhitā of the Atharvaveda, Kāṇḍas 6 and 7: A New Edition with Translation and Commentary. Groningen Oriental Series 22. Groningen:  Egbert Forsten, 2009. —​—​—​. “Tumburu: A Deified Tree.” Bulletin D’Études Indiennes 22–​23 (2004–​5): 249–​64. Griffiths, Arlo, and Jan E. Houben, eds. The Vedas:  Texts, Language and Ritual (Proceedings of the Third International Vedic Workshop). Groningen Oriental Series 20. Groningen: Egbert Forsten, 2004. Griffiths, Arlo, and Annette Schmiedchen, eds. The Atharvaveda and Its Paippalādaśākhā: Historical and Philological Papers on a Vedic Tradition. Geistekultur Indiens. Texte Und Studien 11. Aachen: Shaker Verlag, 2007. Halbfass, Wilhelm. Tradition and Reflection:  Explorations in Indian Thought. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1990. Harting, Pieter Nicolaas Ubbo. Selections from the Baudhāyana-​Gṛhyapariśiṣṭasūtra. Amersfoort: J. Valkhoff, 1922. Hawley, John Stratton. A Storm of Songs: India and the Idea of the Bhakti Movement. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2015. Hazra, R. C. Studies in the Purāṇic Records on Hindu Rites and Customs. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1975. Heesterman, Jan C. The Ancient Indian Royal Consecration. The Hague: Mouton, 1957. —​—​—​. The Broken World of Sacrifice. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993. —​ —​ —.​ “The Conundrum of the King’s Authority.” In The Inner Conflict of Tradition: Essays in Indian Ritual, Kingship, and Society, 108–​27. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985. Heitzman, James. Gifts of Power:  Lordship in an Early Indian State. Delhi:  Oxford University Press, 1997.

29

292

Bibliography

Hikita, Hiromichi. “Consecration of Divine Images in Temples.” In From Material to Deity: Indian Rituals of Consecration, edited by Shingo Einoo and Jun Takashima, 143–​97. Japanese Studies on South Asia 4. New Delhi: Manohar, 2005. Hillebrandt, Alfred. Ritual-​Litteratur, Vedische Opfer Und Zauber. Grundriss der Indo-​ Arischen Philologie und Altertumskunde 3 part 2. Strasburg: K. J. Trübner, 1897. Hocart, A. M. Kings and Councilors: An Essay in the Comparative Anatomy of Human Society, edited by Rodney Needham. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970. Originally published 1936. Hoenigswald, Henry M. “George Melville Bolling.” Language 40.3 (1964): 329–​36. Hoens, Dirk Jan. Śānti:  A Contribution to Ancient Indian Religious Terminology. Utrecht: ‘s-​Gravenhage N. V. de Nederlandsche Boek. en Steendrukkerij, 1951. Houben, Jan E.  M. “The Brahmin Intellectual:  History, Ritual, and ‘Time out of Time.’” Journal of Indian Philosophy 30 (2002): 463–​79. —​—​—. “Formal Structure and Self-​Referential Loops in Vedic Ritual.” In Grammars and Morphologies of Ritual Practices in Asia, edited by Axel Michaels and Anand Mishra, 29–​63. Ritual Dynamics and the Science of Ritual 1.1. Wiesbaden:  Harrassowitz Verlag, 2010. Inden, Ronald. “The Ceremony of the Great Gift: Structure and Historical Context in Indian Ritual and Society.” In Text and Practice: Essays on South Asian History, edited by Daud Ali, 89–​101. Delhi:  Oxford University Press, 2006. Originally published 1979. —​—​—.​ “Changes in the Vedic Priesthood.” In Text and Practice:  Essays on South Asian History, edited by Daud Ali, 102–​28. Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2006. Originally published 1992. —​—​—. Imagining India. 2nd ed. Bloomington:  Indiana University Press, 2000. Originally published 1990. —​—​—​. “Imperial Purāṇas: Kaśmir as the Vaiṣṇava Center of the World.” In Querying the Medieval: Texts and the History of Practices in South Asia. New York: Oxford University Press, 2000. —​—​—.​ “Ritual, Authority, and Cyclic Time in Hindu Kingship.” In Kingship and Authority in South Asia, edited by John F. Richards, 41–​91. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1978. Jacobsen, Knut A. Pilgrimage in the Hindu Tradition:  Salvific Space. London: Routledge, 2013. Jamison, Stephanie, and Michael Witzel. “Vedic Hinduism.” In The Study of Hinduism, edited by Arvind Sharma, 65–​114. Columbia:  University of South Carolina Press, 2003. Kajihara, Meiko. “Kajihara: The Upanayana and Marriage in the Atharvaveda.” In The Vedas:  Texts, Language and Ritual, edited by Arlo Griffiths and Jan E. Houben, 417–​32. Groningen Oriental Series 20. Groningen: Egbert Forsten, 2004. Kane, P. V. History of Dharmaśāstra (Ancient and Mediæval Religious and Civil Law in India). 5 vols. Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, 1968–​75.

293

Bibliography

293

Karashima, Noboru, ed. Kingship in Indian History. Japanese Studies on South Asia 2. New Delhi: Manohar, 1999. Keith, Arthur Berriedale, trans. Rigveda Brahmanas:  The Aitareya and Kauṣītaki Brāhmaṇas of the Rigveda. Harvard Oriental Series 25. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1920. Khare, Ambarish. “On the Two Manuscripts of the Mahāśāntipaddhati of the Atharvaveda Tradition.” Journal of the Oriental Institute 61.1–​4 (2011–​12): 19–​28. Klingshirn, William E. “Early History of the Department of Greek and Latin, 1891–​ 1918.” Catholic University of America. Accessed June 14, 2014. http://​greeklatin.cua. edu/​about/​earlyhistory.cfm. Klostermaier, Klaus K. Hinduism: A Short History. Oxford: Oneworld, 2000. Knipe, David. Vedic Voices:  Intimate Narratives of a Living Andhra Tradition. New York: Oxford University Press. Kohlbrugge, Dina Johanna. “Atharvaveda-​Pariśiṣṭa über Omnia.” Wageningen:  H. Veenman, 1938. Kramrisch, Stella. The Hindu Temple. Delhi:  Motilal Banarsidass, 1996. Originally published 1946. Krick, Hertha. Das Ritual Der Feuergründung (Agnyādheya). Edited by Gerhard Oberhammer. Sitzungsberichte/​Österreichische Akademie Der Wissenschaften. Philosophisch-​Historische Klasse 399. Vienna:  Verlag der österreicheschen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1982. Kropf, Marianna. “Rituelle Traditionen der Planetengottheiten (Navagraha) im Kathmandutal: Strukturen—​Praktiken—​Weltbilder.” PhD diss., Heidelberg, 2005. Kulke, Hermann. The State in India, 1000–​1700. Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1995. Kumagai, Kōij. “The Construction of the Gargasaṃhitā Chapter 39.” Journal of Indian and Buddhist Studies 63.3 (2015): 1191–​96. —​—​—. “Pāpa:  On Divination Literature.” Journal of Indian and Buddhist Studies 59.3: 1097–​102. Lanman, Charles Rockwell, ed. Atharva-​Veda Saṁhitā. Translated by William Dwight Whitney. 2 vols. Harvard Oriental Series 7–​8. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, 1905. Law, Narendra Nath. Aspects of Ancient Indian Polity. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1921. Lele, B. C. Some Atharvanic Portions in the Grhya-​Sūtras. Bonn: K. Schroeder, 1927. Losch, Hans. Rājadharma:  Einsetzung und Aufgabenkreis des Königs im Lichte des Purāṇa’s. Bonn:  Selbstverlag des orientalischen Seminars der Universität Bonn, 1959. Lubin, Timothy. “Punishment and Expiation: Overlapping Domains in Brahmanical Law.” Indological Taurinensia 33 (2007): 93–​122. —​ —​ —.​ “The Vedic Homa and the Standardization of Hindu Pūjā.” In Homa Variations: The Study of Ritual Change across the Longue Durée, edited by Richard Payne and Michael Witzel, 143–​66. Oxford Ritual Studies. New  York:  Oxford University Press, 2016.

294

294

Bibliography

Madan, T. N. “Auspiciousness and Purity:  Some Reconsiderations.” Contributions to Indian Sociology 25.2 (1991): 287–​94. —​—​—​. “Concerning the Categories śubha and śuddha in Hindu Culture:  An Exploratory Essay.” In Purity and Auspiciousness in Indian Society, edited by John B. Carman and Frédérique Apffel-​Marglin, 11–​29. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1985. Mak, Bill M. “The Date and Nature of Sphujidhvaja’s Yavanajātaka Reconsidered in the Light of Some Newly Discovered Materials.” History of Science in South Asia 1 (2013): 1–​20. —​—​—. “Indian Jyotiṣa through the Lens of the Chinese Buddhist Canon.” Journal of Oriental Studies 48.1 (2015): 1–​19. Malamoud, Charles. “Bricks and Words: Observations on the Bodies of the Gods in Vedic India.” In Cooking the World: Ritual and Thought in Ancient India, 207–​25. Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1996. Markel, Stephen. Origins of the Indian Planetary Deities. Studies in Asian Thought and Religion 16. Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 1995. Masuzawa, Tomoko. In Search of Dreamtime:  The Quest for the Origin of Religion. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993. McClish, Mark. “The Dependence of Manu’s Seventh Chapter on Kauṭilya’s Arthaśāstra.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 134.2 (2014): 241–​62. Meister, Michael W. “Fragments from a Divine Cosmology:  Unfolding Forms on India’s Temple Walls.” In Gods, Guardians, and Lovers:  Temple Sculptures from North India, a.d. 700–​1200, edited by Darielle Mason and Vishakha N. Desai, 94–​ 116. New York: University of Washington Press, 1993. —​—​—. “A Note on the Superstructure of the Maṛhiā Temple.” Artibus Asiae 36.1–​2 (1974): 81–​88. —​—​—. “Prāsāda as Palace: Kūṭina Origins of the Nāgara Temple.” Artibus Asiae 49.3–​4 (1988): 254–​80. Meister, Michael W., and Madhusudan A. Dhaky, eds. Encyclopaedia of Indian Temple Architecture. 2.1. North India:  Foundations of North Indian Style. New Delhi: American Institute of Indian Studies, 1988. Meister, Michael W., and Madhusudan A. Dhaky., eds. Encyclopaedia of Indian Temple Architecture. 2.2. North India:  Period of Early Maturity. New Delhi:  American Institute of Indian Studies, 1991. Meshel, Naphtali S. The “Grammar” of Sacrifice:  A Generativist Study of the Israelite Sacrificial System in the Priestly Writings with the “Grammar” of Σ. New York: Oxford University Press, 2014. Meulenbeld, G. Jan. “Āyurveda and Atharvaveda:  Their Interrelationship in the Commentaries of the Kauśikasūtra.” Studia Asiatica 5–​6 (2003–​4): 289–​312. Michaels, Axel. Homo Ritualis. Oxford Ritual Studies. New York: Oxford University Press, 2015.

295

Bibliography

295

Michaels, Axel, and Anand Mishra, eds. Grammars and Morphologies of Ritual Practices in Asia. Ritual Dynamics and the Science of Ritual 1.1 Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2010. Michell, George. The Hindu Temple:  An Introduction to Its Meaning and Forms. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988. Mitchiner, John E., ed. and trans. The Yuga Purāṇa: Critically Edited, with an English Translation and a Detailed Introduction. Bibliotheca Indica 312. Kolkata:  Asiatic Society, 1986. Mitra, Debala. “Varāha Cave at Udayagiri—​An Iconographic Study.” Journal of the Asiatic Society of Calcutta 5 (1963): 99–​103. Modak, B. R. The Ancillary Literature of the Atharva-​Veda:  A Study with Special Reference to the Pariśiṣṭas. New Delhi: Rashtriya Veda Vidya Pratishtan, 1993. Moleanu, Julieta. “Atharvavedic Tradition in Changing: The Ritual Shaving according to Kauśika Sūtra and Samskāra-​Ratna-​Māla.” Studia Asiatica 6 (2005): 63–​76. Monier-​Williams, Monier. Religious Thought and Life in India. London: J. Murray, 1883. Montelle, Clemency. Chasing Shadows: Mathematics, Astronomy, and the Early History of Eclipse Reckoning. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2011. Morgan, David. “The Look of the Sacred.” In The Cambridge Companion to Religious Studies, edited by Robert A Orsi, 296–​318. New  York:  Cambridge University Press, 2011. Müller, Max. Chips from a German Workshop. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1895. Narayanan, Vasudha. “Arcāvatāra: On Earth As He Is in Heaven.” In Gods of Flesh/​ Gods of Stone:  The Embodiment of Divinity in India, edited by Joanne Punzo Waghorne, Norman Cutler, and Vasudha Narayanan, 35–​64. Chambersburg, PA: Anima, 1985. —​—​—.​ “Diglossic Hinduism: Liberation and Lentils.” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 68.4 (2000): 761–​79. Nath, Vijay. “Mahādāna: The Dynamics of Gift-​Economy and the Feudal Milieu.” In The Feudal Order: State, Society, and Ideology in Early Medieval India, edited by D. N. Jha, 411–​40. New Delhi: Manohar, 2000. Negelein, Julius von. “Atharvaprāyaścittāni.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 33 (1913): 121–​44. —​—​—. “Atharvaprāyaścittāni.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 34 (1915): 229–​77. —​—​—. Der Traumschlüssel des Jagaddeva:  Ein Beitrag zur indischen Mantik. Gießen: Töpelmann, 1912. —​—​—. “Zur Religiongeschichte Indiens.” Orientalistiche Litteratur-​Zeitung, 1908, 448–​56. Oldenberg, Herman, trans. The Grihya-​Sutras: Rules of Vedic Domestic Ceremonies. 2 vols. Sacred Books of the East 29–​30. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1886.

296

296

Bibliography

—​—​—​. The Religion of the Veda. Translated by Shridhar B. Shrotri. Delhi:  Motilal Banarsidass, 1988. Olivelle, Patrick, trans. The Dharmasūtras:  The Law Codes of Ancient India. New York: Oxford University Press, 1999. —​—​—, trans. King, Governance, and Law in Ancient India:  Kauṭilya’s Arthaśāstra. A New Annotated Translation. New York: Oxford University Press, 2013. —​—​—.​ “The Temple in Sanskrit Legal Literature.” In Archaeology and Text: The Temple in South Asia, edited by Himanshu Prabha Ray, 191–​204. New Delhi:  Oxford University Press, 2010. Orsi, Robert A., ed. The Cambridge Companion to Religious Studies. New  York: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Parry, Jonathan. “The Hindu Lexicographer? A Note on Auspiciousness and Purity.” Contributions to Indian Sociology 25.2 (1991): 267–​85. Patton, Laurie L. Bringing the Gods to Mind:  Mantra and Ritual in Early Indian Sacrifice. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005. Payne, Richard K. “Ritual Syntax and Cognitive Theory.” Pacific World 6 (2004): 195–​227. Payne, Richard, and Michael Witzel, eds. Homa Variations: The Study of Ritual Change across the Longue Durée. Oxford Ritual Studies. New  York:  Oxford University Press, 2016. Penner, Hans H. “Language, Ritual and Meaning.” Numen 32.1 (1985): 1–​16. Pennington, Brian K. Was Hinduism Invented:  Britons, Indians, and the Colonial Construction of Religion. New York: Oxford University Press, 2005. Pingree, David, ed. Census of the Exact Sciences in Sanskrit. Series A. 5 vols. Memoirs of the American Philosophical Society 81, 86, 111, 146, 213. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1970–​94. —​—​—​. Jyotiḥśāstra:  Astral and Mathematical Literature. History of Indian Literature 6.4. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1981. —​—​—, ed. The Yavanajātaka of Sphujidhvaja. Cambridge, MA:  Harvard University Press, 1978. Pugh, Judy F. “Into the Almanac: Time, Meaning and Action in North Indian Society.” Contributions to Indian Sociology 17.1 (1983): 27–​49. —​—​—. “Person and Experience: The Astrological System of North India.” Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 1981. Raheja, Gloria Goodwin. The Poison in the Gift: Ritual, Prestation, and the Dominant Caste in a North Indian Village. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988. Renou, Louis. “Le Destin du Veda dans l’Inde.” Études védiques et paninéenes 6 (1960). —​—​—. Les écoles Védiques et la formation du Veda. Cahiers de la société asiatique 9. Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1947. Rotaru, Julieta. “Textual Division of the Rātrī Group of Hymns in the Atharvavedic Ritual Tradition.” Indological Taurinensia 38 (2012): 192–​210. —​—​—.​ “The Śāntyudakavidhi of the Atharvavedic Tradition.” In Śrīnidhiḥ:  Prof. Shrikant Shankar Bahulkar Gratitude Volume, edited by Shripad G. Bhat, Shilpa

297

Bibliography

297

Sumant, and Ambarish Vasant Khare, 162–​204. Pune:  Saṁvidyā Institute of Cultural Studies, 2009. —​—​—.​ “Towards a Methodology of Applying the Paribhāṣās in the KauśikaSūtra (I) (with Special Reference to 7.1).” Acta Orientalia Vilnensia 9.2 (2008): 57–​82. Sachau, Eduard, trans. Alberuni’s India:  An Account of the Religion, Philosophy, Literature, Geography, Chronology, Astronomy, Customs, Laws and Astrology of India about a.d. 1030. 2 vols. London: Trübner, 1910. Salmond, Noel A. Hindu Iconoclasts:  Rammohun Roy, Dayananda Sarasvati, and Nineteenth-​Century Polemics against Idolatry. Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2004. Sanderson, Alexis. “Atharvavedins in Tantric Territory.” In The Atharvaveda and Its Paippalāda Śākhā:  Historical and Philological Papers on a Vedic Tradition, edited by Arlo Griffiths and Annette Schmiedchen, 195–​311. Aachen:  Shaker Verlag, 2007. —​—​—.​ “Religion and the State:  Śaiva Officiants in the Territory of the King’s Brahmanical Chaplain.” Indo-​Iranian Journal 47.3–​4 (2004): 229–​300. —​—​—.​ “The Śaiva Age:  The Rise and Dominance of Śaivism during the Early Medieval Period.” In Genesis and Development of Tantrism, edited by Shingo Einoo, 41–​351. Institute of Oriental Culture Special Series 23. Tokyo: University of Tokyo,  2009. Sastri, K. A.  Nilakanta. The Colas. Madras University Historical Series 9. Madras: University of Madras Press, 1955. Sax, William S. “Conquering the Quarters:  Religion and Politics in Hinduism.” International Journal of Hindu Studies 4.1 (2000): 39–​60. Scheffler, Israel. Symbolic Worlds:  Art, Science, Language, Ritual. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Schmiedchen, Annette. “‘The Ceremony of Tulāpuruṣa: The Purāṇic Concept and the Epigraphical Evidence.’” In Script and Image: Papers on Art and Epigraphy, edited by Adalbert J. Gail, Gerd J. R Mevissen, and Richard Salomon, 145–​84. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2006. Seaquist, Carl Andrew. “Ritual Syntax.” PhD diss., University of Pennsylvania, 2004. Sharf, Robert H. “Thinking through Shingon Ritual.” Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies 26.1 (2003): 51–​96. Shastri, B. N., trans. The Kālikāpurāṇa:  Text, Introduction and Translation. 3 vols. Delhi: Nag, 1991–​92. Sircar, Dinesh Chandra. “Epigraphic Notes.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland 4 (1934): 729–​36. Slaje, Walter. “Sāyaṇa Oder Mādhava? Verfasserschaft Und Rehenfolge Der Saṃhitā-​ Kommentare Aus Vijayanagara.” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 160 (2010): 383–​414. Smith, Brian K. Reflections on Resemblance, Ritual and Religion. New  York:  Oxford University Press, 1989.

298

298

Bibliography

Sparreboom, M., and J. C. Heesterman. The Ritual of Setting Up the Sacrificial Fires according to the Vādhūla School (Vādhūlaśrautasūtra 1.1–​1.4). Vienna:  Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1989. Staal, Frits. Agni: the Vedic Ritual of the Fire Altar. 2 Vols. Berkeley: Asian Humanities Press, 1983. —​—​—. “The Mantra in Vedic and Tantric Ritual.” In Understanding Mantras, edited by Harvey Alper, 96–​122. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1989. —​—​—. “The Meaninglessness of Ritual.” Numen 26.1 (1979): 2–​22. —​—​—. Ritual and Mantras: Rules without Meaning. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1996. Stein, Burton. Peasant, State, and Society in Medieval South India. Delhi:  Oxford University Press, 1980. Stern, Philippe. Colonnes indiennes d’Ajantâ et d’Ellora: Évolution et répercussions. Styles gupta et post-​gupta. Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1972. Stietencron, Heinrich von. “Orthodox Attitudes towards Temple Service and Image Worship in Ancient India.” In Hindu Myth, Hindu History, Religion, Art, and Politics, 51–​63. Delhi: Permanent Black, 2005. Originally published 1977. Swearer, Donald K. Becoming the Buddha: The Ritual of Image Consecration in Thailand. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2004. Szemerenyi, Oswald. “Vedic šam, šaṃ Yoḥ, and šaṃ(ča) Yošča (*).” Incontri Linguistici 4 (1979): 159–​84. Tachikawa, Musashi, S. S. Bahulkar, and Madhavi Bhaskar Kolhatkar. Indian Fire Ritual. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2001. Tambiah, Stanley Jeyaraja. “A Performative Approach to Ritual.” Proceedings of the British Academy 65 (1981): 113–​69. Tarabout, Gilles. “Theology as History:  Divine Images, Imagination, and Rituals in India.” In Images in Asian Religions: Texts and Contexts, edited by Phyllis Granoff and Koichi Shinohara, 56–​ 84. Vancouver:  University of British Columbia Press, 2004. Thieme, Paul. “Indische Wörter und Sitten.” In Kleine Schriften, 1:343–​70. Wiesbaden: Steiner, 1984. Thomas, F. W. “Abhiṣeka.” In Encyclopædia of Religion and Ethics, edited by James Hastings, 1:20–​24. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1908. Trautmann, Thomas R. Aryans and British India. Berkeley:  University of California Press, 1997. Tsuchiyama, Yasuhiro. “Abhiṣeka in the Vedic and post-​Vedic Rituals.” In From Material to Deity: Indian Rituals of Consecration, edited by Shingo Einoo and Jun Takashima, 51–​93. Japanese Studies on South Asia 4. New Delhi: Manohar, 2005. Tsuji, N. “On the Formation of the Adbhuta-​Brāhmaṇa.” Annals of the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute 48–​49 (1968): 173–​78. Vaudeville, Charlotte. “The Govardhan Myth in Northern India.” Indo-​Iranian Journal 22 (1980): 1–​45.

29

Bibliography

299

Viennot, Odette. Les divinités fluviales Gańgā et Yamunā aux portes des sanctuaires de l’Inde:  Essai d’évolution d’un thème décoratif. Paris:  Presses universitaires de France, 1964. Voegeli, François. “À la recherche du Śamitr̥.” Bulletin de l’Ecole française d’Extrême-​ Orient 92.1 (2005): 9–​38. Waardenburg, Jean Jacques. Classical Approaches to the Study of Religion: Aims, Methods and Theories of Research. The Hague: Mouton, 1973. Waghorne, Joanne Punzo. The Raja’s Magic Clothes: Revisioning Kingship and Divinity in England’s India. Hermeneutics: Studies in the History of Religions. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1994. Waghorne, Joanne Punzo, Norman Cutler, and Vasudha Narayanan, eds. Gods of Flesh/​Gods of Stone:  The Embodiment of Divinity in India. Chambersburg, PA: Anima, 1985 Warden, A.C., and Nathan Antila. Pūjā: Expressions of Hindu Devotion. VHS. Washington, D.C.: Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, 1996. Weber, Albrecht. Zwei Vedische Texte über Omnia Und Portenta. Berlin: Druckerei der Königl. Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1859. Wheelock, Wade T. “Patterns of Mantra Use in a Vedic Ritual.” Numen 32.2 (1985):  169–​93. Whitaker, Jarod. “Ritual Power, Social Prestige, and Amulets in the Atharvaveda.” In The Vedas:  Texts, Language and Ritual, edited by Arlo Griffiths and Jan E. Houben, 565–​80. Groningen Oriental Series 20. Groningen: Egbert Forsten, 2004. Williams, Joanna Gottfried. The Art of Gupta India: Empire and Province. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1982. Willis, Michael. The Archaeology of Hindu Ritual: Temples and the Establishment of the Gods. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Witzel, Michael. “The Coronation Rituals of Nepal, with Special Reference to the Coronation of King Birendra.” In Heritage of the Kathmandu Valley: Proceedings of an International Conference in Lübeck, June 1985, edited by Niels Gutschow and Axel Michaels, 417–​67. Sankt Augustin: VGH Wissenschaftsverlag, 1987. —​—​—.​ “The Development of the Vedic Canon and its Schools.” In Inside the Texts—​ Beyond the Texts: New Approaches to the Study of the Vedas, edited by Michael Witzel, 257–​345. Harvard Oriental Series Opera Minora 2.  Cambridge, MA:  Harvard University Press, 1997 —​—​—.​ “How to Enter the Vedic Mind? Strategies in Translating a Brāhmaṇa.” In Translating, Translations, Translators from India to the West, edited by Enrica Garzilli, 163–​76. Harvard Oriental Series Opera Minora 1.  Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1996 —​—​—.​ “On the Localization of the Vedic Texts and Schools.” In India and the Ancient World: History, Trade, and Culture before a.d. 650, edited by Gilbert Pollet, 173–​213. Leuven: University of Leuven, 1987.

30

300

Bibliography

Yano, Michio. “Calendar, Astrology, and Astronomy.” In The Blackwell Companion to Hinduism, edited by Gavin D. Flood, 376–​92. Oxford: Blackwell, 2007. —​—​—​. “The Nakṣatra System of the Atharvaveda-​Pariśiṣṭa.” Journal of Indological Studies (forthcoming). —​—​—. “Planet Worship in Ancient India.” In Studies in the History of the Exact Sciences in Honour of David Pingree, edited by Charles Burnett, Jan P. Hogendijk, Kim Plofker, Michio Yano, and Muzaffar Iqbal, 331–​48. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2004. Yano, Michio, and Miki Maejima. “A Study on the Atharvaveda-​Pariśiṣṭa 50–​57 with Special Reference to the Kūrmavibhāga.” Journal of Indian and Buddhist Studies 58.3 (2010): 1126–​33. Zysk, Kenneth. The Indian System of Human Marks. Sir Henry Wellcome Asian Series 15. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2016.

301

Author Index

āl-​Bīrūnī, 3n3, 24, 246n37 Anantadeva, 176, 178n68, 179n69, 181n75, 184n90 Andersen, Poul, 234 Appadurai, Arjun, 161–​62 Bahulkar, Shrikant, 26n26, 27n28, 34n57, 42, 53 Banerjea, J. N., 4n6, 5–​6 Bhandarkar, R. G., 4n6, 5n8, 8n17 Bhaṭṭotpala, 134n32, 146–​47, 149, 152, 167n27, 175 Bisschop, Peter, 30n40, 80, 182n79 Bloch, Maurice, 242 Bloomfield, Maurice, 22–​23, 25n22, 26n24, 30n39, 42n88, 78n14 Bodewitz, Henk, 21n3, 22 Bolling, George Melville, 55n130, 58n138, 59, 61–​63, 80, 101 Breckenridge, Carol, 161 Brereton, Joel, 21n3 Brick, David, 49n114, 105, 109n118, 171n41, 259 Brunner, Hélène, 229, 250 Caland, Wilem, 30n39, 31n45, 41, 52n118 Charpentier, Jarl, 196, 197n5 Colas, Gérard, 8nn18–​19, 199–​200, 203–​4, 211n43, 214n50

Coomaraswamy, A. K., 228 Cort, John, 262 Dārila, 30–​33, 37, 40–​41, 60, 78–​79, 100 Davidson, Ronald, 9 Diehl, Carl, 251–​52 Eck, Diana, 6, 261–​62 Einoo, Shingo, 8n21, 69n176, 82–​83, 110n122, 199n10, 207n33, 210–​12, 214n50, 218, 224n74 Engelke, Matthew, 261, 264, 265n18 Falk, Harry, 201 Falk, Nancy, 125, 137 Fuller, C. J., 9n22, 10, 15n31, 252n46 Gonda, Jan, 3n2, 6, 30n39, 34n56, 43, 53, 76, 79, 85n37, 90n52, 103, 160–​61, 175n55 Granoff, Phyllis, 8n18, 200n15, 225n80 Griffiths, Arlo, 25nn17, 22, 26n25, 27n28, 30n40, 38n75, 52n120, 58n140, 80 Hazra, R. C., 4n6, 14, 81 Hoens, Dirk Jan, 27–​29, 31n42 Houben, Jan, 235n17, 237, 240n28, 241, 255n1

302

302

Author Index

Inden, Ronald, 10, 75n5, 81, 82n28, 135, 159n8, 162, 173–​77, 179–​80, 181n76, 184, 185n93, 191n107, 192n108, 195, 259 Kauṭilya, 127–​31, 135, 147–​49, 155, 194, 260 Keśava, 30, 32nn46–​47, 33n51, 34n54, 38n73, 41, 49, 51n118, 54, 69n178, 78n15, 80–​81, 83, 88–​90, 97n80, 100n89, 101n94, 110n123, 237 Kramisch, Stella, 225 Kulke, Herman, 159n8 Lakṣmīdhara, 81, 127n12, 132, 146, 155, 168, 175–​76, 190n104, 205, 216, 260n7 Lubin, Timothy, 49n114, 200n13, 218n62, 235n15, 240n28 Madan, T. N., 159 Mak, Bill, 11n26, 66n170, 132n28, 134n32 Malamoud, Charles, 250 Manu, 77, 82, 83n33, 105, 124, 127–​29, 131–​32, 135, 147, 149, 155, 160, 186n95, 189n104, 244, 259–​60 Marglin, Frédérique-​Appfel, 158–​59, 258–​59 Medhātithi, 128n14, 149 Meister, Michael, 225nn75, 79, 226nn83, 87 Michaels, Axel, 235, 258n4 Monier-​Williams, Monier, 4–​5 Morgan, David, 261 Negelein, Julius von, 25n20, 50n116, 80, 82, 98n85, 101, 121n152 Orsi, David, 261 Pingree, David, 11n26, 48, 49nn108, 112, 65n161, 134nn32–​33, 136n37 Pugh, Judy, 66nn170–​171, 159n7

Raheja, Gloria, 105, 156–​59, 163, 172, 193, 258–​59 Renou, Louis, 3n2, 13n28, 258 Sanderson, Alexis, 9, 26nn25, 27 Sāyaṇa, 24, 33n51, 35n62, 37n70, 80, 86, 88n45, 94n68, 100n88, 174n53 Scheffler, Israel, 236, 239 Seaquist, Carl, 233–​36 Sharf, Robert, 234–​35, 240n28 Sharma, R. S., 159n8 Staal, Frits, 1, 13n28, 16–​17, 29, 233–​41, 262 Stein, Burton, 159–​61 Stietencron, Heinrich von, 197–​98, 260n6 Swearer, Donald, 252 Szemerenyi, Oswald, 35 Tambiah, Stanley, 236, 241, 242n31 Tarabout, Gilles, 198–​99, 251 Thieme, Paul, 21n3, 197n5, 218 Varāhamihira and Jyotiḥśāstra, 13–​14, 66n170, 132 on kingship, 174–​75, 190–​94 mantras of, 185, 187, 214, 231, 242–​45, 247 on omens, 64, 119–​20, 163–​67, 173, 188, 201–​5 on pratiṣṭhā, 200n14, 205–​10, 226, 249 and pūjā, 217, 221 as ritualist, 132–​35, 138–​45, 149–​55 Waghorne, Joanne Punzo, 7n13, 200n15, 258, 263–​64 Wheelock, Wade, 251 Williams, Joanna, 225n82, 226 Willis, Michael, 8n20, 9, 77n12, 200n13, 206n29, 218n62, 227n89, 257 Witzel, Michael, 13n28, 50n116, 75n4, 85n37, 122, 206n29 Yano, Michio, 65n164, 66n169, 82, 118n147, 141n48, 173n49

30

Subject Index

abhaya hymn, 91–​92 mantra gaṇa, 60–​61, 101, 112–​13, 144, 180–​81, 187 mudrā, 228 as pardon, 128, 149 as safety, 71, 148–​49, 151, 190 abhicāra (sorcery) in Atharvaveda, 22, 26, 76–​77, 97, 98n86. See also Āṅgirasakalpa mantra, 107 and śānti, 41n83, 67–​68, 97n83, 111–​14, 115n142, 120 abhiṣeka (aspersion/​consecration), 85, 195, 232, 240, 243, 262–​63 apotropaic, 98–​99, 103, 107–​8, 191–​92, 216 (see puṣyābhiṣeka) and gifting, 106, 109n120 in ghṛtakambala, 111 in image installation, 207, 210–​13 iterative, 102–​3, 104n103, 121, 125, 191 mantras, 85–​86, 103 prathama (inaugural), 85–​88, 121 Purāṇic form (see rājyābhiṣeka) as political ritual, 162, 195 and purohita, 78, 88–​89 and śānti, 17, 86, 99, 120 Vedic forms, 43n90, 44, 85–​86, 99 (see mahābhiṣeka; rājasūya)

waters, 19, 86, 184–​87 (see śānti waters) in yātrā (see vijayasnāna) adhivāsana (overnight ritual), 149n66, 169, 180n73, 206, 210, 232. See also svapnanimitta in mahādānas, 169–​71, 274 in pratiṣṭhā, 206–​8, 213, 215–​16, 220, 277–​78, 216 in yātrā, 142 Ādipurāṇa. See Nīlamatapurāṇa affliction in Arthaśāstra, 77n13, 130 and omens, 94, 117, 130, 219–​20, 248n42 from planets and asterisms, 65–​68 without purohita, 84 agnicayana (ritual), 1, 16, 28, 235 agnyādheya (ritual), 44–​47 Aitareyabrāhmaṇa, 21, 79, 179n70, 186–​87 aṃholiṅga/​aṃhomuca (mantras): 34, 35n58, 109–​10 amulet (maṇi/​pratisara) in birthday ritual, 104n103 in ghṛtakaṃbala, 113–​14, 123 in Kauśikasūtra, 30n41, 41n83, 42 in mahāśānti, 55–​56, 58, 61n147, 62–​64, 108n116, 268 in Nightly Ceremony, 94 as ritual element, 238–​40

304

304

Subject Index

Āṅgirasakalpa, 26, 77 animals aspersion/​consecration of, 42, 99n87, 192 as omens, 163, 202 release of, 149, 274 sacrifice, 6n12, 7n15, 27, 28, 134, 149 skins of, 85, 101, 142n54, 263, 273–​74, 277 Appendices of the Atharvaveda, 11, 121 dating of, 80–​83 and Jyotiḥśāstra, 118 as priestly ideology, 72–​73, 76, 78, 79, 80, 84, 97 structure of, 83, 88–​90 appendix. See pariśiṣṭa Arthaśāstra of Kauṭilya, 77, 90, 121, 124, 126–​30, 147, 194 arthavāda, 72, 84 Aryan, 5–​6, 196–​97, 218 aspersion. See abhiṣeka astrologer (sāṃvatsara, daivajña), 10–​11, 77n13, 127, 130, 164, 191, 257. See also Varāhamihira debates among, 165 as diviner in rituals, 135, 138, 146, 148 mantra of, 187–​89 partnership with purohita, 65, 73–​74, 76, 87, 118, 133, 146–​47, 155 in pratiṣṭhā, 208 as ritualist, 181–​85 astrological Vedism, 144–​47, 158, 193, 217, 219, 229 Āśvalāyanīyagṛhyapariśiṣṭa, 212–​15, 248 aśvamedha (ritual), 134–​35, 161–​62, 174, 246 Atharvaveda, 73, 87 authority of, 154, 241 and brahmán, 23, 47–​48, 50 expertise of, 22, 38, 61, 97 (see also bhṛgvaṅgiras)

as fourth Veda, 22, 24, 44 and Jyotiḥśāstra, 13, 145 and Kauśikasūtra, 39 as mantra, 240, 244 (see also mantra gaṇa) monopoly over śānti, 31 and orthopraxy, 70, 239 and purohita, 11, 76–​78 recensions of, 22n9, 25, 27n28, 52, 84, 94n68 ritual manuals of (see pañcakalpa) as source for śānti, 81 textual stratification of, 13, 24–​26 auspiciousness-​inauspiciousness, 11, 157–​59, 173, 239, 254–​55, 258–​59 and images, 204–​5, 216, 220, 229 and king, 190–​94, 263–​64 and omens, 202–​3 āvāhana (invocation) in pratiṣṭhā, 209–​12, 214n51, 215–​16, 249–​51 in pūjā, 217–​19 in puṣyasnāna, 151–​52 as ritual element, 232 avatāra (incarnation), 262 axial age, 156 āyus/​āyuṣya, 71, 85, 107, 151 and Atharvaveda, 22n9, 61 rituals, 34, 69, 76–​77 and śaṃ, 35n63 āyuṣya gaṇa in ghṛtakambala, 112 in Great Gifts, 110n123 in mahāśānti, 59, 62n148 in puṣyābhiṣeka, 101 in rājyābhiṣeka, 180–​81, 187 in yātrā, 144 bali in Great Gifts, 169–​71 and pūjā, 152, 218, 221, 257

305



Subject Index

in puṣyasnāna, 147–​51 in rājyābhiṣeka, 181 as śānti, 77n13, 96n75, 166, 153 and yajña, 142–​43 in yātrā, 136–​38, 142 bathing (snāna). See abhiṣeka “between the empires” (historical period), 126 Bhagavadgītā, 197, 259 bhakti (devotion) in Great Gifts, 171n41 and Hinduism, 2–​7, 197–​200, 228, 255 and pratiṣṭhā, 205 and pūjā, 217 in temples, 225 bhaya, 130 in agnyādheya, 46 from comets, 117 from dream, 219 from gifts, 172 from image, 204 without king, 189n104 in mahāśānti, 64, 69 in Nightly Ceremony, 94 without purohita, 95 in svastyayana, 91–​92 bhṛgvaṅgiras, 46, 51n118, 70, 77n9, 87 birthday ritual, 99, 104n103, 192 Bodhāyanagṛhyaśeṣasūtra, 104 invocation mantra, 214n51, 249 pratiṣṭhā in, 200n14, 210 pūjā in, 217–​22 Book of Omens, 48–​54, 64, 68, 164, 201 brahmán (fourth priest), 20–​24. See also Atharvaveda brāhmaṇa (texts), 72, 84, 122, 185, 198, 245 and Atharvaveda, 24–​25 śānti in, 27–​28 Brahmanism, 4–​5, 7–​8, 197, 244 Brahmapurāṇa. See Nīlamatapurāṇa

305

brahmins in agnyādheya, 46 gifting to, 105, 156–​57, 158n3 in Great Gifts, 110n124, 169 and image worship, 8, 198 as monotheistic, 3n3 in omen catalogs, 116, 166, 201–​2 in puṣyasnāna, 148–​49 in rājyābhiṣeka, 178, 188 recipients of dakṣiṇā, 62, 238 sectarian, 14 in svastyayana, 91–​92 in yātrā, 128–​30 Bṛhadyātrā of Varāhamihira, 134–​35, 138–​47. See Yogayātrā Bṛhatsaṃhitā of Varāhamihira, 64, 103, 118, 132, 173, 192. See also puṣyasnāna Chapter on Omens, 163–​67,  201–​5 pratiṣthā in, 200, 205–​10 relative date of, 82–​83, 147 rituals in, 133, 144–​45 clay bath in pratiṣṭhā, 206, 207n32, 212 in rājyābhiṣeka, 177, 179–​80 in yātrā, 143, 145 Coḷa dynasty, 160–​61, 227n90 Colonial period, 3, 10, 196 comets (ketu), 65, 116–​17, 174 consecration. See abhiṣeka cow. See pañcagavya in abhiṣeka mantra, 182 as auspicious object, 91 as dakṣiṇā, 64n156, 113 as gift, 93, 99, 106n106, 109n120, 120​, 165, 246n37 pardon for, 149n66, 165 rituals for, 35n58, 42, 52–​54, 65n162, 96, 166

306

306

Subject Index

daily ritual, 78–​79, 88–​96, 102–​3, 105–​6, 168, 220–​22 daiva (fate) in Appendices, 73–​74 in Bhaṭṭotpala, 146–​47 in Bṛhadyātrā, 135 and the king, 194, 260 in Lakṣmīdhara, 155 in Manu and Kauṭilya, 129–​31 dakṣiṇā as appeasement, 166–​67 in appeasement of comets, 117 in Kauśikasūtra, 34, 51 in lakṣa and koṭi homa, 119 in mahāśānti, 56, 62, 64n156, 238 in selection of guru, 84n36 in yātrā, 143 Dānakāṇḍa of Lakṣmīdhara, 81, 109n118, 168, 260 darśan, 6–​7, 261–​65 departure (rite) in pratiṣṭhā, 208 in puṣyasnāna, 155 in svastyayana, 92 in yātrā, 126–​28, 135, 137–​38, 139n44, 142 devalaka (temple priest), 198, 260 devotion. See bhakti Dharmaśāstra, 9, 155 and ethnography, 258–​60 on kingship, 160, 189 and purāṇas, 14 on purohita, 76–​77, 83n33 on yātrā, 124, 127–​31, 149, 155 See also nibandhas digvijaya, 125–​26, 208. See also yātrā divination branch of Jyotiḥśāstra, 11 and images, 201 in Kauśikasūtra, 48–​50, 54 and orthopraxy, 239

in Śāntikalpa, 64, 67 in yātrā,137–​38 (see also dream omens; fire omens) divine exchange motif. See bali in Bṛhadyātrā, 137–​38, 142 in Bṛhatsaṃhitā, 151, 153–​54 vs. Vedic authority, 242 in Viṣṇudharmottara, 183, 193 domestic ritual, 22, 43–​44, 50, 218, 236, 257. See also gṛhyasūtras Dravidian substratum, 156, 199n10 dream omens and adhivāsana, 169 and Great Gifts, 173 and Guhyakas/​Vināyakas, 95n74, 138n42, 139n45 in Kauśikasūtra, 49 in Lakṣmīdhara, 132, 155 and Nightly Ceremony, 94–​95 in pratiṣṭhā, 208 and pūjā, 219–​20 in puṣyasnāna, 148 as ritual convention, 134, 145 in yātrā, 137–​39, 142, 208n36 eclipse in Book of Omens, 49 and Great Gifts, 81n25, 173 and pilgrimage, 246n38, 249 and pūjā, 219–​20 and puṣyasnāna, 174 ritual prescription for, 247n41 in Śāntikalpa, 65–​66 ectypic meaning, 234, 236, 242, 256 ethnography of South Asia, 10, 15, 156–​63, 198, 255, 258–​61 fatalism/​fate. See daiva fire omens (agninimitta) in indradhvaja, 133, 146 in pratiṣṭhā, 207

307



Subject Index

in puṣyasnāna, 134n32 as ritual convention, 133, 134n32, 207 in yātrā, 138, 145, 148 fire pit (kuṇḍa) in Appendices, 96n77, 98, 115 and maṇḍapa, 169, 171, 224 in pratiṣṭhā, 212, 215 gaṇa. See mantra gaṇa gaṇamālā, 35n58, 38, 60, 91n55, 110n123, 172n46 Gaṇeśa, 141n48, 231n3. See also Vināyakas Gaṅgā river, 32n47, 226–​28, 246n37, 276n20 Gārgīyajyotiṣa, 64, 65n162, 83n35, 96n75, 134n32, 163 ghṛtakambala (ritual) in Appendices, 99, 107n114, 111–​15, 119–​21 in Bṛhatsaṃhitā, 168 in Mahābhārata, 83n33 ghṛtāvekṣaṇa (ritual), 90, 92–​94, 168 gift/​gifting (dāna), 105, 157–​58. See also Great Gifts in Appendices, 81, 88, 92–​93 and omens, 92–​94, 165–​66 orthodox (ethical) theory, 105n105, 259–​60 “poison” gift model, 156, 172, 259–​60 and pilgrimage: 247nn40–​41 and politics, 147, 194 in rājyābhiṣeka, 199 and temples, 161 gods and images, 3, 6, 8n17, 196–​98, 265 and king, 189n104 and mantras, 213, 244, 250 mobility of, 245–​48, 251 and omens, 164, 166, 201 as ritual agents, 151–​55, 182–​85, 189, 228, 231, 242

307

Gopathabrāhmaṇa, 22, 25, 27n28, 44–​48, 72 Great Gifts, 162, 173–​74, 188–​89 in Appendices, 81, 106–​11 in Matsyapurāṇa, 167–​74 gṛhyasūtras, 12, 25–​26. See also domestic ritual guest reception, 197n5, 218–​19, 221 Guhyakas. See Vināyakas Gupta period, 9, 78, 83, 127, 132–​33, 225–​27 Harṣacarita (Bāṇa), 123, 127, 155 healing (bhaiṣajya), 22n9, 30n41, 34, 42, 53, 112–​13 herbs/​plants in Great Gifts, 170 in mahāśānti, 56, 58, 62–​63 in pratiṣṭhā, 206–​7 in puṣyasnāna, 148 in rājyābhiṣeka, 177, 181, 187 in śānti waters, 15, 31–​32, 40, 45–​46, 51n118 in Vedic abhiṣeka, 107n111, 186 in vijayasnāna, 143–​44 in Viṣṇudharmottara rituals, 193 Hinduism accretion thesis, 257 “popular,” 12, 197 Purāṇic, 5–​6, 10 as temple and image worship, 217, 229, 243, 264 and Vedism, 1–​9, 16, 248, 250, 254, 257–​58 hiraṇyagarbha, 81n25, 106n106, 109–​10, 168, 188n101. See also Great Gifts homa. See koṭihoma; lakṣahoma in Book of Omens, 50, 51n118 in Great Gifts, 170–​71 in mahāśānti, 56–​57, 59, 240 in pratiṣṭhā, 207, 210, 215

308

308

Subject Index

homa (cont.) and pūjā, 218, 235n15 in puṣyasnāna, 148, 242 in rājyābhiṣeka, 177, 179–​81 ritual type, 56, 77n13, 97n81, 115, 117, 165–​66 (see New and Full Moon Sacrifice; yajña) in yātrā, 142, 144–​45 horoscopy, 11, 66n170, 67, 132, 141n48 horse in agnyādheya, 44–​47 as dakṣiṇā, 51n118, 64n156 as dāna, 106n106, 109n120 at departure, 135, 137 metaphor for sacrifice, 23 in nīrājana, 78n13, 104n103, 126, 192 as object of śānti, 61, 99n87 rib of, 251, 253 sacrifice (see aśvamedha) in svastyayana, 91n54 house construction of, 41, 43, 62n149 protection of, 58–​59, 62–​63, 66, 157, 239 human effort. See daiva image bias against, 6, 261 of Cosmic Man, 184 installation of (see pratiṣṭhā) as king, 217, 221–​23, 227–​29, 254–​55, 264–​65 lakṣaṇa of, 203–​4 as locus for god, 6n12, 7, 198, 209–​13, 244, 248–​49 as locus for omen, 166, 194, 200, 201–​5, 217, 221 materials for, 206 in Nightly Ceremony, 94 as ritual instrument, 252–​53 in yātrā, 143

image worship. See bhakti; darśan; pūjā as brahmanical, 8, 200n13, 243 as degradation, 3 origins of, 196–​99 as popular concession, 3, 196–​98 and ritual economy, 15 vs. sacrifice, 2–​9, 162, 174 as śānti, 167 Indian state, theories of, 159–​63, 173–​74. See also kingship indomania, 3n3 indradhvaja (ritual), 133, 134n32, 146, 150–​51, 207 Indus Valley Civilization, 5n9 invocation. See āvāhana iṣṭi. See homa Jyotiḥśāstra and Appendices, 118 and Dharmaśāstra, 129 and early omens, 49, 64–​67 in rājadharma, 147 and Varāhamihira, 132 and Vedic ritual, 10–​13, 55, 67, 144–​47 Kālikāpurāṇa, 175–​76 kāmas (ritual desire), 68–​69, 140n47, 193 Kauśikapaddhati (Keśava), 30nn39–​40 Kauśikasūtra, 25–​27, 30–​54 in Appendices, 78–​80, 85–​89 continuity with Śāntikalpa, 62–​64, 68–​70 kingship. See rājadharma astrological theory of, 190–​95, 260 and dāna, 105 in discourse of Appendices, 74, 84, 121–​22, 124 divine, 189 in divine image, 227, 243 divinization of, 264 ethnography of, 10, 156–​59, 255

309



Subject Index

in Hindu studies, 9–​12, 81n25 historiography of, 158–​63 in puṣyābhiṣeka, 102–​3 in theory of omens, 164 Vedic conception, 125, 154, 160–​61 and wilderness, 125–​26, 155 and yātrā, 137, 150 koṭihoma, 96n75, 115, 119–​20, 141, 165–​66, 192 Kṛṣṇa, 245 kṣatriya, 76, 78–​79, 105, 116 Kumbhamela, 246n37 Kurukṣetra, 246–​48 lakṣahoma, 97n81, 115, 119–​20, 165 lakṣaṇa. See image Lokapālas bath of, 193 in birthday ritual, 104n103 in Great Gifts, 169–​70 image of, 202 as king, 160 in mahāśānti, 55n131 in puṣyasnāna, 152 in yātrā, 139, 142–​43, 148n64 mahābhiṣeka, 125, 155, 160–​61, 178n65, 179n70, 186 amṛtā paradigm, 55–​56, 67, 71, 97, 115, 117 and ghṛtakambala, 111, 114 and Great Gifts, 107, 108n116 in Keśava, 80n23 in Mahābhārata, 83n33 and omens, 98n83, 116–​21, 165, 167 paradigm for koṭihoma, 115 in purāṇas, 81n27, 192 and puṣyābhiṣeka, 99–​101 and puṣyasnāna, 151, 154 in rājyābhiṣeka, 180–​81

309

term in Kauśikasūtra, 41–​42, 49n109 and yātrā, 140–​45 mahāśānti, 54–​70, 230, 237–​41 mahāvyāhṛtis, 106, 107n110, 111, 210, 212–​13, 215 Mānavadharmaśāstra (Manu), 77, 124, 127–​29, 132, 149, 189n104 maṇḍala, 148, 152–​54, 245 maṇḍapa (pavilion), 169, 171–​72, 206–​7, 212, 219, 223–​26 mantra. See mantra gaṇa; non-​Vedic mantra and Kauśikasūtra, 39, 50–​51 theory of, 16–​17, 29, 230–​33, 239–​53 mantra gaṇa. See also śānti gaṇa and divine presence, 249 in ghṛtakambala, 113–​14 in Kauśikasūtra, 32, 41 in mahāśānti, 59–​61 and orthopraxy, 239–​42, 244 in puṣyābhiṣeka, 99–​101 in puṣyasnāna, 151, 153–​54 in rājyābhiṣeska, 181, 184–​85, 187 in yātrā, 144–​45 marman (mortal spot), 114 materiality, 7n13, 92, 194, 200, 255 mātṛnāma gaṇa, 41, 45–​46, 51, 59–​60, 112–​13 Mātṛs, 152, 182, 205, 228 Matsyapurāṇa eclipse ritual in, 247n41 Great Gifts in, 81, 168–​74, 188n101 Lakṣmīdhara’s use of, 132, 205 pilgrimage in, 246n37 pratiṣṭhā in, 215–​17 Mīmāṁsā, 72, 250, 259 misfortune Atharvan remedies for, 71 and omens, 164, 167–​68, 173, 188–​91, 194, 202 in svastyayana, 91–​92

310

310

Subject Index

Nakṣatras (lunar asterisms) in Book of Omens, 51n118 in Nightly Ceremony, 95 in Śāntikalpa, 55, 65–​68 in puṣyasnāna, 152, 174 in rājyābhiṣeka, 182 in Viṣṇudharmottara, 192–​93 in yātrā, 138–​47 (see alsoVictory Bath) Nakṣatrakalpa, 25–​26, 27n28, 73n2, 82. See also pañcakalpa Navagraha. See planets New and Full Moon Sacrifice, 28, 50–​52, 56–​59, 62, 236–​40, 251 nibandhas, 127n12, 175–​76, 178n68, 255, 260 Night Goddess (Rātrī), 90, 94–​95 Nīlamatapurāṇa, 176, 181 nīrājana/​ā, 77n13, 104n103, 126, 133–​34, 171, 192 Nīrṛti, 55n131, 61, 111, 114–​15, 140 non-​Vedic mantra in pratiṣṭhā, 211–​16 in puṣyasnāna, 150–​55 in rājyābhiṣeka, 182–​85 vs. Vedic mantra, 231–​32, 242–​45, 247–​48, 257–​58 occasional rituals, 89, 99, 104, 192, 220 omens. See divination in Appendices, 73–​75, 87, 92–​93, 114–​20, 122 in Book of Omens, 48–​54 in Great Gifts, 173 in images, 200–​205, 217, 221 in Matsyapurāṇa, 132 in puṣyasnāna, 153–​54, 168 in rājyābhiṣeka, 187–​88 and śānti, 11, 55, 192, 239 in Śāntikalpa, 64–​71 theory of, 163–​67, 173, 191, 194–​95 in Vaiṣṇavadharmaśāstra, 78n14, 83n33

in yātrā, 135, 137 (see dream omens; fire omens) opening of the eyes (netronmīlana), 208, 210 orthopraxy, 30, 70, 236–​44, 250–​53, 255–​58, 265 pañcagavya, 109–​10, 177, 179n71, 180n73, 206–​7, 219–​20 pañcakalpa, 78n14, 141 pariśiṣṭas in Atharvaveda, 25–​26 dating of, 82–​83 and Navagrahas, 141n48 as ritual manuals, 8, 12–​13, 15 as sources for images, 200–​201, 209–​14, 218–​22 pavilion. See maṇḍapa pilgrimage, 12, 14, 245–​49. See also tīrthas pillars, 223–​28 planets affliction of, 55, 66, 68 in Chapter on Omens, 165 in Great Gifts, 169–​70 and mahāśānti, 56, 115, 181n75 in Nightly Ceremony, 95 origin myth, 65–​67 in puṣyasnāna, 152, 174 on temples, 226–​28 in Viṣṇudharmottarapurāṇa, 193, 228n93 in Yajñavalkya, 77n11, 83n33 in yātrā, 138–​45 plants. See herbs political agency, 162, 176–​77, 195 polytheism, 4, 253 pot for aspersion waters in Book of Omens, 51n118, 53 in ghṛtakambala, 112–​13 in Great Gifts, 106, 109–​10, 169, 171

31



Subject Index

in mahāśānti, 57–​59, 239 and pilgrimage, 247n41 in pratiṣṭhā, 211–​16, 249 and pūjā, 219 in puṣyābhiṣeka, 100 in rājyābhiṣeka, 178, 180–​82, 184, 187–​88 in śānti water, 31–​32, 38 on temples, 223–​28 in Viṣṇudharmottara, 193 in yātrā, 143 Pramathas. See Vināyakas pratiṣṭhā and adhivāsana, 169 analysis of, 205–​16 early accounts of, 5, 17 purpose of, 200, 217 problem of presence in, 244, 248–​53 and ritual change, 230–​32, 237, 243 and temples, 223, 226, 228 Pratiṣṭhākāṇḍa (Lakṣmīdhara), 216 prāyaścitti in Kauśikasūtra, 34–​35 for omens, 49–​54, 70, 77n13 as śānti, 121–​22, 167–​68, 172, 187–​89 for sin, 95, 109, 110n123, 168 in śrauta ritual, 21, 22n9 preliminary deities, 115, 140–​42, 145, 150–​54, 227, 245 presence, divine at aspersion rituals, 184, 189 and darśan, 261, 264–​65 in images, 198, 200, 210–​14, 216–​18 and orthopraxy, 243–​51 priesthood and kingship, 9–​11, 75, 158, 162, 195 and ritual, 15, 17, 237, 254, 257–​58, 260 Protestantism, 262, 264–​65 pūjā. See image worship for omens, 166, 221 and orthopraxy, 243

311

in puṣyasnāna, 134, 148, 151–​54 in rājyābhiṣeka, 183 ritual form of, 216–​22 and temple cult, 229 and Vedic mantras, 213 vs yajña, 8, 143, 167, 174, 177, 185 purāṇas. See also Matsya-​; Viṣṇudharmottara-​ Great Gifts in, 81, 106, 167–​69 and Hinduism, 5–​6, 9–​10 image-​related rituals in, 209, 214–​16, 231, 263 and Lakṣmīdhara, 155 omens in, 93, 163–​64 and orthopraxy, 244, 251 pilgrimage in, 246–​47 and ritual manuals, 14 royal ritual in, 100–​101, 162, 175–​76, 181n77, 192–​94 śānti in, 78n14 Vināyakas in, 141n48 purity-​impurity, 107, 156–​59, 191, 194, 258–​59 purohita in Appendices, 73–​80, 84–​85, 87–​96, 102–​3, 118, 121–​22 and astrologer, 133, 138, 146–​47, 155, 166, 185 in indradhvaja, 146 in Mahābhārata, 83n33 and priesthood, 9–​11, 237, 260 in puṣyasnāna, 148, 150–​54 in rājyābhiṣeka, 178, 180–​81, 187–​89 puṣṭi, 22n9, 62n149, 68n174, 75, 204 and śānti, 97–​98, 215 puṣyābhiṣeka (ritual), 98–104 puṣyasnāna (ritual), 145, 147–55, 174–75, 190, 248 Raghuvaṁśa (Kālidāsa), 124, 126 regalization, 102, 264

312

312

Subject Index

rājadharma, 10, 122, 255. See also kingship and astrology, 154, 163–​64, 192, 194 Purāṇic, 81, 132, 176–​77, 255 violence and, 124–​27, 260 Rājadharmakāṇḍa (Lakṣmīdhara), 127n12, 176, 181n75, 190nn104, 106, 263n12 Rājadharmakaustubha (Anantadeva), 176, 276nn17, 21 rājasūya (ritual), 125, 155, 191, 227n91 in rājyābhiṣeka, 178–​81, 185–​87, 189, 191 rājyābhiṣeka (ritual), 174–​90, 248 mantras, 181–​83, 193, 247 ritual change and continuity, 2–​3, 230–​33, 254–​58 economy, 15 and Hinduism, 3, 7–​10 syntax and meaning, 15–​17, 233–​43 ritual manuals method for reading, 15–​16, 83, 223, 258–​59 and orthopraxy, 8, 72, 237, 243, 256 stratification of, 12–​14, 25–​27 rivers, 32, 57, 87, 100–​101, 182, 184 royal calendar, 80, 89, 98–​99, 104n103, 121, 192 royal chaplain. See purohita royal inauguration. See abhiṣeka sacrificial fee. See dakṣiṇā safety. See abhaya saṃbhāra, 45, 96–​98 saṃkrānti, 173 saṃpāta in Great Gifts, 106, 108n116, 109–​13 in ghṛtakambala, 112 in Kauśikasūtra, 42n89, 53–​54

in mahāśānti, 55, 58–​59, 61–​63, 68, 70, 239–​40 in pratiṣṭhā, 212–​15 in puṣyābhiṣeka, 101 in rājyābhiṣeka, 180–​81, 185 and Varāhamihira, 143–​44, 154 saṃskāra, 191 śaṃtātīya hymn, 37, 59, 110, 112–​13 śānti gaṇa in ghṛtakambala, 112, 240 in Great Gifts, 104n103, 107, 110n123, 172n46 in Kauśikasūtra, 31–​39 in mahāśānti, 57, 60 in puṣyābhiṣeka, 100 Śāntikalpa, 13, 23, 26–​27, 41, 54–​70, 238–​40 in Appendices, 72, 97, 99, 115–​22 in nibandhas, 181n75 in purāṇas, 82n28 and Varāhamihira, 140–​43, 145, 150, 165, 167 śānti water in Bodhāyanaśeṣasūtra, 222 in Book of Omens, 53–​54 in daily rituals, 91–​92 in Gopthabrāhmaṇa, 44–​48 in Great Gifts, 108n116, 110–​12 in Kauśikasūtra, 29–​44, 122 in mahāśānti, 55–​62, 68, 70, 231, 239–​40 and orthopraxy, 243, 256 in pratiṣṭhā, 214, 251 in puṣyābhiṣeka, 100–​102 in puṣyasnāna, 154 in rājyābhiṣeka, 184, 189 and Vedic royal inauguration, 86 in yātrā, 123–​24, 155 Śatapathabrāhmaṇa, 28, 47, 187n96 sāvitrī, 37n73, 38n75, 100, 106–​7, 111–​13, 115

31



Subject Index

sectarianism and Hinduism, 4–​7, 14, 228 and images, 17, 205, 209, 229 segmentary state, 159–​60 sin gifting/​transferral of, 105–​10, 156–​58, 163, 172–​73, 188–​90, 259 and images, 219–​20 and omens, 50, 92–​93, 164, 166–​68, 183–​84, 194 and pilgrimage, 247–​48 royal, 83n33, 135, 260 Śiva and devotional Hinduism, 2, 4, 7n15, 9, 197 and dreams, 139n43 at Great Gifts, 169 images of, 205, 213n49, 220–​22, 231 at rājyābhiṣeka, 182 smārta tradition snāna; vijaya; clay; vs. abhiṣeka sorcery. See abhicāra śrauta ritual, 20, 44, 75 and kingship: 105n104, 125–​26, 154–​55, 175n55 and rajyabhiseka, 177n64, 178–​79, 185–​87, 189 and ritual structure, 16, 50, 234–​36 śrauta sūtra, 12–​13, 20, 23n13, 25, 27, 72 sthāpaka, 207, 209, 215 svapnanimitta. See dream omens svastyayana gaṇa, 60–​61, 101, 112–​13, 144, 180–​81, 187 hymn for, 35n58 for image, 222 for king, 76–​77, 90–​92 tantra, 9, 255 temple architecture of, 223–​28

313

in divination texts, 96, 120, 165–​66, 201 and Hinduism, 3–​8, 17, 197–​98, 228–​29, 243–​44, 254–​58 and pratiṣṭhā, 206, 210–​11, 216, 250 and pūjā, 220–​22 and state, 161–​62 in yātrā, 139n45, 142, 208 theism, 3–​9, 177, 194, 217, 250 tīrtha, 32n47, 182–​84, 206, 245–​47 Triple Veda, 10, 20–​26, 43–​44, 48, 73–​74, 84, 236 tulāpuruṣa, 81n25, 106–​9, 168–​73. See also Great Gifts upanayana, 43, 79n19, 191 Vaikhānasagṛhyasūtra, 211, 249 Vaitānasūtra, 25–​27, 40, 45, 72 varcas, 62n149, 69, 85–​86, 107, 186, 189 Vedic schools, 13 Vedism and astrology, 144–​46, 176, 193, 217, 219, 229 classical (see yajña) and Hinduism, 2–​8, 16, 174, 243, 245, 257–​58 and state, 160–​61, 177 Victory Bath (vijayasnāna), 136–​38, 142–​44, 170, 180, 206–​7, 212 vidhi. See ritual manuals Vijayanagara, 160–​62 Vināyakas in Appendices, 95n74 in Great Gifts, 169–​70 in mahāśānti, 55 in Yajñavalkyasmṛti, 83 in yātrā, 136–​45, 150 Viṣṇu in Great Gifts, 169 in indradhvaja, 146 images of, 202

314

314

Subject Index

Viṣṇu (cont.) invocation of, 211, 213, 249 pūjā of, 193, 219–​22 in puṣyasnāna, 136, 152–​53, 244 and rājyābhiṣeka, 177, 180, 182, 184 temple of, 225 Viṣṇudharmottarapurāṇa, 164, 174–​93, 247, 255 visualization, 211, 216, 249 warfare. See yātrā wilderness, 125–​26, 142, 150–​51, 155, 228 yajña (Vedic sacrifice) as atheistic, 250 as broken, 48–​50, 70 vs. dāna, 105 as dangerous, 27 in discourse of Appendices, 73–​75, 84, 87

as first order ritual, 235 and four vedas, 10, 21–​24, 48 gods invoked to, 209–​14, 218, 245, 249 vs. image worship, 1–​3, 6–​8, 162–​63, 174, 177, 185 need for explanation of, 72 in need of patronage, 105 omens in, 126–​27, 173 and planets, 65–​66, 134, 136, 138, 142–​43 in pūjā, 221 vs. śānti, 96–​98 Yamunā river, 226–​28, 246n37,  276n20 yātrā, 124–​55, 170–​71, 180​, 192, 206–​8, 221 Yogayātrā (Varāhamihira), 134, 136n37, 138–​39, 142–​43, 145. See also Bṛhadyātrā