← The Rig Veda

Part Five — Voices and Society

Who Sang It

Cattle, Horses, and Sacrifice

The Rig Veda’s social and material world deserves a chapter of its own, because the hymns assume it everywhere and a reader who does not see it ends up misreading the religion that sits on top of it.

The economy is pastoral-agricultural, tilted strongly to the pastoral side. The central economic animal is the cow. Wealth is measured in cattle (the word go-mat means literally “cow-having”; goghna, “cow-killer,” is among the worst insults; even the word for war, gaviṣṭi, means literally “the desire for cattle”). Disputes between families and tribes are over cattle; raids and counter-raids are over cattle; the rains are praised because they bring back the grass that feeds the cattle. The whole rhetoric of plenty in the hymns runs through cattle imagery: the clouds are cows, the dawns are red cows, the rivers are nourishing cows, the gods themselves possess herds.

This matters for an honest reading because the later Hindu attitude toward the cow — the dietary prohibition on beef, the ritual veneration of the cow — is post-Vedic. In the Rig Veda itself the cow is the principal source of nourishment; the hymns refer to cattle being eaten on ritual occasions, to the bull being sacrificed, and to the slaughter of the aghnyā (a term sometimes etymologised as “not to be killed,” which by the time of the later Vedic literature has come to mean a milch-cow specifically). The ethnographic question of whether the Rig Vedic society ate beef is a real scholarly question with answers that have ranged across opinion — most mainstream scholarship says yes, contextually, while the matter was always more bounded than open consumption. The veneration of the cow as inviolable develops later, and it is intellectually honest to mark when.

The horse is the second great animal of the text. Domesticated and chariot-pulling, the horse is the marker of late-Bronze-Age Indo-European culture across Eurasia, and it appears in the Rig Veda with the same prominence it has in the Iliad and the Avesta. The famous Ashvamedha (horse sacrifice) — performed by victorious kings — receives a hymn (Mandala 1.162–163) and would become the great royal rite of subsequent Vedic literature. The Rig Veda’s horse-references are technically precise: chariots described by parts (yoke, pole, axle, wheel), gaits distinguished, harnessing methods named. A modern archaeologist studying late-Bronze-Age horse-and-chariot complexes finds in the Rig Veda one of the most detailed contemporary literary witnesses to the phenomenon.

Sacrifice (yajna) is the central religious act, and the hymns are unambiguous about its materiality. Wood is gathered, fire is kindled, butter is poured, grain is offered, soma is pressed, the animal is led forward. The economy of the rite is real: priests are paid (the dakshina, the ritual fee, is variously listed — cattle, horses, gold); sacrifices are sponsored (the yajamana, the patron, organises the materials and the labour); rites have scale (some take a day, some take weeks). The Vedic religion at this level is not abstract worship; it is an organised, materially-demanding institution embedded in the society’s economy.

A small but important point: the Vedic sacrifice was a gift exchange. The hymns are explicit. Material is offered to the gods in order that the gods may give back — rain, herds, sons, victory. This is the do-ut-des logic that classical religions across Eurasia share. The later Indian tradition would philosophise this into the elaborate discussions of merit (punya), karmic reward, and the renunciation of the fruit of action (the Bhagavad Gita’s correction). But in the Rig Veda the contract is straightforward: the worshipper gives so the god gives. That clarity is part of why the text is as honest about its intentions as it is.

The next chapter is the linguistic and historical frame in which all this took place — the comparative-philological evidence that grounds both the dating and the migration debates.