welcome to today's deep dive uh we are so glad
you're here because we've spent the week combing
through this just massive stack of sources for
you oh yeah so many sources early 20th century
excavation logs some really Dense, modern linguistic
papers. Decades of historical critiques, yeah.
And we did all of that to unpack a single tiny
object. Right. And when we say tiny, I mean it's
really small. It could easily sit right in the
palm of your hand. Yeah, exactly. Yet this little
piece of carved stone has sparked... Well, one
of the most intense, enduring archaeological
debates of the last century. It really has. It's
a remarkable piece of history. What we're looking
at today is essentially a masterclass in human
bias. Right. It forces us to examine this concept
called historical projection, which is, you know,
the tendency we have to look at the past and
unconsciously project our own modern cultural
lenses or later religious developments right
onto ancient artifacts. And that projection is
really the overarching theme of the sources we
are looking at today. Our mission for this deep
dive is to explore what is commonly known as
the Pashupati seal. The Pashupati seal, yeah.
It's this stunning artifact from the ancient
Indus Valley civilization, and it basically serves
as an archaeological inkblot test. That is the
perfect way to describe it. Right, because however
historians or linguists or archaeologists choose
to look at it, the seal seems to just reflect
their own pre -existing theories right back at
them. Okay, let's unpack this. What exactly is
the physical object and where do we find it?
Well, the baseline facts are fairly straightforward.
This is a stamp seal made of steatite. Which
is basically soapstone, right? Exactly. Commonly
known as soapstone. It was excavated from Mohenjo
-Daro, which was one of the major urban centers
of the Indus Valley civilization located in modern
day Pakistan. The excavation took place in either
1928 or 1929. The records are a little... A little
fuzzy. Yeah, a little fuzzy on the exact year.
But it was led by the archaeologist Ernest McKay.
And at the time, the region was under British
rule. So the dig was managed by the Archaeological
Survey of India. McKay dated the seal to the
Intermediate I period. Which means what exactly
in terms of years? It means it was carved somewhere
around 2350 to 2000 BCE. Wow. So we're dealing
with something over 4 ,000 years old. Now, to
understand why this specific seal matters to
you, out of the thousands of seals recovered
from the Indus Valley, we really have to look
at the sheer weight of the theories attached
to it. The theories are heavy. Very heavy. This
singular artifact has heavily influenced how
scholars understand the historical development
of religion in South Asia, specifically the ancient
roots of Hinduism. Right. And yet, despite that
influence, almost every single interpretation
of what this seal actually depicts is fiercely
contested. Which is exactly why we need to look
closely at the physical details before we get
into those theories. I mean, if we don't know
what is actually carved into the stone, the debates
won't make any sense at all. Let's do it. If
you were holding this artifact right now, and
like we said, it's tiny, just about an inch and
a half wide. Yeah, 3 .56 by 3 .53 centimeters
to be exact, and only 7 .6 millimeters thick.
Right, so a tiny little square. The first thing
you'd notice isn't the background, it's the posture
of the figure in the center. Mm -hmm. And the
sheer density of the carving in that tiny, you
know, seven millimeter thick square is just incredible.
It's so intricate. Very. The figure's arms are
almost entirely covered in bangles. There are
eight small ones and three large ones on each
arm. Plus there's a double band wrapped around
the waist and several layered necklaces covering
the chest. A lot of jewelry. A lot. But the element
that immediately draws the eye is the head. The
figure wears this very tall, elaborate headdress
with a central fan -shaped structure, and that
is flanked by two large, distinctly striated
horns. And the figure isn't alone on this seal
either. There is an entire menagerie surrounding
them. On one side, you have an elephant and a
tiger. On the other side, a water buffalo and
an Indian rhinoceros. And then right beneath
the platform, there are two deer or possibly
ibexes. They are looking backwards over their
shoulders, positioned so their curved horns almost
meet right in the center. What's fascinating
here is the post -excavation history of this
little stone, which is a story of literal historical
division. Oh, this part is wild. It really is.
Initially, the finds from Mohenjo -daro were
taken to the Lahore Museum, but they were later
moved to New Delhi because the British Raj was
planning a new central imperial museum. But then,
of course, we get to 1947. Yes, the monumental
partition of India. Right. And suddenly, all
these 4 ,000 -year -old artifacts become a matter
of international custody. Pakistan naturally
requested the return of the Harappan artifacts
excavated on their newly established territory,
and India initially refused. Which led to a rather
tense negotiation. It eventually resulted in
an agreement to split the approximately 12 ,000
excavated objects equally between the two countries.
50 -50. It's exactly 50 -50. And they executed
the split with a literalism that is almost hard
to believe. They took ancient necklaces and girdles,
sat down in a room, and separated the individual
beads into two piles. One for India, one for
Pakistan. Yes, literally splitting beads. Can
you just imagine the bureaucratic absurdity of
that? Right. Two government officials sitting
in a museum backroom somewhere, dealing out millennia
-old necklace beads like a deck of cards. It's
crazy, but it highlights how desperately both
new nations wanted to claim this ancient heritage.
But when it came to dividing the most celebrated
sculpted figures, they obviously couldn't split
a stone carving in half. Right, you can't snap
a soapstone seal in two. Exactly. So Pakistan
asked for and received the famous Priest -King
figure. And in exchange, India retained the iconic
Dancing Girl statue, and they kept the Pashupati
seal. So today, it resides in the National Museum
of India in New Delhi. Okay, so with the custody
battle settled, we have to dive into what scholars
actually think this intricately carved, incredibly
contested piece of soapstone represents. And
to do that, we have to start with John Marshall.
Right. He was the director general of the Archaeological
Survey of India at the time. And when Marshall
looked at this seal, he established a foundational
interpretation that would basically dominate
the field for the next half century. It was the
gold standard. It was. He claimed this figure
was an early prototype of the major Hindu god
Shiva. specifically in his form as Pashupati,
which translates to the Lord of Animals. Now,
Marshall's argument wasn't just a shot in the
dark. It was a highly structured interpretation
of the visual evidence. When he looked at the
central figure, he was immediately struck by
the face, or rather, the faces. The faces, right.
He interpreted the carving as having three distinct
faces, one facing forward and two in profile,
with a fourth possibly implied at the back. Which
immediately makes you think of Shiva. Considering
later Hindu art frequently portrays Shiva with
three or five faces. Yes. And then Marshall looked
at that massive horned headdress and drew a direct
line to Shiva's characteristic emblem, the trizala,
or the trident. So that's the head. What about
the body? Well, he didn't stop at the head. Right.
He analyzed that very specific sitting posture
you described earlier. Marshall identified it
as a typical yoga attitude, specifically a pose
called Mulabandhasana. Okay. Because Shiva is
traditionally regarded as a Mahayogi. You know,
the great yogi or the prince of yogis, Marshall,
saw this physical posture as an undeniable direct
link. And other scholars, like Thomas McEvely,
supported this by noting that this specific squatting
position with joined heels is actually described
in much later texts as a posture used with meditation
and fasting to achieve Then you add in the surrounding
menagerie. I mean, if Shiva is known par excellence
as the Lord of Animals or Pashupati, it makes
perfect sense to Marshall that this central yogic
figure is surrounded by wild jungle beasts and
deer. Right. It all fits together for him. But
there was one more detail Marshall pointed out,
which turned out to be incredibly controversial.
He believed the figure was isophalic. Meaning
it was depicted with an erect phallus. Exactly.
And Marshall linked this directly to Shiva's
historical and religious. association with the
linga. This specific analysis by Marshall was
monumentally influential. For at least two generations,
this proto -Shiva interpretation was just the
accepted reality for archaeologists and historians.
It was canon. It was. It profoundly shaped how
everyone understood the origins of Hinduism.
Even scholars who later wrote scathing critiques
of Marshall's interpretation had to admit that
his view was the default baseline. You simply
could not discuss Indus Valley religion without
debate. But as we know, historical consensus
is usually just an invitation for someone to
take a closer look. Here's where it gets really
interesting. Oh, yeah. A scholar named Herbert
Sullivan came along, scrutinized that tiny seal,
and proposed a massive counter theory. Yeah.
He asked a fundamental question. What if Marshall
and everyone else were entirely wrong about the
gender of the figure? That's a huge pimp. Massive.
What if this wasn't a male god at all, but a
female goddess? This brings up an important point
about that specific controversial detail we just
mentioned. Sullivan made a brilliant observation
about the supposedly erect phallus. He suggested
that it might simply be a misinterpretation of
the figure's clothing. A wardrobe malfunction
of historical proportions. Exactly. Sullivan
argued it was actually just the dangling end
of a waistband or a girdle. And to be completely
fair to the historical record, even Marshall
himself had conceded in his original writings
that a waistband was a distinct possibility.
But if you assume it's a waistband, how does
Sullivan get all the way to a female goddess?
He didn't just guess. He looked at the broader
context of Indus Valley art. He zoomed out. Right.
When you look at the thousands of terracotta
figurines recovered from these sites, a very
consistent pattern emerges. The male figurines
are almost universally depicted completely nude.
Right. And then you look back at the Pashupati
seal. The figure is practically dripping in jewelry.
Eight small bangles, three large ones on each
arm, a double band around the waist, multiple
heavy necklaces. It's definitely a look. It is.
Sullivan pointed out that this extensive use
of adornment is entirely characteristic of the
female terracotta figurines found across the
civilization. So if you follow the fashion rules
established by their own artisans, this heavily
bejeweled Proto -Shiva suddenly looks a lot more
like a powerful female deity. It's a perfect
example of that historical projection we talked
about at the beginning. Marshall, operating in
the early 20th century, saw a powerful central
religious figure and likely defaulted to assuming
it was male, forcing the visual evidence to fit
a proto -Shiva narrative. And the challenges
to Marshall's vision didn't stop at gender either.
Doris Srinivasan, a professor of Indian Studies,
offered a reinterpretation that completely dismantled
Marshall's reading of the figure's head. Oh right,
the faces. Yeah, remember how Marshall was certain
he saw three human faces? Well, Srinivasan looked
at the exact same millimeter of carved stone
and saw something completely different. She argued
that the lateral projections on the sides of
the head aren't human faces in profile at all.
Instead, she proposed they are lateral cow -like
ears. So not three human faces, but one single
face with predominant bovine features. Precisely.
Sreenivasan drew visual comparisons between this
seal and other Indus Valley artifacts, like a
horned mask from Mohenjo -daro and a terracotta
bull from Calabangan. Based on these links, she
suggested that the figure isn't a human god at
all, but rather a divine buffalo man. Which introduces
a massive paradigm shift because it perfectly
aligns with scholars who argue we should be looking
at the Indus Valley civilization through a Dravidian
context rather than a Vedic context. Yes. And
for those catching up on the terminology, this
is essentially a debate over lineage. The Dravidian
context links the Indus people to the indigenous
ancestors of modern South Indians, while the
Vedic context attempts to link them to the later
arriving Indo -Aryan cultures that produce the
Vedas. That cultural framework changes everything
because then you get a scholar like Arif Hiltibital
who took this Dravidian approach and he noticed
something crucial about the horns on the headdress.
He pointed out that they are distinctly buffalo
horns, not bull horns. That distinction is vital.
It really is. Because the people of the Indus
Valley were intimately familiar with both animals,
and their artisans would not have confused the
two. A proto -Shiva with bullhorns might make
sense as a prefiguration of Shiva's later connection
to his bull mount, Nandi. But a proto -Shiva
with buffalo horns? Hildebetel argued that requires
far too much explanatory gymnastics to be credible.
So if we follow Hiltabaitl's logic and we have
a buffalo figure in a Dravidian context, who
are we looking at? Exactly. Hiltabaitl leans
into the Durga mythos here, suggesting this could
be an early prototype of Mahishasura, the famous
buffalo demon who serves as the great adversary
to the Hindu goddess Durga. Wow. And there is
a compelling piece of evidence right there on
the seal, the tiger. In the Hindu pantheon, Durga
is famously depicted riding a tiger or a lion
into battle. Heltebeetle also theorized that
the surrounding animals aren't just a random
jungle scene, but might represent Vahanas. Vahanas
being the animal mounts or vehicles for the gods.
Right. Animal mounts for deities guarding the
four cardinal directions. But the deeper you
go into the Dravidian interpretations, the further
you get from a religious context entirely. The
American archaeologist Walter Fairservice attempted
to systematically translate the Indus script
located at the top of the seal. That's always
dangerous ground since it's undeciphered. Yeah,
but he tried. Through his linguistic analysis,
he concluded it was a Dravidian inscription that
didn't identify a god at all. Instead, fair service
argued the figure was a paramount clan chief
named Anil, who was representing four distinct
clans symbolized by the four surrounding animals.
That grounds the seal in completely secular political
power rather than divine worship. Totally. But
the interpretations keep branching out. The Finnish
Indologist Asko Parpola brought a totally different
geographic perspective. He did. Parpolo looked
at the famous yogic posture, that squatting position
with the joined heels, and suggested it might
not be yoga at all. He argued it could simply
be an imitation of the way Proto -Elamites represented
seated bulls in their art. The Proto -Elamites
being an ancient civilization located in what
is now southwestern Iran. Exactly. We know there
were extensive, robust, cross -cultural trade
networks between the Indus Valley and ancient
Iran, so it makes perfect sense that artistic
motifs and symbols would travel along those same
routes. That makes a lot of sense. Yeah. And
Parpala also attempted his own translation of
the inscription and concluded the figure represents
a servant of an aquatic deity possibly related
to the Hindu god Varuna. He pointed out that
aquatic themes, like the great bath at Mohenjo
-daro, were highly prominent in Indus society.
So let's just recap the sheer variety of what
we have here. From the exact same carving, we
have a Proto -Shiva, a female goddess, a divine
buffalo demon, a secular clan chief, and a servant
of an aquatic deity connected to ancient Iranian
trade routes. It's dizzying. It is. And just
to prove how flexible the evidence is, there's
even a purely Vedic interpretation from a scholar
named MVN Krishna Rao. He looked at the seal
and decided the figure was actually the Hindu
fire god, Indra. Rao's methodology is a fascinating
example of how far scholars will go to make the
evidence fit their framework. He utilized a sort
of ancient linguistic math. Linguistic math is
the perfect way to describe it. Because Rao argued
that you could selectively ignore some of the
animals on the seal. Just ignore them. Just ignore
them. He said you can ignore the tiger because
the artisan drew it much larger than the rest.
And you can ignore the deer because they are
shoved under the platform. Then he took the first
foam. the first sound of the remaining animals'
names in ancient Sanskrit. He combined those
sounds with the word Nara, meaning man, and managed
to spell out the word Makhanasana, which just
happens to be an epithet of the god Indra. It
perfectly illustrates the length to which interpretation
can be stretched. We have highly credentialed
scholars looking at the exact same millimeter
-wide carvings and walking away with completely
contradictory conclusions based on linguistic
puzzles, comparative anatomy, and the selective
reading of ancient texts. And we should say here,
it is important to remember as we discuss these
theories that we are simply reporting on the
scholarship. We aren't endorsing any specific
religious viewpoint or taking a side in these
complex political and historical debates. Absolutely
not. We are just looking at the source material.
So what does this all mean? How are you, the
listener, supposed to make sense of a situation
where the smartest people in the room look at
a single piece of soapstone and see a dozen entirely
different realities? If we connect this to the
bigger picture, it serves as a massive cautionary
tale for archaeology and history. Modern scholars
in the 21st century have really started to urge
extreme caution when interpreting this seal.
Yeah, pulling back on the reins a bit. For sure.
The American Indologist Wendy Doniger points
out something fundamental that cuts through a
lot of the noise. She says that just because
there is a visual resemblance between this ancient
figure and much later Hindu images of Shiva,
that does not mean the Indus images are the source.
Right. It doesn't mean they held the same meaning
to the people who carved them 4 ,000 years ago.
It's that projection again. It would be like
a future historian finding a modern peace sign
carved into a rock and assuming the people who
made it were protesting nuclear weapons simply
because the shape is the same. That's a great
analogy. The shape might survive, but the cultural
context is everything. Precisely. And the scholar
Jeffrey Samuel highlights the real danger of
this vacuum of knowledge. He states plainly that
these multiple, highly specific and beautifully
argued interpretations certainly cannot all be
right. They just structurally can't be. No. The
harsh reality is that we actually know very little
with absolute certainty about the religious practices
of the Indus Valley civilization. Because of
that blank space in our history, scholars have
an overwhelming tendency to take later religious
practices, whether they are Vedic, Dravidian,
Tantric, or otherwise, and project them backward
into the past to fill the void. Nature abhors
a vacuum, and so do historians. Exactly. Samuel
argues that relying on later practices to read
this material is of little to no use for constructing
an actual, accurate history of what was happening
in Mahenjodaro. It is incredibly humbling. We
want so badly to understand our past, to draw
a clean, straight line from ancient beliefs to
modern culture. But the Pashupati seal refuses
to give us that easy answer. It really does.
While we may never definitively know the true
identity of the horned figure sitting among the
animals, It remains a brilliant case study. It
shows us exactly how we search for meaning, how
we argue over our origins, and how our own deeply
held perspectives shape what we see when we brush
the dirt off an ancient artifact. It is the ultimate
historical mirror. But before we finish today's
deep dive, I want to leave you with one final
detail from the sources to mull over. Oh, this
is a good one. We've spent all this time debating
the figure, analyzing the horns and trying to
identify the animals. But at the very top of
the seal, floating directly above the central
figure, there is a string of seven indescript
symbols. Right at the top. Because the indescript
remains completely undeciphered, those seven
symbols almost certainly hold the actual literal
answer to what the seal means and who this figure
is. is, it's written right there mocking us and
we simply cannot read it. So frustrating. It
is. But what is truly fascinating is the arrangement
of those symbols. If you look closely, the artisan
who carved this seal thousands of years ago was
trying to fit them all in a neat horizontal line
across the top. But they misjudged the space.
They ran out of room. They ran out of room. Because
of that very human error, the seventh and final
symbol is awkwardly displaced, shoved downwards
just to make it fit on the stone. It makes you
wonder, if we ever do crack the indescript, will
those seven squished symbols finally settle a
century of intense religious and geopolitical
debate? Or will they just tell us the name of
an everyday merchant who is terrible at planning
his spacing? We'll leave you to chew on that.