People likely sensed Śiva’s presence long before they named him, sang his praises, or created sculptures in his honour.
P2 From Harappan Stillness to Vedic Memory
This essay starts the Shaiva streams by looking at the earliest archaeological signs of a sacred presence, long before Śiva was named or became part of myths. By studying the Indus Valley seals, especially the Paśupati figure, we consider whether there was a pre-Vedic spiritual sense focused on stillness, mastery, and inner presence. Without claiming a direct link, this section helps us see how later Shaiva ideas might have grown from older, non-ritual traditions.
The earliest references to Shaivism may be traced to the archaeological excavations of the Indus Valley Civilisation (IVC). In the early twentieth century CE, British excavations in the Punjab region and parts of present-day Pakistan uncovered some of the world’s earliest major urban centres—Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro. These cities were great contemporaries of the civilisations of ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia.
The Indus Valley, or Harappan Civilisation, was a major Bronze Age urban culture known for its advanced city planning. Cities like Mohenjo-Daro and Harappa had impressive drainage systems, standard building methods, wide trade networks, and a script we still cannot read. This civilisation thrived along the Indus River, covering parts of today’s Pakistan, India, and Afghanistan. Even with all these achievements, we know very little about their leaders or beliefs.
We are left with a big puzzle: who were they, what language did they speak, and what culture did they follow? We still wonder why they left their well-built cities and faded from history.
Among the many artefacts found at these sites, one steatite seal stands out. It shows a person sitting quietly among animals. This image has sparked more debate than hundreds of other seals from the area.
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| Proto-Śiva (Paśupati) seal, Mohenjo-daro archaeological site. Public domain. |
Who was this figure? Was it a shaman, a fertility spirit, a guardian deity, a ruler, or perhaps the first yogi? What we do know is that this is the oldest known image of someone sitting in deep stillness. Scholars continue to debate the figure’s true identity.
The figure sits in a pose similar to those used by yoga practitioners today, even after thousands of years. He seems to have three faces, with a possible fourth hidden at the back. From the side, you can see a sharp nose and full lips. So who is this figure, shown on several seals?
When Sir John Marshall, the British archaeologist who led the Mohenjo-daro and Harappa excavations in the 1920s, first saw this seal, he noticed its similarity to later Hindu iconography. In his important 1931 book Mohenjo-daro and the Indus Civilisation, he suggested that this figure was an early form of Śiva, or “Proto-Śiva,” and called it Paśupati, the Lord of Animals.
In Sanskrit, paśu means animal or living being. Śiva has long been called Paśupati, the lord or protector of all beings. This term comes from the Vedic tradition, though we do not know what the Harappans called this figure.
Interestingly, paśu can also mean a bound soul, so Paśupati can also mean “Lord of Souls.”
Sir John Marshall proposed five reasons for identifying the seal figure with Śiva:
1. Tricephalic form
The figure appears to have three, possibly four, faces. Śiva is frequently described in later texts as having three, four, or five faces.
2. Horned headdress
The head is crowned with a pair of large, striated horns and a central fan-shaped, trident-like motif. Śiva’s emblem, the triśūla, later becomes a defining iconographic feature.
3. Yogic posture
The figure sits cross-legged on a platform, with heels pressed together and toes pointing downward. Śiva, revered as Ādiyogī, is traditionally depicted in a similar deep meditative posture known as mūlabandhāsana.
4. Surrounded by animals
The presence of wild animals—elephant, tiger, rhinoceros, buffalo, and deer—echoes Śiva’s epithet Paśupati, the lord of all creatures.
5. Possible ithyphallic symbolism
The figure has been interpreted as ithyphallic, and nearby finds include objects suggestive of phallic worship. Śiva is traditionally worshipped in the form of the Liṅga.
The fifth point is still debated. We cannot tell if the projection is an erect phallus or just a tassel from the figure’s waistband. The seal’s creators left no explanations, hymns, or inscriptions. All we have is a carefully crafted mystery.
The line drawings accompanying this text are meant to show how a cross-legged deity on a platform could, over time, evolve into the liṅga resting on a yoni pīṭha.
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| Could the Harappa deity have evolved into the modern-day Shivaliṅga? (Conceptual line drawing by the author) |
We cannot say for certain whether this figure is Śiva or Rudra, nor can we prove a direct religious link. Still, the seal is important for understanding spiritual traditions beyond the Vedic tradition.
The seal suggests that before the Vedic ritual religion, the subcontinent already valued:
Inner stillness over sacrifice;
Mastery of instinct rather than domination through ritual;
A central figure associated with animals, wilderness, and ascetic power.
By looking at these changing images, we can see a clear Shaiva movement, shifting from form to presence. This is not a sudden invention, but a gradual process: from figure to posture, from posture to axis, and from axis to principle.
This aligns far more naturally with later Shaiva ascetic traditions than with early Vedic fire-centred religion.
The Indus Valley Civilisation flourished from about 3300 BCE to 1900 BCE before slowly fading away. Climate change, prolonged droughts, and shifting rivers are now seen as major factors in its decline. Recent studies1 show that Harappan communities experienced prolonged periods of water stress, placing significant pressure on their cities. The civilisation did not collapse suddenly; instead, it declined slowly, leading people to move gradually toward greener, river-fed areas.
There seems to be a gap of four to five centuries between the end of the Indus Valley Civilisation and the start of early Vedic culture. We know very little about this time. Often described as a poorly documented transitional period, it marks a shift from urban, brick-built settlements to a more rural, river-valley way of life.
What happened to the proto-Śiva, or the god shown on the seals, during this time? Did he vanish with the cities, or did people quietly bring him to new places as they moved? We cannot be sure. Still, it seems unlikely that people left their gods behind when they left their cities.
Trade routes disappeared, seals were forgotten, and cities broke down. But people kept living in villages, burying their dead, caring for cattle, and praying for rain and good harvests. Maybe they took their god with them. Their god likely changed too, taking on new clothes, listening to new prayers, and blending into new places.
Columnar stone objects resembling liṅgas have been found in Punjab, Haryana, and parts of today’s Uttar Pradesh. Stone rings, which may be early yoni pīṭhas, have also been found from this time of migration. Horned masks and bull figurines, coming directly from Indus traditions, suggest that people kept their old customs instead of leaving them behind.
Phallic stones placed at the edges of fields or under peepal trees, just where village Śiva liṅgas are found today, quietly show this continuity. They might remind us of women who poured water over smooth black stones long before the word Veda was known. No hymns were written, no teachings recorded. Only respect remained.
Eventually, some villagers learned to sing in Sanskrit and gave their god a name: Rudra, the fierce howler, the terrifying one. The god did not disappear; only the people changed. They stopped being city-dwelling Harappans and became villagers.
The cities broke down, the seals vanished, and history became quiet.
But when this presence returned, now as a song, it was called Rudra.
The name Rudra is usually linked to the Proto–Indo-European (PIE) root rud, meaning “to cry,” “howl,” or “wail.” It also suggests wildness and untamed power. Some scholars connect the name to redness or intense brightness. Modern English words like ruddy and rude come from the same root. Even the word rudālī, for professional women mourners, may have come from this root.
Was Rudra a completely new god, or was he the Vedic people’s way of naming a presence they had inherited from their new home? But the continuity feels too strong to ignore.
This is where Part 2 begins, not with a sudden invention, but with a slow, silent evolution: from an unnamed meditating figure on a Harappan seal to the fierce but compassionate deity we know today as Śiva.
The ancient presence was never truly silent.
He was simply waiting for the right words, the right time, and the right hearts to hear him.
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