Introduction

Three complete English translations of the Ṛgveda exist, and the most recent by Jamison-Brereton was published in 2016. Added to this are translations of many sūktas by the likes of Aurobindo and David Frawley. So the question may well be asked—“Who asked for another translation?” To this, my only real answer is that I did, primarily for myself. Reading Griffith’s translation, or Wilson’s with its voluminous commentary, or even the recent Jamison-Brereton version, did not satisfy my original desire—to understand the Ṛgveda, as it’s meant to be understood. The validity and relevance of any scholarly translation notwithstanding, true perception of the Ṛgveda comes from translations rooted in Indian tradition. This is scarcely a chauvinistic declaration. The Egyptian Book of the Dead is mighty obscure to us today, and would have been best understood by those who lived it in their lives, as part of a larger culture that produced it.

The seemingly obvious way to understand the Ṛgveda is to learn Sanskrit, for then one is capable of perceiving Ṛgvedic language, with its profound net of connected meanings, sound synchronisms and deep-rooted etymologies. This is indeed what I have done, and the translation here is designed in a way to take the reader through learning Sanskrit as the text progresses. This is why we call this an English un-translation. The intent is that by the end of the text, a reader who begins knowing only English, ends with a relevant understanding of Sanskrit such that a database of Ṛgvedic terms no longer need translation to English.

I follow, with the timid steps of a layman, the giant leaps of greats such as Aurobindo and Frawley. Aurobindo’s Secret of the Veda is indispensable to understanding the true context of the Ṛgveda, and a single reading of it literally elevates one’s consciousness—to my experience at least. And for Indians such as me, who have become more comfortable with English than with their own mother tongues, Frawley’s Wisdom of the Ancient Seers is a gateway to not just the language but the mentality of our ancestors. He gives expert articulation to an intuition I could only struggle to vaguely grasp for many years:

“Mantra is the original form of all language, the original language from which all others derive. Mantric language, to define it succinctly, is language in which sound and meaning correspond. It is like poetry wherein the sound of words reflects their meaning and aids in its manifestation. More than this, it is a science of sound wherein the meaning and force of all sounds is known and developed towards mergence in the Divine Word.”

Terence McKenna, the last great expounder of psychedelic consciousness, had a similar intuition about the origin of language. To him, it emerged through early humanity’s trysts with plant psychedelics, and was an attempt to wrap transcendent meaning into comprehensible sound. Frawley’s Divine Word was McKenna’s Logos, the original sound that manifested it all. From McKenna’s glossolalic gibberish emerged, to our ancient ancestors, root sounds that evoked in consciousness the very meaning they carried. McKenna speculated that all of reality was language itself, or sound in other words. The ancient Indians called it mantra, and from their own experiences they captured, through mantra, the meaning beyond.

A non-Sanskrit translation of the Ṛgveda thus is an empty document, devoid of the root mantric sense, divorced from etymological connections that weave a web of meaning within the mind. But what is a non-Sanskrit speaker to do, and can a translation not be made that mixes languages much in the way modern Hinglish speakers might? The proposal threatens to remove all profundity from text, but the alternate is true if we retain, with commentary, key Sanskrit words that readers come to internalise over time. To begin with, need we translate every occurrence of deva to God, Divine or Lord? Why not keep deva as is, and let the reader’s contextual, syntactical and phonetic mind make of it what it will?

No doubt, in this journey, people born to the Indian consciousness will have a leg up. Regardless of our personal beliefs on religion, spirituality and history, we possess a cultural understanding of terms such as dharma, prāṇa, ṛta and others. But the Ṛgveda ought to be approachable to any modern, sovereign individual, to the best of their own discernment. What’s needed for this is a way to create a mental-scape of what Frawley describes as Ṛgvedic language’s adjectival nature:

“In fact, the ancients really had nothing that we would consider as a substantive noun, no word that meant only a specific object like a cow and only a cow, or a man and only a man. Their words retain a general adjectival character that can be related to several objects…What is necessary is to bring in both the abstract and concrete senses of the Vedic words and relate them to the spiritual meaning and orientation of a scripture.”

If this mental-scape, where the mind is aware of Sanskrit roots and extensions, of how word-meanings are derived and are interconnected, can be developed over a journey of reading the Ṛgveda in English, then the aspiration to eventually understand the text in native text becomes realistic. Of course, we bypass the traditional view here which sees the Ṛgveda as an instrument to be heard and chanted, not read or translated. The power of mantra, of logos, is in sound and the meaning in manifests in the mind. This is why IAST renditions have been presented alongside the translations, so that readers get a sense not just for pronunciation but also for word forms, roots and declensions. This is how the mental web is to be built.

Technically unimportant to understanding the Ṛgveda, but of profound import to tradition and culture, is the issue of Ṛgvedic history—which in turn ties with linguistic and archaeological history. The traditional view sees the Vedas as anādi, without a beginning, and apauruṣeya, authorless. This specific claim on the nature of Vedic knowledge eludes historical analysis, made further complex by the Purāṇic appellation of mahāyugas and manvantaras. Further, all Western translations of the Ṛgveda have worked under the paradigm that sees Ṛgvedic ancestors as coming to India from outside—with several implications that have only served to divide on illusory lines.

This is the issue of proto-Indo-European (PIE) origin and dispersals, and is dealt in some detail as Appendix 1 in this book. There is to date no proven or provable PIE homeland, so any theory only deals with a best-fit plausibility. Edwin Bryant well covers this landscape in The Quest for the Origins of Vedic Culture. In this translation, we take as given the best-fit plausibility of India as the PIE homeland, where India encompasses modern Pakistan and parts of Afghanistan while sharing historical and cultural affinity with Tibet, Tajikistan and Xinjiang. Again, the reasons for doing so are detailed as appendix.

The Ṛgveda comes with an index, anukramaṇī, which details for each mantra—the deity it’s addressed to, the composer of the mantra, and its metre. These composers, along with a number of names embedded in the hymns, give us a way to consider historicity. Two examples are the composers Madhucchandā Vaiśvāmitra and Viśvāmitra Gāthina. Were they related? How so, and by how many generations? Or the Bhārata tribe rulers Divodāsa and Sudās, clearly primary patrons in the Ṛgveda. Where in history can we place them, and would it make any sense to link them to the same names found in Purāṇic genealogies? A chronological framework exists for ancient Indian history which is consistent with Purāṇic, linguistic and archaeological evidence. This framework is detailed in Appendix 2, and dates given for Ṛgvedic names in the translation take from the framework.

Structure of the Ṛgveda

The Ṛgveda is divided into ten maṇḍalas, which are generally translated as books. But maṇḍala first refers to something round and circular. Even a circular arrangement of troops on the battlefield is a maṇḍala. A dog is a maṇḍala, for it chases its own tail. The ouroboros snake is a maṇḍala for the same reason. The sun is a maṇḍala, the earth and the wheel are maṇḍalas, indeed—life itself is a maṇḍala. It cycles eternally between being and non-being, between life and death, between creation and destruction.

Each Ṛgvedic maṇḍala is thus a microcosm of meaning, a whole circle unto itself. It is also a wheel, for it enables motion and moves us forward on the journey to understanding and enlightenment—the ultimate purpose of the Ṛgveda. It is the ouroboros snake that eats its own tail, for all transcendent meaning wraps unto itself in an infinite recursion of causality. Far from the Indian context, in the forests of South America, ancient tribes still speak of the twisting-twisting into itself of language, and thus of reality itself. Sure, we of the modern world can continue to call these ten ouroboros collections “books,” but we have now set context for maṇḍala and will use it as such. Since the context is set, maṇḍala will no longer be italicised.

Each maṇḍala is a circle of hymns, or sūktas. This word is rooted in vac, or vakti, which is speech. From this comes ukta, that which is said—an uttering. And su- is the great Sanskrit qualifier, a suffix that, when added to anything, makes it exalted, or great, beautiful and well. Sūkta thus is a good recitation, beautiful speech, or a wise utterance. The Ṛgveda is a collection of maṇḍalas, each an arrangement of beautiful and insightful speech—sūktas.

Each sūkta in turn is composed of ṛcas, ṛks, or arkas. The word ṛca means lustre, or shine. The sun spreads ṛca over the world on a daily basis, and since it facilitates all life ṛca is a good thing—a praise to existence. Ṛgvedic sūktas are thus composed of ṛcas, which are beams of light into our consciousness much like the sun’s rays are to the material world. Each ṛca is not a praise to supernatural divinity but to psychological realisation, to the evocation of divinity within oneself. The knowledge, or veda, derived from such ṛcas, or ṛks, is the Ṛkveda, which in the rules of Sanskrit is transformed to the Ṛgveda. Ancient India’s body of knowledge (veda), consisting of enlightening realisations (ṛcas), and arranged into maṇḍalas of insightful speech (sūktas) is structured thus:

Notice that maṇḍalas 1 and 10 contain the same number of sūktas—the entire Ṛgveda is a larger maṇḍala that closes upon itself. There is much more to Ṛgedic structure, for example the arrangement of sūktas within the maṇḍalas, and the sequence of the maṇḍalas themselves. Maṇḍalas 2 – 7 are also called the family maṇḍalas, because they are composed by exclusive ṛṣi families. What does composition mean for a knowledge system anādi and apauruṣeya, and what does a ṛṣi mean?

To Indian tradition, the Vedic ṛcas were not created or composed by anyone. Carrying the sound of the universe within them, they were the vibration of ṛta itself, and as such were as old as existence. The Vedic ṛṣis only perceived these vibrations in states of deep meditation, and in a condition akin to McKenna’s evolved glossolalic gibberish, they uttered sacred sounds that became the Vedic ṛcas. In time, as understanding was furthered and schools of thought were dedicated to them, the ṛcas were put together into sūktas and maṇḍalas. This is why the Vedic ṛṣis are called mantra-darṣṭṛs, and not mantra-kartṛs. They only saw, or perceived the ṛcas, they did not create them.

Possessed of such perceptive wisdom, or dṛṣṭi, these composers were called ṛṣis. The ṛṣ inflection is important, for it assigns agency and authority. As dṛṣṭi, perception is received. A ṛṣi is a past-master at dṛṣṭi, in that he is skilled at manifesting meaning into sound, woven inexorably over primordial phonetic and semantic roots. There is ṛta in his racanā, there is satya in his sūkta. When we pronounce dṛṣṭi, the sound begins at our teeth and goes inwards, as dṛṣṭi is received. When we pronounce ṛṣi, the sound begins inside but is thrown out, for the ṛṣi possess the skill to give insight, and not just receive it.

Most sūktas are entirely the utterance of a single ṛṣi, and some are joint realisations. The word maṇḍala does not actually exist within Ṛgvedic text, hinting that contemporary to Ṛgvedic ṛṣis only raw ṛcas and sūktas existed. Tradition also declares this, for it tells us of a certain Kṛṣṇa Dvaipāyana, born to a Ṛgvedic ṛṣi by the name of Parāśara Śāktya. This Kṛṣṇa arranges the ṛcas and sūktas into ten maṇḍalas, and further arranges all ṛcas into the four vedas of Ṛk, Sāma, Yajus and Atharva. In doing this he acquires the name he’s better known by—Veda Vyāsa, where vyāsaḥ means the distribution, separation or arrangement of something. The chronology of such developments is detailed in Appendix 2.

While 2-7 are the family maṇḍalas, we can surmise that maṇḍalas 1, 8, 9 and 10 bear the stamp of Veda Vyāsa. His is the name Indian tradition responds with to questions like—who decided how many sūktas to be in each maṇḍala? Who chose what deity to begin each maṇḍala with? Why is all of maṇḍala 9 dedicated to a single deity? But it’s clear that Kṛṣṇa Dvaipāyana’s contribution was in vyāsaḥ, and not in kārtrā or drāṣṭrā. The latter are preserved in the anukramaṇīs, and we will visit them as they come.

While much preamble can be given to a text such as the Ṛgveda, the above is as much as is arguably needed to commence our journey. We will continue the trend of visiting Sanskrit words in italicised form first, and as they contextual meaning(s) are internalised they will lose the emphasis and become a regular part of the text. By the end of this work, we would have not only understood and read the Ṛgveda but also developed a functional and healthy ability for Sanskrit.

Maṇḍala 1 – Vyāsa’s Introduction to Veda

1 – 1: Agni | Madhucchandā Vaiśvāmitra

9 ṛcas | gāyatrī metre

Wordplay and semantic layers begin from the very first word of the Ṛgveda, agnimīḍa. Iḍaḥ is already an epithet of Agni, so agnim + īḍa might appear redundant at first. The play comes from mīḍha, which means a processed excrement. As such it applies both to urine and semen, and as devamīḍha it means deva-begotten. This should be understood without taboo connotations. Milk is also mīḍha, and butter is the mīḍha derived from milk. There is also mīḍa, which means a low, soft tone. The turn of agnimīḍa to agnimīḍe makes it a calling, an invocation. The Ṛgveda begins with calling not to natural fire, but to the processed fire of intent and intelligence within us, the Agnimīḍa, or clarified agency. And it begins low and soft, with mīḍam, for the journey has only begun.

Words rendered with the –am/aṃ suffix in Sanskrit are their forms as the subject of a sentence. If Agnimīḍe was instead rendered as Agnimīḍam, it would make it not an invocation but the thing itself. In line 1 of the first ṛca, the things are purohitam, devam and ṛtvijam. As the subject-form of words, these are what Agnimīḍa is being called, when it is being invoked as Agnimīḍe. Most literally, purohita means placed in front, and ritually it refers to the chief, appointed priest. This is yielded from puro-, which means at front, or preceding, and hita, which means set or placed.

But we can also consider pura + ohaḥ for puroha. Understood literally as a town, fortress or city, pura is also the vessel of one’s own ritual, or one’s body. The body is the first fortress and the first pura, and the ultimate ritual of life is played out within this pura. Ohaḥ is a vehicle, a means towards something. Meditation, insofar as it brings realisation, is ohaḥ, for example. There is also ohas, the idea or true notion of something. Purohita is that which is set in front of the seeking vehicle of one’s body. To bring about Agni’s mīḍha, or clarified agency, one needs to set in front the Purohita, the guiding eye. Thus is Agnimīḍa called Purohita in the opening line. To add another layer, hita is also benefit, welfare or advantage. The single word purohita is meant to evoke the guiding eye within all of us, which works to our advantage, and leads us towards clarity.

Devam emerges from the root div, which generally means to shine, or to be bright. As Frawley explains, the Ṛgveda is a celebration of light. Not light as the natural phenomenon, but light as the lustre of consciousness which pervades all reality, and is present within all of us. It is an instrument to awaken and connect the light within us with the eternal light, or ṛta. The word diva becomes the sky, or heaven, because light spreads infinitely into it—it is the realm of div. Any thing filled with light becomes divya, and thus it is seen as divine. And that which embodies this light, which is the light of consciousness, is Deva. Deva shines and is lustrous, it is divine and celestial. It is to be celebrated and evoked, for full realisation comes from awakening deva within us.

Ṛtvijam is ṛta + vij, where ṛta is a concept core to the Ṛgveda. It is the natural order of things, of all of reality. The sun rises and sets daily—this is ṛta. The moon takes on its light and throws it back at night—that is also ṛta. The movement of the celestials, the cycle of seasons, the progress of life and consciousness—all is ṛta. To embody ṛta, or this natural order, in our lives and societies is dharma, which is then but the human manifestation of ṛta in their own lives.

The root vij means to separate, divide or discern. It evokes both wisdom and victory, the latter as vijaya. To bring vij to something is to bring realised discernment to it, and to be a ṛtvija is to be the realised discerner of the natural order—the ultimate realisation of them all. The Ṛtvija is triumphant over the natural order, which means it is in harmony and balance with it. It vibrates as existence vibrates, it exists in union with ṛta.

Yajñasya is yajña + asya, where –asya is a suffix to mean of, or belonging to. Yajñasya is something that belongs to the yajña, which translates generally to ritual or sacrifice. But the material is only one layer of meaning in the Ṛgveda. The ultimate ritual is one’s life, the moment between birth and death, which contains all of our thoughts, deeds and speech. This speaks at an archetypal level, as described by Carl Jung. Trials, tribulations, aspirations, struggles, victories and losses—these are common to the human experience. We are all living the hero’s journey, and we can all live the hero myth in our personal yajña.

Hotāram and ratnadhātamam are the subject-forms of hotṛ and ratnadhātā. The hotṛ is a priest of the ritual, especially one who recites the sūktas. The ritual itself is also called hotra, which is another word for yajña in the psychological context. Agni, or the agency within us, is also the hotṛ, the one who chants these sūktas and leads the yajña. Ratna at root means wealth, or treasure. It is thus used for jewels, pearls, gems and precious stones alike. A ratna sparkles and is lustrous, it is a celebration of light. It is a multi-faceted expression of ṛta, which is both within it and emerges from it as pure light.

When we are fully realised, or in complete consonance with ṛta, we are ratna itself—a lustrous, sparkling being. Dhātu means a layer, or a component, and even full realisation only makes is a dhātu of the infinite ṛta. The ratna is a layer in ṛta, but ṛta itself is both immanent and transcendent. Agni is Ratnadhātam, or a layer of sparkling luminosity within us. With all of the above, the first ṛca of the Ṛgveda can now be rendered such:

I invoke Agnimīḍa, the Purohita, Deva and Ṛtvija of the Yajña; the Hotṛ, and the Ratnadhātam. [A]

But an internalised web of Sanskrit etymology and semantics yields the following translation, when voluntarily uttered as a mantra:

I resolve to invoke the clarity of agency (_agnimīḍe) within me, which is the Guide of my Personal Ritual (purohitam yajñasya), the Embodiment of Light-Consciousness (devaṃ) and the Discerner of Natural Truth (ṛtvijam); a Guide to my Speech (hotāram), and a Layer of Sparkling Light (ratnadhātamam)._ [B]

The objective of this English un-translation is that, as the text progresses, the reader is able to understand the Ṛgveda from type [A] translations, that semantically evoke type [B] understandings. For context, three English language translations of the first ṛca are now given.

Griffith’s translation: I laud Agni, the chosen Priest, God, minister of sacrifice; the Hotar, lavishest of wealth.

Wilson’s translation: I glorify Agni, the high priest of sacrifice, the divine, the ministrant; who presents the oblation (to the gods), and is the possessor of great wealth.

Jamison-Brereton’s translation: Agni do I invoke—the one placed to the fore, god and priest of the sacrifice; the Hotar, most richly conferring treasure.

It becomes clear with this comparison that no single translation can ever suffice, and one can approach the Ṛgveda with perception only through understanding Sanskrit itself. Without this, we are fated to eternally imagine the text as a series of prayers for wealth, ritual, sacrifice, prosperity and nourishment to a cornucopia of supernatural deities. For brevity, not all ṛcas will be accompanied with the extensive commentary provided above for ṛca 1. Instead the pattern followed will be as below.

agnim īḍe purohitam yajñasya devaṃ ṛtvijam |

hotāram ratnadhātamam || 1 ||

agnimīḍe: Agnimīḍha | purohita: place in the front, in lead | yajñasya: of the yajña | devam: subject-form of Deva | ṛtvijam: subject-form of Ṛtvija | hotāram: subject-form of Hotṛ | ratnadhātama: ratna + dhātu

agniḥ pūrvebhir ṛṣibhir īḍyo nūtanair uta |

sa devām̐ eha vakṣati || 2 ||

agniḥ: Agni as the object | pūrvebhir: (by the) ancient ones | ṛṣibhir: (by the) ṛṣis | īḍya: to be praised or lauded, iḍa is an epithet of Agni | nūtana: new, recent | uta: association, connection, and, or, or else || Agni,  invoked by the seers ancient and new || vakṣ: to grow, increase, be powerful | saḥ vakṣati: it grows, it increases | vakṣas: breast or bosom, which enlarges/swells when it feeds, or provides nourishment | devām: Devas in plural | ehi: local, wordly

Type [B] translation: The Internal Agency (_Agni), invoked by perceivers of truth, both old and new; through it are all rays of perception strengthened within_*1(notion://www.notion.so/fractalmandala/the-g-veda-an-english-non-translation-869c91d6b2d2448eb3f7d4e4e3b283ea#_ftn1)***

agninā rayim aśnavat poṣam eva dive dive |

yaśasaṃ vīravattamam || 3 ||

This is a fair time to introduce the concept of declensions in Sanskrit, which are ways to represent any single word. There are broadly 8 declensions of the Sanskrit word, and through Agni we can begin to understand this. In any sentence, rendered as agniḥ, Agni is the object of the sentence. Rendered instead as agnim, it becomes the subject. In ṛca 3 we find agninā, which is the 3rd declension that means with, or through Agni. The reader can now see that rayim is rayi rendered in subject-form, or the 2nd declension. The same applies to poṣam, which is poṣa in subject-form.

agninā: through Agni | rayi: wealth, property, water, something valuable | aś: to pervade, fill completely, to gain, enjoy | aśna: pervading | aśnavat: is realised, is pervaded, is completed | poṣa: prosperity, thriving, abundance, wealth, nourishment | diva: day | yaśas: lovely, agreeable, worthy, beauty, dignity, fame, grandeur | vīravat: heroic, manly, masculine, wealthy through sons | vīr:

Type [B] translation: Through this Agency, fluid clarity and mental nourishment begin to pervade, day by day; it is possessed of grandeur and might.

agne yaṃ yajñam adhvaraṃ viśvataḥ paribhūr asi |

sa id deveṣu gachati || 4 ||

Sanskrit has a convenient way of showing one thing as derived from, or originating from another. Born to Pāṇḍu, his 5 sons were thus called Pāṇḍava. Since their mother was Kuntī, they were also Kaunteyas. There was a ṛṣi named Viśvāmitra, so his spiritual and biological descendants can be called Vaiśvāmitras. Thus is agneya derived from Agni. Anything that it produces is agneya by definition. All cooked food is agneya, all ritual offerings are made agneya, and any action through Transformative Agency is also agneya. In line 1 of this ṛca, viśvata is rendered in the object-form, while agneya, yajña and adhvara are rendered in subject-form.

adhvara: uninterrupted, durable, intent | viśvat: on all side, everywhere, pervading | paribhū: to surpass, excel, overcome, conquer, surround, encircle | -asi: you do | -ati: it/he/she does | (-āmi: I do) | saḥ gachati: it goes | id: a way to emphasise or place stress on, just, quite, even | deveṣu: deva + iṣa | iṣa: seeking | iṣaḥ: one possessed of sap or strength | deveṣu: seeking light, seeking divine realisation or the seeking juice of enlightenment

Type [B] translation: A Sense of Being One with Everything, or Omnipresence (viṣvatah), pervades as the result of Agency (agneyam), of intent spiritual practice (yajñam adhvaram); it indeed goes (saḥ id gachati) seeking enlightenment (deveṣu)

agnir hotā kavikratuḥ satyaś citraśravastamaḥ |

devo devebhir ā gamat || 5 ||

agnir: same as agniḥ, rendered with r here because the pronunciation of hotā follows | hotā: hotṛ in object-form | kavikratuḥ: kavi + kratu | kavi: omniscient, wise, sagacious | kratu: power, might, efficacy, talent | kavikratuḥ: one possessed with the power of wisdom | satya: true, genuine, real, honest, as is | citra: manifest, visible, distinguished, bright, distinct | śravas: fame, glory, a stream or flow | the root śru: to go, move, to be heard | tama: a suffix added to words to effect a superlative degree | citraśravas: distinguished fame, or a lustrous stream | citraśravastama: the most excellect and lustrous stream | gamat: goes | āgamat: comes | devo devebhir: gods with the gods, consciousness with consciousness, light with light

Type [B] translation: Transformative Agency, Guide of my Speech, Possessed of Powerful Wisdom and True, Supreme Luminosity; Come, make my light one with the Light.

yad aṅga dāśuṣe tvam agne bhadraṃ kariṣyasi |

tavet tat satyam aṅgiraḥ || 6 ||

yad/yat: that | aṅga: a particle of speech that means well, only, indeed, true, assent | dāś: to give, grant, to offer an oblation | dāśuṣe: pious | bhadra: good, happy, prosperous, blessed, best | kariṣyasi: do, make | tavet tat: tave + tat | tave: yours | tat: that | aṅgiraḥ: Aṅgiras, an epithet of Agni, a semi-mythic pre-Vedic ṛṣi, a messenger between the material and consciousness realms, one which connects the two-halves, like Agni does, thus: brings englightenment within

Type [B] translation: That indeed is purified, which you, Transformative Agency, make blessed (for example, this yajña); that is your truth, Creator of Light Within

upa tvāgne dive dive doṣāvastar dhiyā vayam |

namo bharanta emasi || 7 ||

upa tvāgne: upa + tvā + agni | upa: near, alongside | tvā: you | upa tvāgne: near you, Agni | doṣas: night, darkness | avastṛ: to cover or spread, overcast, pervaded | dhiyā: from the root dhyā, which means thought or meditation | dhiyā: by thought, by meditation, by deliberation | vayam: we | namo: namas, salutation, hail | bhara: bearing, bestowing, maintaining | anta: inside, amidst | ema: to be obtained | emasi: is obtained | namobharanta emasi

To you, Agni, dispeller of the darkness within, we turn our meditations day on day; in this obtained your nourishing benevolence.

rājantam adhvarāṇāṃ gopām ṛtasya dīdivim |

vardhamānaṃ sve dame || 8 ||

rājanta: that which comes from rajanta, raj + anta, rajas + anta | raj: to be brilliant or excited, to be pleased | rajas: powder, mote in a sun-beam, activity or passion | adhvaraṇa: a play on adhvara | gopā: female form of gopa, guard, watchman, herdsman, protector, upholder | dīdivi: dī + divit | dī: to shine or beam, to bestow upon by shining | divit: going to the sky | dīdivi: beaming towards the sky, risen, boiled rice, the Sun, Jupiter | ṛtasya: of or belonging to ṛta | vardha: increasing, augmentation | vardhamāna: that which grows or increases | sva: own, self | dama: home, abode, self-restraint (residing within oneself)

Agni, the Transformative Agency, is the very grit of ṛta, the durable upholder, the shining beam that rises towards full enlightenment; it grows within one’s own self

sa naḥ piteva sūnave `gne sūpāyano bhava |

sacasvā naḥ svastaye || 9 ||

sa naḥ: sa na, as is | piteva: pitā, father | sūnava: sūna, son | `gne: agne, Agni | sūpāyaḥ: a good or expedient means | sūpāyana: highly expedient or facilitative | bhava: being, state of being, existence | sakāśa: having appearance, visible, present near | sacasvā: be sakāśa, be near | svasti: su + asti, good-being, welfare, fortune | svastaye: for svasti, for welfare

In svastaye we find the 4th out of 8 broad declensions in Sanskrit. We have met the first 3 for agni—agniḥ, agnim, agninā. Since agni ends with an i, these are ikārānta declensions. Svasti also ends with an i, so the first 3 declensions for it are svastiḥ, svastim and svastinā. The 4th declension, which means for, is rendered in ikārānta with an –aye suffix. Svastaye means for svasti, just as agnaye would mean for agni.

1. I invoke the clarity of agency within me, which is the guide of my personal ritual, the embodiment of light and the discerner of natural truth; a guide to my speech, and a layer of sparkling light.
2. This transformative agency is invoked by perceivers of truth, both old and new; through it are all rays of perception strengthened within.
3. Through this agency, fluid clarity and mental nourishment begin to pervade, day by day; it is possessed of cosmic grandeur and might.
4. A sense of being one with everything, or omnipresence, pervades as the output of this agency, of intent spiritual practice; it indeed goes towards enlightenment.
5. Transformative agency, guide of my speech, possessed of powerful wisdom and true, supreme luminosity; come, make my light one with the light.
6. That indeed is purified, which you, transformative agency, make blessed; that is your truth, creator of the light within.
7. To you, this agency, dispeller of the darkness within, we turn our meditations day on day; in this is obtained your nourishing benevolence.
8. This transformative agency is the very grit of the natural order, the durable upholder, the shining beam that rises towards full enlightenment; it grows within one’s own self.
9. As is a father to a son, you be that facilitative to us, Agni; be with us, for our good existence.

The very first sūkta of the Ṛgveda is thus a declaration of intent by the self, the individual. It declares that I, the sacrificer, the one who lives my personal yajña, intend for the power of transformation. I wish to birth Agni within me, so that I am taken towards light and consciousness. Doing so is by no means an easy journey, and requires the harnessing of various psychological processes with expert discipline. This is the journey the Ṛgveda embarks one upon. It facilitates the eventual union of our consciousness, the light within, with the cosmic consciousness, or the eternal light, or ṛta. As the great connector between two worlds, Agni is the first deity to invoke.

When we say that a sūkta is addressed to deity, the tendency is to think of a divine form of natural phenomena, and think that the prayer is to this supernatural deity. Thus it would seem that the first sūkta of the Ṛgveda is addressed to Agni, the God of Fire. But this simplistic reduction prevents us from considering in depth—why was fire a god to the ancient people? Humans would have co-existed with fire for a long time before they learnt to create and tame it. They would have seen its destructive and catalysmic powers. Fire burnt, and so it was associated with heat, like the sun was. Fire also provided light, so it was associated with all things light. When humans tamed it and learnt to create it for themselves, fire gave them protection. And so fire was sustenance and propagation. Fire destroyed what came in its path and cleared the land for new beginnings, so it was renewal and the eternal cycle of life. Eventually, fire also made good the raw food that was thrown in it, and so fire was the great purifier.

Every such association with fire was an aspect of fire to the ancient Vedic mind, which saw everything as a manifestation of the same universal truth, or ṛta. The fire a Vedic man created was no different to the light of the sun, and also no different to the fire within. Pure consciousness, or enlightenment, or perception, brought the heat of realisation to one’s mind and dispelled ignorance, like the sun and light do in the material world.

1 – 2: Vāyu, Indra, Mitra, Varuṇa | Madhucchandā Vaiśvāmitra

9 ṛcas | gāyatrī metre

vāyav ā yāhi darśateme somā araṃkṛtāḥ |

teṣām pāhi śrudhī havam || 1 ||

vāya ukthebhir jarante tvām achā jaritāraḥ |

sutasomā aharvidaḥ || 2 ||

vāyo tava prapṛñcatī dhenā jigāti dāśuṣe |

urūcī somapītaye || 3 ||

indravāyū ime sutā upa prayobhir ā gatam |

indavo vām uśanti hi || 4 ||

vāyav indraś ce cetathaḥ sutānāṃ vājinīvasū |

tāv ā yātam upa dravat || 5 ||

vāyav indraś ca sunvata ā yātam upa niṣkṛtam |

makṣv itthā dhiyā narā || 6 ||

mitraṃ huve pūtadakṣaṃ varuṇaṃ ca riśādasam |

dhiyaṃ ghṛtācīṃ sādhantā || 7 ||

ṛtena mitrāvaruṇāv ṛtāvṛdhāv ṛtaspṛśā |

kratum bṛhantam āśāthe || 8 ||

kavī no mitrāvaruṇā tuvijātā urukṣayā |

dakṣaṃ dadhāte apasam || 9 ||

1 – 3: Aśvins, Indra, Viśvedevas, Sarasvatī | Madhucchandā Vaiśvāmitra

12 ṛcas | gāyatrī metre

aśvinā yajvarīr iṣo dravatpāṇī śubhas patī |

purubhujā canasyatam || 1 ||

aśvinā purudaṃsasā narā śavīrayā dhiyā |

dhiṣṇyā vanataṃ giraḥ || 2 ||

dasrā yuvākavaḥ sutā nāsatyā vṛktabarhiṣaḥ |

ā yātaṃ rudravartanī || 3 ||

indrā yāhi citrabhāno sutā ime tvāyavaḥ |

aṇvībhis tanā pūtāsaḥ || 4 ||

indrā yāhi dhiyeṣito viprajūtaḥ sutāvataḥ |

upa brahmāṇi vāghataḥ || 5 ||

indrā yāhi tūtujāna upa brahmāṇi harivaḥ |

sute dadhiṣva naś canaḥ || 6 ||

omāsaś carṣaṇīdhṛto viśve devāsa ā gata |

dāśvāṃso dāśuṣaḥ sutam || 7 ||

viśve devāso apturaḥ sutam ā ganta tūrṇayaḥ |

usrā iva svasarāṇi || 8 ||

viśve devāso asridha ehimāyāso adruhaḥ |

medhaṃ juṣanta vahnayaḥ || 9 ||

pāvakā naḥ sarasvatī vājebhir vājinīvatī |

yajñaṃ vaṣṭu dhiyāvasuḥ || 10 ||

codayitrī sūnṛtānāṃ cetantī sumatīnām |

yajñaṃ dadhe sarasvatī || 11 ||

maho arṇaḥ sarasvatī pra cetayati ketunā |

dhiyo viśvā vi rājati || 12 ||

1 – 4: Indra | Madhucchandā Vaiśvāmitra

10 ṛcas | gāyatrī metre

surūpakṛtnum ūtaye sudughām iva goduhe |

juhūmasi dyavi dyavi || 1 ||

upa naḥ savanā gahi somasya somapāḥ piba |

godā id revato madaḥ || 2 ||

athā te antamānāṃ vidyāma sumatīnām |

mā no ati khya ā gahi || 3 ||

parehi vigram astṛtam indram pṛchā vipaścitam |

yas te sakhibhya ā varam || 4 ||

uta bruvantu no nido nir anyataś cid ārata |

dadhānā indra id duvaḥ || 5 ||

uta naḥ subhagām̐ arir voceyur dasma kṛṣṭayaḥ |

syāmed indrasya śarmaṇi || 6 ||

em āśum āśave bhara yajñaśriyaṃ nṛmādanam |

patayan mandayatsakham || 7 ||

asya pītvā śatakrato ghano vṛtrāṇām abhavaḥ |

prāvo vājeṣu vājinam || 8 ||

taṃ tvā vājeṣu vājinaṃ vājayāmaḥ śatakrato |

dhanānām indra sātaye || 9 ||

yo rāyo `avanir mahān supāraḥ sunvataḥ sakhā |

tasmā indrāya gāyata || 10 ||

1 – 5: Indra | Madhucchandā Vaiśvāmitra

10 ṛcas | gāyatrī metre

ā tv etā ni ṣīdatendram abhi pra gāyata |

sakhāya stomavāhasaḥ || 1 ||

purūtamam purūṇām īśānaṃ vāryāṇām |

indraṃ some sacā sute || 2 ||

sa ghā no yoga ā bhuvat sa rāye sa puraṃdhyām |

gamad vājebhir ā sa naḥ || 3 ||

yasya saṃsthe na vṛṇvate harī samatsu śatravaḥ |

tasmā indrāya gāyata || 4 ||

sutapāvne sutā ime śucayo yanti vītaye |

somāso dadhyāśiraḥ || 5 ||

tvaṃ sutasya pītaye sadyo vṛddho ajāyathāḥ |

indra jyaiṣṭhyāya sukrato || 6 ||

ā tvā viśantv āśavaḥ somāsa indra girvaṇaḥ |

śaṃ te santu pracetase || 7 ||

tvāṃ stomā avīvṛdhan tvām ukthā śatakrato |

tvāṃ vardhantu no girah || 8 ||

akṣitotiḥ saned imaṃ vājam indraḥ sahasriṇam |

yasmin viśvāni pauṃsyā || 9 ||

mā no martā abhi druhan tanūnām indra girvaṇaḥ |

īśāno yavayā vadham || 10 ||

1(notion://www.notion.so/fractalmandala/the-g-veda-an-english-non-translation-869c91d6b2d2448eb3f7d4e4e3b283ea#_ftnref1) Ṛca 2 alludes to the legacy of Ṛgvedic knowledge, its anādi and apauruṣeya nature. Regardless of who utters these sūktas, and when, they are utterances that old and recent seers have always engaged with. Historically, it means that at the beginning of the Ṛgvedic temporal window, there was already a lineage of previous ṛṣis and ṛcas.