That human sacrifice prevailed among the early Aryans in India is generally admitted. The whole question has been treated in detail by that eminent Hindu scholar, Rajendra Lâla Mitra. He arrives at the conclusion that, looking to the history of the ancient civilization and the ritual of the Hindus, there is nothing to justify the belief that the Hindus were incapable of sacrificing human victims to their gods; that the Sunasepha hymns of the Rig Veda Sanhita most probably refer to a human sacrifice; that the Aitareya Brâhmana refers to an actual and not to a typical human sacrifice; that the Parushamedha originally required the actual sacrifice of men; that the Taitareya Brâhmana enjoys the killing of a man at the horse sacrifice; that the Satapatha Brâhmana sanctions human sacrifice in some cases, but makes the Parushamedha emblematic; that the Purânas recognize human sacrifices to Chandikâ, but prohibit the Parushamedha rite; that the Tantras enjoin human sacrifices to Chandikâ, and require that when human victims are not available, an effigy of a human being should be sacrificed to her.[54]
Human Sacrifice in the Folk-tales.
There is ample evidence from the folk-tales of the existence of human sacrifice in early times. We have in the tales of Somadeva constant reference to human sacrifices made in honour of Chandikâ or Châmundâ. We find one Muravara, a Turushka or Indo-Scythian, who proposes to make a human sacrifice in memory of his dead father; we have expiatory sacrifices to Chandikâ to save the life of a king. In one of the Panjâb tales a ship will not leave port till a human victim is offered. In one of the modern tales we have an account of a man and his family who sacrifice themselves before the god Jyoti Bara, “the great diviner,” who is worshipped by the Sânsya gypsies.[55]
The folk-tales also disclose ample evidence of cannibalism. The Magian cannibals of the Book of Sindibad used to eat human flesh raw, and the same tale is told by Herodotus of the Massagetae, the Padaei of India, whom Col. Dalton identifies with the Birhors of Chota Nâgpur, and of the Essedones near Lake Moeotis.[56] It is needless to say that Indian folk-tales abound with references to the same practices. We have cannibal Râkshasas in abundance, and in one of Somadeva’s stories Devaswâmin, the Brâhman, looks out and finds his “wife’s mouth stained with blood, for she had devoured his servant and left nothing of him but the bones.” And in the tale of Asokadatta we have a woman who climbs on a stake and cuts slices of the flesh of an impaled criminal, which she eats.[57] In the Mahâbhârata we find the legend of Kalmashapada, who, while hunting, meets Saktri, son of Vasishtha, and strikes him with his whip. The incensed sage cursed him to become a cannibal. This curse was heard by Viswamitra, the rival of Vasishtha, and he so contrived that the body of the king became possessed by a man-eating Râkshasa. Kalmashapada devoured Saktri and the hundred sons of Vasishtha, who finally restored him to his original state. In a tale recently collected among the Drâvidian Mânjhis, a girl accidentally cuts her finger and some of the blood falls upon the greens, whereupon her brothers, finding that it flavoured the mess, killed and devoured her.[58]
Human Sacrifice in Modern Times.
Up to quite modern times the same was the case, and there is some evidence to show that the custom has not quite ceased.
Until the beginning of the present century, the custom of offering a first-born child to the Ganges was common. Akin to this is the Gangâ Jâtra, or murder of sick relatives on the banks of the sacred river, of which a case occurred quite recently at Calcutta. At Katwa, near Calcutta, a leper was burnt alive in 1812; he threw himself into a pit ten cubits deep which was filled with burning coals. He tried to escape, but his mother and sister thrust him in again and he was burnt. They believed that by so doing he would gain a pure body in the next birth.[59] Of this religious suicide in Central India, Sir J. Malcolm wrote: “Self-sacrifice of men is less common than it used to be, and the men who do it are generally of low tribes. One of their chief motives is that they will be born Râjas at their next incarnation. Women who have been long barren, vow their first child, if one be given to them, to Omkâr Mandhâta. The first knowledge imparted to the infant is this vow, and the impression is so implanted in his mind, that years before his death he seems like a man haunted by his destiny. There is a tradition that anyone saved after the leap over the cliff near the shrine must be made Râja of the place; but to make this impossible, poison is mixed with the last victuals given to the devoted man, who is compelled to carry out his purpose.”[60]
The modern instances of human sacrifice among the Khândhs of Bengal and the Mers of Râjputâna are sufficiently notorious. It also prevailed among some of the Drâvidian tribes up to quite recent times. The Kharwârs, since adopting Hinduism, performed human sacrifices to Kâlî in the form of Chandî. Some of our people who fell into their hands during the Mutiny were so dealt with. The same was the case with the Bhuiyas, Khândhs, and Mundas. Some of the Gonds of Sarguja used to offer human sacrifice to Burha Deo, and still go through a form of doing so.[61] There is a recent instance quoted among the Tiyars, a class of boatmen in Benares; one Tonurâm sacrificed four men in the hope of recovering the treasures of seven Râjas; another man was killed to propitiate a Râkshasa who guarded a treasure supposed to be concealed in a house where the deed was committed.[62] About 1881 a village headman sacrificed a human being to Kâlî in the Sambalpur District, and a similar charge was made against the chief of Bastar not many years ago.