Purushamedha (or, 'Naramedha', literally translated, "human sacrifice") is a Vedic yajna (ritual) described in the Yajurveda (VS 30–31). The verse describes people from all classes and of all descriptions tied to the stake and offered to Prajapati.
The Shatapatha Brahmana is a prose text associated with the White Yajur Veda that provides detailed descriptions of Vedic rituals. In its description of the Purushamedha, the text clearly states that the victims are supposed to be released unharmed:
Yet there are Vedic texts that contain instructions on how such rituals are to be performed. The texts are not consistent on this point. Archeological evidence of human skulls and other human bones at the site of fire altars at Kausambi were once interpreted as remains of ritual human sacrifice, however, this has long since been disproved.
The injunction in the Shatapatha Brahmana to release the victims is another reason why scholars have speculated that the Purushamedha originally involved actual killing of humans. Alfred Hillebrandt, writing in 1897, claimed that the yajna involved real human sacrifices, which were suppressed over time. Albrecht Weber, writing in 1864, came to a similar conclusion. Julius Eggeling, writing in 1900, could not imagine that actual human sacrifices occurred. Hermann Oldenberg, writing in 1917, claimed that the Purushamedha was simply a priestly fantasy, but that sacrifices may have occurred nonetheless. Willibald Kirfel, writing in 1951, claimed that an early form of Purushamedha must have preceded the Ashvamedha. According to Jan Houben, the actual occurrence of human sacrifice would be difficult to prove, since the relevant pieces of evidence would be small in number.
Time stands still with you
The night is ours once again
How many years,
How many million tears before it's only you and me?
When light issues from her deceiving beams,
Even Eve goes up the tree
And eats the forbidden fruit
No love without a prey
Our evil is inherited from our innocence
Our paradise is but a faded picture on the wall
And life's the archangel,
With blackened wings
But in the night
The throne is ours