The first religious figures to be depicted in anthropomorphic form in South Asia are believed to be nature deities. These range from portrayals of fertility in female figurines from the mature Harappan civilization (2600–1900 BCE) to representations of the realm of water as seen in various mythical sea creatures—makaras (elephant–sea-creature hybrids), mermen, and, more significantly, shape-shifting nagas (serpent deities)—in the art produced in Gandhara (present-day Pakistan and Afghanistan) and Mathura (Uttar Pradesh, India) during the Kushan empire (first century BCE–third century CE). In portraying elements of nature and its forces in anthropomorphic form, these sculptures illuminate how early Indian cultures apprehended the natural world and endowed it with immense significance.
Deities called yaksha (male) and yakshi (female) were regarded as semidivine nature spirits of the earthly realm. Although a number of sculptures and reliefs representing the yakshas have been unearthed, they find tangential reference in early Indian texts. Nonetheless, this creates an opportunity to engage directly with the rich material culture that speaks to the formidable presence of these deities in the religious cosmology of early India. A striking sandstone sculpture dated to the first century BCE is an excellent example of the form. This yaksha has a burly chest and a round belly that bulges over a knotted sash, an indicator of his status as the deity of wealth. Although his arms are missing, his pose suggests that he was a patravahaka yaksha, a drinking-bowl bearer, once holding a bowl above his finely rendered hairband. This powerful figure is enhanced by details such as the heavy necklace boasting back-to-back makaras, the intricate knot tying the necklace at the back, and the loincloth around his stout posterior.
The makara also appears in the form of a toy from roughly the same period and region . The hole through its ears suggests that it may have been fitted with wheels and pulled around by a child during play. The presence of a mythical sea creature in a quotidian object such as this suggests that the notion of the water world as a sacred realm and abode to mythical creatures was widely known. Along those lines, an architectural frieze from Uttar Pradesh , dated to the second to third century CE, displays nine mermen, with fishlike tails rather than legs, playing various musical instruments. Among the instruments visible on the panel are a lute, cymbals, a harp, a flute, panpipes, and, most peculiarly, a double-stemmed wind instrument that resembles a Greek aulos, an instrument often depicted on Greek amphorae and pelikes . The similarity between these instruments suggests some form of association with and influence of Mediterranean styles, likely due to trading relations between the Kushans and the Romans. Such Greco-Roman artistic styles and themes are evident in the art of Gandhara—as in a panel depicting either the Greek god of the sea, Triton, or an ichthyocentaur —but are seen less frequently in the art of Mathura, making this frieze a rare example.
Mythical aquatic creatures are common in Kushan art of both Gandhara and Mathura, yet, like the yakshas, due to sparse textual references, modest attention has been given to these figures and the narratives associated with them. Even in visual representations, these figures, deemed minor or subordinate, often escape the notice of a viewer. Sometimes this is the result of the artist’s decision to make them subservient to the protagonist of a visual narrative, which is apparent in a third-century limestone drum panel originating from Nagarjunakonda that depicts the Great Departure (mahabhinishkramana) of the Buddha. The central figure is Prince Siddhartha (the Buddha before his enlightenment), easily identifiable as such by his position atop a horse at the center of the panel. Further attention is brought to him by the umbrella, held by an attendant, just above the halo behind his head. Surrounding the prince, celestial beings can be seen dancing and playing musical instruments, while on the ground, the yakshas rejoice with their own dancing and music. Another group of semidivine figures depicted emerging from the ground, known as ganas—attendants to the yakshas—undertake a key task in this narrative. Often identified as keepers of treasure and secrets, the four ganas here hold the hooves of Siddhartha’s horse, indicating that the prince has left his kingdom (illustrated by the gateway behind him) in the silence of the night. The presence of this host of semidivine figures enhances the miraculous character and religious significance of this episode, thereby elevating Siddhartha’s status to one of paramount importance in this visual narrative.
Another of these minor deities is captured in a spotted-red-sandstone relief characteristic of Mathuran style. It depicts a tree spirit deity—a form of yakshi—on each side of a bracket meant for a now lost gateway. The figure’s distinctive pose indicates that it is a salabhanjika, or “a female breaking the branch of a sala tree.” Her action causes the tree to blossom, evincing her status as the deity of fecundity. The auspicious salabhanjika is often depicted on gateways to temples and stupas; one of the earliest portrayals comes from the Great Stupa at Sanchi, India.
Tree spirit deities feature in another significant episode—the death of the Buddha (Mahaparinirvana)—found in all known early Buddhist art schools. A panel produced in third-century Gandhara exhibits a pronounced Greco-Roman influence in the heavy drapery, curly hair of figures, and the depiction of the Buddha with a mustache—a peculiar feature of this iconography. Arrayed around the reclining body of the Buddha, various figures exhibit a range of distinct responses to his death, which, according to Buddhist philosophy, is not the end for the Buddha but rather a release from the endless cycle of rebirths. The artist effectively evoked this stance through the figure of Subhadra, the monk sitting with his back to us and calmly facing the corpse. Despite having attained enlightenment only recently, Subhadra comprehends the event better than the other figures, including the monastics and the lay followers, distinguished by their clothing and ornaments, who express their distress through their postures, gestures, and facial expressions. Though his face is missing, the bodhisattva Vajrapani can be identified by the vajra (thunderbolt) in his hand. Another figure appears at the very top of the panel nestled between tree branches. This is the tree spirit deity, her right hand raised in a gesture evoking the imagery of a salabhanjika, registering her presence at this momentous event when the Buddha departs from the earthly realm. It appears that she may be accompanied by another tree spirit deity at the top right, though the artwork is damaged there. While these beings appear as peripheral figures, their presence underscores the sacred status of the main protagonist.
Another semidivine figure, a naga attendant, is depicted in a third-century CE sculptural fragment from a Buddhist stupa site in Andhra Pradesh, India. This anthropomorphic form of a naga is distinguished by the cobra hood over his ornamented head and regal attire adorned with heavy jewelry, including striking conical earrings, armlets, and various other accessories. The naga’s posture—waving a fly whisk—indicates an act of service, quite likely to the Buddha, aligning it with typical portrayals of nagas within the Buddhist realm, where they are depicted as protectors, guardians, and attendants.
The predominant view—primarily due to a lack of corroborating textual evidence—has been that nagas were not independent deities worshipped in temples of their own; rather, they have been seen as minor deities in all religious traditions. However, several freestanding naga sculptures have been discovered, and new research into the uses and iconographies of these sculptures has challenged prevailing theories. Four notable examples, dated to the mid-fifth century CE and reflecting the influence of the Kushana Mathura style, are remarkable for not being a part of any architectural fragment.
The first two are nagarajas, or naga kings ; , likely from Uttar Pradesh. Made of red sandstone, they exhibit almost identical facial features, physiques, and crowns adorned with what seems to be a makara. The presence of this mythical sea-creature in their headdresses likely symbolizes the status of a nagaraja as the ruler of the underwater realm. The large serpentine coils behind these figures ascertain their identity as nagas. Their poses, however, are distinct: One carries what is likely a nectar pot in his left hand, while the other, lacking a pot, is likely to have had his missing right hand raised above his head. These two stances are typical of how freestanding naga sculptures were depicted from around the first century CE. The detailed rendering of cobra coils on the reverse side of these sculptures suggests that, rather than being subordinate components of a larger relief, these were worshipped as independent deities in their respective shrines. One such shrine in Sonkh, a village located thirty kilometers outside of Mathura, was excavated from 1966 to 1974.
The two other standalone sculptures likely were a pair and depict a nagaraja with his female consort, or nagi . These heavily bejeweled figures are made of sandstone and may come from Madhya Pradesh. The cobra hood behind each head is partially preserved, and the majestic serpent coils behind the deities are more pronounced than those in the red-sandstone sculptures. Each figure holds a flower in their right hand, which is raised in a gesture reminiscent of the abhayamudra, a posture of fearlessness. While the female figure rests her left hand on her hip, the naga king carries a nectar pot in his left hand.
Iconographic similarities between nagarajas and the Hindu deity Balarama, Krishna’s elder brother, who is often also depicted with a serpent hood, have raised questions about the identity of some sculptures. This issue becomes particularly pronounced from the Gupta period (fifth century CE) onward, a time characterized by an increase in sculptural representations of Hindu deities, reflecting their increasing religious significance. As a result, several pot-bearing anthropomorphic figures with serpent coils and snake hoods have been identified as Balarama. However, the earliest visual representations of Balarama, such as the Chilas petroglyphs (circa 50 CE) and the coins of Agathocles (circa 180 BCE), portray Balarama without a snake hood. In contrast, depictions of nagarajas with snake hoods are found from this earlier period, indicating that the iconography of nagarajas with snake hoods predates that of Balarama. Although the number of sculptures depicting Krishna and Balarama increased during the post-Kushan and Gupta periods, the representation of nagas as figures holding nectar pots persisted. For instance, a later-Kushan sculpture with this exact iconography (currently in the Asian Art Museum of San Francisco) bears an inscription detailing the donation of the sculpture and stating, “May the Lord Nagaraja be pleased.” This reinforces the interpretation of such pot-bearing figures as nagas rather than Balarama. Nonetheless, this issue continues to intrigue scholars and fuel academic debates.
The continuous presence of spirit deities throughout South Asian history reflects the region’s rich and diverse animistic traditions, some of which have persisted in the present. The artifacts discussed here draw attention to religious worldviews and figures—especially those that have remained peripheral in textual sources and even in the contemporary socioreligious landscape—that would likely go unnoticed without closer observation and careful engagement.