In March 2025, Mexico City made a move to ban traditional bullfighting practices that involve harming or killing bulls. Instead, the new law allows only bloodless bullfights, where the animals are kept safe and returned to their owners afterward. As expected, this decision has sparked debates—some see it as a loss of cultural tradition, while others welcome it as a win for animal rights. Such decisions prompt societies to rethink how tradition can be honored without compromising ethical values. Is bullfighting historical, symbolic, literal, cultural, or all of the above?
The image of the powerful, untamed, and tamed bull has charged its way through human history as a literal beast and a profound symbol. Across civilizations—from the ancient Indus Valley to modern-day spiritual narratives and even contemporary spectacles like bullfighting—the bull (or a buffalo) stands as a challenge: to be conquered physically, psychologically, and spiritually. This phenomenon is observed in Eastern traditions and literal traditions in the West. Let us take a look at a few historical and contemporary instances.
Devi’s Victory over Mahisasura
The story of Devi and Mahishasura, which the buffalo symbolizes, is central to Hindu tradition. It represents the triumph of divine feminine power over ignorance and ego. Mahishasura, a powerful asura or demon able to shift between human and buffalo form, gained a boon that made him nearly invincible. Emboldened by this, he waged war against the gods, defeating them and taking over the heavens.
In response, the gods combined their energies to manifest Durga, the fierce goddess embodying Shakti, or cosmic feminine power. Riding a lion and wielding weapons given by various deities, Durga engaged Mahishasura in a fierce battle that lasted nine days and nights. On the tenth day, known as Vijayadashami or Dussehra, she finally slew him after he morphed into a buffalo, piercing him with her trident. The story celebrates the victory of clarity over confusion, righteousness over chaos, and the inner strength needed to conquer the lower or base instincts represented by the buffalo form, which has evolved to a lesser degree than human discretion.
The Krishna Narrative: Power Over Force
One of the most telling stories of conquest comes from the life of Krishna, as shared by Sadhguru (2020). In his youth, Krishna faced the terrifying bull Hastin, a creature known for its size, power, and aggression. While Krishna’s brother Balarama claimed he could defeat the bull with brute force, Krishna chose a non-violent path.
Rather than confronting it with force, Krishna calmly, kindly, and patiently approached the bull daily. He played his flute, offered sweets, and won the animal’s trust. Eventually, Krishna mounted and rode the bull—not through dominance but through connection. He demonstrated a timeless principle: true mastery lies not in force but in understanding and harmony.
Sadhguru explains that Krishna’s method reflects inner clarity and deeper intelligence. In this sense, conquering the bull becomes an allegory for mastering the body, the ego, or any challenge that appears insurmountable through aggression alone. Similar to the gist of Devi conquering Mahisasura, the real “bull” may be one’s inner turmoil, anger, or compulsions—things that require patience, awareness, and grace to transcend.
The Bull of the Indus: An Ancient Symbol
The bull appeared prominently in the Indus Valley Civilization’s iconography. Seals from Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro feature both the zebu and short-horned bulls, sometimes with lowered heads in an apparent posture of resistance or readiness. Scholars interpret these as symbols of strength, virility, and perhaps ritualistic sacrifice.
In the Indus Valley, bull iconography is prominently featured on seals, where the zebu bull is often depicted as a symbol of strength and fertility, reflecting its importance in daily life and ritual practices (Kenoyer, 1998). The single-horned “unicorn” bull, a unique motif in Indus art, is thought to symbolize a spiritual or ritualistic figure, possibly linked to the priesthood (Wheeler, 1968). The most mysterious among these is the single-horned bull—often called the “unicorn”—which may symbolize a priestly figure or the spiritual self. Sadhguru, offering a symbolic reading of these seals, aligns the bull with the physical body. He states that the body is the vehicle for transcendence, not a mere instrument of survival. Thus, “killing” the bull means to move away from our base nature to a higher possibility.
Beyond the Indus Valley, bull iconography appears across other ancient cultures, including Minoan Crete, where the bull-leaping frescoes from the Palace of Knossos symbolize ritualistic and possibly religious significance (Marinatos, 1993). In Mesopotamian mythology, the Bull of Heaven is prominently featured in the Epic of Gilgamesh, representing divine punishment and cosmic power (George, 2003). Ancient Egyptian art also frequently depicted bulls, such as the Apis bull, which was worshipped as a living deity embodying strength and fertility (Wilkinson, 2003). The bull’s depiction in early art is not just about livestock or agriculture; it is a metaphysical metaphor—a silent but powerful reminder that to ride the bull is to master the self.
Bullfighting: The Literal Interpretation
While ancient and spiritual traditions treated the bull symbolically, other cultures took a more literal route. Bullfighting, prominent in Spain, Mexico, and parts of Southern Europe and Latin America, turns the conquest of the bull into a public spectacle. Here, the matador does not tame the beast with music and patience but confronts it with his sword. The drama is theatrical, its stakes visceral, and the ending—death—is often predetermined. Mexico has recently banned this practice.
In these cultures, the bullfight is interpreted as a dance of death, a rite of courage, or some would say even artistry. However, it also reflects a darker undercurrent: humanity’s need to dominate nature, to assert supremacy over brute force with calculated violence against the animal. Where Devi destroys evil, and Krishna conquers through love, the human matador conquers through blood.
By taking ancient stories literally, we risk missing their meaning. In accounts like Krishna’s or the symbolism of the Indus seals, the bull is not meant to be killed—it is meant to be understood and integrated. However, too often, societies have chosen to slay the bull, mistaking violence for victory and domination for mastery—such acts stray from Rta, the cosmic order and natural laws that uphold balance in existence. In contrast, symbolic traditions teach that true strength comes not from overpowering others but from conquering the confusion within—through clarity, compassion, and inner discipline. Stories like Krishna’s calm approach or Devi’s fierce stand remind us that real strength is not about destroying but rising above.
Choices
The recurring theme of the bull across time and cultures invites reflection. Are we destroying evil like Devi did, conquering our challenges by understanding them, as Krishna did? Or are we attempting to overpower Mother Nature and defenseless animals through sheer force, as in the bullring?
The bull, thus, need not be an enemy. It is an invitation—an inner threshold—to be crossed with wisdom. In choosing how we respond to the bull, we choose what kind of human beings we are becoming. The literalists may triumph in the arena, but the wise ride the bull, free and unafraid. In the modern bullring, the traditional roles found in ancient symbolism are inverted: the bull, once emblematic of primal force, ego, and the inner challenges to be mastered through divine wisdom or personal transformation, is rendered defenseless and manipulated for spectacle.
The matador, celebrated in some cultures as a figure of bravery and ritual finesse, emerges instead as the true antagonizer—an agent of domination who enacts calculated violence against an unwilling, even innocent participant, unlike the stories of Krishna gently taming Krishna’s or Devi defeating a symbol of evil, Devi’sbullfighting strips away the deeper meaning. It is no longer about overcoming the ego or inner struggle—it becomes a one-sided show of dominance over a vulnerable animal. Instead of honoring the bull as a powerful symbol, the matador turns it into a target, reducing something sacred into a spectacle. Here, the matador is not a hero facing adversity but a reflection of our tendency to harm what we do not understand—a compulsiveness that dishonors the bull’s life and symbolic legacy and questions the “sport” itself.
Given these perspectives, Mexico’s decision invites reflection: Are we moving toward a more compassionate form of tradition?
References
George, A. (2003). The Epic of Gilgamesh: The Babylonian epic poem and other texts in Akkadian and Sumerian. Penguin Books.
Kenoyer, J. M. (1998). Ancient cities of the Indus Valley Civilization. Oxford University Press.
Marinatos, N. (1993). Minoan religion: Ritual, image, and symbol. University of South Carolina Press.
Sadhguru. (2020, March 22). The bull and the yogic symbolism [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3lQHoI2O9rE
Wheeler, M. (1968). The Indus civilization. Cambridge University Press.
Wilkinson, R. H. (2003). The complete gods and goddesses of ancient Egypt. Thames & Hudson.