The First Humans Were Born from a Plant: A Zoroastrian Creation Myth

Before Adam and Eve, there was Mashya and Mashyānēh. Before wheat and medicine, there was the body of a sacred ox. The Zoroastrian creation story is not about a garden, but about death giving birth to life.

The Cry of the Ox’s Soul

In the beginning, Ohrmazd, the Zoroastrian God, shaped the sky and everything within it. He commanded Tishtar, the rain-bringer, to pour water onto the land, and from this mingling of earth and sea, life began. Plants sprouted, and at last, the primordial ox and Gayumarth — the first human — appeared.

No one knows for certain if Gayumarth was a man or a woman. He is often described as a radiant figure of light; later on, the tradition called him male.

When the Evil Spirit, Ahriman, stormed creation to destroy it, his first victim was the ox. Yet Ohrmazd had prepared for this. He gave the ox a potion so that when it died, its soul would endure. That soul became Gooshurun (or Drvaspa), guardian of all four-legged animals.

And then came a cry. Gooshurun lifted her voice before Ohrmazd and lamented:

“Who will care for the creatures now? The earth is ruined, plants wither, waters are troubled. Where is the man you promised to send to guide us?”

Ohrmazd answered gently:

“You suffer because of the Evil Spirit. But it is not yet the time. If I were to send that man (Zoroaster) now, the Evil Spirit would destroy him.”

From the ox’s body, however, life continued: fifty-five kinds of grain and twelve kinds of healing plants sprang forth.

From Blood to Plant

When Ahriman turned against Gayumarth, he could not kill him immediately — his death had already been appointed by Ohrmazd. Gayumarth lived thirty years, then passed away. From his blood grew a rhubarb plant, and from that plant came two human beings: Mashya and Mashyana.

Ohrmazd spoke to them:

“You are human, the parents of the world. I made you perfect in devotion: think good thoughts, speak good words, do good deeds, and worship no demons.”

But innocence never lasts long in human stories. Ahriman whispered lies into their ears, and soon Mashya and Mashyaneh declared that he, not Ohrmazd, was the creator of earth, water, plants, and animals.

Their early life was harsh. For thirty days they ate nothing, wearing only leaves. Then they found a goat and drank its milk straight from the udder. Later they killed a sheep, discovered fire by rubbing wood, and roasted its meat. But the more they ate, the hungrier they became. They quarreled constantly until, at fifty years of age, desire overcame them, and they bore twins. In their wildness, they devoured their own children.

Seeing this, Ohrmazd placed compassion in their hearts so that parents would care for their children instead of destroying them. From then on, Mashya and Mashyaneh bore more offspring: Siamak and Vashak, who gave rise to Faravak and Faravagin. From them came fifteen pairs of twins, and from those pairs grew the fifteen races of humanity.

From the first ox and the first man came the races of the world. But the secret of fire and why it still burns in every Zoroastrian temple is a story that waits for the next telling.

In the meantime, I’d love to hear from you: how do you think this story compares with the tale of Adam and Eve?