In the hymns of the Ṛgveda, the word Ṛta appears like a recurring drumbeat — sometimes translated as 'order', sometimes as 'truth', sometimes as 'the way of things'. None of these alone is sufficient.
Ṛta is the principle that compels the rivers to flow toward the sea, the seasons to turn, and the just man to keep his word. It precedes the gods; even Indra and Varuṇa are its custodians, not its authors.
To live in tune with Ṛta is to live in tune with the breath of the cosmos itself. This is the seed from which dharma later grew — not a moral law imposed from above, but a music one learns to hear.
Reading these hymns today, one is struck by how startlingly modern they feel. The poets are not asking us to believe; they are asking us to notice.