The Frame Is Not the Flame

Kumbha Mela in Haridwar during1840-ies

eka evāgamastasmāttatra laukikaśāstrataḥ |

prabhṛtyāvaiṣṇavādbauddhācchaivātsarvaṃ hi niṣṭhitam || (Tantrāloka 35.30)

“There is only one Agama. Everything—from worldly teachings to Vaishnavism, Buddhism, and Shaivism—rests on that.”

Vira Chandra: Years ago, this verse struck me as a noble sentiment: a kind of spiritual pluralism. I nodded along, imagining a world where all faiths harmoniously coexist beneath the vast sky of Truth.

But that was before I saw how Dharma itself can be weaponized. Before I watched sects slip into cults, lineages into prisons, devotion into identity politics. Before I realized that even sacred mantras can become walls.

Now I see this verse with different eyes.

Abhinavagupta wasn’t making a plea for tolerance. He was declaring a radical ontological truth: all systems, all paths, all teachings are relative expressions of the One Agama—the primordial current of Knowing. What we call “Dharma,” in any of its forms, is not absolute. It is a local manifestation of something deeper.

This is not just metaphor. It’s like the shift from Newton to Einstein.

Newtonian physics works. It lets us build bridges, chart planets, and launch satellites. But it begins by assuming a fixed frame—space and time as constants, motion as absolute.

Einstein shattered that frame. In relativity, nothing is fixed. Space bends. Time stretches. What seems constant from one perspective is fluid from another. Newton’s laws aren’t wrong—they’re contextually true, but only within a limited frame. Beyond that, they dissolve.

Dharma is the same.

Structured traditions—mantra, ritual, lineage, even sectarian boundaries—they work. They transform lives. They structure consciousness. But only within a frame. That frame provides orientation, devotion, depth. It’s often essential. But it is not the sky. It is not the source.

And to walk the path, one must often choose the frame—just as a physicist says, “Let’s assume the distance from A to B is constant.” It’s a useful simplification. Within that frame, it’s real. But ultimately, it is not.

Truth is not compromised by contradiction.

It is revealed through it.

The Divine does not belong to any lineage. No robe, caste, mantra, or philosophy guarantees access. She comes when the fire is real. She comes to the one who burns—without bargaining.

...But what of the ancient claim—echoed across centuries—that ours is the highest path?

The Gaudiya says, “Krishna is the source of all incarnations. Goloka is the crown of all realms.” And he is right—from the vantage of rasa, lila, and the intoxicating sweetness of Divine intimacy.

The Ramanandi replies, “It is Rama who is supreme—majestic, dharmic, unshakable. Krishna is merely one of His masks.” And he too is right—from the throne of maryādā, where simplicity and cosmic order reign.

The Shaiva rises in fierce stillness: “There is no form. Śiva alone is. All gods are His flickers.” The Dzogchenpa smiles, beyond even god, and gestures to the unborn field where Rigpa shines without center or shape.

Each speaks truly.

Each points to a real experience of the Infinite.

None of them lie.

What appears “Supreme” is shaped by where you stand, by what you love, by how you burn.

And when that inner fire meets its corresponding form, it feels like the source. The center. The apex.

And it is—for you.

Supremacy is not a static fact.

It is a lived flavor.

Not a universal law, but a mystic angle of the Absolute—through your own soul’s geometry.

This is not weak pluralism.

This is the fierce clarity that knows: the One Agama shines through many rays, and each ray burns as the center only for the one who stands in it.

So yes—cling to your beloved form of God. Call Him Krishna, Rama, Devi, or the Nameless Flame. Pour yourself into the mantra, the mudrā, the mādhurya. But do not imagine this is the only shrine where the fire dances.

Because the One Agama is not a doctrine.

It is not a consensus.

It is the source-current behind every real revelation.

The tragedy is not that there are many paths.

The tragedy is when we forget that our path is not the whole sky.

That what saves you today may bind you tomorrow.

That the same flame burns in the heart of the Other—even if they call it by another name.

The Divine does not ask for credentials.

Only for surrender.

Only for that raw, formless cry.

All Dharma is One.

Not by decree. Not by tolerance. Not by agreement.

But because the ground of Being does not split.

It only appears to—when seen from within the frame.

May we honor the frame we are in.

And may we never mistake it for the sky.