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| Devotees and sādhus plunging into the Ganga at the Kumbha Mela — a living image of Dharma’s grandeur and intensity, which Abhinavagupta unveils as compassionate scaffolding, destined to dissolve into the heart of Bhairava. |
Vira Chandra: There are passages in the Para-trīśikā-vivaraṇa of Abhinavagupta that strike like lightning: not because they decorate philosophy, but because they dismantle the very scaffolding of religion. One such passage appears in the middle of the commentary, where Abhinava turns to the problem of śaṅkā—doubt.
Not the casual hesitation of the mind, but the primordial contraction (saṃkoca) of awareness into the sense of limitation. This, he says, is the first sprout of the tree of saṃsāra. From this hairline crack in infinite Consciousness comes the whole forest of birth and death.
What follows is even more radical. Abhinava explains that the entire structure of Dharma—the endless discriminations of pure and impure, edible and inedible, sacred and profane—does not belong to reality itself. These distinctions are imagined, fabricated, kalpitā, by the awakened as a provisional support for those still moving within contraction. Religion, he dares to say, is a merciful fiction: necessary for the immature, but destined to collapse once recognition dawns.
The text is uncompromising, but also deeply tender. He does not mock the scaffolding—he acknowledges its role. But he refuses to let us mistake the ladder for the sky.
In this post, we will move phrase by phrase through this section of the Para-trīśikā-vivaraṇa. I will first give the Sanskrit, then a close translation, and then a grounded commentary—bringing out the “grenades” Abhinava plants in the soil of ordinary religiosity. These are not dry words; they burn, they liberate, and they remind us that the heart of the Tantric path is not bound by constructs, even sacred ones.
yadiyaṃ saṃkocātmikā śaṅkaiva samullasantī rūḍhā phalaparyantā saṃsārabījataroḥ prathamāṅkurasūtiḥ |
“If this doubt (śaṅkā), whose very nature is contraction (saṃkoca), arises, becomes established, and extends up to bearing fruit — this is the first sprouting of the tree whose seed is saṃsāra.”
Here Abhinava pinpoints the most fragile yet catastrophic shift: śaṅkā — not doubt in the ordinary sense, but that trembling contraction of awareness into ‘Am I limited? Am I separate?’ This is the tiny hesitation that cracks infinity. From this hairline fracture sprouts the gnarled tree of saṃsāra, with its endless knots of birth and death.
The grenade here: our problem is not sin, karma, or even ignorance in the scholastic sense — it is this contraction of certainty into doubt. The whole world drama is nothing more than the fruiting of this first tremor.
yad uktam atraiva pūrvam — māyīya-kārma-mala-mūlam uśanti santaḥ saṃkoca-nāma malam āṇavam eva bhadrāḥ |
“As was said earlier, the noble teachers declare that its root lies in the impurities (mala) — especially the one called saṃkoca, contraction — which is nothing but the āṇava mala (the primal impurity of limitation).”
He ties this sprout to the old triad of mala: āṇava (limitation of Self), māyīya (of difference), and kārmic (of action). But the sharpness here: the whole machinery hangs on āṇava mala, the feeling “I am a fragment.” The grenade: Abhinava is saying, all mala, all karmic weight, all delusion, are but disguises of this contraction. If you see this directly, the whole root is exposed.
iti | atrāyaṃ saṃkṣepaḥ — yathoktamanenaiva — nātra bhakṣyābhakṣya-śuddhy-aśuddhi-vivecanayā vastu-dharmojjhitayā svātmā khedanīya iti |
“Thus, in brief: as has been stated, one’s Self should not be wearied with discriminations of edible/inedible, pure/impure, with such categorizations that are divorced from the true nature of reality.”
Here he fires straight at the fortress of Dharma-ritualism: don’t torment your Self with obsessive purity codes. If doubt-contraction is the real root, then obsessing over ‘pure vs impure food, right vs wrong caste’ is a distraction.
The grenade: for a medieval Indian theologian to say this — in a society built on purity rules — is dynamite. He doesn’t mince words: those distinctions exhaust the Self for nothing.
na hi śuddhy-aśuddhī vastuno rūpaṃ paramārthataḥ tayoḥ paraspara-vyabhicāra-darśanāt |
“For in reality (paramārthataḥ), purity and impurity are not intrinsic forms of the thing itself, since one sees them vary and contradict each other.”
This is dynamite: Abhinava refuses to let purity or impurity be treated as ontological. They are not inherent in objects. What one school calls pure, another calls impure. What one village reveres as holy, another rejects as untouchable. If they were intrinsic, they could not flip-flop like this.
The grenade here is double-edged: not only are purity codes socially relative, they are never more than constructs imposed by contraction. For Abhinava, to treat them as ultimate is to deepen bondage.
dhīrair ekatra yā śuddhis tatrāśuddhiḥ paraiḥ smṛtā |
vihitatve ’pi dānasya dīkṣitatve yathā punaḥ ||
“What the steadfast consider purity in one place is regarded by others as impurity. For example: even though an act of giving may be prescribed, it is nevertheless sometimes considered invalid if performed by one who is not initiated.”
He gives an example: one tradition praises generosity, another says it’s worthless without initiation. The same act is both meritorious and useless, depending on which doctrinal lens you wear.
The grenade here: Abhinava exposes the arbitrariness of religious codes. They do not flow from the essence of reality, but from the lenses of sectarian imagination. He is saying: wake up — do not exhaust your Self chasing consistency in a house built on contradictions.
kalpanāmātram evaitat tasmāt sadbhir upeyātām |
na kalpanā satyato vai mithyeyam iti niścayaḥ ||
“All this is mere construction (kalpanāmātram). Therefore the wise should make use of it, but not take it as ultimately real. They should be firmly certain: this is false, not truth.”
This is one of the sharpest grenades. He acknowledges the place of Dharma, ritual, injunctions — but says plainly: they are constructions. Use them as you would use a raft to cross a river. But know, without doubt, they are not the shore.
The tenderness here: he doesn’t mock religion. He grants it a role, but insists that seekers not be deceived by its appearance of ultimacy. The moment you absolutize the construct, you sink back into contraction.
tasmād atrottaratvaṃ hi codanā-pravicāraṇe |
etad khalu hy asaṃdigdhaṃ vādinaḥ prativādinaḥ ||
“Therefore, in the analysis of injunctions (codanā), the later ones take precedence over the earlier. This indeed is accepted without doubt by both those who argue and those who oppose.”
He slips in a destabilizer: injunctions are not eternal. They are context-sensitive, time-sensitive. Newer commands cancel older ones. That means “Dharma” is not a timeless rock but a shifting ladder.
The grenade: even within the ritualists’ own debates, Dharma admits relativity. Abhinava is showing that the whole field is already unstable.
iti | tatretthaṃ vicāraṇā — codanā hy abādhyeti bhīmāṃsaka-vākyena kathamaśuddham iti cet |
na śiva-codanāyā eva bādhitatvaṃ yuktisiddhaṃ yathā —
“Here one might ask: if (as the Mīmāṃsakas say) an injunction is indefeasible (codanā hy abādhyeti), then how can it ever be impure or invalid? The answer is: even injunctions of Śiva are rightly recognized as subject to being overruled, as follows—”
Now he takes on the Mīmāṃsā school head-on. They say injunctions are beyond doubt. Abhinava counters: even Śaiva injunctions can be sublated. Not even Śiva’s “laws” are final.
The grenade: authority of scripture, even divine scripture, is relativized. What matters is not the injunction but the awareness in which it is received.
saṃkoca-tāratamyena pāśavaṃ jñānam īritam |
vikāsa-tāratamyena pati-jñānaṃ tu bādhakam ||
“According to the degree of contraction (saṃkoca), there is what is called ‘bonded knowledge.’ According to the degree of expansion (vikāsa), there is ‘Lord-knowledge,’ and that alone sublates the former.”
This is the hammer blow. Dharma isn’t tested by books, but by the breadth of awareness. If your knowing is contracted, it’s “bonded.” If it’s expansive, it’s “lordly,” and it overrides the contracted view.
The grenade: hierarchy of truth is experiential, not textual. Recognition itself is the tribunal.
iti | tathā śivopaniṣadi —
kiṃcij-jñair yā smṛtā śuddhiḥ sā śuddhiḥ śaṃbhu-darśane |
“Thus, the Śivopaniṣad says: what the little-knowers (kiṃcij-jñāḥ) consider purity—that, in the vision of Śambhu, is no purity at all.”
He quotes scripture, but to overturn scripture. What the half-knowers cling to as purity is already dissolved in the gaze of Śiva.
The grenade: purity collapses under the glance of fullness. Even sacred injunctions shrink to childish constructs when seen from the seat of Śiva.
uktaṃ ca —
yo niścayaḥ paśujanasya jaḍo ’smi karma-saṃpāśito ’smi malino ’smi parerito ’smi |
ity etad anya-dṛḍha-niścaya-lābha-siddhyā sadyaḥ patir bhavati viśva-vapuś cidātmā ||
“It has also been said: the conviction of the bound soul is, ‘I am dull, I am ensnared by karma, I am impure, I am driven by others.’ But by attaining a firm opposite conviction, he at once becomes the Lord — the all-formed, Conscious Self.”
This is breathtaking: liberation isn’t hidden in some remote heaven — it turns on a shift of conviction. The animal-man says “I am bound.” In that belief, he remains bound. But if, in the marrow, another certainty arises — “I am not bound; I am Consciousness itself” — in that instant he is free.
The grenade: bondage itself is only a niścaya, a conviction hardened by repetition. Flip the conviction, and the whole fortress of saṃsāra falls like paper.
iti | sā cā aprabuddhān prati sthitir bhavet — iti prabuddhaiḥ kalpitā |
bālān prati ca kalpyamānāpi ca teṣāṃ rūḍhā vaicitryeṇaiva phalati |
ata eva vaicitrya-kalpanā-deva sā bahuvidha-dharmādi-śabda-nirdeśyā |
prati-śāstraṃ prati-deśaṃ cānyānya-rūpā |
“Thus, this (whole system) is a standing support for the unawakened, imagined (kalpitā) by the awakened. Directed toward the immature, once it becomes established in them, it bears diverse fruits. And therefore, from this very diversity of imagining, it is designated by many words such as ‘Dharma,’ etc., and it takes on different forms according to each scripture and each region.”
Here is the bombshell. The enlightened themselves fabricated this structure — not to deceive, but to give the unawakened a framework. And once rooted, this “scaffolding” grows into whole religions, sects, and systems of law.
The grenade: what most people take as the very backbone of reality — Dharma, Religion — Abhinava declares to be a compassionate fiction. Its plurality proves it is not eternal truth, but regional, cultural improvisation.
Tenderness lies in the fact that he doesn’t condemn it: for the “bālāḥ” (spiritual children), it is medicine. But for the one who sees, it is scaffolding, not sky.
yathoktam — glānir viluṇṭhikā [yathā spande]
glānir viluṇṭhikā dehe tasyāś cājñānataḥ sṛtiḥ |
tad-unmeṣa-viluptaṃ cet kutaḥ sā syād ahetukā ||
“As has been said — ‘Fatigue (glāni) is a plunderer. In the body, due to ignorance, there is its wandering. But when it is removed by the flashing forth (unmeṣa), how could that wandering remain, without cause?’ (Spanda Kārikā)”
Here Abhinava quotes the Spanda tradition. Lassitude, collapse of energy, is a thief. But if the unmeṣa — the sudden flash of expanded awareness — ignites, fatigue vanishes.
The grenade: saṃsāra itself is nothing but fatigue — a weary cycle sustained by contraction. A single flash of unmeṣa robs the thief. Liberation is not gradual accumulation but a lightning break.
iti | seyaṃ yadā jhaṭiti vigalitā bhavati, tadā nirasta-pāśava-yantraṇā-kalaṅko bhairava-hṛdaya-anupraviṣṭo bhavati |
“Thus, when this [construct] suddenly (jhaṭiti) melts away, then, freed from the machinery of bondage and without blemish, one enters into the very heart of Bhairava.”
Here Abhinava says it with devastating simplicity: when the scaffolding collapses, suddenly, the heart of Bhairava is entered. Not step by step, not after lifetimes — but in an instant of melting.
The grenade: the whole fortress of saṃsāra, Dharma, and ritual collapses like ice when the Sun rises. What remains is the heart of Bhairava, stainless, unbound.
iti sarvathā etad-abhyāse yatitavyam śrī-tilaka-śāstre ’yaṃ bhāvaḥ |
śrī-bharga-śikhāyām api uktam —
vīra-vrataṃ cābhinandad yathāyogaṃ tathābhyaset ||
“Therefore, in every way one must strive in this practice. This very view is taught in the Śrī-tilaka-śāstra. And in the Śrī-bharga-śikhā it is also said: ‘He should honor the Vīra-vow and practice accordingly.’”
Abhinava does not leave us in a nihilistic void after demolishing Dharma. He affirms practice: abhyāsa must be pursued. But the tone changes — not blind ritualism, but the Vīra-vrata, the vow of courage, dignity, and openness. The grenade here is tender: after blowing up the scaffolding of religion, he hands you a living vow — walk as a Vīra, practice with heart.
śrī-sarvācāre ’pi —
ajñānāc śaṅkate mūḍhas tataḥ sṛṣṭiś ca saṃhṛtiḥ |
mantrā varṇātmakāḥ sarve varṇāḥ sarve śivātmakaḥ ||
“And in the Śrī-sarvācāra it is said: ‘Through ignorance, the fool falls into doubt, and thence creation and dissolution. All mantras consist of letters, and all letters are of the nature of Śiva.’”
This seals the teaching. Doubt (śaṅkā) is what makes the fool tremble and thereby spawns the cycles of creation and destruction. But if all letters are Śiva, then every utterance, every sound, is already mantra.
The grenade: there is no monopoly on sacred speech. Religion says: “These syllables are holy, others are mundane.” Abhinava overturns it: all speech is mantra because all varṇas (letters, sounds) are Śiva. The “religious boundary” collapses into universal sacredness.
Standing in a storm
Reading this page of the Para-trīśikā-vivaraṇa is like standing in a storm. At first Abhinava shows us the tiny tremor of śaṅkā — the contraction that births saṃsāra. Then, one by one, he dismantles the pillars we usually lean on: purity, injunction, Dharma, even scripture itself. What remains standing is not an institution but the raw pulse of awareness, widening or contracting.
And yet, it is not destructive in the sense of cruelty. There is tenderness here: he admits that Dharma, religion, injunctions are scaffolding imagined by the awakened for those who still need it. He does not spit on it. He simply refuses to mistake it for the Real.
The thread that runs through all is contraction and expansion. In contraction there is fatigue, doubt, bondage. In expansion there is recognition, conviction, freedom. And when the scaffolding melts jhaṭiti — suddenly — the heart of Bhairava is entered without stain.
Abhinava ends by anchoring us in practice: the vow of the Vīra, the recognition that all sounds are Śiva, the refusal to let fatigue steal life. Here lies the balance: fierce clarity, but wrapped in the most intimate tenderness. Nothing is denied; everything is included. But everything is seen for what it is — construction or essence, contraction or expansion, doubt or recognition.
This is not a philosophy to admire at a distance. It is a mirror in which we must catch ourselves: where, even now, am I contracting into śaṅkā? And what happens when, even for a moment, I let the contraction dissolve and taste the unmeṣa — the sudden flash of spaciousness?
That is where Abhinava is pointing: not to religion, not to ritual, not even to philosophy, but to the heart of Bhairava that waits, unstained, just behind the melting of doubt.
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