Parātrīṃśikā Vivaraṇa (Part 46): The Great Secret, Māyā, and the Power of Śakti

She is the trikoṇa, the Mahāvidyā, the Trikā, the abode of all rasa

Abhinava now gathers the previous movement to a close and turns it into a more concentrated doctrinal statement. He has already shown, through the specifically Kaula unfolding, that what appears first in the register of Śakti-union, remembered touch, vīrya-kṣobha, and bliss is not finally exhausted by erotic polarity or bodily process. Its culmination lies in a deeper nondual disclosure rooted in consciousness itself. For that reason, he now briefly seals the earlier discussion — even citing Somānanda to confirm the same point — and then says, in effect: enough of this extended exposition of the secret teaching. What has been shown is Anuttara itself, the giver of Kaula siddhi, known by which one attains sameness with Khecarī. From there the text naturally shifts into a new clarification: if this is indeed the supreme secret, in what sense is it secret at all? That question opens the next movement, where Abhinava begins to explain guhya, māyā, vidyā, and why Śakti is the true locus of mantra.

Somānanda is cited to support the same nondual point within erotic union

ityapi gītam | somānandapādairapi nijavivṛtau

bhagavatyā ratasthāyā praśna iti paraikamayatve'pi
tanmayamahadantarālābhiprāyeṇa

“And this too is sung. Somānandapāda also, in his own exposition, [speaks of it] as ‘the question when the Goddess is established in erotic union,’ even though there is supreme oneness there, with the intention of indicating the great interval made of that.”

Abhinava begins by showing that the line he has just unfolded is not his private innovation. He brings in Somānanda to confirm that the same point has already been seen within the tradition. That matters because the previous section moved through dangerous territory — erotic union, remembered touch, Śakti-āveśa, bliss — and such material can easily be misread either downward into sensualism or upward into vague symbolism. By citing Somānanda here, Abhinava steadies the reader: this interpretation belongs to the living current of Trika understanding.

The key phrase is not merely the mention of rata-sthā, the Goddess established in erotic union, but what follows: para-eka-mayatve’pi — even though there is supreme oneness there. This is the real doctrinal center of the citation. The union is not being affirmed as a dualistic relation between two ultimately separate poles. Even there, at the point where the language of erotic conjunction would most strongly suggest polarity, the text insists on a deeper nondual unity.

And yet Abhinava does not flatten that unity into featureless sameness. He adds: tanmaya-mahad-antarāla-abhiprāyeṇa — with the intention of indicating the great interval made of that. This is subtle and important. The point is not only that there is oneness, but that within that very oneness there is disclosed a vast inner interval, an interior expanse, a great in-between that is not duality and not mere collapse into blankness. That fits the previous flow extremely well. He had already shown that the erotic-sacral process culminates not in male/female opposition, but in Self-grounded bliss. Now this citation gives that same truth another contour: even in union, what matters is the disclosure of the great interior expanse proper to nondual awareness.

So this first point functions as a doctrinal bridge. It looks back to the Kaula unfolding and quietly seals its meaning. Erotic union is not being absolutized as an external rite, nor denied. It is being read as a site where supreme nonduality and the great inner interval can become manifest. That is exactly why Somānanda is brought in here.

Enough of overextended exposition: this is Anuttara, giver of Kaulika siddhi, and by knowing it one attains Khecarī-sameness

tadalam amunā trikaśāstrarahasyopadeśakathātiprastāvena | tadidam anuttaraṃ
kaulikasiddhidaṃ yena jñātamātreṇa khecarīsāmyam uktanayena || 

“But enough of this overextended discourse on the instruction concerning the secret of the Trika scripture. This is that Anuttara, the giver of Kaulika siddhi, by merely knowing which one attains, in the manner already stated, sameness with Khecarī.”

Having cited Somānanda to confirm the same nondual point within the Kaula register, Abhinava now draws the whole preceding movement together with unusual directness. He says, in effect: enough. Enough of the extended unfolding, enough of the detailed exposition of the Trika secret. That gesture matters. It does not signal impatience, but completion. The point has been carried as far as needed through the language of Śakti-union, remembered touch, vīrya-kṣobha, Brahman-bliss, and cosmic manifestation. Now it is named in its essential form.

And that name is Anuttara. This is crucial. Everything just unfolded is not being left behind as a lower ritual register, nor merely tolerated as symbolic language. It is gathered into the highest doctrinal term itself. What has been shown through the Kaula process is none other than Anuttara. That is the force of tad idam anuttaram — this very thing is Anuttara.

Then Abhinava adds: kaulika-siddhidam — giver of Kaulika siddhi. So the Kaula unfolding was not ornamental. It was the concrete revelatory body through which Anuttara was being made visible. And yet its fruit is not some limited rite-bound success. It is siddhi in the deepest sense: the accomplishment proper to the Kaulika vision itself.

The next phrase completes the seal: yena jñātamātreṇa — by merely knowing which. This does not mean shallow intellectual acquaintance. Abhinava has already prepared that point many times. “Knowing” here means real recognition, the kind of knowing by which the thing no longer remains exterior. So once again the center is recognition, not manufacture.

And the fruit of that recognition is stated with full continuity: khecarī-sāmya — sameness with Khecarī, uktanayena, in the manner already explained. This ties the line directly back into the earlier doctrinal core, where liberation itself was said to be sameness with Khecarī, and Khecarī was shown not as a mere mudrā or bodily technique, but as the subtle Śakti-state by which recognition of Anuttara is actually accomplished. So Abhinava is not introducing something new here. He is closing the circle.

That is why this point is so strong. It gathers the whole prior exposition into one clean doctrinal compression:

what was unfolded through Kaula imagery and experience
is Anuttara;
Anuttara gives Kaulika siddhi;
and by truly knowing it, one attains sameness with Khecarī.

So this verse functions as both closure and threshold. It seals the previous long exposition, but it also opens the next question: if this is the supreme secret itself, then in what sense is it called guhya? That is the door the text is about to open.

The disciple’s request: “Tell me this secret, this great secret”

etadguhyaṃ mahāguhyaṃ kathaya sva mama prabho

“O Lord, tell me this secret, this great secret.”

After Abhinava has just sealed the whole previous unfolding by saying, in effect, “enough — this is Anuttara itself, giver of Kaulika siddhi, known by which one attains Khecarī-sameness,” the discourse now narrows into a more concentrated form. The earlier exposition has been gathered up. What follows is not a new subject, but a more direct penetration into its status. If this is indeed Anuttara, if it is the heart of the Trika secret, then it is natural that the next movement takes the form of an explicit request: tell me this secret.

The doubling matters: guhyaṃ mahāguhyam. It is not only secret, but great secret. This is not mere emphasis for ornament. The text is preparing to explain a paradox. The highest reality is going to be called secret, not because it is far away, not because it belongs to a select class by external privilege, but because what is nearest is somehow not evident. So before giving the doctrinal explanation, the text lets the request be voiced in its naked form.

This also fits the previous flow very well. The earlier Kaula unfolding had moved through material easily misunderstood — erotic union, remembered touch, Śakti-āveśa, Brahman-bliss. Then Abhinava compressed all of it into Anuttara and Khecarī-sāmya. At that point, the teaching has become both clearer and more demanding. It is clearer because the doctrinal center has been named. It is more demanding because the reader can no longer hide behind the outer forms. The question must now be faced directly: what exactly makes this “secret”?

So this brief line functions as a hinge. It is simple on the surface, but it opens the next doctrinal movement. The exposition has ended; the demand for inner clarification begins.

Why it is called secret and yet great: hidden in Māyā as non-recognition, yet not truly absent from anyone

guhyam aprakaṭatvāt yato guhāyāṃ māyāyāṃ svarūpāparijñānamayyāṃ satyāṃ
sthitamapi [sthitamityatra ayamāśayaḥ - sarvathā hi prakāśasvarūpa ātmā tāvat
prakāśata eva na kenāpi aṃśena na prakāśate iti aprakaṭamiti sarvathā
hṛdayaṃgamībhāvamaprāptamityarthaḥ |] aprakaṭam | atha ca mahat aguhyaṃ sarvasya
evaṃvidhacamatkāramayatvāt |

“It is secret because it is unmanifest: for, although it abides in the cave — in Māyā, which consists in non-recognition of one’s own nature — it remains unmanifest. [The intention in ‘abides’ here is this: the Self, whose nature is light, does indeed shine in every way; it is not that it fails to shine in any respect. Therefore ‘unmanifest’ means that it has not become fully heart-penetratingly evident.] And yet it is great, not non-secret, because everyone is of the nature of such wonder.”

Abhinava now answers the question he has just allowed to arise: in what sense is Anuttara a secret, and indeed a great secret? His answer is subtle from the first sentence. It is secret not because it is absent, remote, or locked away in some external hidden place, but because it is aprakaṭa — unmanifest. That is already enough to shift the whole discussion. The secrecy of the highest is not the secrecy of distance; it is the secrecy of non-recognition.

That is why he immediately says that it abides in the guhā, the cave, identified here with Māyā, and specifically with Māyā as svarūpāparijñānamayī — made of non-recognition of one’s own nature. This is exact. The secret is not hidden because the Self is missing; it is hidden because the Self is not recognized as what it is. So the “cave” is not first of all some sacred physical interior space. It is the condition in which reality is there but not truly known.

The clarification added here is very important, because without it the phrase aprakaṭa could be misunderstood. The text itself prevents that mistake. It says plainly: the Self, being of the nature of light, does in fact shine always. It is not hidden in the sense that some part of it is literally dark or absent. Therefore “unmanifest” means only that it has not become hṛdayaṃgamī — it has not become something that has entered the heart, something fully inwardly evident, existentially real, no longer merely formal. This is one of the strongest clarifications in the chunk. The secret is not hidden from view because it is not shining; it is hidden because what shines has not yet become inwardly owned.

Then comes the paradoxical second half: atha ca mahat aguhyaṃ. The phrase is compact, but the force is clear. It is great, and in a certain sense “not non-secret,” because everyone is of the nature of this very camatkāra, this wonder-filled reality. In other words, what is most hidden is also most universal. That is why it is a mahāguhya. It is secret not because it belongs to a tiny corner of existence, but because it belongs to all so deeply that all overlook it.

This follows perfectly from the previous point. Abhinava had just said that this is Anuttara itself, giver of Kaulika siddhi, known by which one attains Khecarī-sameness. Naturally the question follows: if it is so central, why call it secret? His answer is uncompromisingly Trika: because the Self is shining but not recognized; because what is closest has not become hṛdayaṃgama; because all are already of its nature, and that is exactly why its hiddenness is so profound.

So this segment gives the doctrinal key to guhya. The highest is secret not by external concealment, but by inward non-recognition. And it is “great secret” because it is simultaneously hidden and universal.

Māyā as Śuddhavidyā: the trikoṇa called Māyā and the power of differentiated apprehension

mātṛmānameyamayabhedāvibhāgaśālinī bhagavatī śuddhavidyaiva trikoṇāmāyāyāmatiśayapratiphalitabhedāvagrahā
[cikīrṣālakṣaṇaparāmarśarūpā parameśaśaktirmāyā tataśca vastuto vidyaiva yā hi
jananabhūḥ sā kathamavidyā yat punarasyā avidyātvaṃ tat
srakṣyamāṇajaḍavastvapekṣayā iyameva sāṃkhyanaye prakṛtirityuktā yat
pañcastavyām

yāmāmananti munayaḥ prakṛtiṃ purāṇīṃ vidyeti yāṃ śrutirahasyavido gṛṇanti |
tāmardhapallavitaśaṃkararūpamudrāṃ devīmananyaśaraṇaḥ śaraṇaṃ prapadye||]

“The Blessed Goddess — possessing the undivided differentiation consisting of knower, means of knowledge, and object of knowledge — is indeed Śuddhavidyā herself, [appearing] as the trikoṇa called Māyā, as the apprehension of differentiation extraordinarily reflected there. [Māyā is the power of the Supreme Lord, of the nature of reflective awareness characterized by the will-to-create; therefore in reality she is truly Vidyā. For she who is the ground of generation — how could she be Avidyā? If she is called Avidyā, that is only with reference to the inert object about to be produced. This very power is what, in the Sāṃkhya view, is called Prakṛti. As it is said in the Pañcastavī:

‘Her whom the sages proclaim as the primordial Prakṛti,
Her whom the knowers of the secret of the Veda praise as Vidyā —
Her, whose seal bears the form of Śaṅkara half-unfolded,
that Goddess I, having no other refuge, take as my refuge.’]”

Abhinava now sharpens the paradox of secrecy by turning directly to Māyā. The previous point had already said that the highest is “secret” because it remains unmanifest within Māyā, which is made of non-recognition of one’s own nature. At that point, a simpler thinker might assume that Māyā is merely the dark opposite of truth, a lower principle standing against knowledge. Abhinava refuses that simplification immediately.

He says that the Goddess who bears the triad of mātṛ, māna, meya — knower, means of knowing, and known — in an undivided differentiation is in fact Śuddhavidyā herself. This is crucial. The differentiated field is not being handed over to a second, fallen principle wholly outside the divine. Even where differentiation appears, even where the triadic structure of knowing is present, the underlying power is still the Goddess herself. That is why he can speak of the trikoṇa called Māyā without turning Māyā into a mere anti-divine principle. The triangle is the place where differentiation is intensely reflected, but the reflecting power is still divine.

The clarification then becomes even stronger. Māyā is said to be Parameśaśakti, the power of the Supreme Lord, and of the nature of parāmarśa, reflective awareness, marked by cikīrṣā — the will-to-create, the urge toward manifestation. Therefore, says the text, in truth she is Vidyā. This is one of the most important reversals in the passage. If Māyā is the womb of manifestation, the power through which generation occurs, how can she be simply Avidyā in the final sense? She cannot. Her so-called “avidyā”-status is only relative — only from the standpoint of the inert objectivity that is about to emerge.

That last point matters a great deal. Māyā is not ignorance because she is devoid of consciousness; she is called ignorance only relative to the production of the differentiated object-world. That is a very different claim. It preserves the divine dignity of the power while still explaining how objectivity and limitation arise. Abhinava will not buy clarity at the price of dualism.

That is also why he brings in the comparison to Prakṛti in Sāṃkhya. He is not capitulating to Sāṃkhya, but showing that what others call Prakṛti is, in this vision, still the Goddess — still divine power, still Vidyā in truth. And the verse from the Pañcastavī seals that beautifully: the very one proclaimed as primordial Prakṛti is also praised by the knowers of revelation as Vidyā. So the apparent split between cosmological generativity and sacred knowledge is being healed at the root.

This follows the previous point with complete necessity. The highest was said to be secret because it remains unmanifest in Māyā as non-recognition. Now Abhinava clarifies that Māyā herself is not simply a dark prison. She is Śakti, Śuddhavidyā, Parameśa’s own power, the generative reflective awareness in which differentiation becomes possible. Her “avidyā” is only relative. In truth she remains Vidyā. That is the subtlety of Trika here: the very power by which concealment happens is not outside revelation. It is one of revelation’s own faces.

Why the Goddess is called Māyā: she is the emergence of “this” from the partially veiled “I”; therefore she is also mantra-vīrya

devī ca māyā yato hi iyahantācchāditonmimiṣvidantāsvarūpā sphuṭamidamahamiti
pratītirūpā ata eva ca anyatra mantravīryatvamasyā uktam | etaddaśāmadhiśayāno hi
mantraḥ svocitaphaladānasāmarthyabhāk bhavatīti |

“And the Goddess is Māyā because, when the ‘I’ is covered, she is of the nature of the dawning forth of ‘this’; she has the form of the clear cognition, ‘this [am I]’ or ‘I [am this].’ And precisely for this reason, elsewhere her nature as the potency of mantra has been declared. For when mantra comes to rest upon this state, it becomes possessed of the capacity to bestow its proper fruit.”

Reflection
Abhinava now makes the matter still more exact. In the previous point he had already refused to treat Māyā as a merely negative principle and instead identified her in truth with Śuddhavidyā, Parameśa’s own generative power, only relatively called avidyā with respect to the emergence of inert objectivity. Here he goes further and explains why the Goddess is specifically called Māyā.

The answer lies in a shift within awareness itself. When ahantā, the “I,” is veiled or partially covered, there begins to arise idantā, “this-ness.” That is what the dense phrase is pointing to: Māyā is the dawning emergence of the “this” when the pure “I” is no longer shining in full unobstructed force. This is not yet a fully broken dualism in the crude sense; rather, it is the first articulate tilt toward objectivity. The field begins to stand out as “this.” And the text says she is of the form of the clear cognition that presents this structure.

This is important because Abhinava is not speaking of Māyā here as mere error supervening upon a previously inert field. He is describing a precise mode of manifestation. Objectivity is born when the pure force of “I” is partially covered and the “this” begins to shine forth distinctly. Māyā is that moment, that movement, that power of articulation. So again, even concealment is not outside the divine process. It is a face of it.

Then Abhinava draws the practical consequence: for this very reason she is said elsewhere to be the potency of mantra — mantra-vīrya. This follows with real precision. Mantra cannot operate either in sheer inert objectivity or in utterly undifferentiated transcendence. It requires the field in which manifestation has begun to articulate itself, where there is enough emergence of “this-ness” for the power to move and take form, but not such gross fragmentation that the current is deadened. Māyā, understood in this precise Trika sense, is exactly that field.

That is why he says that when mantra comes to rest upon this state, it becomes capable of bestowing its proper fruit. The phrase is crucial. Mantra does not produce its fruit arbitrarily. It becomes fruitful when grounded in this living Śakti-state where manifestation is dawning. So Māyā here is not an obstacle to mantra in the simplistic sense. She is the very condition of its potency.

This follows perfectly from the preceding movement. First Abhinava explained that the “secret” is hidden not by absence but by non-recognition. Then he clarified that Māyā herself is not simply ignorance, but Śuddhavidyā and the divine power of generative differentiation. Now he shows more exactly how this works: Māyā is the emergence of “this-ness” when the pure “I” is partially covered, and precisely because of that she is the living locus of mantra’s power.

So the point is sharp: Māyā is not just the veil. She is also the articulated threshold on which mantra stands.

Mantra is to be applied in Śakti, not in the merely male principle nor in the supreme principle

uktaṃ cānyatra

na puṃsi na pare tattve śaktau mantraṃ niyojayet |
puṃstattve jaḍatāmeti paratattve tu niṣphalaḥ ||

“And elsewhere it has been said: ‘One should not apply mantra either in the male principle or in the supreme principle, but in Śakti. In the male principle it becomes inert; in the supreme principle, however, it is fruitless.’”

Abhinava now gives a further precision to what has just been said about Māyā, Śakti, and mantra-vīrya. If the Goddess, as the emergence of articulated manifestation, is the very potency of mantra, then it follows that mantra must be placed neither in the isolated puṃs-tattva nor in the utterly transcendent para-tattva, but in Śakti.

The point is very exact. In the merely male principle, mantra becomes jaḍa, inert. That is, where consciousness is thought apart from its expressive and dynamic power, mantra has no living field of unfoldment. It hardens into something static. On the other hand, in the supreme principle it is niṣphala, fruitless — not because anything is wrong there, but because in the absolutely transcendent there is no operative interval, no articulated emergence, no field in which mantra can function as mantra.

So Śakti is being marked here as the proper locus precisely because she is the dynamic threshold of manifestation. She is neither dead objectivity nor transcendence beyond all process. She is the living power in which expression, articulation, and efficacy become possible. That is why mantra belongs there.

This does not yet close the argument. Rather, it prepares what comes next. Once Śakti has been identified as the true locus of mantra, Abhinava can now deepen the point further by showing how this same Śakti, even as Māyā and world-womb, is in truth Vidyā, the great hidden cave, and the real abode of worship.

Tantrāloka support: the Yoginī-heart, liṅga, yoni, and the birth of an extraordinary consciousness

iti | tathā śrītantrāloke ca

yoginīhṛdayaṃ liṅgamidamānandalakṣaṇam |
bījaṃ yonisamāpattyā sūte kāmapi saṃvidam ||

iti |] bhavati

“And likewise in the revered Tantrāloka [5.121]: ‘This liṅga is the Yoginī-heart, characterized by bliss. The seed, through union with the yoni, gives birth to a certain extraordinary consciousness.’ Thus it is.”

Abhinava cites this verse to make the previous discussion clearer, not to leave it behind. He has been speaking about Kaula union, inner Śakti-touch, and the bliss that culminates beyond the ordinary opposition of man and woman. Now he gives a verse that shows the same process in a more concentrated form.

The basic point is simple: the union is important not merely because two poles come together, but because from that union a special consciousness is born. That is the real fruit.

So the words liṅga, yoni, and bīja should not be read in a flat way. They still belong to the erotic-sacral context, but Abhinava is making clear that they point beyond the gross act. The true liṅga is not just the male organ as a bodily thing; here it is called the Yoginī-heart, a bliss-bearing center. The bīja is not merely semen, nor only a mantra-syllable in isolation, but condensed generative power. And the yoni is the matrix in which that power becomes fruitful.

What matters is the last phrase: sūte kām api saṃvidam — “it gives birth to a certain extraordinary consciousness.” This is the whole reason the verse is cited. Abhinava wants the reader to see that the deepest issue is not the ritual act by itself, but the arising of consciousness through it. The erotic union is therefore neither denied nor absolutized. It is treated as a field in which a more essential birth can occur.

So the verse is doing one thing very clearly: it takes the Kaula erotic language and shows that its true center is the birth of awakened awareness.

And even more simply:

outer union is not the end; it is the condition in which an inner consciousness may be born.

Māyā too, as the womb of the world, is truly Vidyā; unrecognized in this way, she is called the great cave

iti māyāpi jagajjananabhūḥ vidyaiva vastutaḥ tat uktena neyana sā evaṃbhūtatvena
aparijñāyamānatvāt abhedamāhātmyatirohitatatpramātrādikoṇatrayatvāt mahāguhā
iti ucyate

“Thus Māyā too, as the ground of the world’s birth, is in reality Vidyā. But because she is not recognized in this way, because the glory of non-difference is concealed, and because she takes the form of the triad of knower and the rest, she is called the great cave.”

Abhinava now draws out the consequence of the Tantrāloka citation with even greater directness. If the Yoginī-heart, liṅga, yoni, and seed are all to be read as giving birth to an extraordinary consciousness, then Māyā herself can no longer be treated as a merely negative principle. He says it plainly: Māyā too, as the womb-ground of the world’s arising, is in truth Vidyā. That is the doctrinal point.

This directly continues what had already been established earlier in the chunk, but now with stronger compression. Māyā is not being redeemed by exception. Her very role as jagaj-janana-bhūḥ, the ground of the birth of the world, already shows that she belongs to the side of divine manifestation and not to some second anti-divine realm. As world-womb, she is generative power. Therefore, in truth, she is Vidyā.

But Abhinava immediately adds the crucial qualification: she is not recognized in this way. That is why she is called mahāguhā, the great cave. The hiddenness does not lie in any lack of divinity in her, but in the fact that her true nature is missed. And why is it missed? Because the glory of abheda, non-difference, is concealed, and what stands forth instead is the triadic structure — pramātṛ, and by implication pramāṇa and prameya: knower, means of knowing, known.

That point is extremely important. The “cave” is not a dark foreign prison standing outside consciousness. It is the condition in which the power that is truly nondual appears under the triadic articulation of experience and is therefore not recognized as what it is. So again the issue is not absence, but misreading. The Goddess is present as world-womb, as generative matrix, as articulated field, but because the majesty of non-difference is veiled by the triadic display, she is called hidden.

This is why the argument is still moving forward and not merely repeating itself. Earlier, Abhinava said that the highest is secret because it remains unmanifest in Māyā as non-recognition. Then he said that Māyā is in truth Vidyā, Parameśa’s own power, only relatively called avidyā. Then he showed that she is the dawning of “thisness” and therefore the locus of mantra-vīrya. Now he draws these lines together: Māyā as world-womb is truly Vidyā, yet because she is not recognized as such and because the triadic articulation predominates, she is called the great cave.

So the point is very clean: Māyā conceals not because she is outside truth, but because truth appears in her under the form of differentiated cognition and is therefore not seen in its nondual majesty.

She herself is in truth the abode of worship, the triśūla, in the Trika sense

saiva ca vastutaḥ pūjādhāma triśūlaṃ trikārthe |

“And she herself, in truth, is the abode of worship — the triśūla, in the Trika sense.”

This follows directly from the previous sentence and completes it. If Māyā, as world-womb, is in reality Vidyā, and if she is called the great cave only because her true nature is not recognized, then the next step is unavoidable: the very power that seems to conceal is also the real place of worship.

That is what Abhinava now says. The Goddess in this form is not merely something to get past. She is pūjādhāma — the abode, ground, or locus of worship. This is a strong reversal. He does not say that worship happens elsewhere while Māyā remains a lower obstacle. He says that she herself is the place where worship truly belongs.

Then he identifies her with the triśūla, but “in the Trika sense.” That matters. He is not speaking first of the physical trident as an external emblem. He is referring to the triple structure that has already been running through the whole passage — the triadic articulation of manifestation, especially the knower, means of knowledge, and known. What appeared earlier as the triad through which nonduality is concealed is now re-read as the very sacred structure of worship. So the triad is not false in itself. Mis-recognized, it becomes concealment. Recognized, it becomes the very ground of sacred approach.

This is very characteristic of Abhinava. He almost never solves a problem by throwing away the lower pole. He transforms the reading of it. The triad does not disappear by being denounced. It is seen as Śakti’s own form. Then what was cave becomes shrine.

So the point is simple but deep: the same triadic structure that seemed to bind consciousness in differentiated cognition is, in truth, the very triśūla and the real locus of worship — once its source in Śakti is recognized.

She is the trikoṇa, the Mahāvidyā, the Trikā, the abode of all rasa

taduktam

sā trikoṇā mahāvidyā trikā sarvarasāspadam |

“As it has been said: ‘She is the trikoṇa, the Great Vidyā, the Trikā, the abode of all rasa.’”

This line seals the whole doctrinal turn in a compact mantric form. Abhinava has just said that she is the real abode of worship and the triśūla in the Trika sense. Now he gives the positive names that correspond to that recognition.

First: sā trikoṇā — she is the trikoṇa, the triangle. This directly matches the earlier discussion of the triadic structure. But now the triangle is no longer the sign of concealment alone. It is named as her very form. The triad is not outside the Goddess. It is one of the ways she stands forth.

Second: mahāvidyā. This is crucial, because it confirms once again that Māyā, rightly understood, is not merely avidyā. In truth she is Vidyā — and not only Vidyā, but Mahāvidyā, the great knowledge-power. So the whole movement of the chunk has been pressing toward this reversal: what is hidden as cave, what is misread as ignorance, is in fact the great knowing power itself.

Third: trikā. She is not merely related to the Trika; she is its living body. The triadic structure, the doctrinal system, and the Goddess are not three different things. The Trika is her mode of manifestation.

Finally: sarva-rasa-āspadam — the abode of all rasa. This is a beautiful and important close. Abhinava does not end with a dry doctrinal label. He says she is the ground of all rasa, all flavor, all savor, all lived intensity. That fits the entire arc of the surrounding material: erotic bliss, camatkāra, mantra-vīrya, Śakti-touch, the birth of extraordinary consciousness, the world-womb, worship. All of these belong to one living field of divine expressivity. She is its seat.