Parātrīṃśikā Vivaraṇa (Part 61): Idam, Tvam, Aham, and the Rise of Parābhaṭṭārikā

by Parābhaṭṭārikā Abhinava does mean the supreme Goddess Parā (depicted here), though with a fuller ontological weight than just a label.

Abhinava now takes the previous movement one step further inward. He has just mapped the field triadically as nara, śakti, and śiva, showing how difference, mixed unity, and pure non-difference structure even speech, hearing, and objecthood. He then brought the discussion down to a very precise level: the object-side, the pot, the determinate cognition ghaṭaḥ, and the indeterminate idam. That already prepared the ground for what now follows. The question can no longer remain only about outward speech or inward articulation. It must turn toward the deeper status of “this” itself. What is the real nature of idam when it appears? Is it merely the nara-side of difference, or does it conceal within itself a deeper Śākta power?

This is exactly the threshold of the new chunk. Abhinava now separates nāma-rūpa, which belongs to the side of difference and so to the nara-pole, from the very power of the determination “idam,” which is not exhausted by objecthood. From there he moves into the mystery of address: how the “you” of vocative relation arises when the apparently separate “this” is covered over by the speaker’s own aham. So the passage advances from object-appearance to the metaphysics of grammatical person. The earlier triad now becomes more intimate: idam, tvam, and aham are shown not as merely grammatical conveniences, but as stages in the unfolding of consciousness itself. And this, finally, opens into the rise of Parābhaṭṭārikā and the meaning of the uttama-puruṣa.

Even what appears as idam is not merely objectivity; its fulfillment lies in repose in its own source

yat punar idamityapi bhāsamānaṃ
[idamityasya vicchinnavimarśasya kṛtārthatā |
yā svasvarūpe viśrāntir vimarśaḥ so'hamityayam ||]

“And as for that which appears even as ‘this’ — the fulfillment of this ‘idam,’ whose vimarśa is severed, is that reflexive awareness which comes to rest in its own true nature: ‘so’ham.’”

Abhinava now returns to one of his deepest moves: “this” is not false because it appears as object; it is incomplete because its reflexive core is broken off from itself. That is why he calls it vicchinna-vimarśa — reflexive awareness in a severed or interrupted mode. The object appears, but its living identity with consciousness is veiled. So idam is not denied; it is diagnosed.

The key word is kṛtārthatā — fulfillment, consummation, arriving at what it was really for. Abhinava does not say that “this” is fulfilled by being destroyed. He says it is fulfilled when it comes to rest in its own true nature. That rest is not inert extinction. It is vimarśa — reflexive awareness — recovering itself from its own contraction.

And that recovered state is named so’ham. This matters a lot. Abhinava does not jump straight from “this” to a bare, isolated “I.” He gives the intermediate living recognition: “I am that.” What had stood there as object, as “this,” is reabsorbed into identity without being treated as a second thing. The apparent outwardness of the object is overcome not by erasing manifestation, but by seeing its truth in the same reflexive awareness.

So the line is severe and precise. Whenever “this” appears as merely “this,” consciousness has taken on a divided posture. The object seems cut off, finished in itself, external. But that is not its truth. Its truth lies in the reflexive awareness from which it has never actually departed. Therefore its fulfillment is repose in its own source.

This is a crucial threshold for the whole chunk. Abhinava is preparing to explain how idam, tvam, and aham are not merely grammatical forms, but stages in the self-articulation of consciousness. So he starts by refusing to let “this” remain a dead object. Even here, in idam, the pulse of recognition is waiting to be restored.

So the force of the passage is this: “this” is contracted consciousness. Its fulfillment lies not in annihilation, but in returning to reflexive repose in its own source, as so’ham.

“This is a pot” is, in truth, Pareśa’s Śakti shining as the Self, not mere “thisness”

ghaṭo'yamityadhyavasā nāmarūpātirekiṇī |

pareśaśaktirātmeva bhāsate na tvidantayā ||

“‘This is a pot’ — that determination, which surpasses mere name and form, is in truth Pareśa’s Śakti shining as the Self, not as mere ‘this-ness.’”

Abhinava now restates the old point, but not mechanically. He needs it here because he is about to move from idam into tvam and then toward aham again. So before that transition, he reminds us that even the simple cognition “this is a pot” is not exhausted by objecthood.

The key phrase is nāmarūpātirekiṇī — “going beyond name and form.” That does not mean name and form are absent. The cognition obviously uses them. “Pot” is a name; the pot appears in form. But the point is that what truly shines there is not reducible to those determinations. The object-cognition carries something deeper than the object as object.

That deeper thing is stated with total clarity: pareśaśaktir ātmeva bhāsate — Pareśa’s Śakti shines there as the Self itself. This is very strong. Abhinava is not saying that after object-cognition happens, one may later reinterpret it spiritually. He is saying that the cognition itself, in its truth, is already Śakti shining as Self. The problem is not that the truth is absent, but that it is misread.

That is why he adds na tu idantayā — not as mere “this-ness.” The object appears as idam, yes. But “this-ness” is not its final ontological status. If one stops there, one remains on the side of severed objecthood. The cognition is then treated as though it were only about an external thing standing over against awareness. Abhinava refuses that. The “this” is real as appearance, but its truth is Śakti.

This follows the previous point exactly. There, idam as such was said to be a severed or interrupted mode of reflexive awareness, fulfilled only when it comes to repose in its source as so’ham. Here Abhinava adds a sharper formulation: even before that fulfillment is explicitly realized, the object-cognition was never merely objectivity. Its truth was already Pareśa’s Śakti shining as the Self.

So the force of the passage is this: “this is a pot” is not merely a statement about a thing. It is Śakti appearing under the cover of objecthood. The object is not denied, but its supposed self-sufficiency is broken.

Name-and-form belong to the nara side; but the power of the determination “idam” is Śakti, because it is non-different from the Self

tatrāyaṃ vivekaḥ - ye punar nāmarūpe te bhedahetubhūtatayā narātmake
yat punar idamityadhyavasāyaśaktiḥ sā abhedatayā śaktisvarūpā
yata ātmeva iyam abhinnā - ahantācchāditatvāt |

“Here the distinction is this: name and form, insofar as they are causes of differentiation, belong to the nature of nara. But the power of the determination ‘this’ is, by reason of non-difference, of the nature of Śakti, because it is non-different from the Self, though covered over by aham-ness.”

Abhinava now makes a very subtle split inside what we usually treat as one thing. We say “this object,” and it seems like a single unit. He says no — there are two layers here, and they do not belong to the same side.

First, nāma-rūpa — name and form. These belong to the nara side because they are bheda-hetu, causes or supports of differentiation. They make the thing stand out as this particular thing: a pot, this shape, this bounded object, not another. This is exactly the side of contraction, delimitation, separateness. So when consciousness hardens into distinct objecthood through name and form, that is nara-dominance.

But that is not the whole story. There is also the idam-adhyavasāya-śakti — the power by which the determination “this” occurs at all. And Abhinava says this is not nara, but Śakti. Why? Because it is abhedatayā śaktisvarūpā — of the nature of Śakti through non-difference. It is non-different from the Self itself.

That is the crucial move. The object as object, with its name and form, belongs to the side of difference. But the very power by which it appears as present at all — “this” — is not outside consciousness. It is the Self’s own power of manifestation. That is why Abhinava can say it is ātmeva iyam abhinnā — this is non-different from the Self itself.

Then comes the decisive qualification: ahantācchāditatvāt — because it is covered over by aham. This is subtle. The “this” is not really outside the I. It is a mode of the same consciousness, but veiled, overlaid, covered by the structure of aham. So the separation is not ultimate. The apparent outwardness of “this” arises within a deeper unity.

This point matters enormously because it prevents a simplistic reading of objectivity. Abhinava is not saying: objects are just nara, end of story. Nor is he flattening everything into vague sameness. He is showing that within object-cognition itself there is already a dual aspect:

• name and form as the side of difference, nara
• the power of “this”-determination as the side of non-different manifestation, Śakti

So the force of the passage is this: objecthood is layered. Its name-and-form side belongs to nara, but its appearing-as-“this” belongs to Śakti, because that power is never truly outside the Self.

In vocative address, the “you” means the Śākta form in which the “this” distinct from the speaker is covered by the speaker’s aham

yad āmantryamāṇatayā āmantrakāhaṃbhāvasamācchāditatadbhinnedaṃbhāvaṃ
yuṣmacchabdavyapadeśyaṃ tacchāktaṃ rūpaṃ tvaṃ tiṣṭhasi
ityatra hi eṣa eva yuṣmacchabdārthaḥ āmantraṇatattvaṃ ca |

“When, in the mode of being addressed, that ‘this’-ness which is distinct from the speaker is covered over by the speaker’s own aham-bhāva, then what is denoted by the word ‘you’ is that Śākta form in which you stand. For this indeed is the meaning of the second-person pronoun and the very principle of vocative address.”

Abhinava now makes a very subtle move. He has just split object-cognition into two layers: name-and-form belong to the side of nara, because they produce difference; but the very power of the determination “idam” belongs to Śakti, because it is non-different from the Self. Now he asks: what happens when this “this” is no longer left as mere object, but becomes the one addressed as “you”?

His answer is sharp: “you” is not just a grammatical convenience. It arises when the speaker’s own aham-bhāva covers over the sheer externality of the “this” that seemed different from him. In other words, the other is no longer left standing there as a flat object. The speaker relates to that appearing other through a mode already suffused by his own I-consciousness. That transformed relation is what the second person expresses.

That is why Abhinava says this is the Śākta form. The second person is not pure objecthood. Nor is it yet the sheer nondual aham. It is the middle field where difference is still there, but no longer in a dead way. The “other” is now alive within a relation suffused by consciousness. That is exactly the Śākta mode: difference still appears, but it is held within a deeper continuity.

So yuṣmacchabda, the word “you,” has ontological weight here. It does not merely point to another being outside me. It points to that mode in which the seemingly separate “this” is taken up into the speaker’s own field of aham and thus becomes addressable. This is why Abhinava says that this is both the meaning of the second person and the essence of āmantraṇa, vocative address itself.

So the force of the passage is this: “you” is not mere otherness. It is the Śākta transformation of objectivity, where the distinct “this” is covered by the speaker’s aham and enters living address.

The speaker addresses the other through an unbroken aham-camatkāra, recognizing the other too through the same wonder of I-consciousness

tathāhi yathā ahaṃ tiṣṭhāmi tathaiva ayamapi iti
tasyāpi asmadrūpāvacchinnāhaṃbhāvacamatkārasvātantryam
avicchinnāhaṃcamatkāreṇaiva abhimanvāna āmantrayate
yathārthena madhyamapuruṣeṇa vyapadiśati

“For just as I stand, so this one too [stands]. Recognizing that he too possesses the freedom of the wonder of aham-bhāva, delimited by the same asmád-form, one addresses him by means of that very unbroken aham-camatkāra, and designates him through the second person in its proper sense.”

Abhinava now deepens the previous point decisively. He had just said that “you” is not mere otherness, but the Śākta form in which the apparently separate idam is covered by the speaker’s own aham. Here he explains how that is possible. The speaker does not address the other as a dead object standing outside consciousness. He addresses him under the tacit recognition: “just as I stand, so this one too stands.”

That is the key shift. The other is not first grasped as pure exteriority and only afterward decorated with relation. Rather, the speaker implicitly intuits in the other too a mode of aham-bhāva-camatkāra-svātantrya — the freedom of the wonder of I-consciousness. The phrase is dense, but its meaning is sharp: the other too is not just “that thing there.” He too stands within the field of living selfhood.

That is why Abhinava says the speaker addresses him through avicchinna-aham-camatkāra — unbroken wonder of aham. This is very important. Address does not happen by stepping outside aham into alien territory. It happens from within unbroken aham itself. The second person is therefore not a rupture of selfhood, but a mode in which selfhood recognizes itself under a relational contour.

And that is also why the second person is called yathārthena madhyama-puruṣeṇa — the middle person in the proper sense. “Middle” here is not just grammar. It really is the middle field between sheer objecthood and pure first-person immediacy. The other is neither a mere inert “this,” nor simply absorbed back into an undifferentiated “I.” He is addressed as you precisely because the same aham-camatkāra is recognized there under a distinct presentation.

This follows the previous point perfectly. There, “you” was said to be the Śākta transformation of the distinct “this,” once covered by the speaker’s aham. Now Abhinava explains the inner mechanism of that transformation: the speaker recognizes in the other too the same freedom and wonder of selfhood, and therefore addresses him not as object, but as second person.

So the force of the passage is this: true address happens because unbroken aham recognizes itself even in the other. The second person is therefore a Śākta mode of consciousness — relational, distinct, but not severed from the same living I.

This is Bhagavatī as Parāparā; but in the unbroken, independent aham-vimarśa one stands as “I”

seyaṃ hi bhagavatī parāparā sarvathā punar avicchinnacamatkāra-
nirapekṣasvātantryāhaṃvimarśe ahaṃ tiṣṭhāmi

“This indeed is Bhagavatī as Parāparā. But again, in the unbroken wonder, in the independent reflexive awareness of aham, I stand as ‘I.’”

Abhinava now gives the polarity its proper names. In the previous point, the second person was explained as the speaker’s address to the other through an unbroken aham-camatkāra that recognizes the other too within the same field of selfhood. Here he says: that relational field, where distinctness remains but is no longer dead externality, is Bhagavatī as Parāparā.

That name is exact. Parāparā is neither sheer undivided interiority nor mere external difference. It is the middle current where relation is possible because distinction is present, yet not cut loose from the deeper unity of consciousness. That is exactly what the second person required. “You” was not pure objecthood, but difference held within aham. So Abhinava now identifies that field as the Goddess in her Parāparā mode.

But he does not stop there. He immediately contrasts it with something still more interior: avicchinna-camatkāra-nirapekṣa-svātantrya-aham-vimarśa — the reflexive awareness of aham marked by unbroken wonder and independent freedom. Here nothing further is needed. No relational contour, no second-person covering, no address. In that mode one simply stands as “aham tiṣṭhāmi” — “I stand as I.”

This is crucial. Abhinava is not demoting the second person or the Śākta relational field. He is situating it. Parāparā is real, luminous, and divine; it is the Goddess as the middle power where difference and non-difference meet. But the pure, independent standing of aham is more interior still. There consciousness is not mediating itself through “this” or “you.” It stands in its own self-vimarśa.

So the movement is very exact:

• idam: object-appearance, contracted and covered
• tvam: the Śākta relational field, Bhagavatī as Parāparā
• aham: unbroken self-vimarśa, independent freedom

This follows the previous point perfectly. The second person was made possible because the speaker recognized the other through the same aham-camatkāra. Now Abhinava says what kind of ontological field that is: Parāparā. And then he shows what lies deeper than that field: the unbroken, independent “I.”

So the force of the passage is this: the relational consciousness of address is Bhagavatī as Parāparā; but in the pure, unbroken aham-vimarśa, one simply stands as “I.”

Support from the Virūpākṣapañcāśikā: first, second, and third person do not stand outside the great Person of reflexive awareness

[tathā ca virūpākṣapañcāśikāyāṃ

prathamo madhyama uttama iti puruṣā bhedinasrayo'pi mithaḥ |
mattastu mahāpuruṣāt pratyavamarśātmano na bahiḥ ||

yuṣmaccepāpohavad aham iti yad bhāti bhinnamiva rūpam |
tad idaṃ bhāgavibhedo na tv aham ekosmi yan nityam ||]

“And so it is said in the Virūpākṣapañcāśikā:

‘The first, the middle, and the highest — these grammatical persons, though mutually resting on difference, do not stand outside me, the Great Person whose nature is reflexive awareness.

And what appears, as though different, in the form of “you” and “I,” through mutual exclusion — that is only a division of portions; I alone am the one who is eternal.’” 

Abhinava now brings in powerful support for the movement he has just unfolded. He has already said that “you” is not mere otherness, but the Śākta mode in which the seemingly separate “this” is covered by the speaker’s own aham. He has then said that this relational field is Bhagavatī as Parāparā, while the deeper, unbroken self-standing is pure aham-vimarśa. The Virūpākṣapañcāśikā verses now confirm that even the grammatical persons themselves — first, second, third — are not outside the one great field of reflexive awareness.

That first verse is extremely important. It does not deny that the grammatical persons are differentiated. It openly says they are bhedin-āśraya, resting on difference. “I,” “you,” and “he/this” are not identical in usage. But they are not outside the mahāpuruṣa, the Great Person whose essence is pratyavamarśa, reflexive self-awareness. This means grammar itself is being taken up into ontology. The persons are not merely linguistic conventions pasted onto reality; they are differentiated expressions within the one field of consciousness.

The second verse sharpens this further. What appears as “you” and “I,” as though truly separate, is only bhāga-vibheda, a differentiation of portions or aspects. It is not a split in the absolute sense. The eternal reality remains aham ekaḥ — “I alone am one.” That is not egoic inflation. It is the same point Abhinava has been making throughout: difference appears, relation appears, second-person address appears, but none of these stand outside the one self-aware consciousness.

This fits the previous point exactly. Parāparā was the field in which relation still lives; pure aham was the deeper independent standing. Now the citation shows that even first, second, and third person all remain within that same greater Self. So the progression is:

• idam is not mere objecthood
• tvam is not mere otherness
• aham is not private ego
• all three remain within the great Person of reflexive awareness

So the force of the passage is this: grammatical persons are real as differentiated modes, but they do not stand outside the one great reflexive Self. What appears as “I,” “you,” and “this/he” is only an internal differentiation of one consciousness.

This is the rise of Parābhaṭṭārikā, where the supreme personhood is the uttama-puruṣa

iti parābhaṭṭārikodayaḥ yatra uttamatvaṃ puruṣasya yaduktam

yasmāt kṣaram atīto'ham akṣarād api cottamaḥ |
ato'smi loke vede ca prathitaḥ puruṣottamaḥ ||

“Thus there is the arising of Parābhaṭṭārikā, where the supreme status of personhood has been declared:

‘Because I transcend the perishable, and am even higher than the imperishable,
therefore in the world and in the Veda I am proclaimed as Puruṣottama.’” [Bg. 15.18]

Abhinava now seals the whole movement of the chunk by naming its culmination: parābhaṭṭārikodayaḥ — the arising or emergence of Parābhaṭṭārikā. That is important, because everything that came before has been leading here. He began with idam, showing that even object-appearance is not merely objectivity but a severed form of reflexive awareness seeking repose in its source. Then he split nāma-rūpa from the power of idam-determination, assigning the first to the nara side and the second to Śakti. Then he moved into the second person, showing that tvam is the Śākta field where apparent otherness is covered by the speaker’s own aham. Then, going deeper, he said this relational consciousness is Bhagavatī as Parāparā, while the pure unbroken self-standing is aham. The Virūpākṣapañcāśikā then confirmed that first, second, and third person do not stand outside the one great reflexive Self. Now the final seal arrives: this whole ascent is the dawning of Parābhaṭṭārikā.

That is why Abhinava immediately links it to uttamatvaṃ puruṣasya — the supreme status of personhood. The issue is no longer ordinary grammar. “First person,” “second person,” and “third person” have been inwardly gathered and surpassed. What appears now is uttama-puruṣa, not in the grammatical schoolbook sense, but as the highest personhood in which all the lower distinctions are rooted.

The Bhagavad Gītā verse is therefore exact. Kṣara is the perishable, the manifest field under change. Akṣara is the imperishable, often understood as the undying principle or stable ground behind the mutable. But the speaker here says: I am beyond the perishable and higher even than the imperishable. That is why he is called Puruṣottama. Abhinava brings this in to show that the culmination of the whole movement is not merely a refined “I” within the field of distinction. It is the supreme Person who exceeds both mutable manifestation and its merely stable counterpart.

This matters because it prevents the reader from flattening the whole discussion into psychology or linguistics. The rise of Parābhaṭṭārikā is not just the shift from “this” to “you” to “I” within ordinary experience. It is the unveiling of the highest personhood in which those distinctions are grounded and surpassed. The aham here is no private ego, and even no merely relational selfhood. It is the dawning of the supreme reflexive center.

So the force of the passage is this: when idam, tvam, and aham are traced back through their real ontological depth, what rises is Parābhaṭṭārikā herself, and with her the revelation of the supreme person as Puruṣottama.