this image visually captures pratibhā: a sudden central flash, luminous but not yet divided into determinate objects. The human outline is present, but not psychologically individualized. That fits the Abhinava’s movement from parāmarśa not being vikalpa, to one pārameśvarī pratibhā giving rise to all later conceptual forms.


The previous chunk drew a very fine line: consciousness is not inert because it has vimarśa / parāmarśa, an innate self-apprehension; yet this self-apprehension is not vikalpa, because vikalpa begins only when bheda, difference, has flashed forth. In other words, consciousness is living self-presence before conceptual division.

Current movement now continues exactly from that distinction and strengthens it. Abhinava shows why vikalpa cannot be primary. Conceptual cognition depends on convention, memory of convention, prior experience, and therefore on a more original avikalpa. A concept does not arise from nowhere. Before the mind can determine “this is blue,” there must already be appearing, prior acquaintance, and a living flash that is not itself conceptual.

So the movement here is very tight: parāmarśa is not vikalpa because difference has not appeared; vikalpa itself depends on avikalpa because it has no independence; and therefore the ground is one pārameśvarī pratibhā, the supreme flash of consciousness, unlimited by time and capable of giving birth to all determinate cognitions of past, present, and future. Conceptuality is secondary; the living non-conceptual flash of consciousness is primary.



Self-apprehension is not like vikalpa, because difference has not flashed forth


na vikalpatulyatvaṃ - bhedānullāsāt


“It is not equivalent to vikalpa, because difference has not flashed forth.”


Abhinava begins by carrying forward the exact conclusion of the previous chunk. The innate self-apprehension of consciousness — parāmarśa, or more broadly vimarśa — must not be treated as equivalent to vikalpa. The reason is bheda-anullāsa: difference has not flashed forth.

This is the decisive distinction. Parāmarśa means that consciousness is inwardly self-present. It does not merely shine like a crystal or mirror; it knows its own shining. But this self-presence has not yet become the divided structure of conceptual cognition. Vikalpa requires difference: “this” as distinct from “that,” knower as distinct from known, object as grasped under a determinate form. Where that difference has not arisen, there is living self-awareness, but not conceptual construction.

A simple example helps. Before the mind says “this is blue,” there is already a flash of seeing. That flash is not dead. It is self-present. Awareness is not like a camera recording an image without knowing. But the judgment “this is blue” has not yet arisen. There is no fully explicit split into “I here, blue object there, and the concept blue applied to it.” That prior living flash is self-apprehending, yet not vikalpa.

So Abhinava is again refusing the false choice: either blank non-conceptuality or conceptual thought. There is a deeper possibility — luminous self-awareness before difference. This is why parāmarśa does not make consciousness conceptual. It only means that consciousness is not inert.


If difference became essential, it would produce objecthood


bhedasāratālabdhatayā tu arthabhāvaṃ kuryāt


“But if it obtained difference as its essence, it would produce objecthood.”


Abhinava now explains why the previous distinction matters. If parāmarśa or the self-apprehension of consciousness were to acquire bheda-sāratā — if difference became its very essence — then it would produce artha-bhāva, objecthood. It would no longer remain pure self-apprehending consciousness. It would become something standing as an object.

This is the danger he is avoiding. The moment difference becomes essential, cognition begins to move into the structure of “this.” Something is placed over against awareness as artha, an object, a knowable. That is the domain where vikalpa can operate: it determines, separates, fixes, and says “this is such.”

But the parāmarśa being discussed is prior to that. It is not an object appearing to consciousness. It is consciousness’s own inward self-presence. If we make difference essential to it, we turn it into something object-like and lose the very point. Then consciousness would no longer be self-luminous awareness before division; it would already be caught in the subject-object structure.

So Abhinava is tightening the boundary: parāmarśa is not inert, because it is self-apprehending; but it is not objectifying, because difference has not become its essence. If difference did become essential there, artha-bhāva would arise — the formation of objecthood — and the movement into vikalpa would begin.


Vikalpas cannot arise without avikalpa


vikalpānāṃ ca avikalpaṃ vinā nodayaḥ - asvātantryāt


“And vikalpas do not arise without avikalpa, because they lack independence.”


Abhinava now reverses the pressure. He has shown that parāmarśa is not vikalpa, because difference has not flashed forth. Now he adds that vikalpa itself cannot arise without avikalpa. Conceptual cognition is not self-grounding. It depends on something prior to it.

This is the force of asvātantryāt — because vikalpas lack independence. A concept does not appear from nowhere. Before the mind can say “this is blue,” there must already be some appearing, some contact, some prior non-conceptual presentation. Vikalpa works by determining, naming, distinguishing, and relating. But it cannot determine what has never appeared at all.

So avikalpa is not a secondary mystical decoration added after ordinary cognition. It is more basic than vikalpa. The non-conceptual flash comes first; conceptual determination depends on it. If there were no prior appearing, convention and naming would have nothing to fasten onto.


Vikalpa lacks independence because it depends on convention and memory


asvātantryaṃ ca saṃketādismaraṇopāyatvāt


“And this lack of independence is because it depends on means such as convention and memory.”


Abhinava now explains why vikalpa is not independent. It depends on saṃketa, convention, and on smaraṇa, memory. A concept functions only because there is already some learned relation between sign and meaning, and because that relation can be remembered.

When the mind says “blue,” it is not producing that determination from pure spontaneity. It is relying on a previously acquired convention: this kind of appearing is called “blue.” It also relies on memory: the convention must be retained and available. Without that remembered convention, the conceptual act cannot stabilize.

So vikalpa is secondary in a very concrete way. It is not the first flash of knowing. It is a later operation that requires prior appearing, learned sign-relations, and memory. This is why Abhinava says asvātantrya — lack of independence. Conceptual cognition borrows its force from what came before it.

An anthropological analogy may help. Some cultures and languages do not divide experience through the same conceptual conventions familiar to modern urban people. A language may have fewer basic color terms, or no exact number words, or may orient space through cardinal directions rather than “left” and “right.” The people are not less conscious, and the appearing itself is not absent. What differs is the available saṃketa, the learned convention, and therefore the later vikalpa that can arise. Without the convention and the memory of that convention, one does not form the same conceptual determination. This illustrates Abhinava’s point exactly: vikalpa is not independent. It depends on prior appearing, learned convention, and memory. The avikalpa flash is more basic.

So the hierarchy remains clear: avikalpa is primary appearing; vikalpa is dependent determination. Abhinava is not dismissing conceptual cognition as useless. He is locating it correctly. It works, but it does not stand by itself.


Memory of convention cannot occur without prior experience


saṃketādismaraṇaṃ ca tathā anubhavaṃ vinā kutaḥ


“And how could there be memory of convention and the like without prior experience?”


Abhinava now pushes the dependency one step deeper. Vikalpa depends on saṃketa, convention, and smaraṇa, memory of that convention. But memory of convention itself cannot arise without anubhava, prior experience.

This is simple but decisive. One cannot remember a convention that was never encountered. One cannot apply the word “blue” unless there has first been some prior experience of the word, its usage, and the appearing to which it is connected. So vikalpa depends on memory, memory depends on prior experience, and prior experience depends on a more original appearing that is not itself produced by conceptual convention.

This explains why different cultures or languages can carve experience differently. A person may perceive quantity, color, space, or kinship relations, but the later conceptual determination depends on learned conventions. If the convention is different, the vikalpa differs. If the convention is absent, that specific vikalpa does not arise. But the prior field of appearing is still there.

So Abhinava’s chain is now clear: vikalpa is not sovereign. It depends on saṃketa and smaraṇa; smaraṇa depends on anubhava; and anubhava presupposes a more basic avikalpa flash. Conceptual cognition is real and useful, but it is late. It stands on something prior.


Consciousness is not limited by time and the like


saṃvidaśca prāṅnyāyena kālādiparicchedābhāvaḥ


“And consciousness, according to the earlier reasoning, is not limited by time and the like.”


Abhinava now returns to the deeper nature of saṃvid itself. Conceptual cognition depends on convention, memory, and previous experience. But saṃvid, consciousness, cannot be treated in the same dependent and limited way. By the reasoning already given — prāṅ-nyāyena — consciousness is not confined by kāla and the other limiting factors.

This matters because memory and convention seem to involve time: first experience, then recollection, then later conceptual use. But the consciousness that makes this whole sequence possible is not itself trapped inside the sequence as one more temporal object. If consciousness were merely another moment inside time, it could not hold together past experience, present cognition, and future determination. It would itself be one more disconnected flash.

So Abhinava is preparing the next conclusion: behind the many vikalpas of past, present, and future stands one pārameśvarī pratibhā, the supreme flash of consciousness. It is not limited by the temporal order it makes possible.

In simpler terms: the mind says, “I saw this before,” “I know this now,” “I will recognize this later.” These are temporal vikalpas. But the luminous field in which before, now, and later are connected cannot be reduced to any one of them. Consciousness is what allows temporal continuity to appear; therefore it is not simply another item enclosed inside that continuity.


There is only one supreme pratibhā of Parameśvara


iti ekaiva sā pārameśvarī pratibhā asmaduktimāhātmyakalpitā


“Thus, she is one alone — the supreme pratibhā of Parameśvara — appearing in this way only as fashioned by the greatness of our own expression.”


Abhinava now gives the conclusion from the preceding chain. Since vikalpa depends on avikalpa, since convention depends on memory, memory on prior experience, and since saṃvid itself is not limited by time, the ground cannot be many separate flashes cut off from one another. It is ekaiva — one alone.

And this one is not a neutral abstraction. She is pārameśvarī pratibhā — the supreme flash of Parameśvara, the sovereign luminous emergence of consciousness. The feminine form matters here. Pratibhā is not being treated as a psychological function merely inside the individual mind. She is the divine power of appearing itself, the living flash through which all later determinate cognitions become possible.

The phrase asmad-ukti-māhātmya-kalpitā is delicate. Abhinava is saying that when we speak of her “in this way,” with these distinctions and explanations, this is shaped by the power or greatness of our own speech. The distinctions are pedagogical. They help show the structure, but they do not divide pratibhā herself. Our discourse may speak of intervals, memory, convention, avikalpa, vikalpa, past and future — but the reality being indicated is one.

So the movement is very clear now. Conceptual cognition looks plural and sequential. It says: this, that, before, after, blue, yellow, remembered, expected. But beneath this entire movement stands one supreme pratibhā, not fragmented by the distinctions that arise from her. The many vikalpas depend on her; she does not depend on them.


Though unlimited, she is the womb of all vikalpas


evaṃvidhā aparicchinnasvabhāvāpi sarvātmaiva madhye'pi vartamānabhūtabhaviṣyadrūpavikalpāntaraprasavabhūreva tathā


“Being such, although her nature is unlimited, she is indeed all-formed; and even in the middle, she is the very ground of birth for other vikalpas having the form of present, past, and future.”


Abhinava now completes the movement of this chunk. Pārameśvarī pratibhā is aparicchinna-svabhāvā — unlimited by nature. She is not cut by time, object, convention, or conceptual distinction. But this does not mean she is empty of manifestation. She is sarvātma — all-formed, the self of all.

This is the important paradox: because she is unlimited, she can give rise to every limitation. Because she is not confined to past, present, or future, she can become the ground from which vikalpas of past, present, and future arise. The unlimited does not stand apart from the limited as a sterile beyond. It becomes the womb of determinate cognition.

The phrase madhye'pi is especially subtle — “even in the middle.” This means that even within the ongoing flow of cognition, between one determination and another, pratibhā remains the birth-ground of further vikalpas. She is not only at the beginning as some remote source. She is present in the middle of experience, continuously giving rise to conceptual forms: “this is now,” “that was before,” “this will happen,” “this is blue,” “that is remembered.”

So the chain from this whole section is complete. Vikalpa is not independent. It depends on convention, memory, previous experience, and ultimately on avikalpa. Consciousness is not limited by time. Therefore the true ground is one supreme pratibhā, unlimited by nature, yet all-formed, and continuously giving birth to the determinate cognitions that appear as present, past, and future.

This is why Abhinava’s non-conceptuality is not blankness. Avikalpa is not a dead absence before thought. It is the living womb of thought. Conceptual cognition is secondary, but not alien. Vikalpa arises from pratibhā, depends on her, and remains possible only because her unlimited nature can bear every limited form without being reduced to any of them.


Addendum: Cancer pain, Ramana Maharshi, and the Abhinavian structure of experience


A severe example may help gather the whole chain. Take the case of a person with stage 4 cancer experiencing agonizing pain, and compare it with Ramana Maharshi experiencing cancer.

First there is raw experience: pain appears. Before the mind says “this is cancer,” “this is unbearable,” “I am dying,” there is immediate felt appearing. This belongs to anubhava and, in relation to conceptual determination, to avikalpa. It is not produced by convention. A baby, an animal, a saint, and an ordinary person can all feel pain before naming it. Pain does not wait for saṃketa, learned convention.

Then pratibhā is present as the flash of appearing itself. The pain is not a dead external datum. It appears in consciousness. This appearing has prakāśa, luminosity — it is revealed. But it also has vimarśa / parāmarśa, because awareness is not like a camera or crystal. The experience is inwardly self-present. Pain is not merely registered; it is felt. That self-felt quality is possible because consciousness is jaḍa-vilakṣaṇa, distinct from the inert.

Then vikalpa arises. In an ordinary person, it may say: “this is cancer pain,” “I am dying,” “my body is being destroyed,” “my future is gone.” These are not the raw pain itself. They are conceptual determinations structured by bheda, difference: I here, pain there, body as mine, future as threatened, death as approaching.

Then smaraṇa enters. The person remembers the diagnosis, scans, doctor’s words, previous suffering, stories of others, fear from earlier nights. Then anusaṃdhāna links it all together: “this pain is connected with my cancer,” “it is getting worse,” “this means decline.” This continuity can become practical understanding, but it can also become a chain of bondage when tied to contracted self-reference.

In Ramana’s case, the raw pain could still appear. The body was not inert stone. Anubhava occurred. Functional vikalpa could also operate: “there is pain in the arm,” “treatment is happening,” “the body has disease.” Smaraṇa and anusaṃdhāna could function enough for ordinary interaction and continuity. But the decisive difference is that the deeper aham-pratyavamarśa was not reduced to the body-mind identity. The primordial “I” was not swallowed by the thought “I am this suffering body.”

So the contrast is not:

ordinary person feels pain, Ramana feels nothing.

That is too crude.

The contrast is:

ordinary person:
pain → vikalpa → smaraṇa → anusaṃdhāna → contracted ownership: “I am the sufferer.”

Ramana:
pain → functional cognition → no final contraction of the primordial I into the suffering body.

In Abhinavian terms, the difference lies in whether pārameśvarī pratibhā, the supreme flash of consciousness, becomes obscured by contracted vikalpas, or whether the arising of pain, memory, and practical cognition remains within the unbroken self-apprehension of consciousness.

The brutal point: realization does not necessarily cancel sensation. It breaks the false ownership of sensation. Pain may appear, but the deepest I is not forced to become “the one destroyed by pain.”

 

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