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| A Trika-inspired image of Devī, evoking Parāparā as the Śākta field where reflection and manifestation begin. |
The previous chunk established the doctrine of pratibimba with great care. Reflection does not mean that the reflected manifestation becomes alien to the supreme. It remains of the same nature. But reflection does mean altered presentation. In Paśyantī / Parāparā, the supreme begins to appear through a mirror-like mode; therefore the tattva-order can become reversed without becoming separate from consciousness. What is Śaktitattva in Parāsaṃvid appears as earth in Parāparā, and what is earth appears as Śakti. This is why the order beginning from kṣa becomes intelligible.
Now Abhinava draws out the consequences for the alphabet and the Śākta order.
The key point is that in the kṣānta Śākta form — the Śākta form ending in kṣa — the ultimate meaning is still abheda, non-difference. The reversal does not create dualism. It does not throw the tattvas outside Parā. But in Parāparā, the mode is not pure unreflected non-difference either. It is bhedābheda, difference-and-non-difference, because reflection has begun. The same reality is present, but now in a mirror-field where difference can be threaded.
This is why Parāparā is described as parāmarśamayī and as having the body of the alphabet from ka to kṣa. She is made of reflective awareness; she is the alphabet-body in which the supreme begins to become articulated. The letters are not arbitrary phonetic units here. They are the body of manifestation in its reflected order. As Parāparā holds the reflections of the tattvas installed in Parābhaṭṭārikā above her, those tattvas appear through ūrdhva-adhara-viparyāsa, reversal of upper and lower. The original is above; the reflection is below; therefore the order turns.
This resolves the placement of earth at kṣa. It is not contradiction; it is mirror-logic. From the standpoint of the śodhya, the field to be purified, earth belongs at kṣa because we are in the reflected, reversed order. But Abhinava immediately guards against another misunderstanding: even there, the Parā-state does not disappear. The ka-based stream of letters remains, because the reflected order is still rooted in Parā. Reflection reverses presentation; it does not cut off the source.
Then he briefly touches the relation of letters, mantras, words, Madhyamā, and Vaikharī, but sets it aside as not the main topic here. That is important: he knows this could open another vast discussion, and he refuses to let it derail the current movement. He notes that he has already handled it elsewhere, in his pañcikās on Śrīpūrva and related texts.
Finally, he gives a challenge to the true recipients of this teaching: those whose knots of ignorance have been cut by Trika instruction should examine even the differing arrangements given according to the Mālinī tradition. This is not for lazy readers. One must cross the supreme limit of Paśyantī, the Anāśrita-Śakti as the starting-point of all manifestation, and then examine how these orders unfold. The point is not to choose one map mechanically, but to understand from which level, reflection, and function each map speaks.
In the kṣa-ending Śākta form, the ultimate meaning is non-difference
kṣāntaśāktarūpaparamārtha iti tatra abheda eva
“Thus, in the Śākta form ending with kṣa, the ultimate meaning there is non-difference alone.”
Abhinava begins by fixing the safeguard before explaining the reversal further. The order may end in kṣa. It may belong to the Śākta form. It may arise through reflection, inversion, and the mirror-logic of Parāparā / Paśyantī. But its paramārtha, its ultimate meaning, is still abheda eva — non-difference alone.
This is crucial because the kṣa-ending order can look like a descent into difference. We have earth, water, the tattvas, letters, purification, śodhya and śodhaka, reflected arrangements, reversed sequences. The mind can easily think: “Now we have left Parā. Now we are dealing with a lower symbolic system.” Abhinava blocks that. Even here, in the reflected Śākta order, the ultimate truth is non-difference.
But this non-difference is not the same as unreflected Parā. That is the subtlety. In Parā, non-difference is direct, unmirrored, without articulated distinction. In the kṣa-ending Śākta form, non-difference remains the ultimate meaning, but it is now expressed through the reflected body of letters and tattvas. Difference appears, order appears, reversal appears — yet none of this breaks the underlying abheda.
So this line protects the whole discussion from becoming dualistic. Reflection does not create a second reality. Reversal does not produce an alien order. The Śākta alphabet-body from ka to kṣa may articulate manifestation, but its heart is still the same non-difference of consciousness. The mirror has appeared, but the face has not become other than itself.
In Parāparā, there is difference-and-non-difference through the logic of reflection
parāparāyāṃ tu bhedābhedātmakatā pratibimbanyāyena
“But in Parāparā, there is the nature of both difference and non-difference, according to the logic of reflection.”
Abhinava now states the exact status of Parāparā. In the kṣa-ending Śākta form, the ultimate meaning is still non-difference. But in Parāparā, that non-difference is no longer unreflected in the same way as Parā. Here the mode is bhedābhedātmakatā — difference-and-non-difference.
This is not compromise or confusion. It is the structure of reflection. In a reflection, the reflected form is not wholly other than the original. It has the same nature; it is not vijātīya, not alien. But it is also not the original in its direct mode. It appears through another presentation, with orientation, dependence, and possible reversal. So the reflected form is both non-different and different in mode.
That is exactly Parāparā. She is not separate from Parā. If she were separate, the whole doctrine would collapse into dualism. But she is also not Parā in the direct, unreflected, utterly undivided sense. She is Parā beginning to appear as reflective manifestation. The supreme remains itself, yet starts to become displayable as “this.”
This is why the reflection doctrine is so central. It gives Abhinava a way to explain manifestation without either making it alien or dissolving it too quickly. Difference begins, but it begins inside non-difference. Non-difference remains, but now it can carry the first shimmer of distinction.
So Parāparā is the threshold where the mirror has appeared but separation has not. The face remains the face, but it is now visible as reflection. This is the birth of bheda inside abheda — not as rupture, but as the first reflective articulation of the supreme.
Parāparā is made of reflective awareness and has the body of the alphabet from ka to kṣa
sā ca parāparāmarśamayī kādi-kṣāntavarṇamālāśarīrā
“And she is made of Parāparā-reflective awareness, having as her body the garland of letters from ka to kṣa.”
Abhinava now defines the body of Parāparā more clearly. She is parāparāmarśamayī — made of the reflective awareness proper to Parāparā. This is not the unreflected self-rest of Parā, and not yet the gross differentiation of Vaikharī. It is the middle reflective pulse where the supreme begins to know Herself as displayable manifestation.
Her body is the varṇamālā, the garland of letters, from ka to kṣa. This matters because the alphabet here is not merely a linguistic instrument. It is the body of Śakti as articulation. The letters are the first structured pulses through which consciousness becomes nameable, thinkable, mantraic, and eventually worldly. In Parā, the whole is held without articulated sequence. In Parāparā, the letter-body appears.
The sequence from ka to kṣa also continues the mirror-logic. We are not in the direct unreflected order. We are in the reflected Śākta body where the tattvas can appear through inversion, where earth can be placed at kṣa, and where the whole alphabet becomes the field of manifestation. The letters are not arbitrary signs; they are the subtle joints of the reflected body of consciousness.
So Parāparā is not a vague middle goddess. She is a precise threshold: reflective awareness, alphabet-body, the first structured manifestation of the supreme. The face has entered the mirror. The body of letters has begun to form. And through this body, the tattvas will be held, reflected, reversed, and made available for mantra, purification, and śāstric arrangement.
As long as she holds the reflections of the tattvas placed above in Parābhaṭṭārikā, the tattvas arise reversed
yāvatsvordhvavyavasthitaparābhaṭṭārikāniviṣṭatattvapratibimbāni dhārayati tāvat teṣvevāmāyīyāśrautakādi-kṣāntaparamārthaparāmarśeṣu ūrdhvādharaviparyāsena tattvāni saṃpadyante
“As long as she holds the reflections of the tattvas installed above in Parābhaṭṭārikā, then in those very non-Māyīya, āgamic, ka-to-kṣa ultimate recognitions, the tattvas come into being through an inversion of upper and lower.”
Abhinava now gives the mechanism of reversal more fully. Parāparā, whose body is the garland of letters from ka to kṣa, holds within herself the reflections of the tattvas that are established above in Parābhaṭṭārikā. The source is above; the reflecting field is below. And because this is reflection, the order appears through ūrdhva-adhara-viparyāsa — inversion of upper and lower.
This is the crucial point. The tattvas are not being randomly rearranged. They are reflected. Therefore the order turns. What is higher in the original appears lower in the reflection; what is lower in the original appears higher in the reflected order. The mirror does not destroy identity, but it changes orientation.
Abhinava calls these recognitions amāyīya and śrauta. This matters. The reversed order is not Māyā-bound confusion. It is not ordinary error. It is āgamic, revealed, and non-Māyīya. The reversal belongs to a higher ritual and mantraic logic, not to ignorance. The reflected order is still grounded in supreme recognition.
The phrase kādi-kṣānta-paramārtha-parāmarśa also matters. This is the recognition of the alphabet from ka to kṣa in its ultimate meaning. The letters are not just sounds. They are the reflective body in which the tattvas are held, reversed, and made available for śāstric and mantraic operation.
So the whole structure becomes clear. In Parābhaṭṭārikā, the tattvas are installed in supreme fullness. In Parāparā/Paśyantī, they are held as reflections. Because they are reflected, upper and lower are inverted. And because the mirror is stainless and of the same nature, this inversion is not alienation. It is the supreme order appearing in the mirror-mode of Śakti.
This reversal occurs by the power of the upper original and lower reflection
ūrdhvabimbādharapratibimbadhāmasvabhāvamahimnā - iti tātparyam
“This is the intended meaning: it occurs by the power of the nature of the upper original and the lower reflected field.”
Abhinava now gives the condensed explanation of the whole reversal. The tattvas arise in inverted order because of the svabhāva-mahimā, the power of the very nature, of this structure: ūrdhva-bimba, the original above, and adhara-pratibimba-dhāman, the lower abode of reflection.
This is not spatial in a crude sense, as if Parā is physically above and Parāparā is physically below. “Above” means source, directness, unreflected fullness. “Below” means reflected manifestation, the mirror-field where that fullness begins to appear as articulated order. The original stands in the higher mode; the reflection appears in the lower mode. Because reflection reverses orientation, the tattvas appear through inversion.
So the reversal is not arbitrary. It comes from the very nature of reflection. Just as a mountain reflected in water appears inverted without becoming a second mountain, the tattva-order reflected in Parāparā appears reversed without becoming alien to Parā. The higher is seen below, the lower corresponds above, and the order turns because the mode of appearance has changed.
This phrase also protects the doctrine from over-symbolizing. Abhinava is not saying, “let us choose kṣa as earth because it sounds mystical.” He is grounding the placement in the structure of consciousness: original, reflection, inversion. The alphabetic order, the tattva-order, and the Śākta mirror-field are being held together by one principle.
So the tātparya, the intended meaning, is clear: the reflected order belongs to the majesty of the mirror. Parā remains the original fullness. Parāparā holds the reflected field. And because the reflection is lower relative to the original, the tattvas appear through upper-lower reversal.
Therefore there is no contradiction in assigning earth to kṣa from the standpoint of the śodhya-order
tataḥ pṛthivī kṣakāra ityādiśodhyarūpāpekṣayā na kiṃcidviruddham
“Therefore, there is no contradiction in saying that earth is the letter kṣa, and so on, when considered from the standpoint of the form of what is to be purified.”
Abhinava now states the practical consequence of the whole reflection-logic. If Parāparā holds the reflected tattvas of Parābhaṭṭārikā, and if reflection naturally produces upper-lower inversion, then there is no contradiction in assigning earth to kṣa. This is not a random tantric convention. It follows from the mirror-order.
The phrase śodhya-rūpa-apekṣayā is crucial — “from the standpoint of what is to be purified.” We are not speaking here from the absolute Parā standpoint, where everything is held in unreflected fullness. We are speaking from the side of the field that enters purification, the field where distinction has begun, where tattvas can be ordered, reversed, mapped, and worked upon through mantra and śāstra.
So when earth is assigned to kṣa, it is not because earth has become the ultimate source in a crude way. It is because in the reflected, purificatory order, the last tattva appears first. Earth is the densest and most final condensation; in the mirror-field it corresponds to the terminal letter kṣa and becomes the starting point of the śodhya arrangement.
This resolves a major earlier anxiety. Different tantric systems arrange tattvas and letters differently. Without Abhinava’s explanation, this can look like arbitrary symbolic manipulation. But here the difference has logic: direct order and reflected order are not the same. The śodhya-field follows the reflected sequence, so the earth-kṣa placement is coherent.
Thus, na kiṃcid viruddham — there is no contradiction. The contradiction appears only if one confuses standpoints. From Parā, the order is one thing. From the reflected Parāparā / Paśyantī field of purification, the order appears inverted. Once that is understood, earth at kṣa is not an error. It is the exact consequence of the mirror.
Even there, because the Parā-state does not disappear, the ka-based letter-stream remains
tatrāpi paradaśānapāyāt eṣa eva kādivarṇasaṃtānaḥ
“Even there, because the Parā-state does not disappear, this very stream of letters beginning with ka remains.”
Abhinava now adds another safeguard. We have just seen that, from the standpoint of the śodhya field, earth can be assigned to kṣa without contradiction, because the reflected order in Parāparā / Paśyantī involves upper-lower inversion. But this does not mean that the direct Parā-ground has vanished.
Paradaśā-anapāyāt — because the Parā-state does not disappear. This is the crucial phrase. Reflection does not cancel the source. The mirror-order does not erase the original order. The kṣa-based placement makes sense from the reflected purificatory standpoint, but the ka-based stream of letters remains because the whole process is still rooted in Parā.
So Abhinava is refusing another possible mistake. One might hear about reversal and think: “Now the kṣa-order replaces the ka-order.” No. The reflected order is real within its function, but it does not abolish the Parā foundation. The original remains present even in the reflection. The reflected sequence depends on it.
This keeps the doctrine sane. There are multiple arrangements because there are multiple standpoints: direct, reflected, purificatory, mantraic, śodhya-oriented. But these are not competing fantasies. They are modes of one consciousness. The kṣa-order is valid because of reflection; the ka-stream remains because Parā never disappears.
So the point is simple but decisive: inversion does not mean severance. The mirror may reverse the image, but the face has not ceased to be. The reflected order may begin from kṣa, but the ka-based stream remains alive underneath because Parā is still present as the unlost ground.
Because of her own predominance and the rise of Madhyamā and Vaikharī, the letter–mantra–word form belongs to the śodhya aspect
tatraiva ca svāṃśodrekāt svāṃśāntarvartimadhyamāpadollāsāt svarūpavartamānavaikharīrūpaprāvaṇyācca [prāvaṇyāditi lagnatvāt |] varṇa-mantrapadarūpatā śodhyāṃśavṛttiḥ
“And there too, because of the predominance of her own portion, because of the flashing forth of the Madhyamā level contained within that portion, and because of the inclination toward the Vaikharī-form present in her own nature — the form of letters, mantras, and words operates in the śodhya-aspect, the aspect to be purified. The gloss explains that ‘inclination’ means attachment or adherence.”
Abhinava now explains why, in this reflected order, the forms of letter, mantra, and word belong to the śodhya-aṃśa, the aspect to be purified. This follows from the same mirror-logic. Once Parāparā holds the reflected tattvas, and once the order turns toward articulated manifestation, the subtle body of speech begins to become operative as something that can be arranged, purified, and worked upon.
The phrase svāṃśodreka is important: the predominance of her own portion. In this reflected field, one particular aspect of Parāparā becomes prominent. The supreme is not absent, but now a portion has risen into emphasis. This is how manifestation begins to be handled: not as the undivided whole of Parā, but as a field where one aspect can stand forth and become the basis for further articulation.
Then comes svāṃśāntarvarti-madhyamāpada-ullāsa — the flashing forth of Madhyamā within that very portion. Madhyamā is inward speech, subtler than Vaikharī, but already more articulated than the unreflected supreme. It is the level where speech has not yet fully externalized, but has begun to take form as communicable meaning. In this śodhya-field, Madhyamā flashes within the reflected portion as an inner speech-body.
And from there comes the leaning toward Vaikharī, outward articulated speech: svarūpa-vartamāna-vaikharī-rūpa-prāvaṇya. Vaikharī is already present in the nature of this movement as its tendency toward expression. The gloss says prāvaṇya means lagnatva, attachment or adherence. The field inclines toward articulated sound, toward letters, mantras, words, spoken forms.
So varṇa-mantra-pada-rūpatā — the state of being letters, mantras, and words — belongs to the śodhya aspect. Once manifestation enters the reflected field, it becomes available to purification precisely because it can now be articulated. Letters can be placed. Mantras can be formed. Words can operate. The pure undivided fullness of Parā does not need purification. But the reflected speech-body, where difference has begun to thread itself through letters and mantras, can become the field of śāstric and ritual work.
This point also explains why Abhinava keeps tying metaphysics to alphabet and mantra. Letters are not merely linguistic signs. They are the body of reflected manifestation as it inclines toward Vaikharī. Mantra is not an arbitrary sacred sound pasted onto reality. It operates because the tattvas themselves have entered a speech-body where they can be purified, reversed, enclosed, and recognized.
Abhinava sets aside this side-topic, noting that he has treated it elsewhere
ityāstām aprakṛtametat nirṇītaṃ ca mayaiva śrīpūrvaprabhṛtipañcikāsu
“Let this be set aside, since it is not the present topic. And it has already been determined by me in the pañcikās on Śrīpūrva and related texts.”
Abhinava now deliberately stops this line of discussion. The relation between letters, mantras, words, Madhyamā, Vaikharī, and the śodhya-aspect could easily become its own large inquiry. He has touched it because it explains why the reflected order becomes operative as letter, mantra, and word. But he does not want the current argument to be swallowed by that side-topic.
So he says: āstām — let it be. Aprakṛtam etat — this is not the present matter. This is not avoidance. It is discipline. Abhinava knows exactly when a branch of the doctrine is real but not central to the present unfolding. The main point here remains the reflected tattva-order in Parāparā/Paśyantī and why the kṣa-based arrangement is not contradictory.
He also says that this has already been determined by him in the pañcikās on Śrīpūrva and related texts. So the topic is not being dismissed as unimportant. It is simply being placed where it belongs. The reader is told, in effect: this question has its own treatment elsewhere; do not let it break the present current.
This is typical of Abhinava’s control. The text is already dense enough: Parā, Parāparā, Paśyantī, reflection, reversal, alphabet-body, śodhya, śodhaka, mantra, speech-levels. He allows a glimpse into the wider system, then closes the door before the argument disperses. The river must continue in its present channel.
Those whose knots of ignorance have been cut by Trika instruction should examine even the Mālinī arrangements
yadyapyuktaṃ śrīmālinībhaṭṭārikānusāreṇa anyathā cānyathā sthitiḥ iti tadapi nirṇīya nirūpyamāṇaṃ vimṛśantu trikopadeśaviśīrṇājñānagranthayaḥ pārameśvarāḥ
“Although it has been said that, according to Śrī Mālinī Bhaṭṭārikā, the arrangement is otherwise, and otherwise again, let the Parameśvaras whose knots of ignorance have been torn apart by Trika instruction examine this, determining it and setting it forth clearly.”
Abhinava now returns to the larger anxiety that has haunted this whole section: different tantras give different arrangements. One order begins from a, another from kṣa, another follows Mālinī, another gives still another placement. To an unsteady reader, this looks like contradiction. To Abhinava, it is not contradiction when one understands the level, function, and reflective mode from which each arrangement speaks.
He mentions Śrī Mālinī Bhaṭṭārikā, where the arrangement may be anyathā ca anyathā — otherwise and otherwise again. This is exactly the kind of plurality that earlier produced the great disturbance for the āgama-knower. But now, after the long analysis of Parā, Parāparā, Paśyantī, reflection, reversal, śodhya-order, and alphabet-body, the reader is no longer supposed to panic. The task is to determine the standpoint of each arrangement.
The addressees are not casual readers. They are pārameśvarāḥ, those belonging to Parameśvara, whose ajñāna-granthayaḥ, knots of ignorance, have been split open by Trika-upadeśa. This is a severe phrase. Abhinava is not saying that anyone can glance at different tantric maps and reconcile them by vague tolerance. The knots must be cut. The mind must be trained by Trika instruction. Otherwise, the plurality of systems either becomes confusion or is flattened into empty “all are same” language.
So the instruction is: vimṛśantu — let them reflect, examine, recognize. And not lazily. Nirṇīya nirūpyamāṇam — determining it and articulating it clearly. This is the proper response to tantric plurality: not panic, not dismissal, not blind loyalty to one map, but precise recognition of the level from which each map operates.
This point is very close to Abhinava’s whole method. He does not reduce Mālinī to Mātṛkā, or kṣa-order to a-order, or Parāparā reflection to Parā’s direct fullness. He lets each arrangement stand, but only after locating its logic. The knots of ignorance are cut not by choosing one map against the others, but by seeing how each arises from a specific mode of consciousness, reflection, and śāstric function.
The examination proceeds after crossing the supreme limit of Paśyantī, the Anāśrita-Śakti
anāśritaśaktyātmakapaśyantīparamakoṭimatikramya [anāśritasya śaktisvarūpā yāsau paśyantī saiva paramakoṭiḥ sarvabhāvārambhāvasthā |]
“Having crossed beyond the supreme limit of Paśyantī, whose nature is the Anāśrita-Śakti. The gloss explains: that Paśyantī which is the Śakti-form of Anāśrita is itself the supreme limit, the initial state of all beings.”
Abhinava now names the height from which these different arrangements must be understood. Paśyantī is not a minor technical level. She is paramakoṭi, the supreme limit, because she is sarvabhāva-ārambha-avasthā — the initial state of all beings. She is the first high ridge where manifestation begins to show itself, where the unreflected fullness of Parā turns toward display, where the mirror of the universe first becomes possible.
But Abhinava says that those who truly examine the Mālinī and other arrangements must go even beyond this limit. That is the crucial point. If one studies these systems from below, from the foothills, everything looks contradictory. One tantra gives one order, another reverses it, another follows Mālinī, another follows Mātṛkā, another assigns tattvas differently. From below, these are competing maps. The mind starts comparing systems like a scholar surrounded by diagrams, proud of noticing inconsistencies but unable to see the mountain.
Abhinava is asking for something else. Rise higher. Cross the Paśyantī-threshold. Reach the point from which the maps are no longer merely textual alternatives, but different projections of one terrain. From the lower slope, paths seem to diverge wildly. From the summit, one sees why each path bends the way it does, which side of the mountain it belongs to, and what level of manifestation it expresses.
This is not anti-scholarship. Abhinava himself is more precise than almost anyone. But he is not doing scholarship from outside the current. He is not collecting tantric systems as intellectual trophies. The knots of ignorance must be cut by Trika instruction; then one examines. Otherwise, comparison becomes clever blindness: one sees differences, but not the level from which those differences are generated.
So this final point is a warning and an instruction. Do not reconcile these arrangements by flattening them. Do not dismiss them as contradictions. Do not admire yourself for cataloguing them. Cross to the level where the source of arrangement is visible. Paśyantī is already the supreme beginning of manifestation, but even she must be crossed if the whole play of Parā, Parāparā, reflection, reversal, Mālinī, Mātṛkā, and tattva-order is to be seen without confusion.
Only from that height does plurality stop looking like contradiction and begin to reveal itself as the precise self-articulation of Śakti.
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