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| Kālasaṃkarṣiṇī: the dark Śakti who gathers, devours, and reabsorbs time. This fits the chunk because Abhinava presents time not as an external absolute, but as Kālī-Śakti — the power by which sequence, action, limitation, arising, and dissolution become manifest. Here Devī is not simply a mythic figure of destruction. She is the power that projects time outward and draws it back into consciousness. The surrounding turbulence suggests kāla as movement, pressure, sequence, and dissolution; her stillness suggests the deeper akrama, the non-sequential ground in which time appears and is reabsorbed. The image captures the chunk’s core: space and time arise through Śakti, but they do not stand outside the Self. |
The previous chunk showed that svara is not merely vowel, accent, or technical sound-shape. Tone reveals citta directly: delight, grief, tenderness, command, praise, longing, peace. Abhinava grounded even accent and vocal effort in the body — throat, breath, contraction, softness, harshness — showing that consciousness becomes audible through sound.
Now he widens the same principle from voice into cognition itself. In every act of knowing, all Śaktis from a to kṣa converge. They do not appear as a dead alphabetic sequence, but as an immediate aham-ahamikā, a mutual surge of “I”-power in which the whole field of Śakti enters a single cognition.
From there Abhinava turns to space and time. Space is not treated as an independent container outside consciousness. It is raised through kalanā, through the measuring and differentiating activity of knowing. Without this spatial articulation, Meru and an atom would be indistinguishable. Difference requires a field in which difference can appear.
The same applies to time. Time is not an external chain binding Parameśvara from outside. It is the Lord’s own Kālī-Śakti: the power by which sequence, action, limitation, arising, and dissolution become manifest. This should not be confused with a later devotional image of Mother Kālī in a Bengali register; here the context is Trika-Krama, where Kālī is the power that manifests and consumes time.
So this chunk follows one intense movement: svara reveals citta; cognition gathers all Śaktis; kalana raises space; Kālī-Śakti manifests time; and the same Śaktis project time outward while swallowing it back into the Self. The world becomes extended and temporal, but neither space nor time stands outside consciousness.
In every cognition, all Śaktis from a to kṣa converge
evaṃ sarvatra saṃvedane sarvā evaitā vaicitryacaryācāracaturāḥ śaktaya ādikṣāntāḥ samāpatantyaḥ
“Thus, in every cognition, all these Śaktis, skillful in the movement and conduct of variety, from a to kṣa, converge together.”
Abhinava now moves from svara as tone revealing cittavṛtti into the deeper structure of cognition itself. If sound can reveal the movements of citta, it is because cognition is never a bare, isolated mental event. Every act of knowing is already a gathering of powers.
The phrase sarvatra saṃvedane is decisive — in every cognition. Not only in mantra. Not only in ritual. Not only in mystical absorption. Not only in refined aesthetic experience. Every cognition: seeing blue, hearing a voice, remembering a face, feeling grief, recognizing a word, touching an object, tasting sweetness, thinking “I understand.” In each of these, sarvā eva etāḥ śaktayaḥ — all these Śaktis — are present.
And they are ādikṣāntāḥ — extending from a to kṣa. This means the whole alphabetic body of Śakti is involved. The cognition does not arise from one isolated fragment of consciousness. The entire field of Mātṛkā, from the first opening of a to the dense conjunct completion of kṣa, silently converges in the act of knowing.
The phrase vaicitrya-caryā-ācāra-caturāḥ gives the tone of the passage. These Śaktis are “skillful” in the conduct of variety. They know how to move as difference. They know how to make one consciousness appear as pot, pleasure, blue, sound, memory, time, body, deity, word, and world. Variety is not a defect imposed on consciousness from outside. Variety is Śakti’s expertise.
So the cognition of a single object is already a miracle of compression. The mind says, “I see this.” Abhinava says: in that seeing, all Śaktis from a to kṣa have converged. The whole alphabetic body has gathered itself into one precise flash of experience. A cognition is small only from the surface. From within, it is the meeting-point of the total divine sound-body.
This continues the peak of the text. The universe was shown as one non-sequential fullness; now each cognition is shown as a local convergence of that fullness. The whole Mātṛkā enters the moment. The many powers do not wait in a line. They fall together into the act of awareness, producing the exact contour of this experience.
These Śaktis shine non-sequentially through aham-ahamikā
ahamahamikayā [yaduktam
ahamahamikā tu sā syātparasparaṃ yo bhavatyahaṃkāraḥ ||
iti kośe |] akramameva bhāsamānāḥ
“They shine non-sequentially through aham-ahamikā. As the lexicon says: aham-ahamikā is that mutual ‘I-making’ which arises in relation to one another. Thus, they appear in a non-sequential way.”
Abhinava now gives the mode in which these Śaktis converge. All powers from a to kṣa enter every cognition, but not by standing in a line. They do not appear like soldiers marching one after another. They shine akramam eva — non-sequentially, all at once, as a single living surge.
The key term is aham-ahamikā. On the ordinary level, the lexicon glosses it as a mutual assertion of “I,” a kind of reciprocal ahaṃkāra — “I, I,” “me, me,” “I am here,” “I too am present.” But Abhinava takes this ordinary expression and raises it into the metaphysics of cognition. The Śaktis do not merely coexist passively. Each one presses into manifestation with its own “I”-force. Each power affirms itself, yet all of them shine inside one consciousness.
This is not ego in the crude psychological sense. It is the living thrust of self-revelation. Every Śakti says, as it were, aham — not as a separate personality, but as a mode of consciousness affirming its own presence. The cognition is born from this mutual surge of powers. Illumination, differentiation, memory, tone, form, meaning, space, time, affect — all converge with this aham-ahamikā, this crowded divine insistence of presence.
This explains why cognition is so rich. When we see “blue,” the experience is not a simple blue patch. There is color, recognition, spatial location, contrast, memory, bodily orientation, subtle affect, linguistic possibility, attention, and the quiet self-presence of awareness. All of that flashes together. The mind later simplifies it into “I saw blue.” But Abhinava is describing the deeper event: many Śaktis shining at once, each carrying the force of aham, yet not breaking the unity of the cognition.
So akramam eva bhāsamānāḥ is essential. The Śaktis do not first appear one by one and then get assembled into experience. That would make cognition a machine. Rather, the whole field flashes as one, and only afterward the mind may analyze it into parts. The cognition is one lightning-strike of Śakti, not a slow construction of fragments.
This point continues the previous peak. The universe is one and non-sequential; the fifty letters are one and non-sequential; now every cognition is also one non-sequential convergence. The powers from a to kṣa gather in aham-ahamikā, a mutual divine “I-I” movement, and the result is the living flash of awareness.
Through kalana, the Śaktis raise the appearance of space as the transition of cognition
kalanāmayatayaiva jñānakramasaṃkramaṇameva diśyamānaṃ deśamutthāpayanti
“Being of the nature of kalanā — differentiation, measurement, articulation — they raise up space, which is nothing but the visible transition of the sequence of cognition.”
Abhinava now turns from the non-sequential flash of the Śaktis into the birth of deśa, space. This is subtle and strong: space is not treated as a dead container already standing outside consciousness. Space is utthāpita, raised up, brought forth, made to appear by the Śaktis themselves.
How? Through kalanāmayatā — their nature as differentiation, articulation, measuring-out. The Śaktis from a to kṣa shine non-sequentially in aham-ahamikā, but when their power becomes kalanā, when it measures, distinguishes, articulates, and makes “this” stand apart from “that,” then space appears.
The phrase jñāna-krama-saṃkramaṇam eva diśyamānaṃ deśam is the nerve. Space is the visible form of the transition of cognition. Consciousness moves from one determination to another: this here, that there; this object, that object; this color, that boundary; this body, that distance. That transition, when displayed, becomes deśa.
This is not saying that space is merely a subjective fantasy. It is saying something deeper: space is how consciousness displays difference as extension. When cognition differentiates, when the knowing-current marks relation, distance, direction, and distinction, the field of “where” appears. Space is the outward face of articulated awareness.
A simple way to feel this: when you look at a room, you do not first receive “pure space” and then place things inside it. The room appears through relational cognition — wall, table, distance, corner, near, far, above, below. Space is the meaningful spread of these distinctions. Without kalanā, there would be no articulated field; only undifferentiated appearing.
So Abhinava is doing again what he did with time and sound. The world is not denied, but its root is shifted. Space is real as manifestation, but it is not independent of consciousness. It is raised by Śakti’s power of differentiation. The Śaktis make cognition transition; that transition becomes visible as the field of space.
This is why the earlier akramam eva matters. At the root, the powers shine non-sequentially, all at once. But through kalanā, the one flash becomes readable as ordered experience. The indivisible surge becomes “here” and “there.” The full body of consciousness becomes the spread-out world.
Without this, Meru and an atom would be indistinguishable
anyathā meruparamāṇvoraviśeṣāt iti nyāyena garbhīkṛtadeśātmakavaicitryakriyāvaicitryātmakaṃ kramarūpaṃ
“Otherwise, by the logic that Meru and an atom would become indistinguishable, sequence has the form of difference in action, with spatial difference contained within it.”
Abhinava now gives the reason why deśa, space, must arise through kalanā. If consciousness did not raise up spatial differentiation, then Meru and paramāṇu — the cosmic mountain and the atom — would be indistinguishable. The vast and the minute would collapse into the same undifferentiated appearance.
This is not a casual example. Meru is maximal scale, cosmic magnitude. The atom is minimal scale, subtle minuteness. If there were no spatial articulation, no “here” and “there,” no near and far, no extension, no difference of magnitude, then the mountain and the atom could not be meaningfully distinguished. Difference requires a field in which difference can appear.
But Abhinava’s point is sharper: this spatial difference is garbhīkṛta, wombed, contained inside krama, sequence. Space and sequence are not two unrelated categories. The mind experiences difference through transitions: from this to that, from here to there, from large to small, from one form to another. Spatial variety is carried inside the sequential movement of cognition.
So krama is not merely chronological succession. It is the way consciousness makes difference readable. The Śaktis shine non-sequentially at the root, but when they move through kalanā, they give rise to ordered difference — space, action, relation, scale, direction, location. Without that ordering, everything would be a blank sameness.
This is why Abhinava’s nonduality is not lazy monism. He does not say, “Meru and atom are the same, so distinction does not matter.” He says the opposite: distinction is real as manifestation, and it must be explained. The mountain is not the atom. The atom is not the mountain. Difference appears because consciousness has the power to articulate itself as space, sequence, and action.
So the point is strong: unity does not erase difference; unity makes difference possible. The same non-sequential saṃvid that holds all Śaktis at once can also unfold as krama, where spatial and practical distinctions become meaningful. Parā Saṃvit is not impoverished by differentiation. She is so full that Meru and atom can both appear without either falling outside her.
Sequence and non-sequence are included in Parameśvara, but time does not bind Him
[yadāhuḥ - krameṇākrameṇa bhāvānāṃ paricchittiḥ kālaḥ na caitanmantavyaṃ - saṃvillagnā eva bhāvā avabhāsante tat kathaṃ tadanupaktasya bhāvajātasya kālayoga iti parameśvare eva kramākramasyāpi antarbhāva iti | nanu yadyevaṃ tarhi parameśvare kālayogaḥ syāt (?) na - iti manmahe kutaḥ tadbhāsanaṃ ca devasya kālī nāma śaktiḥ
“As they say: time is the delimitation of beings through sequence and non-sequence. But one should not think: ‘Beings appear only as attached to consciousness; so how could a class of beings not connected with consciousness have relation to time?’ For both sequence and non-sequence are included in Parameśvara himself.
If one objects, ‘Then time would belong to Parameśvara,’ we say: no. Why? Because that manifestation is the Lord’s Śakti called Kālī.”
The gloss now gives the deeper logic behind Abhinava’s claim that space and sequence arise through kalanā. It begins with a definition of kāla, time: krameṇa akrameṇa bhāvānāṃ paricchittiḥ kālaḥ — time is the delimitation of beings through sequence and non-sequence. Time is not merely a neutral container in which things happen. It is a way beings become determined: this comes before, this comes after, this has arisen, this has not yet arisen, this is simultaneous, this is not simultaneous.
But the gloss immediately blocks a wrong reading. Since all beings appear only as saṃvid-lagna, attached to consciousness, shining only in relation to awareness, one cannot imagine a separate class of objects outside consciousness that then somehow “has” time. There is no dead object-world standing apart from saṃvid, later receiving sequence from outside. The entire field of beings appears within consciousness.
Therefore the gloss says: parameśvare eva kramākramasyāpi antarbhāvaḥ — both sequence and non-sequence are included in Parameśvara Himself. This is crucial. Sequence is not outside the divine. Non-sequence is not outside the divine. The temporal and the timeless are not two competing realities. Both are held within the supreme.
Then comes the necessary objection: if sequence and non-sequence are included in Parameśvara, does that mean Parameśvara is subject to time? Does time bind Him? The gloss answers: na — no. Why? Because this manifestation is His Śakti called Kālī.
Here Kālī should not be understood primarily through the later Bengali devotional image of Mother Kālī. In this Abhinavian-Trika context, the reference points much more directly to the Krama doctrine of the Kālīs, especially Kālasaṃkarṣiṇī, the Śakti who draws in or consumes time. Abhinava integrates this Krama material into the Trika-Pratyabhijñā vision: the Kālīs become powers of consciousness, phases in the arising, measuring, and reabsorption of cognition itself. So Kālī-Śakti here means the Lord’s own power by which time appears as sequence, limitation, action, devouring, and return — not a goddess standing outside consciousness, but consciousness’s own temporalizing and time-consuming force.
This is the surgical distinction. Time is not an external force imposed on Parameśvara. Time is Kālī-Śakti: the Lord’s own power of temporal manifestation, delimitation, arising, devouring, sequencing, and dissolving. The supreme is not trapped in time; time is one of the ways His freedom flashes. Kālī is not a chain around consciousness. She is consciousness’s own power to appear as sequence and to draw sequence back into the non-sequential fullness.
So this first half of the gloss establishes the foundation: beings appear only in consciousness; sequence and non-sequence are both included in Parameśvara; yet Parameśvara is not bound by time, because time’s manifestation is His own Kālī-Śakti.
Kālī-Śakti manifests spatial sequence through forms and temporal sequence through actions
yaduktaṃ saṃvideva prameyebhyo vibhaktaṃ rūpaṃ gṛhṇāti avacchedayogādvedyatāṃ yāntī nabhaḥ tataḥ svātantryāt meye svīkārautsukyena nipatantī kriyāśaktiḥ tatra prācyabhāge kālādhvā uttare tu deśādhveti | yaduktamīśvarapratyabhijñāyām
mūrtivaicitryato deśakramamābhāsayatyasau |
kriyāvaicitryanirbhāsāt kālakramamapīśvaraḥ ||
iti |]
“As it has been said: consciousness itself assumes a form differentiated from the objects of knowledge. Through limitation it becomes knowable, like space. Then, by freedom, Kriyā-Śakti, falling upon the measurable object with eagerness to take it up, appears. In its prior aspect there is the path of time; in its later aspect, the path of space.
As it is said in the Īśvarapratyabhijñā:
‘Through the diversity of forms, He makes the sequence of space appear;
through the manifestation of diversity in action, the Lord also makes the sequence of time appear.’”
The gloss now explains how Kālī-Śakti, the Lord’s power of temporal manifestation, becomes readable as space and time. It begins with saṃvid eva — consciousness itself. Not something outside consciousness. Not a dead material field. Consciousness itself assumes a differentiated form in relation to prameya, the knowable object.
Through avaccheda, limitation or delimitation, what is originally undivided becomes vedya, knowable. This is compared to nabhas, space. Space appears when there is delimitation: here, there, this side, that side, distance, direction, boundary. Without delimitation, there is no articulated “where.” Consciousness becomes knowable by allowing itself to appear through such limits.
Then kriyā-śakti enters: by svātantrya, freedom, she falls upon the measurable object with svīkāra-autsukya, eagerness to take it up. This is a very alive phrase. Consciousness is not a passive witness looking at a finished world. Śakti actively takes up the object, measures it, engages it, makes it available for action and cognition.
From this movement arise two paths: kālādhvā, the path of time, and deśādhvā, the path of space. They are not independent containers. They are modes of Śakti’s articulation. Space appears through differentiated forms; time appears through differentiated actions.
The Īśvarapratyabhijñā verse seals it clearly: mūrti-vaicitrya gives rise to deśa-krama, spatial sequence. The diversity of forms makes space appear. Kriyā-vaicitrya gives rise to kāla-krama, temporal sequence. The diversity of actions makes time appear. A mountain and an atom differ spatially through form; walking, speaking, aging, cooking, remembering, and dissolving differ temporally through action.
So this gloss gives the architecture of ordinary experience. We think space and time are simply “there.” Abhinava’s tradition says: they are Śakti’s ways of making manifestation readable. Form-diversity opens space. Action-diversity opens time. The world becomes extended and sequential because consciousness, through freedom, takes itself up as knowable object and actionable field.
This is why the doctrine does not flatten the world. Difference is not denied. Space is not denied. Time is not denied. But their root is shifted: they do not bind consciousness from outside. They arise as Kālī and Kriyā-Śakti, as the Lord’s own power to display form, action, measure, sequence, and return.
The Śaktis project time outward and swallow it back into themselves
kālaṃ bahiryojanayollāsayantyaḥ svātmani yuñjānatvena grasamānāḥ
“They make time shine forth outwardly by joining it externally, and at the same time, by uniting it with themselves, they swallow it back into their own Self.”
Abhinava now gives the living pulse behind time. The Śaktis do not merely create a static world in space, nor do they merely allow sequence to appear. They ullāsayanti — they make time flash, shine, surge outward. Kāla becomes visible as external arrangement: before and after, earlier and later, arising and dissolving, action and result, waiting and completion.
But this outward projection is only half the movement. The same Śaktis also grasamānāḥ — swallow it. Time is projected outward, but it is not abandoned outside consciousness. It is drawn back into svātman, into their own Self, through yuñjānatva, the act of joining or yoking it back.
This is the same rhythm we have seen again and again: visarga emits and reabsorbs; ha expands and returns into bindu; the universe appears and is swallowed back into Parameśvara. Now the same structure is applied to time itself. Time is emitted as the field of sequence, then consumed back into the non-sequential Self.
This is not abstract metaphysics. Human life feels time as an external pressure: deadlines, aging, decay, memory, waiting, loss, fear of what comes next. From the contracted side, time feels like something imposed on us. But Abhinava is saying that time’s outwardness is itself Śakti’s projection. It shines outward, but its root remains inward. It can be swallowed back because it never truly left consciousness.
So the Śaktis are not only creators of temporal experience; they are also its devourers. They make time appear outside as the stage of action, and then they reclaim it into the Self. What looked like an external chain is revealed as an emitted-and-reabsorbed movement of awareness.
This is fierce and precise: time is real as manifestation, but not sovereign over consciousness. It appears by Śakti’s outward shining and disappears by Śakti’s inward swallowing. The same power that makes us live moment by moment also holds the secret by which all moments are gathered back into the timeless.
A modern reader may naturally think here of Einstein’s relativity, because physics itself has shown that time is not the rigid, identical container imagined by common sense. Time is not measured in exactly the same way for every observer. But this should be taken only as an analogy, not as a claim that Abhinava “knew relativity.” Einstein speaks about physical spacetime, clocks, motion, and gravity; Abhinava speaks about kāla as a mode of manifestation within saṃvid. Still, the resonance is striking: both break the naive belief that time is an absolute external frame. For Abhinava, time is even more radically dependent — not merely relative to an observer in the physical sense, but arising as Kālī-Śakti, the power by which consciousness makes sequence, action, limitation, and return appear.
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