AN

INTRODUCTION TO INDIAN
PHILOSOPHY

Satischandra Chatterjee (PhD) was formerly Head of the Department of Philosophy, Calcutta University.

Dhirendramohan Datta (PhD) was formerly Professor of Philosophy, Patna College, Patna University.
AN INTRODUCTION TO INDIAN
PHILOSOPHY

SATISCHANDRA CHATTERJEE
And
DHIRENDRAMOHAN DATTA
 Published by
Rupa Publications India Pvt. Ltd 2007
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 To
PROFESSOR S. RADHAKRISHNAN
And
THE LATE PROFESSOR K.C. BHATTACHARYA
Whose Teachings have Inspired the Authors
Contents

Preface to the First Edition

Preface to the Second Edition
Preface to the Sixth Edition
Preface to the Seventh Edition

CHAPTER I

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

I. The Basic Features of Indian Philosophy

1. The Nature of Philosophy
2. The Meaning and Scope of Indian Philosophy
3. The Schools of Indian Philosophy
4. The Places of Authority and Reasoning in Indian Philosophy
5. How the Indian Systems Gradually Developed
6. The Common Characters of the Indian Systems
7. The Space-Time Background

II. A Brief Sketch of the Systems

1. The Cārvāka System

2. The Jaina System
3. The Bauddha System
4. The Nyāya System
5. The Vaiśeṣika System
6. The Sāṅkhya System
7. The Yoga System
 8. The Mīmāṁsā System
9. The Vedānta System

CHAPTER II

THE CĀRVĀKA PHILOSOPHY

I. Its Origin and Scope

II. The Cārvāka Epistemology
1. Inference is not Certain
2. Testimony is not a Safe Source of Knowledge

III. Metaphysics
1. The World is made of Four Elements
2. There is no Soul
3. There is no God

IV. Ethics
V. Conclusion

CHAPTER III

THE JAINA PHILOSOPHY

I. Introduction
II. The Jaina Theory of Knowledge
1. The Nature and Kinds of Knowledge
2. The Cārvāka View Criticised
3. The Jaina Theory of Judgment
(i) Syādvāda or the Theory that Every Judgment is Relative
(ii) Saptabhaṅginaya or the Seven Forms of Judgment
III. The Jaina Metaphysics
1. The Jaina Conception of Substance
2. Classification of Substances
3. The Soul or Jiva
 4. The Inanimate Substances or Ajīvas
(i) Matter or Pudgala
(ii) Space or Ākāśa
(iii) Time or Kāla
(iv) Dharma and Adharma
IV. The Jaina Ethics and Religion
1. Bondage of the Soul
2. Liberation
3. Jainism as a Religion without God

CHAPTER IV

THE BAUDDHA PHILOSOPHY

I. Introduction
II. The Teachings of Buddha: The Four Noble Truths

1. The Anti-speculative Attitude

2. The First Noble Truth about Suffering
3. The Second Noble Truth about the Cause of Suffering: the Chain of
Twelve Links
4. The Third Noble Truth about the Cessation of Suffering
5. The Fourth Noble Truth about the Path to Liberation
6. The Philosophical Implications of Buddha's Ethical Teachings
(i) The Theory of Dependent Origniation or Conditional Existence
of Things
(ii) The Theory of Karma
(iii) The Doctrine of Universal Change and Impermanence
(iv) The Theory of the Non-existence of the Soul
III. The Schools of Bauddha Philosophy
1. The Mādhyamika School of Sūnya-vāda
2. The Yogācāra School of Subjective Idealism
3. The Sautrāntika School of Representationism
4. The Vaibhāṣika School

IV. The Religious Schools of Buddhism: Hānayāna and Mahāyāna

 CHAPTER V

THE NYĀYA PHILOSOPHY

I. Introduction
II. The Nyāya Theory of Knowledge
1. Definition and Classification of Knowledge
2. Perception
(i) Definition of Perception
(ii) Classification of Perception
(iii) Extraordinary Perception
(iv) Three Modes of Ordinary Perception
3. Inference
(i) Definition of Inference
(ii) The constituents of Inference
(iii) The Grounds of Inference
(iv) The Classification of Inference
(v) The Fallacies of Inference
4. Upamāna or Comparison
5. Śabda or Testimony
(i) The Nature and Classification of Śabda
(ii) The Logical Structure of a Sentence
III. The Nyāya Theory of the Physical World
IV. The Individual Self and its Liberation
V. The Nyaya Theology
1. The Idea of God
2. Proofs for the Existence of God
(i) The Causal Argument
(ii) The Argument from Adṛṣṭa
(iii) The Argument from the Authoritativeness of the Scriptures
(iv) The Testimony of Śruti
3. Anti-theistic Arguments

VI. Conclusion
CHAPTER VI
THE VAIŚESIKA PHILOSOPHY

I. Introduction
II. The Categories
1. Substance or Dravya
2. Quality or Guṇa
3. Action or Karma
4. Generality or Sāmānya
5. Particularity or Viśeṣa
6. Inherence or Samavāya
7. Non-existence or Abāva

III. The Creation and Destruction of the World

IV. Conclusion
CHAPTER VII

THE SĀṄKHYA PHILOSOPHY

I. Introduction
II. The Sānkhya Metaphysics
1. Theory of Causation
2. Prakrti and the Guṇas
3. Puruṣa or the Self
4. Evolution of the World

III. The Sānkhya Theory of Knowledge

IV. The Doctrine of Liberation
V. The Problem of God
VI. Conclusion
CHAPTER VIII

THE YOGA PHILOSOPHY

I. Introduction
II. Yoga Psychology
III. Yoga Ethics
1. The Nature and Forms of Yoga
2. The Eightfold Means of Yoga

IV. The Place of God in the Yoga

V. Conclusion
CHAPTER IX

THE MĪMĀMSĀ PHILOSOPHY

I. Introduction
II. The Mīmāṁsā Theory of Knowledge
1. The Nature and Sources of Knowledge
2. Non-perceptual Sources of Knowledge
(i) Comparison (upamāna)
(ii) Authority or Testimony (śabda)
(iii) Postulation (arthāpatti)
(iv) Anupalabdhi or non-perception
3. The Validity of Knowledge
4. What is error?

III. Mīmāṁsā Metaphysics

1. General Outlook
2. The Theory of Potential Energy (śakti and apūrva)
3. The Mīmāṁsā Conception of Soul

IV. Mīmāṁsā Religion and Ethics

1. The Place of the Vedas in Religion
2. The Conception of Duty
3. The Highest Good
4. Is Mīmāṁsā Atheistic?

CHAPTER X
THE VEDĀNTA PHILOSOPHY

I. Introduction
1. Origin and Development of the Vedānta
2. How the Vedānta Developed through the Vedas and the Upaniṣads
3. The Unanimous Views of the main schools of the Vedānta

II. The Monism of Śaṅkara (Advaita)

1. Śaṅkara's Conception of the World
(i) The Rational Foundation of Śaṅkara's Theory of the World.
(ii) The Advaita Theory of Error
(iii) Criticism of Śaṅkara's Philosophy of the World
2. Śaṅkara's Conception of God
(i) The Rational Basis of Śaṅkara's Theory of God.
3. Śaṅkara's Conception of the self, Bondage and Liberation

III. The Qualified Monism of Rāmānuja (Viśiṣṭādvatta)

1. Rāmānuja's Conception of the World
(i) Rāmānuja Criticism of the Advaita Theory of Māyā
2. Rāmānuja's Conception of God
3. Rāmānuja's Conception of the Self, Bondage and Liberation

A Select Bibliography
 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
The object of this book is to provide a simple introduction to the Indian systems
of philosophy. Each one of these systems has had a vast and varied development
and cannot be treated adequately in a brief work like this. An attempt has been
made to introduce the reader to the spirit and outlook of Indian philosophy and
help him to grasp thoroughly the central ideas rather than acquaint him with
minute details. Modern students of Philosophy experience great difficulty in
understanding Indian problems and theories. Their long experience with
university students has helped the authors to realise this and they have tried to
remove them as far as possible. This accounts for most of the critical discussions
which could otherwise have been dispensed with.
The book has been primarily written for beginners. The first chapter which
contains the general principles and basic features of Indian philosophy, as well as
a brief sketch of each system, gives the student a bird's-eye view of the entire
field and prepares him for a more intensive study of the systems which are
contained in the following chapters. It is hoped, therefore, that the book will
meet the needs of the university students at different stages, as well as of general
readers interested in Indian philosophy. It will serve the needs of B.A. Pass
students who may be required to have a brief general acquaintance with Indian
philosophy as a whole, as well as those of Honours students who may be
expected to have a more detailed knowledge of one or more systems.
It is the firm conviction of the writers that Reality is many-sided and Truth is
manifold; that each system approaches Reality from one point of view or level of
experience, and embodies one aspect of Truth. They have tried to approach each
system with sympathy and justify it, rather than dismiss it with a customary
criticism. They believe that a sympathetic insight into the great systems will
enable the student to grasp their truths more easily and give him a sound
philosophical outlook.
While an attempt has been made to bring out the significance of Indian
views in terms of modern Western thought, care has always been exercised to
preserve their distinctive marks, such as their spiritual and practical outlook,
their recognition of the different levels of experience.
The authors are grateful to Dr. Syamaprasad Mookerjee, M.A., D.Litt., B.L.,
M.L.A., Vidyāvācaspati, Barrister-at-Law, ex-Vice-Chancellor, Calcutta
University, at whose suggestion the work was undertaken, and to Sir S.
Radhakrishnan, Kt., M.A., D.Litt., George V Professor of Philosophy, Calcutta
University, Spalding Professor of Eastern Religions and Ethics, Oxford
University, who has very kindly gone through the manuscript and made valuable
suggestions. They are also indebted to Professor Krishnachandra Bhattacharyya,
M.A., with whom they discussed some of the problems treated here and received
much light and guidance. They are grateful also to the authorities of the Calcutta
University, and especially to the Registrar, the Superintendent of the Press and
his energetic colleagues, for the publication of the work.

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

The authors feel encouraged by the demand for a second edition of this book
within such a short time. They are grateful to the many universities which have
adopted this compendium as a textbook, and to the many lay readers who have
intimated their appreciation of the book as a suitable introduction to Indian
Philosophy. But at the same time the authors realise once more the great
difficulty of compressing into such a volume all that is important in the
arguments and theories of schools Which have evolved through nearly two
thousand years, and developed intricacies which defy easy exposition. They are,
therefore, painfully aware of the many shortcomings of the book, and very
eagerly avail themselves of this opportunity of a second edition to remove
defects, as far as possible, by addition, alteration, omission and rearrangement of
topics. In this work of improvement they have received great help from teachers
and scholars who have favoured them with detailed opinions and suggestion.
The authors are thankful to all of them; but they are especially indebted, in this
respect, to Professors Khangendranath Mitra, Haridas Bhattacharyya, Jadunath
Sinha, Surendranath Goswami, Kalidas Bhattacharyya and Mr. Anilkumar Ray
Chaudhury. If some of the suggestions could not be carried out, it was mainly
because of the limitation of the original scope of the book, the necessity for
economising paper, and the desire for avoiding difficulties that might embarrass
the beginner.
The chapter on the Vedānta has been partly rewritten. Śaṅkara and Rāmānuja
have been dealt with successively (and not side by side, as before). The rationale
of argumentative side of the Vedānta has been substantially reinforced by the
addition of many new paragraphs in small print. The authors hope that this will
be useful to the advanced reader, while the simplicity of the original treatment,
and the interest of the beginner, will remain unaffected.
It is necessary to mention that instead of following the ordinary translation
practice of rendering 'Īśvara' into 'God' and 'Brahman' into 'Absolute', the authors
have used the word 'God' also for 'Brahman'. Just as 'Brahman' (without
adjectives) is used, even by the Upaniṣads and Śankara, for both the immanent,
personal aspect, and also for the transcendent, impersonal aspect, similarly 'God'
also has been used in English in this wide sense, and, therefore, sometimes for
the Absolute (e.g. of Hegel), the Indeterminate Substance (e.g. of Spinoza), the
Primordial Principle (e.g. of Whitehead). The exact sense in which 'God' has
been used in this book will be clear from the context. Confinement of 'God' only
to the Deity of Religion, and of 'Absolute' to the ultimate philosophical principle,
while convenient in one respect, suffers from the disadvantage of suggesting as
though they stand for two distinct realities, and not for two aspects of the same
reality, as is the case in the Vedānta.

PREFACE TO THE SIXTH EDITION

The authors feel highly gratified that the book is now being widely used in India,
America, Great Britain and other countries, and that another edition has been
called for so soon. This gives an opportunity for further revision and
improvement. The authors are grateful to Professor Charles A. Moore of the
University of Hawaii and all other teachers of Philosophy who favoured them
with their opinions and suggestions for some improvements in the previous
editions. They also express their thanks to Sri S. Kanjilal, Superintendent of the
Calcutta University Press, and his colleagues for their help in bringing out this
edition in time.

PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION

This seventh edition offered further opportunities for revision. We are much
obliged to Professor Pradyotkumar Mukhopadhyay of Visva-Bharati for some
suggestions, and to Sri S. Kanjilal and his colleagues for bringing out the book
under very difficult circumstances.
 S.C. Chatterjee D.M. Datta
59-B, Hindusthan Park Purvapalli, Santiniketan
Calcutta-29 West Bengal
CHAPTER I

General Introduction

I. THE BASIC FEATURES OF INDIAN PHILOSOPHY

1. The Nature of Philosophy

Like all other living beings, man struggles for existence. But while the lower
beings struggle more or less blindly without any conscious plan and purpose,
and work by instinct, man uses the superior gift of his intellect to understand the
conditions and meaning of the struggle and to devise plans and instruments to
ensure success. He wishes to lead his life in the light of his knowledge of himself
and the world, taking into consideration not merely the immediate results of his
actions, but even their far-reaching consequences. Desire for knowledge springs,
therefore, from the rational nature of man. Philosophy is an attempt to satisfy
this very reasonable desire. It is not, therefore, a mere luxury, but a necessity. As
an eminent English writer puts it: 'Men live in accordance with their philosophy
of life, their conception of the world. This is true even of the most thoughtless. It
is impossible to live without a metaphysic. The choice that is given us is not
between some kind of metaphysic and no metaphysic; it is always between a
good metaphysic and a bad metaphysic.'1
Philosophy in its widest etymological sense means 'love of knowledge'. It
tries to search for knowledge of himself, the world and God? These are some of
the many problems, taken at random, which we find agitating the human mind in
every land, from the very dawn of civilisation. Philosophy deals with problems
of this nature. As philosophy aims at the knowledge of truth, it is termed in
Indian literature, 'the vision Every Indian school holds, in its own way, that there
can be a direct realisation of truth (tattvadarśana). A man of realisation becomes
free; one who lacks it is entangled in the world.'2
In the history of Western philosophy, we find that as human knowledge
about each of the different problems mentioned above began to grow, it became
impossible for the same man to study everything about every problem. Division
of labour or specialisation became necessary and a group of men devoted
themselves to a particular problem or a few connected problems. There came
into existence in this way the different special sciences. Physics, Chemistry,
Botany, Astronomy, Geology and similar sciences, each took up a part or aspect
of the world of nature. Physiology, Anatomy and the other medical sciences
devoted themselves to the different problems of the human body. Psychology
began to study the problems of the human mind. The detailed study of many of
the particular problems with which philosophical speculation originally started
became thus the subject-matter of the special sciences. Philosophy then began to
depend on the reports of the investigation made by the different sciences, tried to
understand their meanings and implications critically, and utilised these results
for understanding the general nature of the universe—man, nature and God.
Western philosophy at the present day has for its main branches (a)
Metaphysics, which discusses the general problems regarding reality—man,
nature and God; (b) Epistemology or theory of knowledge, which enquires into
the nature of human knowledge, as to how it develops and how far it is able to
grasp reality; (c) Logic, which discusses the laws of valid reasoning and other
incidental problems; (d) Ethics, which investigates the problems of morality,
such as the standard of moral judgment, the highest goal of human life and other
cognate problems; and (e) Aesthetics, which deals with the problems of beauty.
Another recent development of philosophy in the West, called Axiology, is
devoted to the discussion of the problem of values. Social Philosophy is also
regarded as a branch of philosophy and often discussed along with Ethics.
Psychology had been for long a very important branch of philosophy, but the
tendency now is to treat it as one of the special sciences like Physics and
Chemistry and give it a place independent of philosophy.
Though the basic problems of philosophy have been the same in the East as
in the West and the chief solutions have striking similarities, yet the methods of
philosophical enquiry differ in certain respects and the processes of the
development of philosophical thought also vary. Indian philosophy discusses the
different problems of Metaphysics, Ethics, Logic, Psychology and Epistemology,
but generally it does not discuss them separately. Every problem is discussed by
the Indian philosopher from all possible approaches, metaphysical, ethical,
logical, psychological and epistemological. This tendency has been called by
some thinkers, like Sir B.N. Seal, the synthetic outlook of Indian philosophy.
2. The Meaning and Scope of Indian Philosophy
Indian philosophy denotes the philosophical speculations of all Indian thinkers,
ancient or modern, Hindus or non-Hindus, theists or atheists. 'Indian philosophy'
is supposed by some to be synonymous with 'Hindu philosophy'. This would be
true only if the word 'Hindu' were taken in the geographical sense of 'Indian'. But
if 'Hindu' means the followers of a particular religious faith known as Hinduism,
the supposition would be wrong and misleading. Even in the ancient writings of
the orthodox Hindu philosophers, like the Sarva-darśana-saṅgraha of
Mādhavācārya which tries to present in one place the views of all (sarva)
schools of philosophy, we find in the list of philosophies (darśanas) the views of
atheists and materialists like the Cārvākas, and unorthodox thinkers like the
Bauddhas and the Jainas, along with those of the orthodox Hindu thinkers.
Indian philosophy is marked, in this respect, by a striking breadth of outlook
which only testifies to its unflinching devotion to the search for truth. Though
there were many different schools and their views differed sometimes very
widely, yet each school took care to learn the views of all the others and did not
come to any conclusion before considering thoroughly what others had to say
and how their points of view could be met. This spirit led to the formation of a
method of philosophical discussion. A philosopher had first to state the views of
his opponent's case which came to be known as the prior view (pūrvapakṣa).
Then followed the refutation (khaṇḍana) of this view. Last of all came the
statement and proof of the philosopher's own position, which, therefore, was
known as the subsequent view (uttarapakṣa) or the conclusion (siddhānta).
This catholic spirit of treating rival positions with consideration was more
than rewarded by the thoroughnes and perfection that most of the Indian schools
attained. If we open a comprehensive work on the Vedānta, we will find in it the
statement of the views of all other schools—Cārvāka, Bauddha, Jaina, Sāṅkhya,
Yoga, Mīmāṁsā, Nyāya and Vaiśeṣika—discussed and weighed with all care;
similarly any good work on the Bauddha or Jaina philosophy discusses the other
views. The systems thus became encyclopaedic in their grasp of ideas. Naturally
we find that many of the problems of contemporary Western philosophy are
discussed in Indian systems of philosophy. Besides, we find that indigenous
scholars with a thorough training, exclusively in Indian philosophy, are able to
deal even with abstruse problems of Western philosophy with surprising skill.
If the openness of mind—the willingness to listen to what others have to say
—has been one of the chief causes of the wealth and greatness of Indian
philosophy in the past, it has a definite moral for the future. If Indian philosophy
is once more to revive and continue its great career, it can do so only by taking
into consideration the new ideas of life and reality which have been flowing into
India from the West and the East, from the Aryan, the Semitic, the Mongolian
and other sources.

3. The Schools of Indian Philosophy

According to a traditional principle of classification, most likely adopted by
orthodox Hindu thinkers, the schools or systems of Indian philosophy are
divided into two broad classes, namely, orthodox (āstika) and heterodox
(nāstika). To the first group belong the six chief philosopical systems (popularly
known as ṣad-darśana), namely, Mīmāṁsā, Vedānta, Sāṅkhya, Yoga, Nyāya and
Vaiśeṣika. These are regarded as orthodox (āstika), not because they believe in
God, but because they accept the authority of the Vedas.3 The Mīmāmsā and the
Sāṅkhya do not believe in God as the creator of the world, yet they are called
orthodox (āstika), because they believe in the authoritativeness of the Vedas. The
six systems mentioned here are not the only orthodox systems; they are the chief
ones, and there are some other less important orthodox schools, such as the
Grammarian school, the medical school, etc., also noticed by Mādhavācārya.
Under the other class of heterodox systems, the chief three are the schools of the
Materialists like the Cārvākas, the Bauddhas and the Jainas. They are called
heterodox (nāstika) because they do not believe in the authority of the Vedas.
To understand this more clearly, we should know something regarding the
place of the Vedas in the evolution of Indian thought. The Vedas are the earliest
available records of Indian literature, and subsequent Indian thought, specially
philosophical speculation, is greatly influenced by the Vedas, either positively or
negatively. Some of the philosophical systems accepted Vedic authority, while
others opposed it. The Mīmāṁsā and the Vedānta may be regarded as the direct
continuation of the Vedic culture. The Vedic tradition had two sides, ritualistic
and speculative (karma and Jñānaa). The Mīmāṁsā emphasised the ritualistic
aspect and evolved a philosophy to justify and help the continuation of the Vedic
rites and rituals. The Vedānta emphasised the speculative aspect of the Vedas and
developed an elaborate philosophy out of Vedic speculations. As both these
schools were direct continuations of Vedic culture, both are sometimes called by
the common name, Mīmāṁsā; and for the sake of distinction, the first is called
Pūrva-Mīmāṁsā (or Karma-Mīmāṁsā) and the second, Uttara-Mīmāṁsā (or
Jñāna-Mīmāṁsā). But the more usual names of these two are Mīmāṁsā and
Vedānta respectively, and we shall follow this common usage here. Though the
Sāṅkhya, Yoga, Nyāya and Vaiśeṣika based their theories on ordinary human
experience and reasoning, they did not challenge the authority of the Vedas, but
tried to show that the testimony of the Vedas was quite in harmony with their
rationally established theories. The Cārvāka, Bauddha and Jaina schools arose
mainly by opposition to the Vedic culture and, therefore, they rejected the
authority of the Vedas. These facts may be summed up in a tabular form as
follows:

4. The Places of Authority and Reasoning in Indian

Philosophy
The distinctions discussed above can be ultimately traced to distinctions in the
methods of speculation, adopted by the different schools.
Solutions of philosophical problems, like 'What is the ultimate cause of the
world?', 'Does God exist?', 'What is the nature of God?', cannot be obtained by
observation. The philosopher must employ his imagination and reasoning, and
find out answers consistent with truths already established by experience. Like
most other branches of knowledge, philosophy proceeds, therefore, from the
known to the unknown. The foundation of philosophy is experience, and the
chief tool used is reason. But the question that arises here: 'What experience
should form the basis of philosophy?' Indian thinkers are not unanimous on this
point.
Some hold that philosophy should be based on ordinary, normal experience,
i.e., on truths discovered and accepted by people in general or by scientists. This
is the view of most modern European thinkers. In India the Nyāya, the Vaiśeṣika,
the Sāṅkhya and the Cārvāka schools accept this view; the Bauddha and the
Jaina schools also accept it mostly. On the other hand, there are thinkers who
hold that regarding some matters, such as God, the state of liberation, etc., we
cannot form any correct idea from ordinary experience; philosophy must depend
for these on the experience of those few saints, seers or prophets who have a
direct realisation (sākṣātkāra or darśana) of such things. Authority, or the
testimony of reliable persons and scriptures thus forms the basis of philosophy.
The Mīmāṁsā and the Vedānta schools follow this method. They base many of
their theories on the Vedas and the Upaniṣads. Even the Bauddha and the Jaina
schools depend sometimes on the teachings of Bauddha and Jainas who are
regarded as perfect and omniscient. In Europe, the scholastic philosophy of the
middle ages was based similarly on the authority of the Christian scriptures.
Reasoning is the chief instrument of speculation for philosophers of both
these classes. The difference is that while by the former reasoning is always
made to follow the lead of ordinary experience, by the latter, reasoning is made
to follow in some matters the lead of authority as well.
The charge is often heard against Indian Philosophy that its theories are not
based on independent reasoning but on authority and, therefore, they are
dogmatic, rather than critical. This charge is clearly not true of the majority of
Indian systems which are as much based on free thinking as any we can find in
the West even in this modern age of critical speculation. The criticism may be
chiefly levelled against the two systems of the Mīmāṁsā and the Vedānta which,
we have found, give an important place to authority. Though these systems start
from authority, the theories they develop are supported also by such strong
independent arguments that even if we withdraw the support of authority, the
theories can stand well and compare favourably with any theory established
elsewhere on independent reasoning alone. Man, as a rational creature, cannot of
course be satisfied unless his reason is satisfied. But if arguments in favour of a
philosophy are sufficient to satisfy his reason, the additional fact of its being
based on the experiences of persons of clearer minds and purer hearts would
only add to its value.
5. How the Indian Systems Gradually Developed
In the history of Western philosophy we usually find the different schools
coming into existence successively. Each school predominates till another comes
in and replaces it. In India, on the other hand, we find that the different schools,
though not originating simultaneously, flourish together during many centuries,
and pursue parallel courses of growth. The reason is to be sought perhaps in the
fact that in India philosophy was a part of life. As each system of thought came
into existence it was adopted as a philosophy of life by a band of followers who
formed a school of that philosophy. They lived the philosophy and handed it
down to succeeding generations of followers who were atracted to them through
their lives and thoughts. The different systems of thought thus continued to exist
through unbroken chains of successive adherents for centuries. Even today, we
find the active followers of some of the chief philosophical schools in different
parts of India, though development of indigenous philosophy has been much
retarded now, owing to social and political vicissitudes.
It should not be supposed, however, that the different systems developed
within their respective circles of active followers, without mutually influencing
one another. On the contrary, as we have pointed out previously, each philosophy
regarded it as its duty to consider and satisfy all possible objections that might be
raised against its views. In fact, it is by constant mutual criticism that the huge
philosophical literature has come into existence. Owing to this, again, there
developed a passion for clear and precise enunciation of ideas and for guarding
statements against objections. Mutual criticism further makes Indian philosophy
its own best critic.
Bearing this fact of mutual influence in mind we may try to understand the
general process by which the systems originated and developed. The Vedas, we
have said, are directly or indirectly responsible for most of the philosophical
speculations. In the orthodox schools, next to the Vedas and the Upaniṣads, we
find the sūtra literature marking the definite beginning of systematic
philosophical thinking. 'Sūtra' etymologically means 'thread' and in this context
it means a brief mnemonic statement. As philosophical discussions took place
mostly orally, and as they were passed down through oral traditions handed
down by teachers to students, it was perhaps felt necessary to link up or thread
together the main thoughts in the minds of students by brief statements of
problems, answers, possible objections and replies to them. A sūtra-work
consists of a collection of many sūtras or aphorisms of this kind, arranged into
different chapters and sections according to different topics. The Brahmasūtra of
Bādarāyana, for example, contains the aphorisms that sum up and systematise
the philosophical teachings of different Vedic works, chiefly the Upaniṣads, and
also brifly mention and answer actual and possible objections to these views.
This work is the first systematic treatise on the Vedānta. Similarly, we have for
the Mīmāṁsā, the sūtras of Jaimini, for the Nyāya, the sūtras of Gotama, for the
Vaiśeṣika, the sūtras of Kaṇāda, for the Yoga, the sūtras of Patañjali. According
to tradition, for the Sāṅkhya also there were the sūtras of Kapila, who is regarded
as the founder of the system. But the sūtras now available are not recognised by
all as the original sūtras. The earliest systematic work available now is the
Sāṅkhya-kārikā of Īśvara Kṛṣṇa.
The sūtras were brief and, therefore, their meanings were not always clear.
There arose thus the necessity for elaborate explanation and interpretation
through commentaries. These chief commentaries on the respective sūtras were
called the Bhāṣyas, the names and further particulars about which will be found
later in the chapters on the different schools. But it should be noted that, in some
cases, on the same sūtra-work different authors wrote different major
commentaries (bhāṣyas) and interpreted the sūtras to justify their respective
standpoints. Thus came into existence, for example, the different Bhāṣyas as on
the Brahma-sūtra by Śaṅkara, Rāmānuja. Madhva, Vallabha, Nimbārka,
Baladeva and others. The followers of each interpretation formed into a school
of the Vedānta and there arose the many schools of the Vedānta itself.
As time went on, commentaries on commentaries arose and sometimes
independent works also were written to supply handbooks or to justify, elaborate
or criticise existing doctrines. The philosophical literature of the orthodox
schools developed in this way. The history of the development of the heterodox
schools is also more or less the same. They do not start, however, from any
sūtra-work of the above kind. The accounts of these will be given in the chapters
dealing with those schools.
Though the different schools were opposed to one another in their teachings,
a sort of harmony among them was also conceived by the Indian thinkers. They
believed that all persons were not fit for all things and that in religious,
philosophical and social matters we should take into consideration these
differences and recognise consequent distinctions of natural aptitudes
(adhikārabheda). The different philosophical disciplines, as already pointed out,
were taken in India as the different ways of shaping practical lives.
Consequently, it was all the more necessary to discriminate the fitness of their
followers. The man) systems of philosophy beginning from the materialism of
the Cārvāka school and ending with the Vedānta of Śaṅkara were thus conceived
to offer different paths for philosophical thinking and living to persons of
differing qualifications and temperaments. But even apart from this pragmatic
explanation, we can discover in these schools, outwardly opposed, many positive
points of agreement, which may be regarded as the common marks of Indian
culture.

6. The Common Characters of the Indian Systems

The philosophy of a country is the cream of its culture and civilisation. It springs
from ideas that prevail in its atmosphere and bears its unconscious stamp.
Though the different schools of Indian philosophy present a diversity of views,
we can discern even in them the common stamp of an Indian culture. We may
briefly describe this unity as the unity of moral and spiritual outlook. To
understand this, let us consider its main aspects and illustrate points of
agreement among the different schools.
The most striking and fundamental point of agreement, which we have
already discussed partly, is that all the systems regard philosophy as a practical
necessity and cultivate it in order to understand how life can be best led. The aim
of philosophical wisdom is not merely the satisfaction of intellectual curiosity,
but mainly an enlightened life led with far-sight, foresight and insight. It became
a custom, therefore, with an Indian writer to explain, at the beginning of his
work, how it serves human ends (puruṣārtha).
But it should also be remembered that the presence of a practical motive did
not narrow the scope of Indian philosophy to Ethics and Theology alone as some
Western critics4 would like to believe. Not only from theoretic motives; but even
on theoretical grounds some branches of Indian philosophy, like Metaphysics,
Epistemology and Logic can easily hold their own against any system of the
West.
The reason why the practical motive prevails in Indian philosophy lies in the
fact that every system, pro-Vedic or anti-Vedic, is moved to speculation by a
spiritual disquiet at the sight of the evils that cast a gloom over life in this world
and it wants to understand the source of these evils and incidentally, the nature of
the universe and the meaning of human life, in order to find some means for
completely overcoming life's miseries.
The attitude of the mind which looks at the dark side of things is known as
pessimism. Indian philosophy has often been criticised as pessimistic and,
therefore, pernicious in its influence on practical life. How far this criticism is
justified will be seen in the course of this book. But one general point should be
noted here. Indian philosophy is pessimistic in the sense that it works under a
sense of discomfort and disquiet at the existing order of things. It discovers and
strongly asserts that life, as it is being thoughtlessly led, is a mere sport of blind
impulses and unquenchable desires; it inevitably ends in and prolongs misery.
But no Indian system stops with this picture of life as a tragedy. It perhaps
possesses more than a literary significance that even an ancient Indian drama
rarely ends as a tragedy. If Indian philosophy points relentlessly to the miseries
that we suffer through short-sightedness, it also discovers a message of hope.
The essence of Buddha's enlightenment—the four noble truths—sums up and
voices the real view of every Indian school in this respect, namely, there is
suffering; there is a cause of suffering; there is cessation of suffering; there is a
way to attain it. Pessimism in the Indian systems is only initial and not final.5
The influence of such pessimism on life is more wholesome than that of
uncritical optimism. An eminent American teacher rightly points out: 'Optimism
seems to be more immoral than Pessimism, for Pessimism warns us of danger,
while Optimism lulls into false security.'6
The outlook which prevents the Indian mind from ending in despair and
guarantees its final optimism is what may be described as spiritualism after
William James. 'Spiritualism,' says James, 'means the affirmation of an eternal
moral order and letting loose of hope.' 'This need of an eternal moral order is one
of the deepest needs of our breast. And those poets, like Dante and Wordsworth,
who live on the conviction of such an order, owe to that fact the extraordinary
tonic and consoling power of their verse.'7 The firm faith in 'an eternal moral
order' dominates the entire history of Indian philosophy, barring the solitary
exception of the Cārvāka materialists. It is the common atmosphere of faith in
which all these systems, Vedic and non-Vedic, theistic and atheistic, move and
breathe. The faith in an order—a law that makes for regularity and righteousness
and works in the gods, the heavenly bodies and all creatures—pervades the
poetic imagination of the seers of Ṛg-veda which calls this inviolable moral
order Ṛta.8 This idea gradually shapes itself (a) into the Mīmāṁsā conception of
apūrva, the law that guarantees the future enjoyment of the fruits of rituals
performed now, (b) into the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika theory of adṛṣṭa, the unseen
principle which sways even over the material atoms and brings about objects and
events in accordance with moral principles, and (c) into the general conception
of karma, which is accepted by all Indian systems. The law of karma in its
different aspects may be regarded as the law of the conservation of moral values,
merits and demerits of actions. This law of conservation means that there is no
loss of the effect of work done (kṛtapraṇāśa) and that there is no happening of
events to a person except as the result of his own work (akṛtābhyupagama). The
law of karma is accepted by the six orthodox schools, as well as the Jainas and
the Bauddhas. It will be more fully explained when we come to these systems.
In general, the law of karma (action) means that all actions, good or bad,
produce their proper consequences in the life of the individual who acts,
provided they are performed with a desire for the fruits thereof. This law helps
us to explain certain differences in individual beings, which cannot be explained
by the known circumstances of their lives. It is not infrequently that we find that
men who are born and brought up under the same or similar circumstances differ
very much in respect of their achievements and enjoyments in life. Some men
are happy and some miserable, some wise and some ignorant. We see also how
some virtuous men suffer and many wicked people prosper in this world. How
are we to explain these variations and anomalies in our worldly life? Some of
them, we find, are obviously due to the different actions performed by us in this
present life. But many of them cannot be explained by reference to the deeds of
this life. Now if some good or bad actions are thus found to produce certain good
or bad effects in the present life, it is quite reasonable to maintain that all actions
—past, present and future—will produce their proper effects in this or another
life of the individuals who act. The law of karma is this general moral law which
governs not only the life and destiny of all individual beings, but even the order
and arrangement of the physical world.
The word karma means both this law and also the force generated by an
action and having the potency of bearing fruit. Karma in the second sense is
variously classified. According to one principle, karmas are broadly divided into
(a) those which have not yet begun to bear fruits (anārabdha karma), and (b)
those which have already begun to bear fruits like the present body and its
accompaniments (ārabdha or prārabdha karma). Anārabdha karma again can be
subdivided into two classes, accordingly as it is accumulated from past lives
(prāktana or sañcita karma) or is being gathered in this life (kriyamāṇa or
sañcīyamāna karma).9
Some systems of Indian philosophy like the Nyāya-Vaiśesika believe that the
law of karma is under the guidance and control of God the Supreme Being who
creates the world in accordance with the law. It is here held that the adṛṣṭa or the
stock of merits and demerits of karmas of the individual souls, cannot by itself
lead to their proper effects, because it is an unintelligent and unconscious
principle. It is God who controls our adṛṣṭa and dispenses all the joys and
sorrows of our life in accordance with our karma. In some other systems, e.g. the
Jaina, the Bauddha, the Sāṅkhya and the Mīmāṁsā, the law of karma is
autonomous and works independently of the will of God. These systems hold
that the origin and order of the world may be explained by the law of karma
without the supposition of God. But it should be noted here that whatever may
be the status of the law of karma, it has a limited application to the world of
actions done under the influence of the ordinary passions and desires of the
worldly life. All actions, of which the motives are desires for certain gains here
or hereafter, are governed by this law. Disinterested and passionless actions, if
any, do not produce any fettering effect or bondage just as a fried seed does not
germinate. The law, therefore, holds good for individuals who work with selfish
motives and are swayed by the ordinary passions and impulses of life and hanker
after worldly or other-worldly gains. The performance of disinterested actions
not only produces no fettering consequences but helps us to exhaust and destroy
the accumulated effects of our past deeds done under the influence of
attachment, hatred and infatuation, or of interested hopes and fears, and thereby
leads to liberation. With the attainment of liberation from bondage, the self rises
above the law of karma and lives and acts in an atmosphere of freedom. The
liberated one may act for the good of mankind, but is not bound by his karma,
since it the self free from all attachment and self-interest.
A distinguished Danish philosopher, Harald Höffding, defines religion as 'the
belief in the conservation of values'.10 It is mainly such belief that raises Indian
systems like Jainism and Buddhism to the status of religion in spite of the
absence of a belief in God.
It is again this faith in 'an eternal moral order,' which inspires optimism and
makes man the master of his own destiny. It enables the Indian thinker to take
the present evil as the consequence of his own action, and hope for a better
future by improving himself now. There is room, therefore, for free will and
personal endeavour (puruṣakāra). Fatalism or determinism is, therefore, a
misrepresentation of the theory of karma. Fate or destiny (daiva) is nothing but
the collective force of one's own actions performed in the past lives
(pūrvajanma-kṛtaṁ karma). It can be overcome by efforts of this life, if they are
sufficiently strong, just as the force of old habits of this life can be counteracted
by the cultivation of new and opposite habits.11
Intimately connected with this outlook is the general tendency to regard the
universe as the moral stage, where all living beings get the dress and the part that
befit them and are to act well to deserve well in future. The body, the senses and
the motor organs that an individual gets and the environment in which he finds
himself are the endowments of nature or God in accordance with the inviolable
law of karma.
Another common view, held by all Indian thinkers, is that ignorance of
reality is the cause of our bondage and sufferings, and liberation from these
cannot be achieved without the knowledge of reality, i.e. the real nature of the
world, and the self. By 'bondage' is commonly meant the process of birth and
rebirth and the consequent miseries to which an individual is subject. 'Liberation'
(mukti or mokṣa) means, therefore, the stoppage of this process. Liberation is the
state of perfection; and according to some Indian thinkers like the Jainas, the
Bauddhas, the Śāṅkhyas and the Advaita Vedāntins, this state can be attained
even in this life. Perfection and real happiness can, therefore, be realised even
here, at least according to these chief Indian thinkers. The teachings of these
masters need not make us wholly unworldly and other-worldly. They are meant
only to correct the one-sided emphasis on 'the here' and 'the now'—the short-
sightedness that worldliness involves.
But while ignorance was regarded as the root cause of the individual's
trouble and knowledge, therefore, as essential, the Indian thinkers never believed
that a mere acquaintance with truth would at once remove imperfection. Two
types of discipline were thought necessary for making such understanding
permanent as well as effective in life, namely, continued meditation on the
accepted truths and practical life of self-control.
The necessity of concentration and meditation led to the development of an
elaborate technique, fully explained in the Yoga system. But yoga, in the sense
of concentration through self-control, is not confined to that system only. It is
found in some form or other in Buddhism, Jainism, the Sāṅkhya, the Vedānta,
and even in the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika systems. The followers of these various views
believed, in common, that the philosophic truths momentarily established and
understood through agruments were not enough to dispel the effects of opposite
beliefs which have become a part of our being. Our ordinary wrong beliefs have
become deeply rooted in us by repeated use in the different daily situations of
life. Our habits of thought, speech and action have been shaped and coloured by
these beliefs which in turn have been more and more strengthened by those
habits. To replace these beliefs by correct ones, it is necessary to meditate on the
latter constantly and think over their various implications for life. In short, to
instil right beliefs into our minds, we have to go through the same long and
tedious process, though of a reverse kind, by which wrong beliefs were
established in us. This requires a long intellectual concentration on the truths
learned. Without prolonged meditation, the opposite beliefs cannot be removed
and the belief in these truths cannot be steadied and established in life.
Self-control (saṁyama) also is necessary for the concentration of the mind
on these truths and for making them effective in life.12 Socrates used to say,
'Virtue is knowledge'. His followers pointed out that mere knowledge of what is
right does not always lead to right actions, because our actions are guided as
much by reason as by blind animal impulses. Unless these impulses are
controlled, action cannot fully follow the dictates of reason. This truth is
recognised by all the Indian systems, except perhaps the Cārvāka. It is neatly
expressed by an oft-quoted Sanskrit saying which means: 'I know what is right,
but feel no inclination to follow it; I know what is wrong but cannot desist from
it.'13
Our speech and action cannot always follow our intellectual convictions
because of the contrary impulses deeply rooted in our character owing to the past
misconceptions about things and their values. These impulses are variously
described by different Indian thinkers; but there is a sort of unanimity that the
chief impulses are likes and dislikes—love and hate (rāga and dveṣa). These are
the automatic springs of action; we move under their influence when we act
habitually without forethought. Our indriyas, i.e. the instruments of knowledge
and action (namely, the mind, the senses of sight, touch, smell, taste, sound, and
the motor organs for movement, holding things, speaking, excretion and
reproduction), have always been in the service of these blind impulses of love
and hate and they have acquired some fixed bad habits. When philosophic
knowledge about the real nature of things makes us give up our previous wrong
beliefs regarding objects, our previous likes and dislikes for those objects, have
also to be given up. Our indriyas have to be weaned from past habits and broken
to the reign of reason. This task is as difficult as it is important. It can be
performed only through long, sustained practice and formation of new good
habits. All Indian thinkers lay much stress on such practice which chiefly
consists of repeated efforts in the right direction (abhyāsa).
Self-control, then, means the control of the lower self, the blind, animal
tendencies—love and hate—as well as the instruments of knowledge and action
(the indriyas). From what has been said above, it will be clear that self-control
was not a mere negative practice, it was not simply checking the indriyas, but
checking their bad tendencies and habits in order to employ them for a better
purpose, and make them obey the dictates of reason.
It is a mistake, therefore, to think, as some do, that Indian ethics taught a
rigorism or asceticism which consists in killing the natural impulses in man. As
early as the Upaniṣads, we find Indian thinkers recognising that though the most
valuable thing in man is his spirit (ātman), his existence as a man depends on
non-spiritual factors as well; that even his thinking power depends on the food
he takes.14 This conviction never left the Indian thinkers; the lower elements, for
them, were not for destruction but for reformation and subjugation to the higher.
Cessation from bad activities was coupled with performance of good ones. This
we find even in the most rigoristic systems, like the Yoga, where, as aids to the
attainment of perfect concentration (yogāṅga), we find mentioned not simply the
negative practice of the 'don'ts' (yamaṩ), but also positive cultivation of good
habits (niyamas) The yamas consist of the five great efforts for abstinence from
injury to life, falsehood, stealing, sensuous appetite and greed for wealth
(ahiṁsā, satya, asteya, brahmacarya and aparigraha). These are to be cultivated
along with the niyamas, namely, purity of body and mind, contentment,
fortitude, study and resignation to God. Essentially similar teachings can be
found as much in the other orthodox schools as in Buddhism and Jainism which,
like the Yoga, recommended, for example, the cultivation of love (maitrī) and
kindness (karuṇā) along with non-violence (ahiṁsā). That the action of the
indriyas is not to be supressed but only to be turned to the service of the higher
self, is also the teaching of the Gitā, as would appear from the following: 'One
who has controlled himself attains contentment by enjoying objects through the
indriyas which have been freed from the influence of love and hate.'15
Lastly, all Indian systems, except the Cārvāka, accept the idea of liberation
as the highest end of life. The conception of liberation received, of course,
slightly different meanings. All negatively agreed that the state of liberation is a
total destruction of sufferings which life in this world brings about. A few went a
little beyond this to hold that liberation or the state of perfection is not simply
negation of pain, but is a state of positive bliss. The Vedānta and Jaina thinkers
belong to this latter group that includes even some Bauddhas, later Naiyāikas
and Mīmāṁsakas.

7. The Space-Time Background

In addition to the unity of moral and spiritual outlook described above, we may
also note the prevailing sense of the vastness of the space-time world, which
formed the common background of Indian thought and influenced its moral and
metaphysical outlook.
The Western belief that the world was created six thousand and odd years
ago and all for the purpose of man, constituted a narrowness of outlook and
exaggerated the importance of man. This belief has been shaken by the
biological discoveries of Darwin and others who show that the evolution of
living beings has to be conceived in terms of millions of years, not thousands.
The science of astronomy, again, is gradually generating the belief in the
vastness of the universe, the diameter of which is 'at least hundreds of millions
of light-years.'16 The sun in this calculation is a mere speck in the universe, and
the earth is less than one-millionth part of this speck. And we are reminded that
each faint speck of nebula observable in the sky contains 'matter enough for the
creation of perhaps a thousand million suns like ours.'17
Our imagination feels staggered in its attempt to grasp the vastness of the
space-time universe revealed by science. A similar feeling is caused by the
accounts of creation given in some of the Purāṇas, which would, but for modern
discoveries, be laughed at as pure fantasy. In the Viṣṇu-Purāṇa,18 for example,
we come across the popular Indian conception of the world (brahmāṇda) which
contains the fourteen regions (lokas) of which the earth (bhūtala) is only one and
which are separated from one another by tens of millions (kotis) of yojanas, and
again the infinite universe is conceived as containing thousands of millions of
such worlds (brahmāṇdas).
As to the description of the vastness of time, we find that the Indian thinker,
like the modern scientist, feels unable to describe it by common human units.
The unit adopted for the measurement of cosmic time is a day of the creator
Brahmā. Each day of the creator is equal to 1,000 yugas or 432 million years of
men. This is the duration of the period of each creation of cosmos. The night of
the creator is cessation of creative activity and means destruction or chaos. Such
alternating days and nights, creation and destruction (sṛṣṭi and pralaya), form a
beginningless series.
It is not possible to ascertain the first beginning of creation. It would be
arbitrary to think that creation began at first at some particular time and not
earlier. As there are no data for fixing the first beginning of the universe, Indian
thinkers, in general, look upon the universe as beginningless (anādi). They try to
explain the beginning of the present creation by reference to previous states of
dissolution and creation and think it idle and meaningless to enquire about the
first creation. Any term of a beginningless series can only be said to be earlier or
later in relation to others; there is nothing like an absolute first in such a series.
With this overwhelming idea of the vast universe as its background, Indian
thought naturally harped on the extreme smallness of the earth, the transitoriness
of earthly existence and the insignificance of earthly possessions. If the earth
was a mere point in the vast space, life was a mere ripple in the ocean of time.
Myriads of them come and go, and matter very little to the universe as a whole.
Even the best civilisation evolved through centuries is nothing very unique: there
is not one golden age only in the life of the earth. In the beginningless cycles of
creation and dissolution, there have been numberless golden ages as well as iron
ones. Prosperity and adversity, civilisation and barbarity, rise and fall, as the
wheel of time turns and moves on.
The general influence of this outlook on metaphysics has been to regard the
present world as the outcome of a past one and explain the former partly by
reference to the latter. Besides, it sets metaphysics on the search for the eternal.
On the ethical and religious side, it helped the Indian mind to take a wider and
detached view of life, prevented it from the morbid desire to cling to the fleeting
as the everlasting and persuaded it always to have an eye on what was of lasting,
rather than of momentary, value. While man's body is limited in space and time,
his spirit is eternal. Human life is a rare opportunity.19 It can be utilised for
realising the immortal spirit and for transcending thereby the limitations of space
and time.

II. A BRIEF SKETCH OF THE SYSTEMS

1. The Cārvāka System

In Indian philosophy, the word 'Cārvāka' means a materialist. The Cārvākas hold
that perception is the only valid source of knowledge. They point out that all
non-perceptual or indirect sources of knowledge like inference, the testimony of
other persons, etc., are unreliable and often prove misleading. We should not,
therefore, believe in anything except what is immediately known through
perception.
Perception reveals to us only the material world, composed of the four
bhūtas or elements of matter, viz. air, fire, water and earth, the existence of which
we can directly know through the senses. All objects of this perceptible world
are composed of these elements. There is no evidence that there is anything like
an immaterial soul in man. Man too is made wholly of matter. We say 'I am
stout,' 'I am lean,' 'I am lame'. These judgments also tend to show that the
individual is identical with the body. There is of course consciousness in man,
but consciousness is the quality of the living body which is a product of matter.
It should not be thought that because the elements of matter are unconscious,
there can be no consciousness in objects made of them. There are many
examples in which qualities originally absent in the component parts are
developed when the parts are combined together in a particular way. There are
examples even of the same substance acquiring new qualities under different
conditions. Betel leaf, nut and lime chewed together acquire a red tinge
originally absent in any of the constituents: molasses acquire by fermentation the
power of intoxication originally absent. Similarly, the elements of matter
combined together in a particular way give rise to the living body having
consciousness. Consciousness ceases apparently with the body. When man dies
nothing is left of him to enjoy or suffer the consequences of his actions hereafter.
The survival of man in any form after death is, therefore, unproved. The
existence of God also is a myth. God cannot be perceived. The world is made by
the automatic combination of the material elements and not by God. It is foolish,
therefore, to perform any religious rite either for enjoying happiness after this
life in heaven or for pleasing God. No faith should be put in the Vedas or in the
cunning priests who earn their livelihood by exploiting the credulity of men.
The highest end of life, for a rational man, should, therefore, be the
enjoyment of the greatest amount of pleasure here in this life, of which alone wet
are sure. It is foolish to forgo the pleasures of life simply because they happen to
be mixed with pain. It would be as though one would reject the kernel because of
its husk or cease sowing crops for fear of cattle. We should try to get the best out
of this life by enjoying it as best as we can and avoiding as far as possible the
chances of pain.

2. The Jaina System

The origin of the Jaina faith lies far back in the prehistoric times. The long line
of teachers through whom the faith was handed down consists of twenty-four
Tīrthaṅkaras or liberated propagators of the faith, the last of whom was
Vardhamāna (also styled Mahāvīra), a contemporary of Gautama Buddha.
The Jainas reject the Cārvāka view that perception is the only valid source of
knowledge. They point out that if we are to reject altogether the possibility of
obtaining correct knowledge through inference and the testimony of other
persons because sometimes they prove misleading, we should doubt the validity
of perception also, because even perception sometimes proves illusory. In fact,
the Cārvākas themselves take the help of inference when by observing some
cases of inference to be misleading they come to hold that all inference is
invalid, and also when they deny the existence of objects because they are not
perceived. The Jainas admit, in addition to perception, inference and testimony
as sources of valid knowledge. Inference yields valid knowledge when it obeys
the logical rules of correctness. Testimony is valid when it is the report of a
reliable authority. In fact, the Jainas hold that it is on the authority of the
teachings of the omniscient liberated saints (Jainas or Tirthaṅkaras) that we can
have unerring knowledge about certain spiritual matters, which our limited
sense-perception and reasoning cannot reveal to us.
On the basis of these three kinds of knowledge, the jainas form their view of
the universe. Perception reveals the reality of material substances, composed of
the four kinds of elements, as the Cārvākas hold. By inference they come to
believe in space (ākāśa), because material substances must exist somewhere,
believe in time (kāla), because changes of succession of the states of substances
cannot be understood without it and believe also in the two causes of motion and
rest respectively, for without them movement and cessation of movement in
things cannot be explained. These last two are called respectively dharma and
adharma which should not be taken here in their ordinary moral sense, but in the
technical sense of the causes of motion and rest. But the physical world,
consisting of the four elements of matter, space, time, dharma and adharma, is
not all. Perception, as well as inference, proves the existence of souls in all
living bodies. When we perceive the qualities of an orange such as its colour,
shape and smell, we say we perceive the existence of the orange. On similar
grounds, when we internally perceive pleasure, pain and other qualities of the
soul, we should admit that the soul also is directly known through perception.
Consciousness cannot be said to be the product of matter; the Cārvākas cannot
point out any case where the combination of material substances is perceived to
generate consciousness. The existence of the soul can also be inferred on the
ground that if there had been no conscious agent to guide them, material
substances could not be formed into living bodies by themselves. Without a
conscious substance to regulate them, the body and the senses could not do their
work so systematically.
There are, then, as many souls as there are living bodies. There are souls, the
Jainas hold, not only in animals, but also in plants and even in particles of dust.
The existence of very minute living beings (such as germs) in dust and other
apparently non-living material things is also admitted by modern science. All
souls are not equally conscious. Some, like those in plants or dust-bodies, have
only the sense of touch and have factual consciousness alone. Some lower
animals have two senses, others three, still others four. Man and some higher
animals have five senses through all of which they know things. But, however
developed the senses may be, the soul in bondage is limited in knowledge; it is
limited in power also and is subject to all kinds of miseries.
But every soul is capable of attaining infinite consciousness, power and
happiness. These qualities are inherent in the very nature of the soul. They are
obstructed by karmas, just as the natural light of the sun is obstructed by clouds.
The karmas or the forces of passions and desires in the soul attract to it particles
of matter which permeate the soul just as particles of dust permeate the light of
any flame or the sun. In a word the karmas lead to the bondage of the soul by
matter. By removing karmas, a soul can remove bondage and regain its natural
perfections.
The teachings and lives of the liberated saints (Tīrthaṅkaras) prove the
possibility of liberation and show also the path to be followed for the purpose.
Three things are necessary for the removal of bondage, viz. perfect faith in the
teachings of the Jaina teachers, correct knowledge of the teachings, and right
conduct. Right conduct consists in the practice of abstinence from all injury to
life, from falsehood, from stealing, from sensuality and from attachment to sense
objects. By the joint culture of right faith, right knowledge and right conduct, the
passions are controlled and the karmas that fetter the soul to matter are removed.
The obstacles being removed, the soul attains its natural perfection—infinite
faith, infinite knowledge, infinite power and infinite bliss. This is the state of
liberation.
The Jainas do not believe in God. The Tīrthaṅkaras, to whom all the godly
powers like omniscience and omnipotence belong, take the place of God. They
are adored as ideals of life.
Sympathy for all living beings is one of the chief features of the Jaina faith.
Coupled with this there is, in Jaina philosophy, respect for all opinions. The
Jaina philosophers point out that every object has infinite aspects, judged by
what it is and what it is not from different points of view. Every judgment that
we ordinarily pass about a thing is, therefore, true only in relation to a particular
aspect of the thing seen from a particular point of view. We should remember,
therefore, the limited nature of our knowledge and judgment and should refrain
from thinking that any view is the whole truth about any thing. We should guard
and qualify our own statements and also learn to appreciate the possibility of the
correctness of others' views.
The Jaina philosophy is a kind of realism, because it asserts the reality of the
external world, and it is pluralism, because it believes In many ultimate realities.
It is atheism as it rejects the existence of God.

3. The Bauddha System

The Bauddha system of philosophy arose out of the teachings of Gautama
Buddha, the well-known founder of Buddhism. Gautama was awakened to a
consciousness of human suffering by the sight of disease, old age, death and
other miseries, to which man is subject. He spent years in study, penance and
meditation to discover the origin of human sufferings and the means to
overcome them. At last he received enlightenment, the result of which was set
forth by him in the form of what has come to be known as 'the four noble truths'
(catvāri ārya-satyāni). These are—the truth that there is misery, the truth that
there is a cause of misery, the truth that there is cessation of misery and the truth
that there is a path leading to the cessation of misery.
The first truth about the existence of misery is admitted by all in some form
or other. But with his penetrating insight Buddha saw that misery is not simply
casual; it is ordinarily present in all forms of existence and in all kinds of
experience. Even what appears as pleasant is really a source of pain at bottom.
Regarding the second truth, Buddha's conclusion is deduced from his
analysis of causation. He points out that the existence of everything in the world,
material and mental, is caused by some other thing. There is nothing which is
unconditional and self-existent. Nothing is, therefore, permanent in the world.
All things are subject to change. Our sufferings are similarly caused by some
conditions. Sufferings depend on birth in this world, Birth again is caused by our
desire (taṇhā or tṛṣṇā) for the worldly objects. The force of desires drags us
down to the world. But our desires can be traced ultimately to our ignorance. If
we had a correct knowledge of the things of the world, understood their
transitory and painful nature, there would be no desire for them; birth would then
cease and along with it also misery.
As suffering, like other things, depends on some conditions, it must cease
when these conditions are removed. This is the third truth about cessation of
misery.
The fourth truth about the path that leads to the cessation of misery concerns
the control of the conditions that cause misery. This path is known as the eight-
fold noble path as it consists of eight steps, namely, right views, right
determination, right speech, right conduct, right livelihood, right endeavour,
right mindfulness and right concentration. These eight steps remove ignorance
and desire, enlighten the mind and bring about perfect equanimity and
tranquillity. Thus misery ceases completely and the chance of rebirth also is
stopped. The attainment of this state of perfection is nirvāṇa.
The teachings of Buddha are contained in the four noble truths described
above. It will appear from this that Buddha himself was not concerned so much
with the problems of philosophy as with the practical problem of how human
misery can be removed. He regarded it as a waste of time to discuss
metaphysical problems, while man is writhing in misery. But though averse to
theoretical speculation he could not avoid philosophical discussions altogether.
Thus we find from early literature, the following theories among his teachings:
(a) All things are conditional; there is nothing that exists by itself, (b) All things
are, therefore, subject to change owing to the change of the conditions on which
they depend; nothing is permanent. (c) There is, therefore, neither any soul nor
God nor any other permanent substance, (d) There is, however, continuity of the
present life which generates another life, by the law of karma, just as a tree
generates another tree through its seed, and the second continues while the first
withers away.
The later followers of Buddha, in India and outside, developed the germs of
philosophical theories contained in Buddha's teachings, and many schools thus
came into existence. Of these the four schools that became well known in Indian
philosophy may be mentioned here.
The Mādhyamika or Śūnyavāda School. According to this, the world is
unreal (śūnya); mental and non-mental phenomena are all illusory. This view is
known as nihilism (śūnyavāda).
The Yogācāra or Vijñānavāda School. This holds that external objects are
unreal. What appears as external is really an idea in the mind. But mind must be
admitted to be real. It is self-contradictory to say that the mind is unreal; for,
then, the very thought that mind is unreal stands self-condemned, thought being
an activity of the mind. This view is called subjective idealism (vijñānavāda).
The Sautrāntika School. This holds that both the mental and the non-mental
are real. If everything that we perceive as external were unreal, then our
perception of an object would not depend on anything outside the mind but
absolutely on the mind. But we find that the mind cannot perceive any object,
like a tiger, at any place it likes. This proves that the idea of the tiger, when we
perceive it, depends on a non-mental reality, the tiger. From the perceptual idea
or representation of a tiger in the mind we can infer the existence of its cause,
the tiger, outside the mind. Thus external objects can be inferred to exist outside
the mind. This view may be called representationism, or theory of the
inferability of external objects (bāhyānumeya-vāda).
The Vaibhāṣika School. This school agrees with the last on the point that
both internal and external objects are real. But it differs from it regarding the
way external objects are known. External objects, according to the Vaibhāṣikas,
are directly perceived and not inferred from their ideas or representations in the
mind. For, if no external object were ever perceived corresponding to any idea, it
would not be possible to infer the existence of an external object from any idea.
This view may be called direct realism, because it holds that external objects are
perceived directly (bāhya-pratyakṣa-vāda).
Buddhism is divided, on religious matters, into the two well-known schools,
Hīnayāna, flourishing now in the south, in Ceylon, Burma and Siam, and
Mahāyāna, found now in the north, in Tibet, China and Japan. The first two of
the four philosophical schools mentioned above come under the Mahāyāna and
the last two under the Hīnayāna. The most important religious question on which
these two schools differ is: What is the object of nirvāṇa? The Hīnayāna holds
that nirvāṇa should be sought in order that the individual may put an end to his
own misery. The Mahāyāna thinks, on the other hand, that the object of nirvāṇa
is not to put an end to one's own misery, but to obtain perfect wisdom with
which the liberated can work for the salvation of all beings in misery.

4. The Nyāya System

The Nyāya system is the work of the great sage Gautama. It is a realistic
philosophy based mainly on logical grounds. It admits four separate sources of
true knowledge, viz. perception (pratyakṣa), inference (anumāna), comparison
(upamāna) and testimony (śabda). Perception is the direct knowledge of objects
produced by their relation to our senses. It may be external (bāhya) or internal
(āntara), according as the sense concerned is external, like the eye and the ear, or
internal, like the mind (manas). Inference is the knowledge of objects, not
through perception, but through the apprehension of some mark (liṅga) which is
invariably related to the inferred objects (sādhya). The invariable relation
between the two is called vyāpti. In inference there are at least three propositions
and at most three terms, viz. the pakṣa or minor term about which we infer
something, the sādhya or major term which is the inferred object, and the linga
or sādhana or middle term which is invariably related to the major, and is present
in the minor. To illustrate: 'The hill is fiery, because it smokes; and whatever
smokes is fiery.' Comparison is the knowledge of the relation between a name
and things so named on the basis of a given description of their similarity to
some familiar object. A man is told that a gavaya is like a cow. Then he finds an
animal in the forest, which strikingly resembles the cow, and comes to know that
the animal must be a gavaya. Such knowledge is derived from upamāna or
comparison. Śabda or verbal testimony is the knowledge about anything derived
from the statements of authoritative persons. A scientist tells us that water is a
compound of hydrogen and oxygen in a certain proportion. Although we may
not have verified the truth ourselves, we know it on the authority of the scientist.
Here our knowledge is derived from Śabda or testimony. All other sources of
knowledge have been reduced by the Naiyāhikas to these four.
The objects of knowledge, according to the Nyāya, are the self, the body, the
senses and their objects, cognition (buddhi), mind (manas), activity (pravṛtti),
mental defects (doṣa), rebirth (pretyabhāva), the feelings of pleasure and pain
(phala) suffering (duḥkha), and freedom from suffering (apavarga). The Nyāya,
like many other systems of Indian philosophy, seeks to deliver the self from its
bondage to the body, the senses and their objects. According to it, the self is
distinct from the body and the mind. The body is only a composite substance
made of matter. The mind (manas) is a subtle, indivisible and eternal substance
(aṇu). It serves the soul as an instrument for the perception of psychic qualities
like pleasure, pain, etc. It is, therefore, called an internal sense. The self (ātman)
is another substance which is quite distinct from the mind and the body. It
acquires the attribute of consciousness when it is related to any object through
the senses. But consciousness is not an essential quality of the self. It is an
accidental or adventitious quality which ceases to qualify the self in the state of
mukti or liberation. While the mind (manas) is infinitesimal like an atom, the
self is all-pervading (vibhu), indestructible and eternal. It is an agent which likes
and dislikes objects and tries to obtain or avoid them and enjoys or suffers the
consequences of its actions. It is ignorance of the truth (mithya-jnana) and the
consequent faults of desire, aversion and infatuation (rāga, dveṣa and moha) that
impel the self to act for good and bad ends and plunge it into the world of sin
and suffering, birth and death. Liberation (apavarga) means the absolute
cessation of all pain and suffering brought about by the right knowledge of
reality (tattva-jñāna). Some people think that it is a state of happiness. But this is
entirely wrong, for there is no pleasure without pain, just as there is no light
without shade. So liberation is only release from pain and not pleasure or
happiness.
The existence of God is proved by the Naiyāyikas by several arguments.
God is the ultimate cause of the creation, maintenance and destruction of the
world. He did not create the world out of nothing, but out of eternal atoms,
space, time, ether, minds and souls. This world has been created in order that
individual souls (jīvas) might enjoy pleasure or suffer pain according to the merit
or demerit of their actions in other lives and in other worlds. The most popular
argument for God's existence is: 'All things of the world like mountains and seas,
the sun and the moon, are effects, because they are made up of parts. Therefore,
they must have a maker (kartā).' The individual selves cannot be the maker or
creator of the world, because they are limited in power and knowledge, and so
cannot deal with such subtle and imperceptible entities as atoms, of which all
physical things are composed. The creator of the world must be an intelligent
spirit with unlimited power and wisdom, and capable of maintaining the moral
order of the universe. God created the world not for any end of His own, but for
the good of all living beings. This, however, does not mean that there must be
only happiness and no misery in the world. If individual selves have any
freedom of will in them, they would act for good or bad ends and thereby bring
happiness or misery on themselves. But under the loving care and wise guidance
of the Divine Being, all individuals can sooner or later attain right knowledge
about themselves and the world, and thereby final release from all suffering
(mukti).

5. The Vaiśeṣika System

The Vaiśeṣika system was founded by the sage Kaṇāda also named Ulūka. It is
allied to the Nyāya system and has the same end in view, namely, the liberation
of the individual self. It brings all objects of knowledge, i.e. the whole world,
under the seven categories of substance (dravya), quality (guna), action (karma),
generality (sāmānya), particularity (viśeṣa), the relation of inherence (sāmavāya),
and non-existence (abhāva).
A substance is the substratum of qualities and activities, but is different from
both. There are nine kinds of substances, viz. earth, water, fire, air, ether (ākāśa),
time, space, soul and mind (manas). Of these, the first five are called the
physical elements (bhūtas) and have respectively the specific qualities of smell,
taste, colour, touch and sound. The first four are composed of the four kinds of
atoms (of earth, water, fire and air) which are invisible and indestructible
particles of matter. The atoms are uncreated and eternal entities which we get by
resolving any material object into smaller and smaller parts till we come to such
as cannot be further divided. Ākāśa, space and time are imperceptible
substances, each of which is one, eternal and all-pervading. The mind (manas) is
an eternal substance which is not all-pervading, but infinitely small like an atom.
It is the internal sense which is directly or indirectly concerned in all psychical
functions like cognition, feeling and willing. The mind being atomic we cannot
have more than one experience at one instant of time. The soul is an eternal and
all-pervading substance which is the substratum of the phenomena of
consciousness. The individual soul is perceived internally by the mind of the
individual, as when one says 'I am happy'. The supreme soul or God is inferred
as the creator of the world of effects. God creates the world out of eternal atoms.
The composition and decomposition of atoms explain the origin and destruction
of the composite objects of the world. But the atoms cannot move and act by
themselves. The ultimate source of their actions is to be found in the will of God,
who directs their operations according to the law of karma. The atoms are made
to compose a world that befits the unseen moral deserts (adṛṣṭa) of individual
souls and serves the purpose of moral dispensation. This is the atomic theory of
the Vaiśeṣikas. It is rather teleological than mechanistic and materialistic like
other atomic theories.
A quality is that which exists in a substance and has itself no quality or
activity. While a substance can exist by itself, a quality cannot exist unless it be
in some substance. There is no activity or movement in the qualities of things.
There are altogether twenty-four kinds of qualities, viz. colour, taste, smell,
touch, sound, number, magnitude, distinctness (pṛthaktva), conjunction
(saṁyoga), disjunction (vibhāga), remoteness (paratva), nearness (aparatva),
fluidity (dravatva), viscidity (sneha), cognition (buddhi), pleasure, pain, desire,
aversion, striving (prayatna), heaviness (gurutva), tendency (saṁskāra), merit
(dharma) and demerit (adharma).20
An action is a movement. Like quality, it belongs only to substances. There
are five kinds of action, viz. throwing upward (utkṣepaṇa), throwing downward
(avakṣepaṇa), contraction (ākuñcana), expansion (prasāraṇa) and going
(gamana).
All cows have in them a certain common nature for which they are grouped
into one class and excluded from other classes. This is called 'gotva' or cowness
and is the sāmānya or universal in them Since cowness is not generated by the
birth of any cow nor destroyed by the death of any, it is eternal. A universal is
thus the eternal essence common to all the individuals of a class.
Particularity (viśeṣa) is the ground of the ultimate differences of things.
Ordinarily, we distinguish one thing from another by the peculiarities of its parts
and other qualities. But how are we to distinguish the ultimate simple and eternal
substances of the world, like two atoms of the earth? There must be some
ultimate difference or peculiarity in each of them, otherwise they would not be
different, both having all the qualities of the earth. Particularity stands for the
peculiarity or individuality of the eternal entities of the world. It is the special
treatment of this category of viśeṣa that explains the name 'Vaiśeṣika' given to
this system of philosophy.
Inherence (samavāya) is the permanent or eternal relation by which a whole
is in its parts, a quality or an action is in a substance, the universal is in the
particulars. The cloth as one whole always exists in the threads, qualities like
'green,' 'sweet' and 'fragrant,' and motions of different kinds abide in some
substances. Cowness as a universal is in all cows. This permanent relation
between the whole and its parts, between the universal and its individuals, and
between qualities or actions and their substances, is known as samavāya or
inherence.
Non-existence (abhāva) stands for all negative facts. 'There is no snake here,'
'that rose is not red,' 'there is no smell in pure water' are propositions which
express respectively the non-existence of the snake, redness and smell in certain
things. All such cases of non-existence are brought under the category of abhāva.
It is of four kinds, namely, prāgabhāva, dhvaṁsābhāva, atyantābhāva (these
three being put together under saṁsar gābhāva or the absence of one thing in
another thing), and anyonyābhāva. The first means the non-existence of a thing
before (prior to) its production, e.g. the non-existence of pot in clay before it is
produced by the potter. The second is the non-existence of a thing after its
destruction (dhvaṁsa), e.g. the non-existence of the pot in its broken parts. The
third is the absence of a thing in another thing for all time—past, present and
future, e.g. the non-existence of colour in the air. The last kind represents the
difference of one thing from another. When two things (say a jar and a cloth)
differ from each other, there is the non-existence of either as the other. The jar is
not the cloth, nor is the cloth the jar. This mutual non-existence of two different
things is called anyonyābhāva.
With regard to God and liberation of the individual soul, the Vaiśeṣika theory
is substantially the same as that of the Nyāya.

6. The Sāṅkhya System

The Sāṅkhya is a philosophy of dualistic realism, attributed to the sage Kapila. It
admits two ultimate realities, namely, puruṣa and prakṛti, which are independent
of each other in respect of their existence. The puruṣa is an intelligent principle,
of which consciousness (caitanya) is not an attribute, but the very essence. It is
the self which is quite distinct from the body, the senses and the mind (manas). It
is beyond the whole world of objects, and is the eternal consciousness which
witnesses the changes and activities going on in the world, but does not itself act
and change in any way. Physical things like chairs, beds, etc. exist for the
enjoyment of beings other than themselves. Therefore, there must be the puruṣa
or the self which is distinct from prakṛti or primary matter, but is the enjoyer
(bhoktā) of the products of prakṛti. There are many different selves related to
different bodies, for when some men are happy, others are unhappy, some die but
others live.
Prakṛti is the ultimate cause of the world. It is an eternal unconscious
principle (jada) which is always changing and has no other end than the
satisfaction of the selves. Sattva, rajas and tamas are three constituents of prakṛti
which holds them together in a state of rest or equilibrium (sāmyāvasthā). The
three are called guṇas. But they are not qualities or attributes in any sense.
Rather, they are three substantial elements which constitute prakṛti like three
cords making up a rope. The existence of the guṇas is inferred from the qualties
of pleasure, pain and indifference which we find in all the things of the world.
The same sweet is liked or disliked or treated with indifference by the same man
in different conditions. The same salad is tasteful to some person, distasteful to
another and insipid to a third. Now the cause and the effect are essentially
identical. The effect is the manifested condition of the cause, e.g. oil as an effect
manifests what is already contained in the seeds. The things of the world are
effects which have the qualities of pleasure, pain and indifference. Therefore,
prakṛti or pradhāna which is their ultimate cause must have the three elements of
sattva, rajas and tamas which respectively possess the natures of pleasure, pain
and indifference, and cause manifestation, activity and passivity.
The evolution of the world has its starting point in the association (saṁyoga)
of the puruṣa with prakṛti, which disturbs the original equilibrium of the latter
and moves it to action. The course of evolution is as follows: from prakṛti arises
the great germ of this vast universe which is called, therefore, the great one
(mahat). The consciousness of the self is reflected on this and makes it appear as
conscious. It represents the awakening of nature from her cosmic slumber and
the first appearance of thought; and, therefore, it is also called the Intellect
(buddhi). It is the creative thought of the world to be evolved. Ahaṅkāra, the
second product, arises by a further transformation of the Intellect. The function
of ahaṅkāra is the feeling of 'I and mine' (abhimāna). Owing to its identification
with this principle, the self considers itself to be an agent (kartā) which it really
is not. From ahaṅkāra, with an excess of the element of sattva, arise the five
organs of knowledge (jñānendriya), the five organs of action (karmendriya) and
the mind (manas) which is at once an organ of knowledge and activity
(ubhayendriya). With an increase of tamas, ahaṅkāra produces, on the other
hand, the five subtle elements (tanmātra) which are the potentialities of sound,
touch, colour, taste and smell. From the five subtle elements come the five gross
elements of ākāśa or ether, air, fire, water and earth in the same order. Thus we
have altogether twenty-five principles in the Sāṅkhya. Of these, all but the
puruṣa is comprised by prakṛti which is the cause or the ultimate source of all
other physical objects including mind, matter and life. Prakṛti is the uncaused
cause of all objects. The seven principles of mahat, ahaṅkāra and the five
tanmātras are causes of certain effects and themselves effects of certain causes.
The eleven senses and the five gross elements are only the effects of certain
causes and not themselves the causes of anything which is substantially different
from them. The puruṣa or the self is neither the cause (prakṛti) nor the effect
(vikṛti) of anything.
Although the self is in itself free and immortal, yet such is the influence of
avidyā or ignorance that it confuses itself with the body, the senses and the mind
(manas). It is the want of discrimination (aviveka) between the self and the not-
self that is responsible for all our sorrows and sufferings. We feel injured and
unhappy when our body is injured or indisposed, because we fail to realise the
distinction between the self and the body. Similarly, pleasure and pain in the
mind seem to affect the self only because the self's distinction from the mind is
not clearly perceived by us. Once we realise the distinction between the self and
the not-self including the body and the senses, the mind, the intellect and the ego
(vivekajñāna), our self ceases to be affected by the joys and sorrows, the ups and
downs of life. It rests in itself as the dispassionate observer of the show of events
in the world without being implicated in them. This is the state of liberation or
freedom from suffering which has been variously described as mukti, apavarga,
kaivalya, etc. It is possible for us to attain this state while alive in this world
(jīvanmukti) or after this life in the other world (videhamukti). But mere
knowledge or intellectual understanding of the truth will not help one to realise
one's self and thereby attain final release from sin and suffering. For this we
require to go through a long course of spiritual training with deep devotion to,
and constant meditation on, the truth that the self is the pure eternal
consciousness which is beyond the mind-body complex and above the space-
time and cause-effect order of existence. It is the unborn and undying spirit, of
which the essence is freedom, immortality and life eternal. The nature and
methods of the spiritual training necessary for self-realisation have been
elaborated in the Yoga philosophy.
With regard to the problem of God, we find that the main tendency of the
Sāṅkhya is to do away with the theistic belief. According to it, the existence of
God cannot be proved in anyway. We need not admit God to explain the world;
for prakṛti is the adequate cause of the world as a whole. God as eternal and
unchanging spirit cannot be the creator of the world; for to produce an effect the
cause must change and transform itself into the effect. Some Sāṅkhya
commentators and writers, however, try to show that the system admits the
existence of God as the supreme person who is the witness but not the creator of
the world.

7. The Yoga System

The sage Patañjali is the founder of the Yoga philosophy. The Yoga is closely
allied to the Sāṅkhya. It mostly accepts the epistemology and the metaphysics of
the Sāṅkhya with its twenty-five principles, but admits also to the existence of
God. The special interest of this system is in the practice of yoga as the means to
the attainment of vivekajñāna or discriminative knowledge which is held in the
Sāṅkhya to be the essential condition of liberation. According to it, yoga consists
in the cessation of all mental functions (cittavṛttinirodha). There are five levels
of mental functions (cittabhūmi). The first is called kṣipta or the dissipated
condition in which the mind flits among objects. The second is mūḍha or the
stupefied condition as in sleep. The third is called vikṣipta or the relatively
pacified condition. Yoga is not possible in any of these conditions. The fourth
and the fifth levels are called ekāgra and niruddha. The one is a state of
concentration of the mind on some object of contemplation. The other is the
cessation of even the act or function of contemplation. The last two levels of the
mind (cittabhūmi) are conducive to yoga. There are two kinds of yoga or
samādhi, viz. saṁprajñāta and asaṁprajñāta. In the first we have yoga in the
form of the mind's perfect concentration on the object of contemplation, and,
therefore, involving a clear apprehension of that object. In the second, there is
the complete cessation of all mental modifications and, consequently, the entire
absence of all knowledge including that of the contemplated object.
There are eight steps in the practice of yoga (yogāṅga). These are: yama or
restraint, niyama or moral culture, āsana or posture, prāṇāyāma or breath-
control, pratyāhāra or withdrawal of the senses, dhāraṇā or attention, dhyāna or
meditation and samādhi or concentration. Yama or restraint consists in
abstaining from injury to any life, from falsehood, theft, incontinence and
avarice. Niyama or moral culture is the cultivation of good habits like
purification, contentment, penance, study of the Vedas and contemplation of
God. Āsana is the adoption of steady and comfortable postures. Prāṇāyāma or
breath-control is regulated inhalation, exhalation and retention of breath.
Pratyāhāra or sense-control consists in withdrawing the senses from their
objects. Dhāraṇā or attention is fixing the mind on some intra-organic or extra-
organic objects like the nose-tip or the moon. Dhyāna or meditation is the steady
contemplation of the object without any break. Samādhi or concentration is that
state in which the contemplative consciousness is lost in the contemplated object
and has no awareness of itself.
The Yoga system is called the theistic (seśvara) Sāṅkhya as distinguished
from the Kapila Sāṅkhya which is generally regarded as atheistic (nirīśvara). It
holds that God is the highest object of contemplation for concentration and self-
realisation. He is the perfect Being who is eternal, all-pervading, omniscient and
completely free from all defects. The Yoga argues for the existence of God on
the following grounds: whatever has degrees must have a maximum. There are
degrees of knowledge; therefore, there must be such a thing as perfect
knowledge or omniscience. He who has omniscience is God. The association of
puruṣa with prakṛti is what initiates the evolution of the world, and the cessation
of this leads to dissolution. Neither the association nor the dissociation is natural
to prakṛti and puruṣa. Therefore, there must be a supreme being who is able to
bring about these relations between prakṛti and puruṣa according to the moral
deserts of individual souls.

8. The Mīmāṁsā System

The Mīmāṁsā (or Pūrva-Mīmāṁsā) school was founded by Jaimini. Its primary
object is to defend and justify Vedic ritualism. In course of this attempt, it had to
find a philosophy supporting the world-view on which ritualism depends.
The authority of the Vedas is the basis of ritualism, and the Mīmāṁsā
formulates the theory that the Vedas are not the works of any person and are,
therefore, free from errors that human authors commit. The Vedas are eternal and
self-existing; the written or pronounced Vedas are only their temporary
manifestations through particular seers. For establishing the validity of the
Vedas, the Mīmāṁsā discusses very elaborately the theory of knowledge, the
chief object of which is to show that the validity of every knowledge is self-
evident. When there are sufficient conditions, knowledge arises. When the
senses are sound, objects are present to them and when other auxiliary
conditions also prevail, there is perception. When there are suffcient data, there
is inference. When we read a book on geography, we have knowledge of the
lands described, through authority. In each of these cases, the knowledge that
arises claims to be true and we accept it without further argument. If there is any
cause for doubt, then knowledge does not arise at all, because belief is absent.
Similarly, by reading the Vedas we have at once knowledge and belief in what
they say. The validity of Vedic knowledge is self-evident like that of every other
knowledge. If any doubts arise, they are removed with the help of Mīmāṁsā
arguments; and the obstacles being removed, the Vedas themselves reveal their
contents to the reader. The authority of the Vedas thus becomes unquestionable.
What the Vedas command one to perform is right (dharma). What they
forbid is wrong. Duty consists in doing what is right and desisting from
forbidden acts. Duty must be done in the spirit of duty. The rituals enjoined by
the Vedas should be performed not with the hope of any reward but just because
they are so enjoined. The disinterested performance of the obligatory rites,
which is possible only through knowledge and self-control, gradually destroys
the karmas and brings about liberation after death. The state of liberation is
conceived in the early Mīmāṁsā as one of unalloyed bliss or heaven. But the
later Mīmāṁsā conceives liberation only negatively as the cessation of birth and,
therefore, of all pains.
The soul must be admitted as an immortal eternal substance, for if the soul
perished on death, the Vedic injunctions that certain rites should be performed
for the attainment of heaven would be meaningless. The Mīmāṁsā writers also
adduce independent arguments, like the Jainas, to prove the existence of the
immortal soul, and refute the materialistic view that it is nothing other than the
body. But they do not admit consciousness as intrinsic to the soul. Consciousness
arises in it only when it is associated with the body and then also only when an
object is presented to the organs of knowledge (the five outer senses and the
inner organ called manas). The liberated soul, which is disembodied, has no
actual consciousness, though it has the potentiality for it.
The soul in the body has different kinds of knowledge. One school of the
Mīmāṁsā founded by Prabhākara admits five different sources of knowledge
(pramāṇas), namely, perception (pratyakṣa), inference (anumāna), comparison
(upamana), testimony (śabda) and postulation (arthāpatti). The first four are
admitted as in the Nyāya system. There is, however, one notable difference
regarding comparison. According to the Mīmāṁsā, knowledge by comparison
arises in a case like the following: a man who has seen a monkey goes to a
forest, sees an ape and judges, 'this ape is like a monkey'. From this judgment of
perception he passes to the judgment 'the monkey I saw before is like this ape'.
This last knowledge is obtained by comparison and not by perception, because
the monkey is not present then. Knowledge by postulation arises when we have
to postulate something as the only explanation of an apparent conflict. When we
find that a man does not eat anything in the day, but increases in weight, we
postulate that he must be eating at night. When a man is known to be alive and
yet not found at home, it is known by postulation that he exists somewhere out.
Another school of the Mīṁāmsā founded by Kumārila Bhaṭṭa admits another
source of valid cognition, in addition to the above five. This sixth pramāṇa is
called non-cognition (anupalabdhi). It is pointed out that when on entering a
room, and looking round one says, 'There is no fan in this room,' the non-
existence of the fan cannot be said to be known by perception. Perception of an
object arises when our sense is stimulated by the object, and non-existence,
which is the object known here, cannot be admitted to stimulate sense. Such
knowledge of non-existence takes place by non-cognition. We judge the absence
of the fan not because other things are perceived, but because the fan is not
perceived.
The Mīmāṁsā believes in the reality of the physical world on the strength of
perception. It is, therefore, realistic. It believes, as we have seen, in the reality of
souls, as well. But it does not believe that there is a supreme soul, or God who
has created the world. It does not hold like other orthodox systems that there is a
cycle of creation and dissolution. The world has always been as it is. It has
neither a beginning nor an end. The world's objects are formed out of matter in
accordance with the karmas of the souls. The law of karma is an autonomous
natural and moral law that rules the world. The Mīmāṁsā also admits that when
any man performs any ritual, there arises in his soul a potency (apūrva) which
produces in future the fruit of the action at an opportune moment. On account of
this potency generated in the soul by rites performed here, one can enjoy their
fruits hereafter.

9. The Vedānta System

This system arises out of the Upaniṣads which mark the culmination of the Vedic
speculation and are fittingly called the Vedānta or the end of the Vedas. As we
have seen previously, it develops through the Upaniṣads in which its basic truths
are first grasped, the Brahma-sūtra of Bādarāyaṇa which systematises the
Upaniṣadic teachings, and the commentaries written on these sūtras by many
subsequent writers among whom Saṅkara and Rāmānuja are well known. Of all
the systems, the Vedānta, especially as interpreted by Saṅkara, has exerted the
greatest influence on Indian life and it still persists in some form or other in
different parts of India.
The idea of one Supreme Person (puruṣa), who pervades the whole universe
and yet remains beyond it, is found in a hymn of the Ṛg-veda. All objects of the
universe, animate and inanimate, men and gods, are poetically conceived here as
parts of that Person. In the Upaniṣads this unity of all existence is found
developed into the conception of One impersonal Reality (sat), or the conception
of One Soul, One Brahman, all of which are used synonymously. The world is
said to originate from this Reality, rest in it and return into it when dissolved.
The reality of the many particular objects perceived in the universe is denied and
their unity in the One Reality is asserted ever and again: All is God (sarvam
khalu idam Brahma). The soul is God (ayam Ātmā, Brahma). There is no
multiplicity here (neha nānāsti kiñcana). This Soul or God is the Reality (satya).
It is infinite consciousness (jñāna) and Bliss (ānanda).
Śaṅkara interprets the Upaniṣads and the Brahma-sūtra to show that pure
and unqualified monism is taught therein. God is the only Reality, not simply in
the sense that there is nothing except God, but also in the sense that there is no
multiplicity even within God. The denial of plurality, the unity of the soul and
God, the assertion that when God is known, all is known, and similar views
found in the Upaniṣads, in fact the general tone that pervades their teachings,
cannot be explained consistently if we believe even in the existence of many
realities within God. Creation of the many things by God (Brahman) or the Soul
(Ātman) is, of course, related in some Upaniṣads. But in others, and even in the
Vedas, creation is compared to magic or jugglery; God is spoken of as the
Juggler who creates the world by the magical power called Māyā.
Śaṅkara, therefore, holds that, in consistency with the emphatic teaching that
there is only One Reality, we have to explain the world not as a real creation, but
as an appearance which God conjures up with his inscrutable power, Māyā. To
make the conception of Māyā more intelligible to ordinary experience, he
interprets it in the light of ordinary illusions that we have in daily life, when a
rope appears, for example, as a snake or a glittering shell appears as silver. In all
such cases of illusion, there is a substratum or a reality (e.g., rope, shell) on
which something else (e.g., snake, silver) is imagined or superimposed owing to
the ignorance of the substratum. This ignorance not only conceals the underlying
reality or substratum, but also makes it appear as something else. Our perception
of the world's objects can be similarly explained. We perceive the many objects
in the One Brahman on account of our ignorance (avidyā or ajñāna) which
conceals the real Brahman from us and makes it apper as the many objects.
When the juggler produces an ilusory show, makes one coin appear as many, the
cause of it from his point of view is his magical power, from our point of view
the reason why we perceive the many coins, is our ignorance of the one real
coin. Applying this analogy to the world-appearance, we can say that this
appearance is due to the magical power of Māyā in God and we can also say that
it is due to our ignorance. Māyā and ignorance are then the two sides of the same
fact locked at from two different points of view. Hence Māyā is also said to be of
the nature of Ignorance (Avidyā or Ajñāna). Lest one should think that Śaṅkara's
position also fails to maintain pure monism, because two realities—God and
Māyā—are admitted, Śaṅkara points out that Māyā as a power of God is no
more different from God than the power of burning is from fire. There is then no
dualism but pure monism (advaita).
But is not even then God really possessed of creative power? Śaṅkara replies
that so long as one believes in the world appearance, he looks at God through the
world, as the creator of it. But when he realises that the world is apparent, that
nothing is really created, he ceases to think of God as a Creator. To one who is
not deceived by the magician's art and sees through his trick, the magician fails
to be a magician; he is not credited with any magical power. Similarly, to the few
who see nothing but God in the world, God ceases to have Māyā or the power of
creating appearances.
In view of this, Śaṅkara finds it necessary to distinguish two different points
of view—the ordinary or empirical (vyāvahārika) and the transcendental or real
(pāramārthika). The first is the standpoint of unenlightened persons who regard
the world as real: our life of practice depends on this; it is rightly called,
therefore, the vyāvahārika or practical point of view. From this point of view the
world appears as real; God is thought to be its omnipotent and omniscient
creator, sustainer and destroyer. Thus God appears as qualified (saguṇa) by many
qualities. God in this aspect is called by Śaṅkara Saguṇa Brahman or Īśvara.
From this point of view, the self also appears as though limited by the body; it
behaves like a finite ego (aham). The second or the real (pāramārthika)
standpoint is that of the enlightened who have realised that the world is an
appearance and that there is nothing but God. From this point of view, the world
being thought unreal, God ceases to be regarded as any real creator, or as
possessed of any qualities like omniscience or omnipotence. God is realised as
One without any internal distinction, without any quality. God from this
transcendental standpoint (pāramārthikadṛṣṭi) is indeterminate, and characterless;
it is Nirguṇa Brahman. The body also is known to be apparent and there is
nothing to distinguish the soul from God.
The attainment of this real standpoint is possible only by the removal of
ignorance (avidyā) to which the cosmic illusion is due. And this can be effected
only by the knowledge that is imparted by the Vedānta. One must control the
senses and the mind, give up all attachment to objects realising their transitory
nature, and have an earnest desire for liberation. He should then study the
Vedānta under an enlightened teacher and try to realise its truths by constant
reasoning and meditation. When he is thus fit, the teacher would tell him at last:
'Thou art Brahman'. He would meditate on this till he has a direct and permanent
realisation of the truth, 'I am Brahman'. This is perfect wisdom or liberation from
bondage. Though such a liberated soul still persists in the body and in the world,
these no longer fetter him as he does not regard them as real. He is in the world,
but not of the world. No attachment, no illusion can affect his wisdom. The soul
then being free from the illusory ideas that divided it from God, is free from all
misery. As God is Bliss, so also is the liberated soul.
The teachings of the Vedānta are interpreted and developed by Rāmānuja in
a different way, as follows: God is the only Reality. Within Him there exists as
parts the different unconscious (acit) material objects as well as the many
conscious souls (cit). God is possessed of all supremely good qualities like
omniscience and omnipotence. Just as a spider spins the cobweb out of his own
body, so God creates the world of material objects out of matter (acit) which
eternally exists in Him. The souls are conceived as infinitely small (aṇu)
substances which also exist eternally. They are, by their very nature, conscious
and self-luminous. Every soul is endowed with a material body in accordance
with its karma. Bondage of the soul means its confinement to this body.
Liberation is the complete dissociation of the soul from the body. The cause of
bondage is karma which springs from ignorance. The soul identifies itself with
the body, through ignorance of its real nature and behaves as though it were the
body. It hankers after sensuous pleasures. Thus it becomes attached to the world
and the force of this atachment causes its repeated rebirth. Ignorance is removed
by the study of the Vedānta. Man comes to know that his soul is distinct from the
body, that it is really a part of God or Brahman, on whom his existence depends.
The disinterested performance of the obligatory duties enjoined by the Vedas
destroys the accumulated forces of attachment or karmas and helps the
perfection of knowledge. God is known as the only object worthy of love. Such
knowledge leads to constant meditation on God and resignation to His will. God
is pleased by devotion and releases the devotee from bondage. He is never born
again after death. The liberated soul becomes similar to God, because like God it
has pure consciousness free from imperfections. But it does not become identical
with God, as the finite can never become infinite.
According to Rāmānuja, though God is the only Reality and there is nothing
outside God, yet within God there are many other realities. Creation of the world
and the objects created are all as real as God. It is, therefore, not unqualified
monism (advaita), but a monism of the One qualified by the presence of many
parts (viśiṣṭādvaita). God possessed of the conscious souls and unconscious
matter is the only Reality.

1. Aldous Huxley, Ends and Means, p. 252.

2. Vide Manu-Saṁhitā, 6.74: 'Samyag-darśana-sampannah karmabhirna nibadhyate; darśanena
vihīnastu saṁsāram pratipadyate.'
3. In modern Indian languages, 'āstika' and 'nāstika' generally mean 'theist' and 'atheist', respectively.
But in Sanskrit philosophical literature, 'Āstika' means 'one who believes in the authority of the
Vedas' or 'one who belives in life after death'. ('Nāstika' means the opposite of these). The word is
used here in the first sense. In the second sense, even the Jaina and Bauddha schools are 'āstika', as
they believe in life after death. The six orthodox schools are 'āstika', and the Cārvāka is 'nāstika' in
both the senses.
4. E.g., Thilly, A History of Philosophy, p. 3; Stace, A Critical History of Greek Philosophy, p. 14.
5. For a full discussion of this point, see Introduction to Prof. Radha Krishnan's Indian philosophy, Vol.
I. pp, 49-50.
6. George Herbert Palmer, Contemporary American Philosophy, Vol. I. p. 51.
 7. Progmatism, pp. 106-107.
8. Cf. Ṛg-veda, 1.1.8, 1.23.5, 1.24.9, 1.123.13, passim.
9. Vide Prakariaṇa-pañcikā, p. 156 (Chowkhamba ed.)
10. Vide Perry, Philosophy of the Recent Past, p.206 f.s. Cf. Höffding, The Philosophy of Religion, pp. 1–
13.
11. Vide Yoga-vāśiṣṭha-rāmāyaṇa, Park. 2, Sar. 4–9, for discussion. Also in Mahābhārata (śāntiparva),
Bhīṣma says, 'I consider personal effort to be above all; belief in fate makes man dull.' (Pauruṣam
hi param manye; daivam niścitya muhyate.) Among the conditions responsible for the success of
any work Bhagavad-Gītā (18.14) mentions both ceṣṭā and daiva. Pañcadaśī (6.158) says: 'God in
man is transformed into effort.' So also Yājñavalkya-Smṛti (1.351) says: 'Just as a chariot cannot
move on one wheel, so fate (daiva) without personal endeavour (puruṣakāra) cannot lead to
success.'
12. In the Mahābhārata (śāntiparva) Bhīṣma teaches that self-control (dama) is the sun (samudaya) of all
virtues and the secret (upaniṣad) of truth (satya).
13. Vide Pañcadaśī, 6. 176.
14. Chāndogya Up., 6. 7.
15. Bhagavadgītā, 2. 64.
16. Sir J.H. Jeans, in Nature, 26–2–27. A light-year the distance travelled, by light in a year, at the rate of
186.325 miles per second = 60×60×24×365×186.325 miles = 5,875, 945,200.000 miles.
17. Ibid, (quoted in Everyday Science, by L.M. Parsons, pp. 14–15).
18. part 2, Chap. 7.
19. Vide Bhāgavata, 11.2.29, and Dhammapada, 14.4.
20. 'Paratva' stands for both remoteness in space and remoteness in time and 'aparatva' for nearness both
in space and time. 'Saṁskāra' really stands for three qualities, viz. velocity, elasticity and memory-
impression.
CHAPTER II

The Cārvāka Philosophy

I. ITS ORIGIN AND SCOPE

Materialism is the name given to the metaphysical doctrine which holds that
matter is the only reality. This doctrine tries to explain mind and consciousness
as the products of matter. In general outlook, materialism represents the
tendency that seeks to reduce the higher to the lower or explain the higher
phenomena in the light of the lower ones. In this respect, it is opposed to
spiritual interpretations of the universe.
Though materialism in some of the references are found in the Vedas, the
Buddhistic literature, the Epics, as well as in the later philosophical works, we
do not find any systematic work on materialism, nor any organised school of
followers as the other philosophical schools possess. But almost every work of
the other schools states, for reputation, the materialistic views. Our knowledge of
Indian materialism is chiefly based on these.
'Cārvāka' is the word that generally stands for 'materialist'. But the original
meaning of this word is shrouded in mystery. According to one view, 'Cārvāka'
was originally the name of a sage who propounded materialism. The common
name 'Cārvāka' is derived from this proper name and means the follower of that
sage, i.e., a materialist. According to another view, 'Cārvāka' was even originally
a common descriptive name given to a materialist, either because he preached
the doctrine of 'eat, drink and be merry'1 (Carv—eat, chew), or because his
words are pleasant and nice (cāru—nice, vāk—word). Some writers2 again
regard Bṛhaspati as the founder of materialism. This view is based on the facts
(a) that some Vedic hymns ascribed by tradition to Bṛhaspati, son of Loka, are
marked by a spirit of revolt and free-thinking, (b) that in the Mahābhārata and
elsewhere materialistic views are put in the mouth of Bṛhaspati and (c) that
about a dozen sūtras and verses are found quoted or referred to by different
authors as the materialistic teachings of Bṛhaspati. Some even go a little further
and say that Bṛhaspati, the teacher of the gods, propagated the materialistic
views among the giants (the enemies of the gods) so that by following these
attractive teachings they might come to ruin!
But whoever be the founder of Indian materialism, 'Cārvāka' has become
synonymous with 'materialist'. The word used for materialism is also
lokāyatamata, i.e., the view of common people. A materialist is accordingly
called also lokāyatika.
Though the materialistic ideas are scattered here and there, they may be
systematised and conveniently presented under three chief heads, namely,
Epistemology, Metaphysics and Ethics.

II. THE CĀRVĀKA EPISTEMOLOGY

The entire philosophy of the Cārvākas may be said to depend logically on their
epistemology or the theory of knowledge. The main problems of epistemology
are: How far can we know reality? How does knowledge originate and develop?
This last question involves the problem: what are the different sources of
knowledge? This problem forms one of the chief topics of Indian epistemology.
Knowledge of reality or valid cognition is called pramā and the source of such
knowledge is called pramāṇa. The Cārvāka holds that perception is the only
pramāṇa or dependable source of knowledge. For establishing this position, he
criticises the possibility of other sources of knowledge like inference and
testimony which are regarded as valid pramāṇas by many philosophers.

1. Inference is not Certain

If inference is to be regarded as a pramāṇa, it must yield knowledge about which
we can have no doubt and which must be true to reality. But inference cannot
fulfil these conditions, because when we infer, for example, the existence of fire
in a mountain from the perception of smoke in it, we take a leap in the dark,
from the perceived smoke to the unperceived fire. A logician, like the Naiyāyika,
will perhaps point out that such a leap is justified by the previous knowledge of
the invariable concomitance between smoke and fire and that the inference
stated more fully would be: all cases of smoke are cases of fire, this (mountain)
is a case of smoke, therefore, this is a case of fire.
 The Cārvāka points out that this contention would be acceptable only if the
major premise, stating the invariable relation between the middle term (smoke)
and the major (fire), were beyond doubt. But this invariable relation (vyāpti) can
be established only if we have a knowledge of all cases of smoke and presence
of fire. This, however, is not possible, as we cannot perceive even all the cases of
smoke and fire existing now in different parts of the world, to speak nothing of
those which existed in the past or will exist in the future. No invariable,
universal relation (vyāpti) can, therefore, be established by perception. Neither
can it be said to be based on another inference, because it will involve a petitio
principii, since the validity of that inference again has to be similarly proved.
Nor can this vyāpti be based on the testimony (śabda) of reliable persons (who
state that all cases of smoke are cases of fire). For, the validity of testimony itself
requires to be proved by inference. Besides, if inference always depended on
testimony, no one could infer anything by himself.
But it may be asked: though it is not possible to perceive all individual cases
of smoke and fire, is it not possible to perceive the constant class-characters
(sāmānya) like 'smokeness' and 'fireness' which must be invariably present in all
instances of smoke and fire respectively? If so, then can we not say that we at
least perceive a relation between smokeness and fireness and with its help infer
the presence of fire, wherever we perceive smoke. The Cārvāka replies that even
if we grant the perception of a relation between smokeness and fireness, we
cannot know therefrom any invariable relation between all individual cases of
smoke and fire. To be able to infer a particular fire, we must know that it is
inseparably related to the particular smoke perceived. In fact, it is not possible
even to know by perception what 'smokeness' or the class-character universally
present in all particular instances of smoke is, because we do not perceive all
cases of smoke. What is found has to be universally present in the unperceived
ones. The difficulty of passing from particulars to the universal, therefore,
remains here as before.
But it may be asked: if we do not believe in any fixed universal law
underlying the phenomena of the world, how would we explain the uniformities
that experienced objects possess? Why is fire always experienced to be hot and
water to be cool? The Cārvāka reply is that it is due to the inherent natures
(svabhāva) of things that they possess particular characters. No supernatural
principle need be supposed to account for the properties of experienced objects
of nature. There is neither any guarantee that uniformity perceived in the past
would continue in future.
A modern student of inductive logic would be tempted to ask the Cārvāka:
'But can we not base our knowledge of the invariable relation between smoke
and fire on a causal relation between them?' The Cārvāka reply would be that a
causal relation, being only a kind of invariable relation, cannot be established by
perception owing to the same difficulties.
The Cārvāka would further point out that a causal or any other invariable
relation cannot be established merely by repeated perception of two things
occurring together. For one must be certain that there is no other unperceived
condition (upādhi) on which this relation depends. For example if a man
perceives a number of times fire accompanied by smoke and on another occasion
he infers the existence of smoke on the perception of fire, he would be liable to
error, because he failed to notice a condition (upādhi), namely, wetness of fuel,
on the presence of which alone fire is attended with smoke. So long as the
relation between two phenomena is not proved to be unconditional, it is an
uncertain ground for inference. And unconditionality or absence of conditions
cannot be established beyond doubt by perception, as some conditions may
always remain hidden and escape notice. Inference or testimony cannot be used
for proving this unconditionality without a petitio principii because its validity
also is being questioned here.
It is true that in life we very often act unsuspectingly on inference. But that
only shows that we act uncritically on the wrong belief that our inference is true.
It is a fact that sometimes our inference comes true and leads to successful
results. But it is also a fact that sometimes inference leads to error as well. Truth
is not then an unfailing character of all inferences; it is only an accident, and a
separable one, that we find only in some inferences.
Inference cannot be regarded, therefore, as a pramāna—a sure source of
valid cognition.

2. Testimony is not a Safe Source of Knowledge

But can we not regard the testimony of competent persons as a valid and safe
source of knowledge? Do we not very often act on knowledge received from
authority? The Cārvāka replies that testimony consists of words (śabda). So far
as words are heard through our ears, they are perceived. Knowledge of words is,
therefore, knowledge through perception and is quite valid. But insofar as these
words suggest or mean things not within our perception, and aim at giving us
knowledge of those unperceived objects, they are not free from error and doubt.
Very often we are misled by so-called authority. The authority of the Vedas, for
example, is held in high esteem by many. But in reality the Vedas are the works
of some cunning priests who earned their living by duping the ignorant and the
credulous. With false hopes and promises the Vedas persuade men to perform
Vedic rites, the only tangible benefit of which goes to the priests who officiate
and enjoy the emoluments.
But will not out knowledge be extremely limited and practical life
sometimes impossible, if we do not accept the words of the experienced and do
not depend on expert advice? The Cārvāka reply is that insofar as we depend on
any anthority, because we think it to be reliable, the knowledge obtained is really
based on inference; because our belief is generated by a mental process like this:
This authority should be accepted because it is reliable, and all reliable authority
should be accepted. Being based on inference, knowledge derived from verbal
testimony or authority is as precarious as inference. And as in the case of
inference, so here we often act on knowledge derived from authority on the
wrong belief that it is reliable. Sometimes this belief accidentally leads to
successful results, sometimes it does not. Therefore, authority or testimony
cannot be regarded as a safe and valid source of knowledge.
As neither inference nor authority can be proved to be reliable, preception
must be regarded as the only valid source of knowledge (pramāṇa).

III. METAPHYSICS

Metaphysics is the theory of reality. The Cārvāka theory of reality follows from
the epistemological conclusion just discussed. If perception is the only reliable
source of knowledge, we can rationally assert only the reality of perceptible
objects. God, soul, heaven, life before birth or after death, and any unperceived
law (like adṛṣṭa) cannot be believed in, because they are all beyond perception.
Material objects are the only objects whose existence can be received and whose
reality can be asserted. The Cārvākas, thus, come to establish materialism or the
theory that matter is the only reality.

1. The World is made of Four Elements

Regarding the nature of the material world, most other Indian thinkers hold that
it is composed of five kinds of elements (pāñcabhūta), namely, ether (ākāśa), air
(vāyu), fire (agni), water (ap) and earth (kṣiti). But the Cārvākas reject ether,
because its existance cannot be perceived; it has to be inferred. The material
world is, therefore, held to be composed of the four perceptible elements. Not
only non-living material objects but also living organisms, like plants and animal
bodies, are composed of these four elements, by the combination of which they
are produced and to which they are reduced on death.

2. There is no Soul
But it may be asked, even if perception is the only source of knowledge, do we
not have a kind of preception, called internal, which gives an immediate
knowledge of our mental states? And do we not perceive in these consciousness
which is nowhere to be perceived in the external material objects? If so, does it
not compel us to believe that there is in us some non-material substance whose
quality is consciousness—the substance which is called soul or spirit (ātmā)?
The Cārvākas admit that the existence of consciousness is proved by
perception. But they deny that consciousness is the quality of any unperceived
non-material or spiritual entity. As consciousness is perceived to exist in the
perceptible living body composed of the material elements, it must be a quality
of this body itself. What people mean by a soul is nothing more than this
conscious living body (caitanya-viśiṣṭa deha eva ātmā). The non-material soul is
never perceived. On the contrary, we have direct evidence of the identity of the
self with the body in our daily experiences and judgments like, 'I am fat,' 'I am
lame', 'I am blind'. If the 'I', the self, were different from the body, these would
be meaningless.
But the objection may be raised: we do not perceive consciousness in any of
the four material elements. How can it then come to qualify their product, the
body? In reply the Cārvāka points out that qualities not present originally in any
of the component factors may emerge subsequently when the factors are
combined together. For example, betel leaf, lime and nut, none of which is
originally red, come to acquire a reddish tinge when chewed together. Or, even
the same thing placed under a different condition may develop qualities
originally absent. For example, molasses (guda), originally non-intoxicant,
becomes intoxicant when allowed to ferment. In a similar way, it is possible to
think that the material elements combined in a particular way give rise to the
conscious living body. Consciousness is an epiphenomenon or bye-product of
matter; there is no evidence of its existence independent of the body.
If the existence of a soul apart from the body is not proved, there is no
possibility of proving its immortality. On the contrary, death of the body means
the end of the individual. All questions about previous life, after-life, rebirth,
enjoyment of the fruits of actions in heaven or hell, therefore, become
meaningless.

3. There is no God
God, whose existence cannot be perceived, fares no better than the soul. The
material elements produce the world, and the supposition of a creator is
unnecessary. The objection may be raised: can the material elements by
themselves give rise to this wonderful world? We find that even the production
of an object like an earthen jar requires, in addition to clay which is its material
cause, a potter who is the efficient cause, that shapes the material into the desired
form. The four elements supply only the material cause of the world. Do we not
require an efficient cause, like God, as the shaper and designer who turns the
material elements into this wonderful world? In reply, the Cārvāka states that the
material elements themselves have got each its fixed nature (svabhāva). It is by
the natures and laws inherent in them that they combine together to form this
world. There is thus no necessity for God. There is no proof that the objects of
the world are the products of any design. They can be explained more reasonably
as the fortuitous products of the elements. The Cārvākas, therefore, prefer
atheism.
Insofar as this Cārvāka theory tries to explain the world only by nature, it is
sometimes called naturalism (svabhāvavāda). It is also called mechanism
(yadṛcchā-vāda), because it denies the existence of conscious purpose behind the
world and explains it as a mere mechanical or fortuitous combination of
elements. The Cārvāka theory on the whole may also be called positivism,
because it believes only in positive facts or observable phenomena.

IV. ETHICS

Ethics is the science of morality. It discusses problems like: what is the highest
goal or summum bonum man can achieve? What should be the end of human
conduct? What is the standard of moral judgment? The Cārvāk as discuss these
ethical problems in conformity with their metaphysical theories.
Some Indian philosophers like the Mīmāṁsakās believe that the highest goal
of human life is heaven (svarga) which is a state of unalloyed bliss that can be
attained hereafter by performing here the Vedic rites. The Cārvāka rejects this
view, because it is based on the unproved existence of a life after death. 'Heaven'
and 'hell' are the inventions of the priests whose professional interest lies in
coaxing, threatening and making people perform the rituals. Enlightened men
will always refuse to be duped by them.
Many other philosophers regard liberation as the highest goal of human life.
Liberation, again, is conceived as the total destruction of all sufferings. Some
think that it can be attained only after death, when the soul is free from the body;
and others believe that it can be attained even in this life. But the Cārvāka holds
that none of these views stands to reason. If liberation is freedom of the soul
from its bondage to physical existence, it is absurd because there is no soul. But
if liberation means the attainment of a state free from all pain, in this very life, it
is also an impossible ideal. Existence in this body is bound up with pleasure as
well as pain. We can only try to minimize pain and enjoy as much pleasure as we
can. Liberation in the sense of complete cessation of sufferings can only mean
death.3 Those who try to attain in life a state free from pleasures and pains by
rigorously suppressing the natural appetites, thinking that all pleasures arising
out of their gratification are mixed with pain, act like fools. For no wise man
would 'reject the kernel because of its husk,' nor 'give up eating fish because
there are bones,' nor 'cease to grow crops because there are animals to destroy
them,' nor 'stop cooking his food because beggars might ask for a share.' If we
remember that our existence is confined to the existence of the body and to this
life, we must regard the pleasure arising in the body as the only good thing we
can obtain. We should not throw away the opportunities of enjoying this life, in
the futile hope of enjoyment hereafter. 'Rather a pigeon today than a peacock
tomorrow.' 'A sure shell (courie) is better than a doubtful golden coin.' 'Who is
that fool who would entrust the money in hand to the custody of others?'4 The
goal of human life is, therefore, to attain the maximum amount of pleasure in
this life, avoiding pain as far as possible. A good life is a life of maximum
enjoyment.
A good action is one which leads to a balance of pleasure and a bad action is
one which brings about more pain than pleasure. This Cārvāka ethics may be
called, therefore, hedonism or the theory that pleasure is the highest goal.
Some Indian thinkers speak of the four ends of human activity (puruṣārtha),
namely, wealth (artha), enjoyment (kāma), virtue (dharma) and liberation
(mokṣa). Of these four, the Cārvāka rejects the last two. Liberation in the sense
of destruction of all sufferings can be obtained only by death and no wise man
would willingly work for that end. Virtue and vice are distinctions made by the
scriptures, Whose authority cannot be rationally accepted. Therefore neither
liberation nor virtue should be our end. Wealth and enjoyment are the only
rational ends that a wise man can toil to achieve. But enjoyment is the ultimate
end; wealth is not an end in itself, it is good only as a means to enjoyment.
Having rejected the authority of the scriptures, the notions of virtue and vice,
and belief in life after death, the Cārvākas are naturally opposed to the
performance of religious ceremonies with the object of either attaining heaven or
avoiding hell or propitiating departed souls. They raise cheap laughter at the
customary rites. If the food offered during funeral ceremony (śrāddha) for the
departed soul can appease his hunger, what is the use of a traveller's taking food
with him? Why should not his people make some offerings in his name at home
to satisfy his hunger? Similarly, food offered on the ground floor should satisfy a
person living upstairs. If the priests really believe, as they say, that the animals
killed at a sacrifice (yajña) are sure to reach heaven, why do they not rather
sacrifice their old parents instead of animals and make heaven sure for them?
Religion is thus reduced to morality and morality to the search of pleasure.
The ethics of the Cārvāka is only the logical outcome of his materialistic
metaphysics.

V. CONCLUSION

Like the Epicureans of Greece, the Cārrvākas in India have been more hated than
understood. 'Cārvāka' in the mind of people at large is a term of reproach. But it
is useful for a student of philosophy to remember as well what Indian philosophy
owes to the Cārvāka. Scepticism or agnosticism is only the expression of a free
mind that refuses to accept traditional wisdom without a thorough criticism.
Philosophy, as critical speculation, claims to live chiefly on free thought and the
more it can satisfy the sceptic, the sounder can it hope to be. By questioning the
soundness of popular notions, the sceptic sets new problems, by the solution of
which philosophy becomes richer. Kant, one of the greatest philosophers of the
West, recognised his debt to scepticism when he declared: 'The scepticism of
Hume roused me from my dogmatic slumber.' And we may say that the Cārvāka
similarly saved Indian philosophy from dogmatism to a great extent. As noted
already, every system of Indian thought tried to meet the Cārvāka objections and
made the Cārvāka a touchstone of its theories. The value of the Cārvāka
philosophy, therefore, lies directly in supplying fresh philosophical problems and
indirectly in compelling other thinkers to give up dogmatism, and become
critical and cautious in speculation as well as in the statement of views. Finally,
it may be noted that the contribution of Cārvāka epistemology is not
insignificant. The criticism of inference put in the mouth of the Cārvāka by his
opponents reminds us of similar criticism made in modern times against the
soundness of deductive logic. The Cārvāka view that no inference can yield
certain knowledge is the view of many contemporary Western thinkers like the
pragmatists and logical positivists.
What has made the Cārvākas most disreputable to people is perhaps their
ethics of pleasure. Pursuit of pleasure is not by itself an object of condemnation:
pleasure, in some form, is recognized as desirable by other philosophers as well.
It is condemned only when the nature of pleasure is coarse and the pleasure is
wanted only for one's own self. It is true that some Cārvākas advocate a life of
gross sensual pleasure. But a distinction found sometimes between the cunning
(dhūrta) and cultured (suśikṣita) Cārvākas makes it likely that the Cārvākas were
not all of the same gross, uncultured type. There is evidence that the materialists
devoted themselves also to the pursuit of more refined pleasures by cultivating,
for example, the fine arts, the number of which is as large as sixty-four (catuḥ-
ṣaṣṭi-kalāḥ), according to Vātsyāyana, a recognised hedonist and author of the
famous Kāma-sūtra. All materialists were not egoistic hedonists. Egoistic
hedonism in its gross form is not compatible with social discipline. Life in
society is impossible if man does not sacrifice a part of his pleasures for others.
Some Cārvākas, we are told, regard the king as God. This implies their great
faith in the necessity of society and its head. This view is further strengthened
when we find that political philosophy and economy (daṇdanīti and vārttā) came
to be incorporated at some stage in the philosophy of the Lokāyatikas. It would
appear from these facts that there were among the materialists of ancient India,
as cultured thinkers as we find among the positiviste of modern Europe or the
followers of Democritus in ancient Greece.
The best positive evidence of refined hedonism is found in the ethical
philosophy propounded by Vātsyāyana in the second chapter of the Kāma-sūtra.
It is here that we find a great hedonist himself stating and defending his own
views.5 Though Vātsyāyana believes in God and in life after death and,
therefore, is not a materialist in the ordinary sense, yet he may be regarded as
one, according to a wider sense of the term, namely, one who tries to explain
'higher phenomena by lower ones'.6 Vātsyāyana admits three desirable ends of
human life (purusārtha), namely, dharma, artha and kāma (virtue, wealth and
enjoyment) which should be cultivated harmoniously.7 His materialist tendency
consists in holding that dharma and artha are to be treated only as means to
enjoyment, which is, therefore, the supreme end. The element of refinement in
his hedonism consists in his emphasis on self-control (brahmacarya) and
spiritual discipline (dharma), as well as urbanity (nāgarikavṛtti), without which
human enjoyment of pleasure is reduced to the level of beastly enjoyment. He
shows that all physical enjoyment (kāma) is ultimately reducible to the
gratification of the five senses. He further asserts that the satisfaction of the
senses is necessary for the very existence of the body (śarīrasthiti), like the
satisfaction of hunger.8 But he also maintains that the senses must be educated,
disciplined and cultured through a training in the sixty-four fine arts. This
training should be given only after a person has devoted the earlier part of his
life to absolute self-continence and study of the Vedas and the other subsidiary
branches of learning. He points out that without culture, human enjoyment
would be indistinguishable from beastly pleasures. To the impatient hedonist
who would not forgo present comfort and would not undergo any toil for future
enjoyment in this life, Vātsyāyana points out that such an attitude would be
suicidal. For, this would prevent a man even from the toil of cultivation and
sowing seeds in the hope of the future enjoyment of a crop. In favour of the
regulation of desire for enjoyment, he points out, with historical examples, that
inordinate desire, inconsistent with the principles of dharma and wealth, leads to
ruin and annihilates the chances of all enjoyment. In support of scientific study
of the conditions and means of enjoyment, he urges, like a modern scientific
man, that some science is at the root of every successful practice; and that
though all persons may not study science, they are benefited by the ideas which
unconsciously and indirectly filter down to the masses, among which the few
scientists live. We find then, that Vātsyāyana represents Indian hedonism at its
best. It is perhaps to thinkers of this kind that the name cultured hedonists'
(suśikṣita-cārvāka) was applied.
In the early Buddhist scriptures also we come across short references to
some sceptics, agnostics, sophists and materialists whom Buddha had to
confront, and who may be regarded as cunning (dhūrta) Cārvākas. In the
Sāmaññaphala-sutta are mentioned: (a) one Puraṇa Kassapa who denies moral
responsibility, virtue and vice; (b) one Makkhali Gosāla who denies free will,
and the possibility of moral effort (c) one Ajita Kesakambali who teaches the
material origin and destructibility of man, the futility of good action and the
impossibility of knowledge and (d) one Sañjaya Belaṭṭhiputta who would neither
affirm, nor deny, nor affirm and deny at the same time, nor even admit that he
neither affirms nor denies, anything.
In a recently discovered manuscript called Tattvopaplavasiṁha (now
available in print in Gaekwad's Oriental Series) we have an interesting specimen
of Indian absolute scepticism. The author, Jayarāśi, probably of the eighth
century A.D., is believed to be a Cārvāka (or Lokāyatika) of an extreme type. He
carries the scepticism of the ordinary Cārvāka to its logical conclusion by
challenging the validity of perceptual knowledge and refusing to accept the
existence of even the physical elements. With a relentless destructive dialectic he
exposes the defects of all the usually accepted sources of knowledge. He
concludes, like an anti-intellectualist pragmatist, that even on the denial of all
theoretical principles and doctrines, practical life will go on as ever with
unreflective ease.9

1. Cf.'Piva khāda ca varalocane', Ṣaḍ-darśana-samuccaya, Lokāyatamatam.

2. Ibid and Sarai-darśma-saṅjjraha.
3. 'Maraṇam eva apavargaḥ,' Bṛhaspati-sūtra.
4. kāma-sūtra, Chap. 2.
5. The date of Vātsyāyana, according to some, is near about the beginning of the Christian era, and
Vātsyāyana tells us that he is only summarising the views of a long line of previous writers, about a
dozen in number, whose works are not available now. This shows the great antiquity of his line of
thought.
6. Vide James, Pragmatism, p. 93
7. 'Paraspatasya anupaghātakaṁ seveta,' Kāma-sūt. 1.2.1.
8. Yaśodhara, the commentator on Kāma-sūt., explaining this mentions that non-satisfaction of the
senses might lead to diseases like insanity (unmāda). Vide commentary on 1.2.46.
9. 'Tadevam upapluteṣu tatt veṣu avicārita-ramaṇīyāḥ sarve vyavahārā ghaṭante.' —Op., on, p. 125.
CHAPTER III

The Jaina Philosophy

I. INTRODUCTION

The Jainas recount the names of twenty-four teachers (tīrthaṅkaras) through

whom their faith is believed to have come down from unknown antiquity. The
first of these teachers was Rṣabhadeva.1 The last was Vardhamāna, also styled
Mahāvīra ('the great hero'). He is said to have lived in the sixth century B.C.
during the time of Gotama Buddha. The teacher who immediately preceded
Vardhamāna was Pārśvanātha, who lived in the ninth century B.C. The other
twenty-two teachers belong to prehistoric ages.2 The word 'Jina' etymologically
means a conqueror. It is the common name applied to the twenty-four teachers,
because they have conquered all passions (rāga and dveṣa) and have attained
liberation.
The Jainas do not believe in God. They adore the Tirthaṅkaras or the
founders of the faith. These are the liberated souls who were once in bondage,
but became, through their own efforts, free, perfect, omniscient, omnipotent and
all-blissful. The Jainas believe that every spirit (Jīva), that is in bondage now,
can follow the example set by the Jainas and attain, like them, perfect
knowledge, power and joy. This is the great element of optimism that inspires
every true Jaina with absolute self-confidence. The possibility of the realisation
of absolute perfection, through personal effort, is for him not a mere speculation
but a promise repeated by the life of every liberated saint.
In course of time the followers of Jainism were divided into two sects well
known now as the Śvetāmbaras and the Digambaras. The difference between
them lies, however, not so much in the basic philosophical doctrines as in some
minor details of faith and practice. The teachings of the Jinas are accepted by
both the sects. But the Digambaras are most rigorous and puritanic, while the
Śvetāmbaras are more accommodating to the common frailties of men. The
Digambaras hold, for example, that ascetics should give up all possessions, even
clothes, whereas the Śvetāmbaras hold that they should put on white clothes.3
Again, according to the Digambaras, a saint who has obtained perfect knowledge
needs no food, and women cannot obtain liberation (without being born once
more as men). The Śvetāmbaras do not accept these views.
Jainism possesses a vast literature, mostly in Prākṛta. The canonical or
authoritative works accepted by all sects are said to contain the teachings of the
last Tirthaṅkara, Mahāvīra. They are too many to be mentioned here. Much of
the early literature has been lost. When Jainism had to defend itself against the
criticism of other schools, it adopted, for this purpose, the technical
philosophical terminology of Sanskrit and thus developed its literature in
Sanskrit as well.
The philosophical outlook of Jainism is common-sense realism and
pluralism. The objects perceived by us are real, and they are many. The world
consists of two kinds of reality, living and non-living. Every living being has a
spirit or a soul (jīva), however imperfect its body may be. Avoidance of all
injury to life (ahiṁsā) plays, therefore, an important role in Jaina ethics. Along
with this respect for life there is in Jainism another great element, namely,
respect for the opinion of others. This last attitude is justified by a metaphysical
theory of reality as many-faced (anekāntavāda) and a consequent logical doctrine
(syādvāda) that every judgment is subject to some condition and limitation, and
various judgments about the same reality may, therefore, be true, each in its own
sense, subject to its own condition.
The philosophy of the Jainas may be conventently discussed under three
topics, viz. Epistemology (or theory of knowledge including Logic),
Metaphysics, and Ethics and Religion.

II. THE JAINA THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE

1. The Nature and Kinds of Knowledge

Consciousness is the inseparable essence of every soul according to the Jainas; it
is not, as the Cārvākas hold, a mere accidental property, arising only under some
conditions. Moreover, consciousness is conceived like the sun's light, capable of
manifesting itself and every thing else unless some obstruction prevents it from
reaching its object.4 Had there been no obstacles, the soul would have been
omniscient. Omniscience is a potentiality inherent in every soul. As it is,
however, we find that ordinary souls are all more or less ignorant, their
knowledge is limited. The Jainas hold that this limitation is due to the obstacles
created by different karmas which obstruct in different degrees the natural
consciousness of the soul and thus deprive it of its omniscience. The body, the
senses and the mind (manas) are all constituted by karmas and the soul's power
is limited by them.
Like other thinkers, the Jainas admit the twofold classification of knowledge
into immediate and mediate (aparokṣa and parokṣa). But they point out that what
is ordinarily regarded as immediate knowledge is only relatively immediate.
Perception of external or internal objects through the senses (indriya) or mind
(manas) is immediate as compared with inference. Still such knowledge cannot
be said to be absolutely immediate, because even here the soul knows through
the medium of something else, the senses or manas. In addition to such ordinary
or empirical (vyāvahārika) immediate knowledge, there is also a really or
absolutely (Pāramārthika) immediate knowledge, which a soul attains, by
removing its karma obstacles. In such knowledge the soul's consciousness
becomes immediately related to objects, without the medium of senses, etc.,
simply by the removal of the karmas that prevented it from reaching those
objects.5 Three different kinds of such really immediate knowledge are
distinguished. When a person has partially destroyed and allayed the influences
of karmas, he acquires the power of knowing objects which have forms, but are
too distant or minute or obscure to be observed by the senses or manas. Such
immediate knowledge by the unaided soul is, however, limited as its objects are
limited and therefore, it is called aradhijñāna (limited knowledge). Again, when
a person has overcome hatred, jealousy, etc. (which create obstacles that stand in
the way of knowing other minds), he can have direct access to the present and
lack of knowledge are completely removed from the soul there arises in it
absolute knowledge or omniscience. This is called kevalajñāna. Only the
liberated souls have such knowledge.6
These are, then, the three kinds of extraordinary or extrasensory perceptions
which are immediate par excellence. But in addition to these, there are the two
kinds of ordinary knowledge possessed by an average person. These are called
mati and śruta. There are differences of opinion among Jaina writers regarding
the exact meanings of these terms. But ordinarily mati is taken to mean any kind
of knowledge which we can obtain through the senses or through manas.7 Thus
understood, mati includes ordinary immediate knowledge (or internal and
external perception), memory recognition and inference.8 Śruta is knowledge
obtained from authority.
 The Jainas give an account of the process by which ordinary perception
takes place and is retained.9 At first there is only a distinct sensation, say of a
sound. It is not yet known what it means. This primary state of consciousness is
called avagraha (i.e., grasping the object). Then arises the query: 'What is this
sound?' This questioning state of the mind is called īhā (i.e., query). Then comes
a definite judgment like 'This is the sound of a car.' This is called āvāya (removal
of doubt). Then what is ascertained is retained in the mind. This retention is
called dhāraṇā (i.e., holding in the mind).
Śruta, the second kind of ordinary knowledge is mostly interpreted as
knowledge obtained from what is heard from others.10 This includes all kinds of
knowledge derived from spoken or written authority. As the understanding of
any authority is dependent on the perception of sounds or written letters, śruta is
said to be preceded by mati.
It is pointed out, further, that these two kinds of ordinary knowledge
(namely, mati and śruta), as well as the lowest kind of immediate extraordinary
knowledge (namely, avadhi), are not absolutely free from chances of error. But
the two higher kinds of immediate extra-sensory knowledge (manaḥparyāya and
kevala) are never liable to any error.
For ordinary purposes, the Jainas accept the general view that there are three
pramāṇas, namely, perception, inference and testimony (i.e., authority).11

2. The Cārvāka View Criticised

In accepting non-perceptual sources of knowledge like inference and testimony,
the Jaina writers feel it necessary to justify their view by refuting the Cārvāka
theory that perception is the only source of valid knowledge.12 They ask: If a
Cārvāka were called upon to show why even perception should not be rejected
as an invalid source of knowledge, what would he say? He would either remain
silent and thus confess that he has no reason to support his view, or hold that
perception is valid because it is not misleading. If he adopts the first course, his
view is a mere ipse dixit, an opinion unsupported by reason and, therefore, not
acceptable. If he adopts the second alternative, then he supports his view by a
reason, and therefore, he is himself taking the help of inference. Besides, if the
Cārvāka admits that perception is valid because it is uncontradicted and not
misleading, for similar reasons inference and testimony also should be accepted.
If the Cārvāka says to this, that inference and testimony are sometimes
misleading, then it is possible to point out that even perception is sometimes
misleading. So the only reasonable conclusion is that any source of knowledge,
be it perception or inference or testimony, should be regarded as valid in so far
as it yields a knowledge that does not prove misleading. The criterion of validity
should be the harmony (saṁvāda) of knowledge with the practical consequences
to which it leads.
Moreover, when the Cārvāka denies the existence of non-perceptible objects
like life-after-death, he goes beyond perception and infers the non-existence of
the objects from the fact of their non-perception. Even when the Cārvāka says
about perception in general that it is valid, he goes beyond the perceived cases of
perception found to be valid in the past and infers, from general similarity,
something about the future unperceived cases of perception as well. Similarly,
when the Cārvāka argues with his critics, he infers their thoughts from their
expressions: for otherwise the Cārvāka could not take part in any discussion.
Hence the Cārvāka view that perception is the only valid source of knowledge, is
not correct.

3. The Jaina Theory of Judgment

(i) Syādvāda or the Theory that Every Judgment is
Relative
The Jainas point out that the different kinds of immediate and mediate
knowledge that we possess about objects show that every object has innumerable
characters.13 An omniscient being can obtain (through kevala-jñāna) an
immediate knowledge of an object in all its innumerable aspects. But imperfect
beings look at objects from one particular point of view at a time and have
consequently the knowledge of only one aspect or character of the thing. Such
partial knowledge about one of the innumerable aspects of an object is called by
the Jaina writers 'naya'.14 Judgment (parāmarśa) based on such partial
knowledge is also called a 'naya'.15 Every judgment that we pass in daily life
about any object is, therefore, true only in reference to the standpoint occupied
and the aspect of the object considered. It is because we forget this limitation and
regard our judgments as unconditionally true, that we come to quarrel and
disagree very often in life. The story of the blind men who formed their ideas of
an elephant by touching its legs, ears, tail and trunk respectively and thus came
to quarrel about the real shape of the animal, illustrates this truth. They
quarrelled because each thought that his knowledge was the only true and
complete knowledge and should be accepted unconditionally. The quarrel was
over as soon as each of them realised that his knowledge was only of one of the
many parts of the animal.
The various systems of philosophy which give different accounts of the
universe similarly occupy different points of view and discover the different
aspects of the many-sided universe. They quarrel because they do not bear in
mind that each account is true only from its own standpoint, and is subject to
cettain conditions. They fail to realise, therefore, that the different views may be
true like the different descriptions of the elephant.
In view of these facts, the Jainas insist that every judgment (naya) should be
qualified by some word like 'somehow' (syāt, i.e., in some respect), so that the
limitation of this judgment and the possibility of other alternative judgments
from other points of view may be always clearly borne in mind. For example,
instead of a judgment like 'The elephant is like a pillar', it should be said, to
remove the chance of confusion, 'Somehow (i.e., in respect of its legs, the
elephant is like a pillar)'. Similarly, on perceiving a black earthen jug existing in
a room at a particular time, we should not assert unconditionally, 'The jug exists',
but should rather say. 'Somehow, the jug exists', which would remind us that the
judgment is true only with regard to the many conditions of space, time, quality,
etc., under which the jug exists. The qualified judgment 'Somehow, the jug
exists' (syād ghataḥ asti) would prevent the possibility of the misapprehension
that the pot exists at all times or in every place, or that a pot of any other colour,
shape, etc., exists. The unqualified judgment, 'The jug exists', leaves the
possibility of such misapprehension.
The theory of the Jainas has come to be known as syādvāda. It is the view
that every ordinary judgment (passed by imperfect minds like ours) holds good
only of the particular aspect of the object judged and of the point of view from
which the judgment is passed.
This Jaina view is quite in keeping with the view accepted by Western
logicians generally, namely, that every judgment is passed in a particular
universe of discourse or context and must be understood only in reference
thereto. The universe of discourse is constituted by different factors like space,
time, degree, quality, etc., which are left unmentioned partly because they are
obvious and partly because they are too many to be stated exhaustively. Now, if
these conditions cannot be exhaustively enumerated, as some modern logicians
like Schiller also admit, it is good for the sake of precision to qualify the
judgment explicity by a word like 'somehow' (syāt).16
The principle underlying 'syādvāda' makes Jaina thinkers catholic in their
outlook. They entertain and accept the views of other philosophers as different
possible versions of the universe from different points of view. The only thing
that the jainas dislike in other thinkers is the dogmatic claim of each that he
alone is in the right. This claim leads to the fallacy of exclusive predication
(ekānta-vāda). Against such a fallacy of philosophical speculation a protest has
been raised recently in America by the Neo-realists who have called it the
fallacy of exclusive particularity.17 But no Western or Eastern philosopher has so
earnestly tried to avoid this error in practice as the Jainas have done.

(ii) Saptabhaṅginaya or the Seven Forms of Judgment

Ordinarily, logic distinguishes two kinds of judgment, affirmative and negative.
The Jainas distinguish seven kinds of judgment including these two. Any object
may be described affirmatively by a judgment which predicates of it any of the
characters it possesses, or it may be described negatively by a judgment which
denies of it characters belonging to other objects but absent in this.18 These two
are the affirmative and negative judgments ordinarily recognised; but the Jainas
qualify each with 'somehow' (syāt) to emphasise its conditional or relative
character. Affirmative judgments about a jug, for example, would be like
'somehow the jug is in the room' (i.e., in the room at a particular place and
particular time, and as a jug of a particular description); 'somehow the jug is red'
(i.e., not always red but only during a particular time or under particular
circumstances and the red is of a specific shade, etc.). The general form of all
affirmative judgments can then be symbolically represented as 'somehow S is P'
(syāt asti). Again, negative judgments about an object would be like 'somehow
the jar is not outside the room' meaning that the jar of that particular kind, at that
particular time, etc., is not outside); 'somehow the jar is not black (i.e., not black
at that particular space and time and under those conditions, etc.). We find then
that the general form of all negative judgments is 'somehow S is not P' (syāt
nāsti).
When, however, we have to describe the complex fact that the jar is
sometimes red and sometimes not, we must have a compound judgment like
'somehow the jar is and also is not red'. The general form of this judgement
would, therefore, be 'somehow S is and also is not P' (syāt asti canāsti ca). This
is the third form of judgment recognised by Jaina logic. This form is obtained by
combining successively the points of view of the first two judgments into one
composite point of view. The necessity of such compound judgment lies in the
need of a comprehensive view of the positive and the negative characters of an
object.
 A jar is black when raw, and red when it is baked. But if we are asked, what
is the real colour of the jar always or under all conditions, the only honest reply
would be that the jar cannot be described then, i.e., under the conditions of the
question. Under such circumstances when we are forced to predicate
simultaneously, of any object, characters which are incompatible, being contrary
or contradictory, our judgment, according to the Jainas, would be of the general
form 'somehow S is indescribable' (syāt avaktavyam). This is the fourth kind of
judgment recognised by Jaina logic.
Recognition of this fourth form of judgment is of great philosophical value.
It points out, first, that thought of an object can be described from different
standpoints, in different aspects separately or successively; it cannot be
described at all, if no such distinction of standpoint and aspect is made. An
object in general is an indescribable entity. Secondly, this also points out that
philosophical wisdom does not always consist in the ability to answer a question
by a straight affirmative or negative, but also in realising that some questions, by
their very nature, are unanswerable. Thirdly, the recognition of this form of
judgment shows that the Jaina logic does not violate the principle of
contradiction. On the contrary, it shows that obedience to this law makes the
Jaina confess that incompatible characters cannot be simultaneously predicated
of any subject in the same aspect.
The other three, of the seven forms of judgment, are obtained by combining
successively each of the first three standpoints with the fourth. Thus by
combining the first and the fourth successively, we get the fifth form of
judgment, 'somehow S is P is also indescribable' (syāt asti ca, avaktavyaṁ ca).
When we consider together, from a comprehensive point of view, the fact that a
jug is sometimes red, but also that without reference to any particular time or
state it cannot be described as having any predicable character, our judgment is
of the form, 'The jug is somehow red but is also somehow indescribable.'
Similarly, combining again the second and the fourth standpoint successively
we have the sixth judgment of the general form, 'Somehow S is not P and is also
indescribable' (syāt nāsti ca. avaktavyaṁ ca). Lastly, combining successively the
third with the fourth point of view, we get the seventh form of judgment
'somehow S is P, also is not P, and is indescribable too' (syāt asti ca, nāsti ca,
avaktavyaṁ ca).
If we combine simultaneously any of the first three points of view with the
fourth, instead of doing so successively, we shall have in each case the
simultaneous predication of incompatible characters (like 'is and is
indescribable'; or 'is not and is indescribable'; or 'is, is not and is indescribable'.
Hence in each case the judgment would be the same in form as in the fourth
case, namely, 'Somehow S is indescribable' (syāt avaktavyam). Therefore,
though there are inumerable aspects of every thing, the forms of judgment would
be only seven, neither more nor less.
To sum up, Jaina logic recognises the following seven kinds of conditional
judgment (saptabhaṅgīnaya):

1. Somehow, S is P, (syāt asti).

2. Somehow, S is not P (syāt nāsti).
3. Somehow, S is P, and is also not P (syāt asti ca, nāsti ca).
4. Somehow, S is indescribable (syāt avaktavyaṁ).
5. Somehow, S is P, and is also indescribable (syāt asti ca, avaktavyaṁ ca).
6. Somehow, S is not P, and is also indescribable (syāt nāsti ca, avaktavyaṁ ca).
7. Somehow, S is P, and is also not P, and also indescribable (syāt asti ca, nāsti
ca, avaktavyaṁ ca).

The Jaina doctrine of syādvāda is sometimes compared with the Pragmatism

of some Western thinkers. It is true that a pragmatic logician, like Schiller, also
recognises the truth that no judgment is true or false without particular reference
to its context and purpose. Even a so-called self-evident judgment, like 'A square
is not a circle', or 'Two and two are four', is true only in a specific sense,
according to Schiller. This is a striking point of resemblance. But there is a very
great difference also which should not be forgotten. The Jainas are realists, but
the pragmatists have a distinct idealistic bias.19 According to the Jainas, the
different judgments about an object are not simply different real aspects of the
object. The Jainas would accept, therefore, a realistic view of truth which is
rejected by all thorough-going pragmatists.
The Jaina syādvāda is sometimes compared with the Western theory of
relativity. There are two kinds of relativity, idealistic (as of Protagoras, Berkely,
Schiller), and realistic (as of Whitehead or Boodin). And if the Jaina is to be
called a relativist, he must be understood to be of the realistic type. Our
judgments about things are relative—but relative to or dependent upon not
simply the mood of judging mind, but upon the relational characters of the
many-sided reality itself.
Another misunderstanding often found is the interpretation of the Jaina word
'Syāt' as 'may be'. This would impart a sceptical or agnostic form to the Jaina
theory, and make it look like the view of the Greek sceptic Pyrrho who also
recommended the qualification of every judgment with a phrase like 'may be'.
But it should be noted that the Jaina is not a sceptic. It is not the uncertainty of a
judgment, but its conditional or relative character, that is expressed by the
addition of the qualifying particle 'syāt'. Subject to the conditions or the universe
of discourse under which any judgment is made, the judgment is valid beyond all
doubt. There is, therefore, no room for scepticism.20

III. THE JAINA METAPHYSICS

The Jainas hold that every object known by us has innumerable characters
(ananta-dharmakam vastu). Let us try to understand a little more clearly the
implication of this view. Every object is what it is because of its positive and
negative characters. The positive characters which determine, for example, an
object like a man, are his size, colour, shape, weight, constitution, heredity,
family, race, nationality, education, employment, place of birth, date of birth,
habitation, age, etc., and the numberless relations he bears to the uncountable
other objects of the world. The negative characters which determine the man
consist of what he is not. To know him fully, we should know how he is
distinguished from everything else; we should know, for example, that he is not
a European, nor a Chinese, nor a Negro, etc., that he is not a Christian, nor a
Mohammedan, nor a Zorastrian, etc., not dishonest, not foolish, not selfish etc.
As the negative characters of the man consist in his distinctions from all other
objects in the universe, the number of these would, therefore, be far greater than
that of the positive characters.21
If we consider, then, an object in the light of its own positive characters and
also in the light of the characters of all other objects which are absent in it, the
object would no longer appear to be a simple thing having only a limited number
of qualities, as we ordinarily take it to be. The object, on the contrary, turns out
to be one possessed of unlimited characters. But when, moreover, the element of
time is taken into consideration, and it is remembered that the object takes on
new characters with the change of time, the object is found really to possess
infinite characters (anantadharma).
Jaina writers, therefore, remark that he who knows one object fully, knows
every thing. Only an omniscient person (kevalī) can have such complete
knowledge of an object. For practical purposes (vyavahāra) a partial knowledge
of what an object is or is not, is, of course, quite sufficient. But this should not
make us think, as we do, that a finite object is really possessed of limited
characters. Nor should we think that our ordinary knowledge about it is complete
and perfect.
1. The Jaina Conception of Substance
We have just seen that objects have many characters. As in common
conversation so also in philosophy a distinction is made between the characters
(dharma) and that which possesses the characters (dharmï). The latter is
generally called a substance (dravya). The Jainas accept this common
philosophical view of substance. But they point out that there are two kinds of
characters found in every substance, essential and accidental. The essential
characters of a substance remain in the substance as long as the substance
remains. Without these, the substance will cease to be what it is. Consciousness,
for example, is an essential character of the soul. Again, the accidental
characters of a substance come and go; they succeed one another. Desires,
volitions, pleasure and pain are such accidental characters possessed by the soul-
substance. It is through such characters that a substance undergoes change or
modification. They may also be called, therefore, modes. The Jainas call an
essential unchanging character guṇa, and an accidental, changing character
paryāya or paryaya. A substance is defined, therefore, as that which possesses
qualities (guṇas), as well as modes (paryāyas)22
The world is composed of substances of different kinds. In so far as the
essential characters of the ultimate substances are abiding, the world is
permanent, and insofar as the accidental characters undergo modification, the
world also changes. The Jainas, therefore, hold that those philosophers like the
Baudhas, who say that there is nothing really permanent in the universe, and that
everything changes from moment to moment (kṣaṇikavāda), are one-sided and
dogmatic. Equally mistaken also are philosophers like the monistic Vedāntins,
who declare that change is unreal and that Reality is absolutely unchanging
(nitya-vāda).23 Each of them looks at one side (ekānta) of reality only and thus
commits the fallacy of exclusive predication. Change and permanence are both
real. It should not be thought contradictory to say that a particular substance (or
the universe as a whole) is both subject to change and free from it. Change is
true of the substance in one respect (syāt), whereas permanence is true in another
respect (syāt). The contradiction vanishes when we remember that each
predication is relative and not absolute, as taught by syādvāda.
A substance is real (sat). Reality consists of three factors: permanence,
origination, and decay.24 In substance there is its unreality, viz. perma-changing
essence and, therefore, it is permanent, there are again the orgin and decay of its
changing modes (paryāya). Hence all the three elements that characterise reality
are there in a substance.
 By accepting this criterion of reality, the Jainas reject the Baudha view that
reality consists in causal efficiency, i.e., that an object is real if it is capable of
causing any effect. The Baudha criterion is faulty, because according to it even
an illusory snake must be called real as it can cause effects like fear, flight, etc.
From this faulty criterion of reality, the Bauddhas deduce the theory of the
momentariness of things, which, therefore, turns out to be fallacious. Against the
one-sided theory of momentariness the Jainas also adduce the following
arguments:25 (a) If every thing be momentary, the soul also would be so, and
then we could not explain memory, recognition, the immediate feeling of
personal identity, etc. (b) Liberation would, then be meaningless, because there
would be no permanent soul to be liberated. (c) No moral life would be possible
then, because a momentary person could not attempt to attain any end. The work
of the person who would begin an effort would bring about a fruit that would be
enjoyed by the person succeeding him. (d) Consequently there would be no
moral law; the consequences of one's own action would be lost to him (kṛta
praṇāśa) and the consequences of another man's action would befall him
(akṛtābhyupagama). (e) Mere momentary states would not even constitute any
individual series, because without something permanent running through the
changing modes, the different changing states cannot be held together to form a
continuous individual. (f) Neither perception nor inference reveals the existence
of anything in the world in which there is only change and no element of
continuity.

2. Classification of Substances
The broadest classification of substances, according to the Jaina, is into the
extended and the non-extended. There is only one substance, namely, time
(kāla), which is devoid of extension. All other substances possess extension.
They are called by the general name astikāya because every substance of this
kind exists (asti) like a body (kāya), possessing extension.26
Substances possessing extension (astikāyas) are subdivided into two kinds,
namely, the living (jīva) and the non-living (ajīva). Living substances (jīvas) are
identical. The souls again can be classified into those that are emancipated or
perfect (mukta) and those that are in bondage (baddha). The souls in bondage are
again of two kinds, those that are capable of movement (trasa) and those that are
immobile (sthāvara).27 The immobile living substances have the most imperfect
kinds of bodies. They live in the five kinds of bodies made of earth, water, fire,
air or plants respectively. They have only the sense of touch; they possess,
therefore, tactual consciousness. The mobile living substances have bodies of
different degrees of perfection and variously possess two, three, four or five
senses. Souls or living substances like worms have two senses, namely, those of
touch and taste; those like ants have three senses, namely, those of touch, taste
and smell; those like bees possess four senses, namely, those of touch, taste,
smell and sight. Higher animals like beasts, birds and men have five senses,
namely, those of touch taste, smell, sight and hearing.
Non-living substances possessing extension are dharma, adharma, ākāśa and
Pudgala.
The following table will clearly show the above scheme of classification:

3. The Soul or Jiva

A jīva or a soul is a conscious substance. Consciousness is the essence of the
soul.28 It is always present in the soul, though its nature and degree may vary.
Souls may be theoretically arranged in a continuous series according to the
degrees of consciousness. At the highest end of the scale would be perfect souls
that have overcome all karmas and attained omniscience. At the lowest end
would stand the most imperfect souls which inhabit bodies of earth, water, fire,
air or vegetable.29 In them life and consciousness appear to be absent. But really
even here consciousness of a tactual kind is present; only conciousness is in a
dormant form owing to the overpowering influence of karma-obstacles.30
Midway between would lie souls having two to five senses, like worms, ants,
bees and men.31
It is the soul that knows things, performs activities, enjoys pleasures, suffers
pains, and illumines itself and other objects. The soul is eternal, but it also
undergoes, change of states. It is different from the body and its existence is
directly proved by its consciousness of itself.32
Owing to the inclinations generated by its past actions, a jīva comes to
inhabit different bodies successively. Like a light it illuminates or renders
conscious the entire body in which it lives. Though it has no form (mūrti), it
acquires like a light the size and form of the body wherein it lives. It is in this
sense that a jīva, though formless, is said to occupy space or possess extension.
The jīva is not infinite but co-extensive with the body, as it can immediately
know objects only within the body. Consciousness is not present everywhere but
only in the body.33
Students of Western philosophy find it difficult to understand how a soul can
possess both consciousness and extension—qualities which are diametrically
opposed, according to Descartes. Extension, Descartes thinks, is the exclusive
quality of material substances, and consciousness is the exclusive quality of the
soul. But the soul, as proved by Descartes, is essentially 'a thinking being'; and
'thought' seems to have no connection with space or matter. But the Jainas
conceive the soul primarily as a living being (jīva). Consciousness is found in
every part of a living body, and if consciousness be the character of the soul, the
soul should be admitted to be present in every part of the body and, therefore, to
occupy space. The soul's ability to pervade space is admitted by other Indian
thinkers as also by many Greek philosophers like Plato, and even by some
modern realistic philosophers like Alexander.
It should be borne in mind, however, that a soul's occupying space simply
means its presence in the different parts of space and not filling a part of space
like a material body. A material body fills a part of space in such a way that
while it is there, no other matter can occupy it. But a soul's presence in a
particular space does not prevent another soul's presence there; two souls may be
present at the same place, the Jainas point out, just as two lights can illumine the
same area.
The Jaina philosophers feel it necessary to meet the Cārvāka views regarding
the soul. Guṇaratna, a great Jaina thinker, gives elaborate arguments to meet
Cārvāka sceptism and proves the existence of the soul. We may state here the
purport of his arguments.
The existence of the soul is directly proved by such uncontradicted
immediate experience as 'I feel pleasure.' When we perceive the quality of a
substance, we say, we perceive the substance. For example, on seeing a rosy
colour we hold that we perceive the substance rose to which the colour belongs.
On similar grounds we can hold that the soul is directly perceived, because we
immediately perceive such characters of the soul as pleasure, pain,
remembrance, volition, doubts, knowledge, etc. The existence of the soul may
also be indirectly proved by inferencess like the following: The body can be
moved and controlled at will like a car, and, therefore, there must be someone
that moves and controls it. The senses of sight, hearing, etc., are only
instruments, and there must be some agent who employs them. Again, there
must be some efficient cause or producer of the body, because material objects
which have a beginning are found to require some agent for shaping their
material cause. Thus in different ways the existence of a substance like the soul
can also be inferred. The Cārvāka holds that consciousness is the product of the
material elements. But we never perceive anywhere the generation of
consciousness by the unconscious material elements. The Cārvāka believes that
perception is the only valid source of knowledge. How can he then believe in
what perception fails to show? Even if inference were accepted as valid by the
cārvāka, it would not prove that consciousness is the effect of matter or the
material body. Because, if the body were the cause of consciousness, there would
be no absence of consciousness so long as the body existed, and consequently,
loss of consciousness in sleep, swoon, or in a dead body would be impossible.
Besides, we find that there is no relation of concomitant variation between the
body and consciousness; the development and decay of the body are not
invariably followed by corresponding changes of consciousness. So no casual
connection between matter and consciousness can be proved even by inference.
The Cārvāka would perhaps say that, though every kind of matter does not
produce consciousness, yet when matter is organised into a living body, it
produces consciousness. In reply to this, it is pointed out that but for some
organiser, matter would not be formed into a living body, and that this organiser
is the soul itself. Judgments like 'I am stout', 'I am thin', on which the Cārvāka
tries to prove that the soul is identical with the body, must be understood
figuratively and not literally. The soul sometimes treats the body as itself,
because it is intimately interested in the body. Again, if the soul were absolutely
unreal, the negative judgment 'there is no soul in the body' would be
unintelligible. Denial of something in any place implies the knowledge of its
existence somewhere in some form.34 Apart from all other arguments, to say that
'my self does not exist' is as absurd as to say 'my mother is barren' or 'this sun,
the giver of light, does not exist.'

4. The Inanimate Substances or Ajīvas

The physical world in which souls live is constituted by the material bodies that
the souls occupy and the other material objects that form their environment. But
in addition to these material substances, there are space, time and the conditions
of motion and rest, without which the world and its events cannot be fully
explained. Let us consider these different substances one by one.

(i) Matter or Pudgala

Matter in Jaina Philosophy is called Pudgala, which etymologically means 'that
which is liable to integration and disintegration.'35 Material substances can
combine together to form larger and larger wholes, and can also break up into
smaller and smaller parts. The smallest parts of matter which cannot be further
divided, being partless, are called atoms (aṇu). Two or more such atoms may
combine together to form compounds (saṅghāta or skandha). Our bodies and the
objects of nature are such compounds of material atoms. Mind (manas), speech
and breath are also the products of matter.36
A material substance (Pudgala) possesses the four qualities of touch, taste,
smell and colour.37 These qualities are possessed by atoms and also by their
products, the compounds. Sound is not an original quality like these four, as
most other Indian philosophers hold. The Jaina points out that sound along with
light, heat, shadow, darkness, union, disunion, fineness, grossness, shape is
produced later by the accidental modifications of matter.38

(ii) Space or Ākāśa

The function of space is to afford room for the existence of all extended
substances. Soul, matter, dharma and adharma all exist in space. Though space is
imperceptible, its existence is known by an inference like the following:
substances which are extended can have extension only in some place, and that
is called ākāśa, Though to be extended is the very nature of some substances,
and no substance which lacks that nature can be made extended by space, yet it
is also true that, to be extended, a substance requires space, as a necessary
condition.
It should not be thought that extension is explained fully by substances
extended, without the supposition of some other condition like space. For,
substances are those that occupy or pervade, and space is that which is occupied
or pervaded.39 Space is not the same as extension, as Descartes thought, but it is
the locus of extension, or of extended things, as Locke held.
The Jaina distinguishes two kinds of space, the space containing the world
where souls and the other substances live (lokākāśa), and empty space beyond
such world (alokākāśa).

(iii) Time or Kāla

The (kāla), as Umāsvāmī states, makes possible the continuity, modification,
movement, newness and oldness of substances.40 Like space, time also is
inferred, though not perceived. It is inferred as the condition without which
substances could not have the characters just mentioned, though it is true that
time alone cannot cause a thing to have the characters. Without time, a thing
cannot endure or continue to exist; duration implies moments of time in which
existence is prolonged. Modification or change of states also cannot be
conceived without time. A mango can be green and ripe only successively, i.e. at
different moments of time; and without the supposition of time-distinctions we
cannot understand how a thing can possess such incompatible characters.
Similarly, movement which implies the assumption of successive states by an
object can be conceived only with the supposition of time. Lastly, the distinction
between the old and the new, the earlier and the later cannot be explained
without time. These are, therefore, the grounds on which the existence of time
can be inferred.
The reason why time is not regarded as an astikāya is that time is one
indivisible substance. One and the same time is present everywhere in the
world.41 Unlike all other substances called astikāyas, time is devoid of extension
in space.
 Jaina writers sometimes distinguished between real time (pāramārthika kāla)
and empirical or conventional time (vyāvahārika kāla, also called samaya).
Continuity or duration (vartanā) is the mark of real time. It is this latter (samaya)
which is conventionally divided into moments, hours, etc., and is limited by a
beginning and an end. But real time is formless and eternal. By imposing
conventional limitations and distinctions on real time, empirical time is
produced.42
Some Jaina teachers, Guṇaratna observes, do not admit time as a separate
substance, but regard it as a mode (paryāya) of the other substances.43

(iv) Dharma and Adharma

Like space and time, these two substances also are inferentially proved to exist.
Mobility and immobility—motion and rest—are the grounds of such inference.
The Jaina argues that just as the movement of a fish in the river, though initiated
by the fish itself, would not be possible without the medium of water, which is
therefore, a necessary condition, similary the movement of a soul or a material
thing requires some auxiliary condition, without which its motion would not be
possible. Such a condition, is the substance called dharma. Dharma can only
favour or help the motion of moving objects; it cannot make a non-moving
object move, just as water cannot make a fish move. Adharma, on the contrary,
is the substance that helps the restful state or immobility of objects, just as the
shade of a tree helps a traveller to rest, or the earth supports things that rest on it.
It cannot, however, arrest the movement of any moving object. Dharma and
adharma, though thus opposed, are also similar in so far as both are eternal,
formless, non-moving, and both pervade the entire world-space (lokākāśa). As
conditions of motion and rest, both are passive,44 and not active. Dharma and
adhrma are used here in these technical senses, and not in their ordinary moral
senses (i.e. merit and demerit).45
Regarding all the four substances—space, time, dharma and adharma—it
should be noted that as causal conditions they all have a peculiar status. The
causal conditions (kāraṇas) may be distinguished into three chief kinds, agent (as
potter is of the pot), instrument (as the potter's wheel is of the pot) and material
(as clay is of the pot). Space, time, etc., come under the category of instrumental
conditions, but they should be distinguished from ordinary conditions of that
kind, being more indirect and passive than ordinary instrumental conditions.
Guṇaratna gives them, therefore, a special name, apekṣākāraṇa.46 The stone on
which the potter's wheel rests may be cited as a condition of this kind in relation
to the pot. Space, time, etc. are similar conditions.

IV. THE JAINA ETHICS AND RELIGION

The most important part of Jaina philosophy is its Ethics. Metaphysics or

epistemology—in fact, knowledge of any kind—is useful for the Jaina in so far
as it helps him to right conduct. The goal of right conduct again is salvation
(mokṣa), which means negatively removal of all bondage of the soul and
positively the attainment of perfection.

1. Bondage of the Soul

Bondage means, in Indian philosophy in general, the liability of the individual to
birth and all consequent sufferings. This general conception of bondage is
differently interpreted by the different systems in the light of their ideas of the
individual and the world. The suffering individual, for the Jaina, is a jīva or a
living, conscious substance called the soul. This soul is inherently perfect. It has
infinite potentiality within. Infinite knowledge, infinite faith, infinite power and
infinite bliss, can all be attained by the soul if it can only remove from within
itself all obstacles that stand in the way. Just as the sun shines forth to illuminate
the entire world as soon as the atmosphere is freed of cloud and fog, similarly
the soul attains perfection when obstacles which infect the soul and overpower
its natural qualities is removed. In other words, the limitations that we find in
any individual soul are due to the material body with which the soul has
identified itself. The body is made of particles of matter (Pudgala), and for the
formation of a particular kind of body, particular kinds of matter-particles are to
be arranged and organised in a particular way. In the formation of this body, the
guiding force is the soul's own passions. Roughly speaking, a soul acquires the
body that it inwardly craves for. The karma or the sum of the past life of a soul—
its past thought, speech and activity—generates in it certain blind cravings and
passions that seek satisfaction. These cravings in a soul attract to it particular
sorts of matter-particles and organise them into the body unconsciously desired.
The soul with its passions or karma forces is, therefore, regarded by the Jaina as
the organiser of the body, the efficient cause of it, whereas matter (Pudgala) is
said to be its material cause. The organism which the soul thus acquires, consists
not simply of the gross perceptible body, but also the senses, manas, the vital
forces and all the other elements which curb and limit the soul's potentialities.
The body that we have inherited from our parents is not a mere chance
acquisition. Our past karma determines the family in which we are born as well
as the nature of the body—its colour, stature, shape, longevity, the number and
nature of sense organs and motor organs which it possesses. While all these,
taken collectively, may be said to be due to karma, taken also in the collective
sense (of the sum total of all tendencies generated by past life), each of these
taken separately may be said to be due to a particular kind of karma. The Jaina,
therefore, speaks of the many karmas, and names each after the effect it
produces. For example, gotra-karma is the karma that determines the family into
which one is born, āyuṣ-karma is the karma determining the length of life, and so
on. Similarly, we are told of the karma that clouds knowledge (jñānāvaraṇīya),
that which clouds faith (darśanāvaraṇīya), that which produces delusion
(mohanīya), that which produces emotions of pleasure and pain (vedanīya), and
so on.
The passions which cause bondage are anger, pride, infatuation and greed
(krodha, māna, māyā, lobha).47 These are called kaṣāya (i.e. sticky substances),
because the presence of these in the soul makes matter-particles stick to it.
As the nature and number of material particles attracted by the soul depend
on its karma, these particles themselves come to be called karma-matter (karma-
pudgala) or even simply karma. The flow of such karma-matter into the soul is
called, therefore, influx (āsrava) of karma.
Bondage, in Jaina philosophy, comes, therefore, to mean the fact that jīva,
infected with passions, takes up matter in accordance with its karma.48 As
passion or bad disposition (bhāva) of the soul is the internal and primary cause
of bondage, and the influx of matter (āsrava) into the soul is only the effect of it,
the Jaina writers point out that bondage or fall of the soul begins in thought.
They, therefore, speak sometimes of two kinds of bondage: (a) internal or ideal
bondage, i.e. the soul's bondage to bad disposition (bhāva-bandha), and (b) its
effect, material bondage i.e. the soul's actual association with matter (dravya-
bandha).
The interpenetration of matter and soul (which, according to the Jaina, is the
nature of bondage) would appear to be crude to some. But we should bear in
mind that the soul, for the Jaina, is not devoid of extension, but co-extensive
with the living body. The soul is the jīva, the living being; and in every part of
the living body we find matter as well as consciousness and, therefore, the
compresence or interpenetration of matter and the conscious living substance
(i.e., the soul) is as good a fact of experience as the interpenetration of milk and
water in a mixture of the two, or of fire and iron in a red-hot iron ball.49

2. Liberation
If bondage of the soul is its association with matter, liberation must mean the
complete dissociation of the soul from matter. This can be attained by stopping
the influx of new matter into the soul as well as by complete elimination of the
matter with which the soul has become already mingled. The first process is
called saṁvara (i.e. the stoppage of influx) and the second nirjarā (i.e.
exhaustion or wearing out of karma in the soul).
We have seen that the passions or cravings of the soul lead to the association
of the soul with matter. Looking into the cause of the passions themselves, we
find that they ultimately spring from our ignorance. Our ignorance about the real
nature of our souls and other things leads to anger, vanity, infatuation and greed.
Knowledge alone can remove ignorance. The Jainas, therefore, stress the
necessity of right knowledge (samyag-jñāna) or the knowledge of reality. Right
knowledge can be obtained only by studying carefully the teachings of the
omniscient tīrthaṅkaras or teachers who have already attained liberation and are,
therefore, fit to lead others out of bondage. But before we feel inclined to study
their teachings, we must have a general acquaintance with the essentials of the
teachings and consequent faith in the competence of these teachers. This right
sort of faith based on general preliminary acquaintance (called samyag-darśana)
paves the way for right knowledge (samyag-jñāna) and is, therefore regarded as
indispensable. But mere knowledge is useless unless it is put to practice. Right
conduct (samyag-cāritra) is, therefore, regarded by the Jaina as the third
indispensable condition of liberation. In right conduct, a man has to control his
passions, his senses, his thought, speech and action, in the light of right
knowledge. This enables him to stop the influx of new karma and eradicate old
karmas securing gradually thereby the elimination of matter which ties the soul
into bondage.
Right faith, right knowledge, and right conduct have therefore, come to be
known in Jaina ethics as the three gems (triratna) that shine in a good life. In the
very first sūtra of Tattvādhigama sūtra, Umāsvāmī states this cardinal teaching
of Jainism; the path to liberation lies thrugh right faith, knowledge and
conduct.50 Liberation is the joint effect of these three.
Right faith (samyag darśana)—Umāsvāmī defines right faith as the attitude
of respect (śraddhā) towards truth. This faith may be inborn and spontaneous in
some, by others it may be acquired by learning or culture.51 In any case, faith
can arise only when the karmas that stand in its way (i.e. the tendencies that
cause disbelief) are allayed or worn out.
It should not be thought that Jainism wants its followers to accept blindly
what is taught by the tīrthaṅkaras. As Maṇnibhadra, a Jaina writer, states, the
attitude of the Jaina is rationalistic, rather than dogmatic, and it is summed up in
the following dictum: I have no bias for Mahāvīra, and none against Kapila and
others. Reasonable words alone are acceptable to me, whose-ever they might
be.52
The initial faith is a reasonable attitude, first, because it is based on some
initial acquaintance and is proportionate to this, and secondly, because without
such faith there would be no incentive to further study. Even a sceptical
philosopher, who begins to study something rationally, must possess some faith
in the utility of his method and the subject he studies.
Starting with a partial faith and studying further, if the beginner finds that
the Jaina teachings are reasonable, his faith increases. The Jaina claims that the
more one studies these views, the greater would faith grow. Perfect knowledge
would cause, therefore, perfect faith (samyagdarśana).
Right knowledge (samyag-jñāna). While faith is initially based on
knowledge of only the essentials of the Jaina teachings, right knowledge is, as
Dravya-saṅgraha states, the 'detailed cognition of the real nature of the ego and
non-ego, and is free from doubt, error and uncertainty' (verse 42). We have
already seen in connection with Jaina epistemology the different ways in which
correct cognition can be obtained. As in the case of faith, so in the case of
knowledge the existence of certain innate tendencies (karmas) stands in the way
of correct knowledge. For the attainment of perfect knowledge, the removal of
these karmas should be attempted. Perfection of this process ends in the
attainment of absolute omniscience (kevalajñāna).
Right conduct (samyag-cāritra)—Good conduct is briefly described in
Dravya-saṅgraha (verse 45) as refraining from what is harmful and doing what
is beneficial. In a word, it is what helps the self to get rid of the karmas that lead
him to bondage and suffering. For the stoppage of the influx of new karmas, and
eradication of the old, one must (a) take the five great vows (pañca-mahāvrata),
(b) practise extreme carefulness (samiti) in walking, speaking, receiving alms
and other things, and answering calls of nature, so as to avoid doing any harm to
any life, (c) practise restraint (gupti) of thought, speech and bodily movements,
(d) practise dharma often different kinds, namely, forgiveness, humility,
straightforwardness, truthfulness, cleanliness, self-restraint, austerity (internal
and external), sacrifice, non-attachment and celibacy, (e) meditate on the
cardinal truths taught regarding the self and the world, (f) conquer, through
fortitude, all pains and discomforts that arise from hunger, thirst, heat, cold, etc.,
and (g) attain equanimity, purity, absolute greedlessness and perfect conduct.53
But Jaina writers are not unanimous regarding the necessity of all the above
steps. Some of them select the first, namely, the five great vows as sufficient for
perfection of conduct. Many of the other steps recommended are found to repeat
in different ways the basic principles of these five.
The value of the five great vows (pañca-mahāvrata) is recognised by the
Upaniṣadic thinkers as well as the Bauddhas (who teach the Pańca-śīla). The
principles of most of these are recognised also in the commandments of the
Bible. But the Jainas try to practise these with a rigour scarcely found elsewhere.
These vows consist of the following:
Ahiṁsā: abstinence from all injury to life—Life, as we have seen, exists not
simply in the moving beings (trasa), but also in some non-moving ones
(sthāvara) such as plants and beings inhabiting bodies of the earth. The ideal of
the Jaina is, therefore, to avoid molesting life not only of the moving creatures
but also of the non-moving ones. The Jaina saints who try to follow this ideal
are, therefore, found even to breathe through a piece of cloth tied over their
noses lest they inhale and destroy the life of any organism floating in the air.
Ordinary laymen would find this ideal too high. They are advised, therefore, to
begin with the partial observance of ahiṁsā by abstaining from injury to moving
beings which are endowed with at least two senses.
The Jaina attitude of ahiṁsā is the logical outcome of their metaphysical
theory of the potential equality of all souls and recognition of the principle of
reciprocity.i.e., we should do to others as we would be done by. It is unfair to
think that ahiṁsā is the remnant of the savage's primitive awe for life, as some
critics have thought.54 If every soul, however lowly now, can become as great as
any other soul, then one should recognise the value and the claims of every life,
as his own. 'Respect for life wherever found' becomes then an irresistible duty.
The Jaina tries to perform this duty in every minute act in life, because he
wants to be thoroughly consistent with the basic principle he has accepted. The
Jaina also thinks, therefore, that it is not sufficient simply not to take life; one
should not even think and speak of taking life, nor even permit, nor encourage
others to take life. Otherwise the vow of ahiṁsā cannot be fully maintained.
Satyam: Abstinence from falsehood—This vow also is taken very rigorously.
Truthfulness is not speaking what is only true, but speaking what is true as well
as good and pleasant. Without these qualifications the practice of truthfulness
would be of little use as an aid to moral progress. Because, merely speaking
what is true may sometimes descend into garrulity, vulgarity, frivolity,
vilification, etc. Truth set as the ideal of this vow is sometimes called, therefore,
sūnrta, to suggest the fuller meaning of truth which is also wholesome and
pleasant. It is also pointed out that for the perfect maintenance of this vow, one
must conquer greed, fear and anger and even restrain the habit of jesting.
Asteyam: Abstinence from stealing—This vow consists in not taking what is
not given. The sanctity of the property of others, like that of their lives, is
recognised by the Jainas, A Jaina writer wittily remarks the wealth is but the
outer life of man and to rob wealth is to rob life. If human life is impossible
without wealth in some form or other, there is no exaggeration in the Jaina
thought that depriving a man of his wealth is virtually to deprive him of an
essential condition on which his life depends. This vow, therefore, may be said
to be logically inseparable from the vow of ahiṁsā, the sanctity of property
being a logical sequence of the sanctity of life.
Brahmacaryam: Abstinence from self-indulgence—This vow is generally
interpreted as that of celibacy. But the Jaina attaches to this also a deeper
meaning that raises the standard of this vow far above mere sexual self-
continence. It is interpreted as the vow to give up self-indulgence (kāma) of
every form. The Jaina, bent on self-criticism, discerns that though outwardly
indulgence may stop, it may continue still in subtle forms—in speech, in
thought, in the hopes of enjoyment hereafter in heaven, even in asking or
permitting others to indulge themselves. For the complete maintenance of this
vow one must, therefore, desist from all forms of self-indulgence—external and
internal, subtle and gross, mundane and extra-mundane, direct and indirect.
Aparigraha: Abstinence from all attachment—This is explained as the vow
to give up all attachment for the objects of the five senses—pleasant sound,
touch, colour, taste and smell.55 As attachment to the world's objects means
bondage to the world, and the force of this causes rebirth, liberation is
impossible without the withdrawal of attachment.
Knowledge, faith and conduct are inseparably bound up; and the progress
and degeneration of the one react on the other two. Perfection of conduct goes
hand in hand with the perfection of knowledge and faith. When a person,
through the harmonious development of these three, succeeds in overcoming the
forces of all passions and karmas, old and new, the soul becomes free from its
bondage to matter and attains liberation. Being free from the obstacles of matter,
the soul realises its inherent potentiality. It attains the fourfold perfection (ananta
catuṣttaya), namely, infinite knowledge, infinite faith, infinite power and infinite
bliss.
3. Jainism as a Religion without God
Jainism presents, along with Buddhism, a religion without belief in God. The
atheism of the Jainas is based on the following chief grounds56:

(i) God is not perceived, but sought to be proved through inference. The Nyāya
holds, for example, that as every product, like a house, is the work of an
agent (kartā), the world which is a product must also have an agent or
creator who is called God. But this inference is inconclusive, because one of
the premises, 'the world is a product,' is doubtful. How is it proved that the
world is a product? It cannot be said that the world is a product because it
has parts. Though ākāśa has parts, it is not admitted by the Nyāya to be a
product; it is said to be an eternal substance not produced by anything else.
Again, wherever we perceive anything being produced, the producer or the
agent is found to work on the material with his limbs. God is said to be
bodiless. How can He, then, work on matter to produce the world?
(ii) Like the existence of God, the qualities of omnipotence, unity, eternity and
perfection, generally attributed to Him, are also doubtful. If God is
omnipotent, He should be supposed to be the cause of all things. But this is
not true, because we perceive daily that many objects like houses, pots, etc.
are not produced by God. God is held to be one on the ground that if there
were many gods, they would act with different plans and purposes, and
consequently a harmonious world, as we have, would not have been
possible. But this argument is not sound, because we observe that many
human beings like masons, and even lower animals build structures like
palaces, ant-hills, and hives. God, again, is said to be eternally perfect. But
eternal perfection is a meaningless epithet. Perfection is only a removal of
imperfection, and it is meaningless to call a being perfect who was never
imperfect.

Though the Jainas thus come to reject God as the creator of the world, they
think it necessary to meditate on and worship the liberated, perfect souls
(siddhas). The liberated souls possessing the God-like perfections, mentioned
already, easily take the place of God. Prayers are offered to them for guidance
and inspiration. The offering of prayers to five kinds of pure souls
(pañcaparameṣṭi)57 also forms a part of the daily routine of the devout Jainas. In
spite of the absence of a creator-God, the religious spirit of the Jaina lacks
neither in internal fervour nor in external ceremonial expressions. By meditating
on the pure qualities of the liberated and those who are advanced on the path to
liberation, the Jaina reminds himself daily of the possibility of attaining the high
destiny. He purifies his mind by the contemplation of the pure and strengthens
his heart for the uphill journey to liberation. Worship, for the Jaina, is not
seeking or mercy and pardon. The Jaina believes in the inexorable moral law of
karma which no mercy can bend. The consequences of the past misdeeds can
only be counteracted by generating within the soul strong opposite forces of
good thought, good speech and good action. Everyone must work out his own
salvation. The liberated souls serve only as beacon lights. The religion of the
Jaina is, therefore, a religion of the strong and the brave. It is a religion of self-
help. This is why the liberated soul is called a victor (jina) and a hero (vīra). In
this respect it has some other parallels in India, in Buddhism, the Sāṅkhya and
the Advaita-Vedānta.

1. In the Bhāgavata (5 3–6) there is the story of a great saint-king, Rṣabha, who gave up all possessions,
even clothes, and attained liberation (kaivalya) and loved all beings.
2. For a complete account, vide The Kalpa-sūtra of Bhadrabāba Jacobi, Jains Sūtras, Part I and Mrs.
Stevenson's The Heart of Jainism, Chap. IV.
3. 'Digambara' means space-clad or nude and 'Śvetāmbara' white-robed.
4. 'Jñānaṁ sva-para-bhāsi.'
5. Early Jaina writers like Umāsvāmī confine 'aparekṣe' only to the soul's immediate knowledge without
any medium. Later writers like Hemachandra extend it to ordinary sense perception as well, as most
other Indian logicians do. To justify the narrower sense 'akṣm' is interpreted as 'jiva' and not
'indriya' as ordinarily explained (vide……).
6. Vide Tattvādhiga mā-sūtra, Chap. 1, sūtras 9, 12, 21–29.
7. Ibid, 1.14.
8. Ibid., 1.13.
9. Ibid., 1.15.
10. Vide Tattvādhigamā-sūtra., 1.20.
11. Vide Nṛāṛāvatāra vivṛti (p. 4. S.C. Vidyābhuṣaṇa's ed.): pramāṇīni pratyakṣānumāna-śavdāni.'
12. Primaya-kamala-mārtaṇḍa, Chap. 2 (Nirṇaya-Sāgara, 2nd ed. 1941): Sṛātrālama ñjarī, Verse 20 and
Hemchandra's Com. thereon.
13. Vide Ṣaḍ-darśana-samuccaya, 55: 'anantadharmakaṁ vastu, etc. and Guṇaratna's Com.
14. Vide Nyāyāvatāra, verse 29; 'Ekadeśa-viśiṣṭo'rtha nayasya viṣayo mataḥ.'
15. 'nayati prāpayati saṁvedanam arohayati, iti nayaḥ pramāṇapravṛtte-ruttarakālabhāvi parāmarśaḥ,'
Nyāyāvatāra-viv., 29.
16. Syāt (= 'kathaficit') means 'in some respect'.
17. The New Esalism, pp. 14–15.
18. Vide Guṇaratna's Com., op. cit. (pp. 219–20). Asiatic Soc. ed,; 'Thadvidhā saṁbandho'stitvena
nāstitvena ca, Tatra svaparyāyairastitvena staṁbandhaḥ … paraparyāyaistu nāstitvena.'
19. 'Yathāvasthitārthavyavasāyarūpaṁ hi saṁvedenaṁ pramāṇam' Prameya-kamala-mārtaṇḍa, p. 164.
20. For the statistical implication of Syādvāda vide P.C. Mahalanobis's article, 'The Foundations of
 Statistics', Dialsctica, International Review of Philosophy of Knowledge, 15-6-54, Switzerland.
21. 'stokāḥ svaparyāyāh paraparyāvāstu vvāvṛttirūpā anantā, anante, bhyo dravyebhyo vyāvṛttivāt,'
Guṇaratna on Ṣaḍ, verse 55, p. 214.
22. Guṇa-paryāyavad dravyam, Tat, sūt., 5.38.
23. Shādvādamañjarï, verse 26.
24. 'Utpāda-vyaya-dhrauvyayuktaṁ sat'—Tat. sūt., 5.30.
25. Sarva-darśana-saṅgraha, Ch. on Jaina, and Guṇaratna's Com. on Ṣaḍ., 52.
26. Vide Dravyasaṅgraha, 24. According to Guṇaratna, however astikāya' means a collection of
indivisible parts of space.
27. Syādvāda, 22, and also Guṇaratna's Com. on Ṣaḍ, 49.
28. Cetanā-lakṣaṇo jīvaḥ, Guṇaratna on Ṣaḍ., 47. 'Upayogo lakṣaṇam Tat. Sut., 2.8
29. Vanaspatyantānām ekam, Tat., Sūt., 2,22.
30. Vide Guṇaratna (Ṣaḍ., 49) for elaborate arguments supporting the existence of life in plants and
minerals.
31. Kṛmi-piplīkā-bhramara-manuṣyādinām ekaikavṛdhāni, Tat. Sūt., 2.23.
32. Nyāyācatāra, verse 31 and Dravya-saṅgraha, verse 2.
33. Vide Syād., and Tat. Sūt., 5.16: 'Pradeśa-saṁhāra-visarpābhyām pradipavat.'
34. 'Yanniṣidhyate tat sāmānyena vidyate eva,' Guṇaratna on Ṣoḍ., 48–49.
35. 'Pūrayanti galanti ca,' Sarvadarśana, III.
36. Tat, sūt, 5.19.
37. Ibid. 5.23.
38. Ibid. 5.24.
39. Guṇaratna on Ṣaḍ,. 49.
40. Tat. sūt., 5.22: 'vartanā-pariṇāma-kriyāḥ paratvāparatve ca kālasya.
41. Guṇaratna on Ṣaḍ., p. 163.
42. Dr. vyasaṅgraha 21.
43. Ṣaḍ., p. 162.
44. 'Udāsīnakāraṇa' (Guṇaratna, Ṣaḍ., p. 172).
45. Cf. 'Dharmādayaḥ sañjñāḥ sāmayikāḥ.' etc. (Tattuārtharājazārttika, 5. 1. 17.18.)
46. Ṣaḍ., p. 162.
47. Tat. sūt., 8.9.
48. Tat. sūt., 8.2: 'sakaṣāyatvāj-jīvaḥ karmaṇo yogyān pudgalānādate sa bandhaḥ.'
49. Guṇaratna. Com. on Ṣaḍ., p. 181.
50. 'Samyag-darśana-jñāna-cāritrāṇi mokṣa mārgaḥ.'
51. Tat. sūt., 1. 2–3.
52. Com. on Ṣaḍ., 44 (Chowkhamba ed, p. 39).
53. Dravya-saṅgraha, 35.
54. Vide McKenzie, Hindu Ethics, p. 112: 'The root idea of the doctrine ahiṁsā … is the awe with which
the savage regards life in all its forms.' But even the early Jaina teachers make it clear that it is the
sense of fellow-feeling and equity on which ahiṁsā is based, V de Ācārāṅgasūtra, 1. 4, 2. (Jacobi,
Jalnasūtras, Part I, pp. 38–39), and Sūtra kṛtānga. 1.1. 4 (op cit., Part II, pp. 247–48), which speak
of ahiṁsā as 'the legitimate conclusion from the principle of reciprocity'.
55. Ācārāṅga-sūtra, Jacobi, E.T. p. 208.
56. Vide Prameya-kamala-mārtaṇḍa, Chap, II, and Syādvādamañjarī verse 6 and com. for claborate
arguments in support of atheism.
57. These are the Arhats, the Siddhas, the Ācāryas, the Upādhyāyas, the Sādhus, vide Dravya-saṅgraha.
49.
CHAPTER IV

The Bauddha Philosophy

I. INTRODUCTION

The life of Siddhārtha or Gautama Buddha, the Light of Asia and the founder of
Buddhism, is fairly well-known. Born in a Royal family of Kapilavastu (at the
foothills of the Himālayas, north of India) in the sixth century B.C., Siddhārtha
renounced the world early in life. The sights of disease, old age and death
impressed the young prince with the idea that the world was full of suffering,
and the life of a care-free mendicant suggested to him a possible way of escape.
As an ascetic, he was restless in search of the real source of all sufferings and of
the means of complete deliverance. He sought light from many religious teachers
and learned scholars of the day and practised great austerities; but nothing
satisfied him. This threw him back on his own resources. With an iron will and a
mind free from all disturbing thoughts and passions, he endeavoured to unravel,
through continued intense meditation, the mystery of the world's miseries, till at
last his ambition was crowned with success. Siddhārtha became Buddha or the
Enlightened. The message of his enlightenment laid the foundation of both
Buddhistic religion and philosophy which, in course of time, spread far and wide
—to Ceylon, Burma and Siam in the south, and to Tibet, China, Japan and Korea
in the north.
Like all great teachers of ancient times Buddha taught by conversation, and
his teachings were also handed down for a long time through oral instruction
imparted by his disciples to successive generations. Our knowledge about
Buddha's teachings depends today chiefly on the Tripiṭakas or the three baskets
of teachings which are claimed to contain his views as reported by his most
intimate disciples. These three canonical works are named Vinayapiṭaka,
Suttapiṭaka and Abhidhammapiṭaka. Of these, the first deals chiefly with rules of
conduct for the congregation (saṅgha), the second contains Buddha's sermons
and dialogues, and the third contains expositions of philosophical theories. All
these three contain information regarding early Buddhist philosophy. These
works are in the Pāli dialect.
In course of time, as his followers increased in number, they were divided
into different schools. The most important division of Buddhism on religious
principles was into the Hīnayāna or Theravāda and the Mahāyāna. The first
flourished in the south and its present stronghold is in Ceylon, Burma and Siam.
Its literature is vast and is written in Pāli. It is claimed to be more orthodox and
faithful to the teachings of Buddha. Mahāyāna flourished mostly in the north and
its adherents are to be found in Tibet, China and Japan. It adopted Sanskrit for
philosophical discussion and thus the enormous Buddhist literature in Sanskrit
came to be developed. Most of this literature was translated into Tibetan and
Chinese and thus became naturalised in the lands in which Buddhism flourished.
Many such valuable Sanskrit works lost in India are now being recovered from
those translations and restored to Sanskrit.
As Buddhism flourished in different lands, it became coloured and changed
by the original faiths and ideas of the converts. The different schools1 of
Buddhism which thus arose are so numerous and the total output of
philosophical works in the different languages is so vast that a thorough
acquaintance with Buddhist philosophy requires the talents of a versatile
linguist, as well as the insight of a philosopher—and yet one life-time may be
found all too short for the purpose. Our account of Bauddha philosophy will
necessarily be very brief and so inadequate. We shall first try to give the chief
teachings of Buddha as found in the dialogues attributed to him, and next deal
with some aspects of Bauddha philosophy developed in India by his followers in
the different schools, and conclude with a short account of the main religious
tendencies of the Hīnayāna and the Mahāyāna schools.

II. THE TEACHINGS OF BUDDHA: THE FOUR

NOBLE TRUTHS

1. The Anti-speculative Attitude

Buddha was primarily an ethical teacher and reformer, not a metaphysician. The
message of his enlightenment points to man the way of life that leads beyond
suffering. When anyone asked Buddha metaphysical questions as to whether the
soul was different from the body, whether it survived death, whether the world
was finite or infinite, eternal or non-eternal, etc., he avoided discussing them.
Discussion of problems for the solution of which there is not sufficient evidence
leads only to different partial views like the conflicting one-sided accounts of an
elephant given by different blind persons who touch its different parts.2 Buddha
referred to scores of such metaphysical views advanced by earlier thinkers and
showed that all of them were inadequate, since they were based on uncertain
sense-experiences, cravings, hopes and fears.3 Such speculation should be
avoided, Buddha repeatedly pointed out, also because it does not take man
nearer to his goal, viz. Arhatship or Vimutti, the state of freedom from all
suffering. On the contrary, a man who indulges in such speculation remains all
the more entangled in the net of theories he himself has woven.4 The most urgent
problem is to end misery. One who indulges in theoretical speculation on the
soul and the world, while he is writhing in pain, behaves like the foolish man,
with a poisonous arrow plunged into his flank, whiling away time on idle
speculation regarding the origin, the maker and the thrower of the arrow, instead
of trying to pull it out immediately.5
Ten questions are often mentioned by Buddha (vide Poṭṭhapāda Sutta,
Dialogues, I., R. Davids, pp. 254–57) as uncertain, ethically unprofitable and so
not discussed (vyākata) by him: (a) Is the world eternal? (b) Is it non-enternal?
(c) Is it finite? (d) Is it infinite? (e) Is the soul the same as the body? (f) Is it
different from the body? (g) Does one who has known the truth (Tathāgata) live
again after death? (h) Does he not live again after death? (i) Does he both live
again and not live again after death? (j) Does he neither live nor not-live again
after death? These have come to be known as the 'indeterminate questions' (in
Pāli avyākatāni) in Buddhist literature and made the subject of discourses in
Saṁyutta Nikāya6 and Majjhima Nikāya.7
Instead of discussing metaphysical questions, which are ethically useless and
intellectually uncertain, Buddha always tried to enlighten persons on the most
important questions of sorrow, its origin, its cessation and the path leading to its
cessation. Because, as he puts it: 'This does profit, has to do with fundamentals
of religion, and tends to aversion, absence of passion, cessation, quiescence,
knowledge, supreme wisdom and nirvāṇa.'8
The answers to the four questions noted above constitute, as we know, the
essence of Buddha's enlightenment which he is eager to share with all fellow-
beings. These have come to be known as the four noble truths (catvāri
āryasatyāni). They are: (a) Life in the world is full of suffering. (b) There is a
cause of this suffering. (c) It is possible to stop suffering. (d) There is a path
which leads to the cessation of suffering (duḥkha, duḥkha-samudaya,
duḥkhanirodha, duḥkha-nirodha-mārga). All the teachings of Gautama centre
round these four.

2. The First Noble Truth about Suffering

The sights of suffering which upset the mind of young Siddhārtha were of
disease, old age and death. But to the enlightened mind of Buddha not simply
these, but the very essential conditions of life, human and sub-human, appeared,
without exception, to be fraught with misery. Birth, old age, disease, death,
sorrow, grief, wish, despair, in short, all that is born of attachment, is misery.9
We have mentioned in the General Introduction that pessimism of this type is
common to all the Indian schools; and in emphasizing the first noble truth,
Buddha has the support of all important Indian thinkers. The Cārvāka
materialists would, of course, take exception to Buddha's wholesale
condemnation of life in the world, and point out the different sources of pleasure
that exist in life along with those of pain. But Buddha and many other Indian
thinkers would reply that worldly pleasures appear as such only to short-sighted
people. Their transitoriness, the pains felt on their loss and the fears felt lest they
should be lost, and other evil consequences, make pleasures lose their charm and
turn them into positive sources of feat and anxiety.

3. The Second Noble Truth about the Cause of

Suffering: the Chain of Twelve Links
Though the fact of suffering is recognised by all Indian thinkers, the diagnosis of
this malady is not always unanimous. The origin of life's evil is explained by
Buddha in the light of his special conception of natural causation (known as
Pratītyasamutpāda). According to it, nothing is unconditional; the existence of
everything depends on some conditions. As the existence of every event depends
on some conditions, there must be something which being there our misery
comes into existence. Life's suffering (old age, death, despair, grief and the like,
briefly denoted by the phrase jarā-maraṇa) is there, says Buddha, because there
is birth (jāti). If a man were not born, he would not have been subject to these
miserable states. Birth again has its condition. It is the will to become (bhava),10
the force of the blind tendency or predisposition to be born, which causes our
birth. But what is the cause of this tendency? Our mental clinging to carrying to
grasping (upādāna) the objects of the world is the condition responsible for our
desire to be born. This clinging again is due to our thrist (tṛṣṇā) or craving to
enjoy objects—sights, sounds, etc. But wherefrom does this desire originate? We
would not have any desire for objects, had we not tasted or experienced them
before. Previous sense-experience, tinged with some pleasant feelings (vedanā),
is, therefore the cause of our thirst or craving. But sense-experience could not
arise but for contact (sparśa) i.e. contact of sense-organs with objects. This
contact again would not arise had there not been the six organs of cognition, the
five senses and manas (ṣaḍā-yatana). These six again depend for their existence
on the mind-body organism (nāma-rūpa), which constitutes the perceptible being
of man. But this organism could not develop in the mother's womb and come
into existence, if it were dead or devoid of consciousness (vijñāna). But the
consciousness that descends into the embryo in the mother's womb is only the
effect of the impressions (saṁskāra) of our past existence. The last state of the
past life, which initiates our present existence, contains in a concentrated manner
the impressions of effects or all our past deeds. The impressions which make for
rebirth are due to ignorance (avidyā) about truth. If the transitory, painful nature
of the wordly existence were perfectly realised, there would not arise in us any
karma resulting in rebirth. Ignorance, therefore, is the root cause of impressions
or tendencies that cause rebirth.
Briefly speaking, then (a) suffering in life is due to (b) birth, which is due to
(c) the will to be born, which is due to (d) our mental clinging to objects.
Clinging again is due to (e) thirst or desire for objects. This again is due to (f)
sense-experience which is due to (g) sense-object-contact, which again is due to
(h) the six organs of cognition; these organs are dependent on (i) the embryonic
organism (composed of mind and body), which again could not develop without
(j) some initial consciousness, which again hails from (k) the impressions of the
experience of past life, which lastly are due to (l) ignorance of truth.
Thus we have the twelve links in the chain of causation. The order and
number of the links are not always the same in all the sermons; but the above has
come to be regarded as the full and standard account of the matter. It has been
popularised among Buddhists by various epithets, such as the twelve sources
(dvādaśa nidāna), the wheel of rebirth (bhava-cakra). Some devout Buddhists
remind themselves even today, of this teaching of Buddha by turning wheels
which are made to symbolise the wheel of causation. Like the telling of beads,
this forms a part of their daily prayers.
The twelve links are sometimes interpreted to cover the past, the present and
the future life which are causally connected, so that present life can be
conveniently explained with reference to its past condition and its future effect.
The twelve links are, therefore, arranged with reference to the three periods11 in
the following way proceeding from cause to effect:

Before we close this topic, we may note one very important contribution
made by Indian thinkers in general and Buddha in particular; namely, the
conception that the external phenomenon of life or the living organism is due to
an internal impetus of desire, conscious or unconscious. The evolution of life is
sought to be explained mechanically by modern biologists—both Darwinians
and anti-Darwinians—with the help of material conditions, inherited and
environmental. The first appearance of a horn on the cow's head, or the
formation of an eye, is to them nothing more than an accidental variation, slow
or sudden. The famous contemporary French philosopher, Bergson, shows that
the development of life cannot be satisfactorily explained as merely accidental,
but that it must be thought to be the outward expression of an internal urge or
life-impetus (élan vital). Buddha's basic principle of the explanation of life,
namely, that bhava (internal predisposition, the tendency to be) leads to birth
(existence of the body) or that consciousness is the condition of the development
of the embryo, anticipates the Bergsonian contention, that the living body is not
caused simply by collection of pieces of matter, but is the outward manifestation
or explosion of an internal urge. Incidentally we may note also that Bergson's
philosophy of reality as change resembles the Buddhistic doctrine of
impermanence.

4. The Third Noble Truth about the Cessation of

Suffering
The third noble truth that there is cessation of suffering follows from the second
truth that misery depends on some conditions. If these conditions are removed,
misery would cease. But we should try to understand clearly the exact nature of
the state called cessation (nirodha) of misery.
First of all, it should be noted that liberation from misery is a state attainable
herein this very life, if certain conditions are fulfilled. When the perfect control
of passions and constant contemplation of truth lead a person through the four
stages of concentration to perfect wisdom (as will be described hereafter), he is
no longer under the sway of worldly attachment. He has broken the fetters that
bound him to the world. He is, therefore, free, liberated. He is said then to have
become an Arhat—a venerable person. The state is more popularly known now
as nirvāṇa—the extinction of passions and, therefore, also of misery.
We should remember next that the attainment of this state is not necessarily a
state of inactivity, as it is ordinarily misunderstood to be. It is true that for the
attainment of perfect, clear and steady knowledge of the fourfold truth one has to
withdraw all his attention from outside and even from other ideas within, and
concentrate it wholly on repeated reasoning and contemplation of the truths in all
their aspects. But once wisdom has been permanently obtained, through
concentrated thought, the liberated person should neither always remain rapt in
meditation nor wholly withdraw from active life. We know what an active life of
travelling, preaching, founding brotherhood, Buddha himself led during the long
forty-five years that he lived after enlightenment, and even to the last days of his
eightieth year when he passed away! Liberation then was not incompatible with
activity in the life of the founder himself.
As he clearly pointed out once, there are two kinds of action, one that is
done under the influence of attachment, hatred, infatuation (rāga, dveṣa, moha),
another that is done without these. It is only the first that strengthens our desire
to cling to the world and generates the seeds of karma causing rebirth. The
second kind of action, done with perfect insight into the real nature of the
universe and without attachment, does not create a karma producing rebirth. The
difference between the two kinds of karma, Buddha points out, is like that
between the sowing of ordinary productive seeds and the sowing of seeds which
have been fried and made barren.12 This lesson he teaches also in the story of his
enlightenment.13 After he had attained nirvāṇa, he was at first reluctant to work.
But soon his enlightened heart began to beat with sympathy for the countless
beings who were still writhing in pain. He thought it proper, therefore, that the
raft which he constructed with toil and with which he got across the flood of
misery, should be left for others and not allowed to perish.14 Nirvāṇa, he thus
shows by his own example and precept, does not require the Arhat to shun
activity; on the contrary, love and sympathy for all beings increase with
enlightenment and persuade the perfect man to share his wisdom with them and
work for their moral uplift.
If this be a correct interpretation of Buddha's life and teaching, it is wrong to
think, as it is very often done, that nirvāṇa means total extinction of existence.
The etymological meaning of 'nirvāṇa' is 'blown out'. The metaphor of a 'blown-
out light' is there; and the liberated one is sometimes compared to it. Depending
on such etymological meaning and the negative description of nirvāṇa as the
absence of all physical and mental states known to us, some interpreters of
Buddhism—Buddhists and non-Buddhists—have explained nirvāṇa as complete
cessation of existence. But against this view we have to remember, first, that if
nirvāṇa or liberation be extinction of all existence, then Buddha cannot be said to
have been liberated till he died; his attainment of perfect wisdom and freedom
for which we have his own words, turns then into a myth. It is difficult to hold,
therefore, that nirvāṇa as taught by Buddha means cessation of all existence.15
Secondly, we are to remember that, though nirvāṇa, according to Buddha, stops
rebirth and, therefore, means the extinction of all misery and of the conditions
that cause future existence in this world after death, it does not mean necessarily
that after death the liberated saint does not continue in any form. This last point,
as we mentioned previously, is one of the ten points on which Buddha repeatedly
refuses to express any opinion. So that even the view that, after death, the person
who attains nirvāṇa ceases to exist altogether is one which Buddha cannot be
said to have held. Buddha's silence might just mean that the state of liberation
cannot be described in terms of ordinary experience.16
The important question that arises here then is: If Buddha is not explicit
about the fate of a liberated person after death, what according to him is gained
by nirvāṇa? The gain is double, negative and positive. Nirvāna is a guarantee
that rebirth whose conditions have been destroyed, will not occur. Nirvāṇa also
positively means that one who has attained it enjoys perfect peace even in this
life so long as he lives after enlightenment. This peace is not, of course, like any
of the pleasures born of the fulfilment of desires. It is, therefore, said to be
beyond worldly pleasures and pains. But it is a state of serenity, equanimity and
passionless self-possession. It cannot be described in terms of ordinary
experiences; the best way of understanding it in the light of our imperfect
experience is to think of it as a relief from all painful experience from which we
suffer. We can understand this because all of us have experience at least of
temporary feelings of relief from some pain or other, such as freedom from
disease, debt, slavery, imprisonment.17 Besides, the advantages of nirvāṇa can be
enjoyed in part, even before it has been obtained, by the partial fulfilment of its
conditions. As Buddha explains to King Ajātaśatru in a discourse on the
advantages of the life of a recluse every bit of ignorance removed, and passion
conquered, brings about palpable benefit, such as purity, good-will, self-
possession, courage, unperplexed mind, unruffled temper.18 This heartens him
and gives him the strength to pursue the difficult goal of nirvāṇa till it is fully
obtained.
We know that a later Buddhist teacher of great eminence. Nāgasena, while
instructing the Greek King Menander (Milinda) who accepted his discipleship,
tried to convey to him the idea of the blissful character of nirvāṇa with a series
of metaphors; Nirvāṇa is profound like an ocean, lofty like a mountain peak,
sweet like honey; etc.19 But all these, as Nātasena points out, can scarcely
convey to the imperfect man the idea of what that thing is. Reasoning and
metaphor are of little avail for convincing a blind man what colour is like.

5. The Fourth Noble Truth about the Path to

Liberation
The fourth noble truth, as seen already, lays down that there is a path (mārga)—
which Buddha followed and others can similarly follow—to reach a state free
from misery. Clues regarding this path are derived from the knowledge of the
chief conditions that cause misery. The path recommended by Buddha consists
of eight steps or rules and is, therefore, called the eightfold noble path
(aṣṭāṅgika-mārga).20 This gives in a nutshell the essentials of Bauddha Ethics.
This path is open to all, monks as well as laymen.21 The noble path consists in
the acquisition of the following eight good things:
Right views (sammādiṭṭhi or samyagdṛṣṭi)-As ignorance, with its
consequences, namely, wrong views (mithyādṛṣṭi) about the self and the world,
is the root cause of our sufferings, it is natural that the first step to moral
reformation should be the acquisition of right views or the knowledge of truth.
Right view is defined as the correct knowledge about the four noble truths. It is
the knowledge of these truths alone, and not any theoretical speculation
regarding nature and self, which, according to Buddha, helps moral reformation,
and leads us towards the goal—nirvāṇa.
Right resolve (ṣammāsaṅkalpa or samyaksaṇkalpa)–A mere knowledge of
the truths would be uesless unless one resolves to reform life in their light. The
moral aspirant is asked, therefore, to renounce worldliness (all attachment to the
world), to give up ill-feeling towards others and desist from doing any harm to
them. These three constitute the contents of right determination.
Right speech (sammāvācā or samyagvāk)–Right determination should not
remain a mere 'pious wish' but must issue forth into action. Right determination
should be able to guide and control our speech, to begin with. The result would
be right speech consisting in abstention from lying, slander, unkind words and
frivolous talk.
Right conduct (sammākammanta or samyakkarmānta)–Right determination
should end in right action or good conduct and not stop merely with good
speech. Right conduct includes the Pañca-Sīla, the five vows for desisting from
killing, stealing, sensuality, lying and intoxication.22
Right livelihood (sammā-ājīva or samyagājīva)–Renouncing bad speech and
bad actions, one should earn his livelihood by honest means. The necessity of
this rule lies in showing that even for the sake of maintaining one's life, one
should not take to forbidden means but work in consistency with good
determination.
Right effort (sammāvāyāma or samyagvyāyāma)–While a person tries to live
a reformed life, through right views, resolution, speech, action and livelihood, he
is constantly knocked off the right path by old evil ideas which were deep-rooted
in the mind as also by fresh ones which constantly arise. One cannot progress
steadily unless he maintains a constant effort to root out old evil thoughts, and
prevent evil thoughts from arising anew. Moreover, as the mind cannot be kept
empty, he should constantly endeavour also to fill the mind with good ideas, and
retain such ideas in the mind. This fourfold constant endeavour, negative and
positive, is called right effort. This rule points out that even one high up on the
path cannot afford to take a moral holiday without running the risk of slipping
down.
Right mindfulness (sammāsati or samyaksmṛti)–The necessity of constant
vigilance is further stressed in this rule, which lays down that the aspirant should
constantly bear in mind the things he has already learnt. He should constantly
remember and contemplate the body as body, sensations as sensations, mind as
mind, mental states as mental states. About any of these he should not think,
'This am I,' or 'This is mine.'23 This advice sounds no better than asking one to
think of a spade as a spade. But ludicrously superfluous as it might appear to be,
it is not easy to remember always what things really are. It is all the more
difficult to practise it when false ideas about the body, etc. have become so deep-
rooted in us and our behaviours based on these false notions have become
instinctive. If we are not mindful, we behave as though the body, the mind,
sensations and mental states are permanent and valuable. Hence there arises
attachment to such things and grief over their loss, and we become subject to
bondage and misery. But contemplation on the frail, perishable, loathsome nature
of these, helps us to remain free from attachment and grief. This is the necessity
of constant mindfulness about truth.
In Digha-nikāya, sutta 22, Buddha gives very detailed instructions as to how
such contemplation is to be practised. For example, regarding the body, one
should remember and contemplate that the body is only a combination of the
four elements (earth, water, fire, air), that it is filled with all sorts of loathsome
matter, flesh, bone, skin, entrails, dirt, bile, phlegm, blood, pus, etc. Going to a
cemetery one should observe further how the dead body rots, decays, is eaten by
dogs and vultures and afterwards gradually becomes reduced to and mixed up
with the elements. By such intense contemplation he is able to remember what
the body really is: how loathsome, how perishable, how transitory! 'He gives up
all false emotions and affection for the body, his own and others.' By similar
intense contemplation about sensation, mind and harmful mental states, he
becomes free from attachment and grief regarding all these. The net result of this
fourfold intense contemplation is detachment from all objects that bind man to
the world.24
Right concentration (sammāsamādhi or samyaksamādhi)–One who has
successfully guided his life in the light of the last seven rules and thereby freed
himself from all passions and evil thoughts is fit to enter step by step into the
four deeper and deeper stages of concentration that gradually take him to the
goal of his long and arduous journey—cessation of suffering. He concentrates
his pure and unruffled mind on reasoning (vitarka) and investigation (vicāra)
regarding the truths, and enjoys in this state, joy and ease born of detachment
and pure thought. This is the first stage of intent meditation (dhyāna or jhāna).
When this concentration is successful, belief in the fourfold truth arises
dispelling all doubts and, therefore, making reasoning and investigation
unnecessary. From this results the second stage of concentration, in which there
are joy, peace and internal tranquillity born of intense, unruffled contemplation.
There is in this stage a consciousness of this joy and peace too.
 In the next stage, attempt is made by him to initiate an attitude of
indifference, to be able to detach himself even from the joy of concentration.
From this results the third deeper kind of concentration, in which one
experiences perfect equanimity, coupled with an experience of bodily ease. He is
yet conscious of this ease and equanimity, though indifferent to the joy of
concentration.
Lastly, he tries to put away even this consciousness of ease and equanimity
and all the sense of joy and elation he previously had. He attains thereby the
fourth state of concentration, a state of perfect equanimity, indifference and self-
possession—without pain, without ease. Thus he attains the desired goal of
cessation of all suffering, he attains to arhatship or nirvāṇa.25 There are then
perfect wisdom (prajña) and perfect righteousness (śīla).
To sum up the essential points of the eightfold path (or, what is the same,
Buddha's ethical teachings), it may be noted first that the path consists of three
main things—conduct (śīla), concentration (samādhi) and knowledge (prajñā)
harmoniously cultivated. In Indian philosophy knowledge and morality are
thought inseparable—not simply because morality, or doing of good, depends on
the knowledge of what is good, about which all philosophers would agree, but
also because perfection of knowledge is regarded as impossible without morality,
perfect control of passions and prejudices. Buddha explicitly states in one of his
discourses that virtue and wisdom purify each other and the two are
inseparable.26 In the eightfold path one starts with 'right views'—a mere
intellectual apprehension of the fourfold truth. The mind is not yet purged of the
previous wrong ideas and the passions or wrong emotions arising therefrom;
moreover, old habits of thinking, speaking and acting also continue still. In a
word, conflicting forces—the new good ones and the old bad ones—create, in
terms of modern psychology, a divided personality. The seven steps beginning
with right resolve furnish a continuous discipline for resolving this conflict by
reforming the old personality. Repeated contemplation of what is true and good,
trainng of the will and emotion accordingly, through steadfast determination and
passionless behaviour, gradually achieve the harmonious personality in which
thought and will and emotion are all thoroughly cultured and purified in the light
of truth. The last step of perfect concentration is thus made possible by the
removal of all obstacles. The result of this unhampered concentration on truth is
perfect insight or wisdom, to which the riddle of existence stands clearly
revealed once for all. Ignorance and desire are cut at their roots and the source of
misery vanishes. Perfect wisdom, perfect goodness and perfect equanimity—
complete relief from suffering—are simultaneously attained, therefore, in
nirvāṇa.27

6. The Philosophical Implications of Buddha's Ethical

Teachings
We may discuss here briefly some of the more important ideas about man and
the world underlying Buddha's ethical teachings. Some of these are explicitly
stated by Buddha himself. We shall mention four of these views, on which his
ethics mainly depends, namely, (a) the theory of dependent origination, (b) the
theory of karma, (c) the theory of change, and (d) the theory of the non-existence
of the soul.

(i) The Theory of Dependent Origniation or Conditional

Existence of Things
There is a spontaneous and universal law of causation which conditions the
appearance of all events, mental and physical. This law (dharma or dhamma)
works automatically without the help of any conscious guide. In accordance with
it, whenever a particular event (the cause) appears, it is followed by another
particular event (the effect). 'On getting the cause, the effect arises.' The
existence of everything is conditional, dependent on a cause. Nothing happens
fortuitously or by chance. This is called the theory of dependent origination
(Pratītyasamutpāda in Sanskrit and Paṭiccasamuppāda in Pāli).28 This view, as
Buddha himself makes clear, avoids two extreme views: on the one hand
eternalism or the theory that some reality eternally exists independently of any
condition and, on the other hand, nihilism or the theory that something existing
can be annihilated or can cease to be. Buddha claims, therefore, to hold the
middle view,29 namely, that everything that we perceive possesses an existence
but is dependent on something else, and that thing in turn does not perish
without leaving some effect.
Buddha attaches so much importance to the understanding of this theory that
he calls this the Dhamma. 'Let us put aside questions of the Beginning and the
End.' he says, 'I will teach you the Dhamma: that being thus, this comes to be.
From the coming to be of that, this airses. That being absent, this does not
happen. From the cessation of that, this ceases.' 'He who sees the
paṭiccasamuppāda sees the Dhamma, and he who sees the Dhamma, sees the
paṭiccasamuppāda.' It is again compared to a staircase, by mounting which one
can look round on the world and see it with the eye of a Buddha.30 It is the
failure to grasp this standpoint which, Buddha asserts, is the cause of all our
troubles.31 Later Buddhism, as Rhys Davids notes, does not pay much heed to
this theory. But Buddha himself says that this theory is very profound.32 We
have seen already how this theory is applied to the solution of the question
regarding the origin of misery, as well as to that regarding the removal of misery.
We shall see just now how profound in its many-sided implications this theory is
in some other respects as well.

(ii) The Theory of Karma

The belief in the theory of Karma, it will be seen, is only an aspect of this
doctrine. The present existence of an individual is, according to this doctrine, as
according to that of karma, the effect of its past; and its future would be the
effect of its present existence. This has been seen very clearly already in
connection with the explanation of the origin of suffering in the light of the
theory of dependent origination. The law of karma is only a special form of the
more general law of causation as conceived by Buddha.

(iii) The Doctrine of Universal Change and

Impermanence
The doctrine of dependent origination also yields the Buddhist theory of the
transitory nature of things. All things, Buddha repeatedly teaches, are subject to
change and decay. As everything originates from some condition, it disappears
when the condition ceases to be. Whatever has a beginning has also an end.
Buddha, therefore, says, 'know that whatever exists arises from causes and
conditions and is in every respect impermanent.'33 'That which seems everlasting
will perish, that which is high will be laid low; where meeting is, parting will be;
where birth is, death will come.'34
Transitoriness of life and wordly things is spoken of by many other poets
and philosophers. Buddha logically perfects this view into the doctrine of
impermanence. His later followers develop this further into a theory of
momentariness (kṣaṇika-vāda), which means not only that everything has
conditional and, therefore, non-permanent existence, but also that things last not
even for short periods of time, but exist for one partless moment only. This
doctrine of momentariness of all things is supported by later writers with
elaborate arguments, one of which may be briefly noticed here: the criterion of
the existence (sattā) of a thing is its capacity to produce some effect
'arthakriyākāritva-lakṣaṇam sat). A nonexistent thing, like a hare's horn, canot
produce any effect. Now, from this criterion of existence, it may be deduced that
a thing having existence must be momentary. If, for example, a thing like a seed
be not accepted to be momentary, but thought to be lasting for more than one
moment, then we have to show that it is capable of producing an effect during
each moment it exists. Again, if it really remains the same unchanging thing
during these moments, then it should be able to produce the same effect at every
one of those moments. But we find that this is not the case. The seed in the
house does not produce the seedling which is generated by a seed sown in the
field. The seed in the house cannot then be the same as that in the field. But it
may be said that though the seed does not actually produce the same effect
always, it always has the potentiality to produce the same effect always, it
always has the potentiality to produce it, and this protentiality becomes kinetic in
the presence of suitable auxiliary conditions like earth, water, etc. Therefore, the
seed is always the same. But this defence is weak; because then it is virtually
confessed that the seed of the first moment is not the cause of the seedling, but
that the seed modified by the other conditions really causes the effect. Hence the
seed must be admitted to have changed. In this way it may be shown regarding
everything that it does not stay unchanged during any two moments, because it
does not produce the identical effect during both moments. Hence everything
lasts only for a moment.

(iv) The Theory of the Non-existence of the Soul

The law of change is universal; neither man, nor any other being, animate or
inanimate, is exempt from it. It is commonly believed that in man there is an
abiding substance called the soul (ātmā), which persists through changes that
overcome the body, exists before birth and after death, and migrates from one
body to another. Consistently with his theories of conditional existence and
universal change, Buddha denies the existence of such a soul. But how, it may be
asked, does he then explain the continuity of a person through different births, or
even through the different states of childhood, youth and old age? Though
denying the continuity of an identical substance in man, Buddha does not deny
the continuity of the stream of successive states that compose his life. Life is an
unbroken series of states: each of these states depends on the condition just
preceding and gives rise to the one just succeeding it. The continuity of the life-
series is, therefore, based on a causal connection running through the different
states. This continuity is often explained with the example of a lamp burning
throughout the night. The flame of each moment is dependent on its own
conditions and different from that of another moment which is dependent on
other conditions. Yet there is an unbroken succession of the different flames.
Again, as from one flame another may be lighted, and though the two are
different, they are connected causally, similarly, the end-state of this life may
cause the beginning of the next. Rebirth, is, therefore, not transmigration, i.e. the
migration of the same soul into another body; it is the causation of the next life
by the present.35 The conception of a soul is thus replaced here by that of an
unbroken stream of consciousness as in the philosophy of William James. As the
present state of consciousness inherits its characters from the previous ones, the
past in a way continues in the present, through its effect. Memory thus becomes
explicable even without a soul. This theory of the non-existence of soul (Anattā-
vāda) plays a very important part in understanding the teachings of Buddha. He,
therefore, repeatedly exhorts his disciples to give up the false view about the
self. Buddha points out that people who suffer from the illusion of the self, do
not know its nature clearly; still they strongly protest that they love the soul; they
want to make the soul happy by obtaining salvation. This, he wittily remarks, is
like falling in love with the most beautiful maiden in the land though she has
never been seen nor known.36 Or, it is like building a staircase for mounting a
palace which has never been seen.37
Man is only a conventional name for a collection of different constituents,38
the material body (kāya), the immaterial mind (manas or citta), the formless
consciousness (vijñāna), just as a chariot is a collection of wheels, axles, shafts,
etc.39 The existence of man depends on this collection and it dissolves when the
collection breaks up. The soul or the ego denotes nothing more than this
collection.
From a psychological point of view, man, as perceived from without and
within, is analysable also into a collection of five groups (pañca-skandhas) of
changing elements, namely, (a) form (rūpa) consisting of the different factors
which we perceive in this body having form, (b) feelings (vedanā) of pleasure,
pain and indifference, (c) perception including understanding and naming
(Sañjñā), (d) predispositions or tendencies generated by the impressions of past
experience (saṁśkāras), and (e) consciousness itself (vijñāna).40 The last four
are together called nāma.
In summing up his teachings Buddha himself once said: 'Both in the past and
even now do I set forth just this: suffering (duḥkha) and cessation of suffering.'
Rhys Davids, quoting this authority observes that the theory of dependent
origination (in its double aspect of explaining the world and explaining the
origin of suffering), together with the formula of the eightfold path, gives us 'not
only the whole of early Buddhism in a nutshell, but also just those points
concerning which we find the most emphatic affirmations of Dhamma as
Dhamma ascribed to Gautama.'41 And this is the substance of what we have
learnt in the above account of Buddha's teachings.

III. THE SCHOOLS OF BAUDDHA PHILOSOPHY

It has been found again and again in the history of human thought that every
reasoned attempt to avoid philosophy lands a thinker into a new kind of
philosophy.
In spite of Buddha's aversion to theoretical speculation, he never wanted to
accept, not did he encourage his followers to accept, any course of action
without reasoning and criticism. He was extremely rational and contemplative
and wanted to penetrate into the very roots of human existence, and tried to
supply the full justification of the ethical principles he followed and taught. It
was no wonder, therefore, that he himself incidentally laid down the foundation
of a philosophical system. His philosophy, partly expressed and partly implicit,
may be called positivism in so far as he taught that our thoughts should be
confined to this world and to the improvement of our existence here. It may be
called phenomenalism insofar as he taught that we were sure only of the
phenomena we experienced. It is, therefore, a kind of empiricism in method
because experience, according to him, was the source of knowledge.
These different aspects of his philosophy came to be developed by his
followers along different lines as they were required to justify Buddha's
teaching, to defend it from the severe criticism it had to face in India and
outside, and to convert other thinkers to their faith. Buddha's reluctance to
discuss the ten metaphysical questions concerning things beyond our experience
and his silence about them came to be interpreted by his followers in different
lights. Some took this attitude as only the sign of a throughgoing empiricism
which must frankly admit the inability of the mind to decide non-empirical
questions. According to this explanation, Buddha's attitude would be regarded as
scepticism. Some other followers, mostly the Mahāyānists, interpreted Buddha's
view neither as a denial of reality beyond objects of ordinary experience, nor as
a denial of any means of knowing the non-empirical reality, but only as
signifying the indescribability of that transcendental experience and reality. The
justification of this last interpretation can be obtained from some facts of
Buddha's life and teachings. Ordinary empiricists believe that our sense-
experience is the only basis of all our knowledge; they do not admit the
possibility of any non-sensuous experience. Buddha, however, taught the
possibility of man's attaining in nirvāṇa an experience or consciousness which
was not generated by the activity of the sense. The supreme value and
importance that he attached to this non-empirical consciousness, justify his
followers in supposing that he regarded this as the supreme reality, as well. The
fact that very often Buddha used to say42 that he had a profound experience of
things 'far beyond', which is 'comprehended only by the wise' and 'not grasped
by mere logic', may be taken to mean that his non-empirical experience can
neither be logically proved with arguments nor be expressed in empirical ideas
and language. These grounds lead some followers, as we shall see, to raise a
philosophy of mysticism and transcendentalism out of the very silence of
Buddha. The nemesis of neglected metaphysics thus overtakes Buddhism soon
after the founder's passing away.
Buddhism, though primarily an ethical-religious movement, thus came to
give birth to about thirty schools, not counting the minor one.43 And some of
these get into the deep waters of metaphysical speculation, heedless of the
founder's warning. Of these many schools we shall first notice the four
distinguished in India by Buddhist44 and non-Buddhist writers. In this account,
(a) some Bauddha philosophers are nihilists (śūnya-vādī or Mādhyamika), (b)
others are subjective idealists (Vijñānavādī or Yogācāra, (c) others still are
representationists or critical realists (Bāhyānumeya-vādī or Sautrāntika), and (d)
the rest are direct realists (Bāhyapratyakṣa-vādī) or Vaibhāṣika). The first two of
the above four schools come under Mahāyāna and the last two under Hīnayāna.
It should be noted, however, that under both Mahāyāna and Hīnayāna there are
many other schools.45
The fourfold classification of Bauddha philosophy is based upon two chief
questions, one metaphysical or concerning reality and the other epistemological
or concerning the knowing of reality. To the metaphysical question 'Is there at all
any reality, mental or non-mental?' three different replies are given: (a) the
Mādhhyamikas hold46 that there is no reality, mental or non-mental; that all is
void (śūnya). Therefore, they have been known as the nihilists (śūnya-vādins).
(b) The Yogācāras hold that only the mental is real, the non-mental or the
material world is all void of reality. They are, therefore, called subjective
idealists (vijñānavādins). (c) Still another class of Bauddhas hold that both the
mental and the non-mental are real. They may, therefore, be called realists.
Sometimes they are styled Sarvāstivādins (i.e. those who hold the reality of all
things), though this term is often used in a narrower sense by some Buddhist
writers.47 But when the further epistemological question is asked: 'How is
external reality known to exist?' this third group of thinkers, who believe in
external reality, give two different answers. Some of them, called Sautrāntikas,
hold that external objects are not perceived but known by inference. Others,
known as Vaibhāṣikas, hold that the external world is directly perceived. Thus
we have the four schools, representing the four important standpoints. This
classification has much philosophical importance, even in the light of
contemporary Western thought, where we find some of these different views
advocated with great force. Let us consider these four schools.

1. The Mādhyamika School of Sūnya-vāda

The founder of this school is said to be Nāgārjuna, who was a Brahmin born in
South India about the second century A.D.48 Aśvaghoṣa, the author of
Buddhacarita, is also regarded as a pioneer. In his famous work, Mādhyamika-
śāstra, Nāgārjuna states, with great dialectical skill and scholarship, the
philosophy of the Mādhyamika school.49
The doctrine of Śūnya-vāda has been understood in India, by non-Buddhist
philosophers in general, to mean that the universe is totally devoid of reality, that
everything is śūnya or void. In setting forth this doctrine in his Saruadarśana-
saṅgraha, Mādhavācārya has mentioned the following as an argument in its
support. The self (or the knower), the object (or the known) and knowledge are
mutually interdependent. The reality of one depends on each of the other two,
and if one be false, the others also must be so (just as the fatherhood of any
person will be proved false if the existence of his children be proved to be false).
But it must be admitted by all that when we perceive a snake, in a rope, the
object perceived, namely, the snake is absolutely fasle. Hence the mind or the
subject which knows such an object turns out to be false and its knowledge also
becomes false. Thus it may be concluded that all that we perceive within or
without, along with their perception and the percipient mind, are illusory like
dream-objects. There is, therefore, nothing, mental or non-mental, which is real.
The universe is śūnya or void of reality.
From such arguments it would appear that, according to the Mādhyamika
view, everything is unreal. Hence it is that such a view came to be known as
nihilism in Europe as well as in India (where it has also been termed
Sarvavaināśika-vāda by some writers). The word śūnya, used by the
Mādhyamikas themselves, is chiefly responsible for this notion—because śūnya
means ordinarily void or empty. But when we study this philosophy more
closely, we come to realise that the Madhyamika view is not really nihilism, as
ordinaily supposed, and that it does not deny all reality, but only the apparent
phenomenal world perceived by us. Behind this phenomenal world there is a
reality which is not describable by any character, mental or non-mental, that we
perceive. Being devoid of phenomenal characters, it is called śūnya. But this is
only the negative aspect of the ultimate reality: it is only a description of what it
is not. In the Laṅkāvatārasūtra (sagāthaka, 167) it is stated that the real nature of
objects cannot be ascertained by the intellect and cannot, therefore, be described.
That which is real must be independent and should not depend on anything else
for its existence and origination. But everything we know of is dependent on
some condition. Hence it cannot be real. Again, it cannot be said to be unreal.
Because an unreal thing, like a castle in the air, can never come into existence.
To say that it is both real and unreal or that it is neither real nor unreal, would be
unintelligible jargon.50 Śūnyatā or voidness is the name for this indeterminable,
indescribable real nature of things. Things appear to exist, but when we try to
understand the real nature of their existence, our intellect is baffled. It cannot be
called either real or unreal, or both real and unreal, or neither real nor unreal.
It will be seen that in the above arguments, the indescribable nature of things
is deduced from the fact of their being dependent on other things or conditions,
Nāgārjuna says, therefore, 'The fact of dependent origination is called by us
śūnyatā.'51 'There is no dharma (character) of things which is not dependent on
some other condition regarding its origin. Therefore, there is no dharma which is
not śūnya.'52 It would appear, therefore, that śūnya only means the conditional
character of things, and their consequent constant changeability and
indeterminability or indescribability.53
This view is called the middle (madhyama) path, because it avoids extreme
views by denying, for example, both absolute reality and absolute unreality of
things and asserting their conditional existence. This was the reason why
Buddha, as we saw, called the theory of dependent origination—the middle
path.54 And so Nāgārjuna says55 that śūnya-vāda is called the middle path
because it implies the theory of dependent origination.
The conditionality of things which makes their own nature (svabhāva)
unascertainable, either as real or unreal, etc., may be also regarded as a kind of
relativity. Every character of a thing is conditioned by something else and
therefore its existence is relative to that condition. Śūnya-vāda can therefore,
also be interpreted as a theory of relativity which declares that no thing, no
phenomenon experieced, has a fixed, absolute, independent character of its own
(svabhāva) and, therefore, no description of any phenomenon can be said to be
unconditionally true.
To this philosophy of phenomena (or things as they appear to us), the
Mādhyamikas add a philosophy of noumenon (or reality in itself). Buddha's
teachings regarding dependent origination, impermanence, etc., apply, they hold,
only to the phenomenal world, to things commonly obsereved by us in ordinary
expericence. But when nirvāṇa is attained and the conditions of sense-experience
and the appearance of phenomena are controlled, what would be the nature of
the resultant experience? To this we cannot apply the conditional characters true
of phenomena. The Mādhyamikas, therefore, hold that there is a transcendental
reality (noumenon) behind the phenomenal one and it is free from change,
conditionality and all other phenomenal characters. As Nāgārjuna says: 'There
are two truths, on which Buddha's teaching of Dharma depends, one is empirical
(saṁvṛti-satya) and meant for the ordinary people, another is the transcendental
or the absolutely true one (paramārtha-satya). Those who do not know the
distinction between these two kinds of truth, cannot understand the profound
mystery of Buddha's teachings.'56
The truth of the order is only a stepping-stone to the attainment of the higher.
The nature of nirvāṇa-experience which takes one beyond ordinary experience
cannot be described, it can only be suggested negatively with the help of words
which describe our common experience. Nāgārjuna, therefore, describes nirvāṇa
with a series of negatives, thus: 'That which is not known (ordinarily), not
acquired anew, not destroyed, not eternal, not suppressed, not generated is called
nirvāṇa.'57 As with nirvāṇa so also with the Tathāgata or one who has realised
nirvāṇa. His nature also cannot be described. That is why, when Buddha was
asked what becomes of the Tathāgata after nirvāṇa is attained, he declined to
discuss the question.
In the same light, the silence of Buddha regarding all metaphysical questions
about non-empirical things can be interpreted to mean that he believed in a
transcendental experience and reality, the truths about which cannot be described
in terms of common experience. Buddha's frequent statements that he had
realised some profound truth which reasoning cannot grasp, can be cited also to
support this Mādhyamika contention about the transcendental.58
It may be noted here that in its conception of twofold truth, its denial of the
phenomenal world, its negative description of the transcendental, and its
conception of nirvāṇa as the attainment of unity with the transcendental self, the
Mādhyamika approaches very close to Advaita Vedānta as taught in some
Upaniṣads and elaborated later by Gauḍapāda and Saṅkarācārya.

2. The Yogācāra School of Subjective Idealism

While agreeing with the Mādhyamikas, as to the unreality of external objects,
the Yogācāra school differs from them in holding that the mind (citta) cannot be
regarded as unreal. For then all reasoning and thinking would be false and the
Mādhyamikas could not even establish that their own arguments were correct.
To say that everything, mental or non-mental, is unreal is suicidal. The reality of
the mind should at least be admitted in order to make correct thinking possible.
The mind, consisting of a stream of different kinds of ideas, is the only
reality. Things that appear to be outside the mind, our body as well as other
objects, are merely ideas of the mind. Just as in cases of dreams and
hallucinations a man fancies to perceive things outside, though they do not really
exist there, similarly the objects which appear to be out there, are really ideas in
the mind. The existence of any external object cannot be proved, because it
cannot be shown that the object is different from the consciousness of the object.
As Dharmakīrti states, the blue colour and the consciousness of the blue colour
are identical, because they are never perceived to exist separately. Though really
one, they appear as two owing to illusion, just as the moon appears as two owing
to defective vision. As an object is never known without the consciousness of it,
the object cannot be proved to have an existence independent of consciousness.
The Yogācāras also point out the following absurdities which arise from the
admission of an object external to the mind. An external object, if admitted, must
be either partless (i.e., atomic) or composite (i.e., composed of many parts). But
atoms cannot be perceived. A composite thing (like a pot) also cannot be
perceived, because it is not possible to perceive simultaneously all the sides and
parts of the object. Nor can it be said to be perceived part by part, because, if
those parts are atomic they are too small to be perceived, and if they are
composite, the original objection again arises, so if one admits extramental
objects, the perception of these objects cannot be explained. These objections do
not arise if the object be nothing other than conciousness, because the question
of parts and whole does not arise with regard to consciousness. Another
difficulty is that the consciousness of the object cannot arise before the object
has come into existence. Neither can it arise afterwards, because the object,
being momentary, vanishes as soon as it arises. The external object, according to
those who admit it, being the cause of consciousness cannot be simultaneous
with consciousness. Nor can it be said that the object may be known by
consciousness after it has ceased to exist. For in that case, the object being in the
past, there cannot be any immediate knowledge or perception of it. Perception of
present objects, as we must admit always to have, remains, therefore,
unexplained if objects are supposed to be external to the mind. This difficulty
does not arise, if the object be supposed to be nothing other than consciousness.
The Yogācāra view is called Vijñāna-vāda or idealism because it admits that
there is only one kind of reality which is of the nature of consciousness (vijñāna)
and objects which appear to be material or external to consciousness are really
ideas or states of consciousness. This theory may be described further as
subjective idealism, because according to it the existence of an object perceived
is not different from the subject or the perceving mind.
One of the chief difficulties of subjective idealism is: if an object depends
for its existence solely on the subject, then, how is it that the mind cannot create
at will any object at any time? How is it explained that objects do not change,
appear or disappear at the will of the perceiver? To explain this difficulty, the
Vijñāna-vādin says that the mind is a stream of momentary conscious state and
within the stream there lie buried the impressions (saṁskāra) of all past
experience. At a particular moment that latent impression comes to the surface
of consciousness for which the circumstances of the moment are the most
favourable. At that moment that impression attains maturity (paripāka), so to say,
and develops into immediate consciousness or perception. It is thus that at that
particular moment only that object, whose latent impression can, under the
circumstances, reveal itself becomes perceived; just as in the case of the revival
of past impressions in memory, though all the impressions are in the mind, only
some are remembered at a particular time. This is why only some object can be
perceived at a time and not any at will.
The mind considered in its aspect of being a store-house or home of all
impressions is called by the Vijñāna-vādins Ālya-vijñāna.59 It may be regarded
as the potential mind and answers, to the soul or ātman of other systems, with
the difference that it is not one unchanging substance like the soul, but is a
stream of continuously changing states. Through culture and self-control this
Ālya-vijñāna or the potential mind can gradually stop the arising of undesirable
mental state and develop into the ideal state of nirvāṇa. Otherwise, it only gives
rise to thoughts, desires, attachment which bind one more and more to the
fictitious external world. The mind, the only reality according to this school, is
truly its own place, it can make heaven of hell and hell of heaven.60
 The Yogācarās are so called either because they used to practise yoga61 by
which they came to realise the sole reality of mind (as Ālya-vijñāna) dispelling
all belief in the external world, or because they combined in them both critical
inquisitiveness (yoga) and good conduct (ācāra).62 Asaṅga, Vasubandhu,
Diṅnāga are the famous leaders of the Yogācāra school. Laṅkāvatāra-sūtra is
one of its most important works.63

3. The Sautrāntika School of Representationism

The Sautrāntikas believe in the reality not only of the mind, but also of external
objects. They point out that without the supposition of some external objects, it
is not possible to explain even the illusory appearance of external objects. If one
never perceived anywhere any external object, he could not say, as a Vijñāna-
vādin does, that, through illusion, consciousness appears like an external object.
The phrase 'like an external object' is as meaningless as 'like the son of a barren
mother' because an external object is said by the Vijñāna-vādin to be wholly
unreal and never perceived. Again, the argument from the simultaneity of
consciousness and object to their identity is also defective. Whenever we have
the preception of an object like a pot, the pot is felt as external and
consciousness of it as internal (i.e. to be in the mind). So the object, from the
very beginning, is known to be different from and not identical with
consciousness. If the pot perceived were identical with the subject, the perceiver
would have said, 'I am the pot.' Besides, if there were no external objects, the
distinction between the 'consciousness of a pot' and 'the consciousness of a cloth'
could not be explained, because as consciousness both are identical; it is not only
regarding the objects that they differ.
Hence we must admit the existence of different external objects outside
consciousness. These objects give particular forms to the different states of
consciousness. From these forms or representations of the objects in the mind,
we can infer the existence of their causes, i.e. the objects outside the mind.
The reason why we cannot perceive at will any object at any time and place,
lies in the fact that a perception depends on four different conditions64 and not
simply on the mind. There must be the object to impart its form to
consciousness, there must be the conscious mind (or the state of the mind at the
just previous moment) to cause the consciousness of the form, there must be the
sense to determine the kind of the consciousness, that is, whether the
consciousness of that object would be visual, tactual or of any other kind. Lastly,
there must be some favourable auxiliary condition, such as light, convenient
position, perceptible magnitude, etc. All these combined together bring about the
perception of the object. The form of the object thus generated in the mind, is the
effect of the object, among other things. The existnce of the objects is not of
course perceived, because what mind immediately knows is the copy or
representation of the object in its own consciousness. But from this it can infer
the object without which the copy would not arise.
The Sautrāntika theory is, therefore, called also the theory of the inferability
of external objects (Bāhyānumeya-vāda). The name 'Sautrāntika' is given to this
school because it attaches exclusive importance to the authority of the Sūtra–
piṭaka.65 The arguments used by this school for the refutation of subjective
idealism anticipated long ago some of the most important arguments which
modern Western realists like Moore use to refute the subjective idealism of
Berkely. The Sautrāntika position in epistemology resembles 'representationism'
or the 'copy theory of ideas' which was common among Western philosophers
like Locke. This exists even now in a modified form among some critical
realists.

4. The Vaibhāṣika School

While agreeing with the Sautrāntikas regarding the reality of both the mental and
the non-mental, the Vaibhāṣikas, like many modern neo-realists, point out that
unless we admit that external objects are perceived by us, their existence cannot
be known in any other way.66 Inference of fire from the perception of smoke is
possible, because in the past we have perceived both smoke and fire together.
One who has never perceived fire previously cannot infer its existence from the
perception of smoke. If external objects were never perceived, as the
Sautrāntikas hold, then they could not even be inferred, simply from their mental
forms. To one unacquainted with an external object, the mental form would not
appear to be the copy or the sign of the existence of an extra-mental object, but
as an original thing which does not owe its existence to anything outside the
mind. Either, therefore, we have to accept subjective idealism (vijñāna-vāda) or,
if that has been found unsatisfactory, we must admit that the external object is
directly known. The Vaibhāṣikas thus come to hold 'a theory of direct realism'
(bāhya, pratyakṣa-vāda).
The Abhidhamma treatises formed the general foundation of the philosophy
of the realists. The Vaibhāṣikas followed exclusively a particular commentary,
Vibhāṣā (or Abhidhammamahāvibhāṣa) on an Abhidhamma treatise
(Abhidharmma-jñāna-praṣtñāna).67 Hence their name.

IV. THE RELIGIOUS SCHOOLS OF BUDDHISM:

HĪNAYĀNA AND MAHĀYĀNA

In respect of religion Buddhism is divided, as we know, into the two great

schools, the Hīnayāna and the Mahāyāna.
Representing faithfully the earlier form of Buddhism the Hīnayāna, like
Jainism, stands as an example of a religion without God. The place of God is
taken in it by the universal moral law of karma or dharma which governs the
universe in such a way that no fruit of action is lost and every individual gets the
mind, the body and the place in life that he deserves by his past deeds. The life
and teachings of Buddha furnish the ideal as well as the promise or the
possibility of every fettered individual's attaining liberation. The organised
church (saṅgha) of his faithful followers adds strength to spiritual aspirations. So
an aspirant is advised to take the threefold solemn vow (tisaraṇa): 'I take refuge
in Buddha, I take refuge in Dhamma, I take refuge in the Saṅgha.'
But with an unshaken confidence in his own power of achievement and a
faith in the moral law that guarantees the preservation of every bit of progress
made, the Hīnayānist hopes to obtain liberation in this or any other future life by
following Buddha's noble path. His goal is Arhatship or Nibbāna, the state that
extinguishes all his misery. Hīnayāna is, therefore, a religion of self-help. It
sticks fast to Buddha's saying: Be a light unto thyself.'68 'Everyone can and
should achieve the highest goal for and by himself.' It is inspired by the last
words that Buddha said before he passed away: 'Decay is inherent in all things
composed of parts. Work out your salvation with diligence.' This path is meant
only for the strong, who are all too few in this world.
As the fold of Buddhism widened in course of time, it came to include not
only the few select persons fit to follow this difficult ideal, but also multitudes of
half-convinced nominal converts who neither understood the Path nor had the
necessary moral strength to follow it. With the support of royal patrons like
Aśoka, Buddhism gained in number but lost its original quality. The bulk of
people who accepted Buddism, on grounds other than moral, brought it down to
their own level. They came with their own habits, beliefs and traditions which
soon became a part of the new faith they accepted. The teachers had to choose
between upholding the ideal at the cost of number and upholding the number at
the cost of the ideal. A few sturdy ones preferred the first. But the majority could
not resist the temptation of the second. They came thus to build what they were
pleased to call the Great Vehicle, Mahāyāna, contrasting it with the orthodox
faith of the former, which they nicknamed the Lesser Vehicle, Hīnayāna. By the
criterion of number Mahāyāna surely deserved the name, for it was designed to
be a religious omnibus, with room enough to hold and suit persons of all tastes
and cultures.
Its accommodating spirit and missionary zeal made it possible for Mahāyāna
to penetrate into the Himalayas and move across to China, Korea and Japan and
absorb peoples of diverse cultures. As it progressed, it assumed newer and newer
forms, assimilating the beliefs of the people it admitted. Modern Mahāyānist
writers are reasonably proud of their faith and love to call it a living, progressive
religion whose adaptability is the sign of its vitality.
The accommodating spirit of Mahāyānism can be traced back to the catholic
concern which Buddha himself had for the salvation of all beings. Mahāyānism
emphasises this aspect of the founder's life and teachings. Mahāyānists point out
that the long life of Buddha, after enlightenment, dedicated to the service of the
suffering beings sets an example and ideal, namely, that enlightenment should be
sought not for one's own salvation but for being able to minister to the moral
needs of others. In fact, in course of time, Mahāyānism came to look upon the
Hīnayānist saint's anxiety to liberate himself, as a lower ideal which had yet an
element of selfishness in it, however subtle or sublime this selfishness might be.
The ideal of the salvation of all sentient beings thus came to be regarded as the
higher aspect of Buddha's teachings. The greatness of their faith, Mahāyānists
contend, consists in this ideal and the inferiority of the Hīnayānists in the lack of
it.69
The new elements which Mahāyānism came to acquire or develop in its
different branches were many and sometimes conflicting. We shall mention here
only a few of the more important ones.
(a)-The Ideal of Bodhisattva: As noted previously, Mahāyāna regards even
the desire for one's own salvation as selfish at bottom. In the place of personal
liberation, it establishes the 'liberation of all sentient beings' as the ultimate goal
of every Mahāyānist's aspirations. The vow that a devout Mahāyānist is expected
to take is that he would try to achieve the State of Enlightenment, Bodhisattva
(the Wisdom State-of-Existence), not to live aloof from the world but to work
with perfect wisdom and love among the multitudes of suffering beings for
removing their misery and achieving their salvation. This spiritual ideal of
mahāyāna has, therefore, come to be called Bodhisattva.
 One who has attained this ideal of Enlightenment and works for the salvation
of other beings is also called a Bodhisattva. Love and wisdom (karuṇā and
prajñā) constitute the essence of his existence.70 Speaking about such perfect
persons Nāgārjuna says in the Bodhicitta: 'Thus the essential nature of all
Bodhisattvas is a great loving heart (mahākaruṇā citta) and all sentient beings
constitute the object of ite love.'71 'Therefore, all Bodhisattvas, in order to
emancipate sentient beings from misery, are inspired with great spiritual energy
and mingle themselves in the filth of birth and death. Though thus they make
themselves subject to the laws of birth and death, their hearts are free from sins
and attachments. They are like unto those immaculate undefined lotus flowers
which grow out of mire, yet are not contaminated by it.'72 By an exchange
(parivarta) of the fruits of action, a Bodhisattva relieves the miseries due to
others with his own good deeds and suffers the consequences of their actions
himself.
This ideal of Bodhisattva is nurtured by the Mahāyāna philosophy, which
comes to think that all individuals are unreal as separate particular phenomena,
and that they are all really grounded in one transcendental Reality (Ālya-vijñāna
according to some yogācāras, or Śūnya or Tathata, according to some
Mādhyamikas), of which they are the partial or illusory manifestations. This
philosophy favoured the rejection of the idea of the individual ego and
acceptance of a universal absolute self (Mahātman or Paramātman)73 as the real
self of man. Striving for the liberation of all and not simply for the little self
(hīnātman) was, therefore, the logical outcome of this philosophy of the unity of
all beings, Moreover, the idea that the transcendental Reality is not away from
but within the phenomena paved the way for the belief that perfection or nirvāṇa
is not to be sought away from the world but within it. Nirvāṇa, says Nāgārjuṇa,
is to be found within the world by those who can see what the world really is at
bottom.74 Asceticism of the Hīnayāna is, therefore, replaced by a loving,
enlightened interest in the world's affairs.
(b)-Buddha as God: the philosophy which gives the advanced followers of
Mahāyāna on the one hand, the ideal of Bodhisattva, supplies the backward
ones, on the other hand, with a religion of promise and hope. When an ordinary
man finds himself crushed in life's struggle and fails, in spite of all his natural
egoism, to avert misery, his weary spirit craves for some unfailing source of
mercy and help. He turns to God. A religion of self-help, such as we have in
early Buddhism, is a cold comfort to him. To such forlorn multitudes. Mahāyāna
holds out the hope that Buddha's watchful eyes are on all miserable beings.
Buddha is identified with the transcendental Reality that Mahāyāna
philosophy accepted. The historical Buddha or Gautama is believed, in the
common Indian way, to be the incarnation of that ultimate Reality or Buddha.
Many other previous incarnations of Buddha are also believed in and described
in the famous Jātakas (or stories of the different births of Buddha). As in Advaita
Vedānta, so also here, the ultimate Reality in itself is conceived as beyond all
description (like the Nirguna Brahma). But this reality is also thought of as
manifesting itself in this world, as the Dharmakāya or the regulator of the
universe. In this aspect of Dharmakāya, the ultimate Reality or Buddha is
anxious for the salvation of all beings, lends himself to incarnation in the
different spiritual teachers and helps all beings out of misery. So, Buddha as the
Dharmakāya, for all practical purposes, takes the place of God to whom the
weary heart can pray for help, love and mercy. In this aspect, Buddha is also
called Amitabha Buddha. Thus the religious hankerings of those who accepted
Buddhism are also satisfied by the Mahāyāna by identifying Buddha with God.
(c)-The Restoration of the Self: one of the sources of the ordinary man's
dread of earlier Buddhism must have been the negation of self. If there is no self,
for whom is one to work? Mahāyāna philosophy points out that it is the little
individual ego which is false. But this apparent self has behind it the reality of
one transcendental self (Mahātman), which is the Self of all beings. The devout
Mahāyānist thus finds his self restored in a more elevating and magnified form.
Today the followers of Hīnayāna and Mahāyāna often try to belittle one
another. But to the discerning outsider they stand as the living examples of a
fight between two equally noble motives, namely, greater purity and greater
utility. To impartial observers the mighty current of Buddhism, like every
current, naturally divides itself into two parts—the narrow but pure and
impetuous stream that runs through the solitary uplands near the source, and the
gradually widening river that floods and fertilises the vast plains below, though
not unmingled with the indifferent streams that increase its volume on the way
and not unsoiled with the vast amount of dirt that it carries down. The first
without the second would remain sublime but relatively useless; the second
without the first would cease to be. It is good, therefore, to find that attempts are
being made to unify the Buddhists of all countries and schools by emphasising
the basic common principles of the faith.75

1. Vide Humphreys, Buddhism, for a good account of the spread and present position of Buddhism in
different parts of the world.
2. For this parable vide Rhys Davids, Dialogues of Buddha, 1, pp. 187–88; Udāna, VI. 4.
3. Brahma-jāla-sutta, op.cit., pp. 52–55.
 4. Ibid., p. 44.
5. Majjhima-nikāya-sutta, 63 (Warren, p. 120.)
6. Vide Dialogues, I.P. 187. These questions become sixteen by putting for each of the four problems,
four alternatives as in the case of the last problem.
7. Suttas 63 and 72 (Avyākata-pañhā).
8. Majjhima-nikāya-sutta, 63 (Warren, p. 122).
9. Dīgha-mikāya-sutta, 22 (Warren, p. 368).
10. Mrs. Rhys Davids' rendering 'the disposition for becoming' (Buddhism, Home, U.L., p. 91) is better
than its ordinary rendering as 'existence,' which is nearly meaningless in this context. 'Bhāva, is
used' in the meaning of 'disposition', in the Sāṅkhya and other Indian systems.
11. Vide Abhidhammattha-saṅgraha, 8. 6.
12. Añguttara-nikāya III, 33 (Warren, pp. 215 f.).
13. Majjhima-nikāya, 26 (Ibid., pp. 339 f.).
14. Majjhima-nikāya (vide Sīlācāra's trans., P. 170, German Pali Society).
15. Rhys Davids shows that the Pali word for 'liberated,' 'Parinibbuto' is used of living persons and
scarcely of dead Arhants. (Vide Dialogues, II. P. 132, f.n.)
16. Vide Prof. Radhakrishnan's article, 'The Teaching of Buddha by speech and silence,' Hibberi, Journal,
April, 1934. Also his Dhammapada pp. 52 f.
17. Vide Sāmañña-phala-sutt (Dialogues, 1, p. 84).
18. Ibid.
19. Vide Milinda-pañha.
20. Full discussion occurs in Dīgha-nikāya-sutta, 22 (Warren, pp. 372–74). Majjhima-nikāya (quoted by
Sogen, Systems, pp. 169–71); Dhammapada, Magga-vagga.
21. Vide Rhys Davids, Dialogues, I, pp. 62–63.
22. For a discussion see Humphreys, Buddhism, pp. 111f.
23. Vide Majjhima-nikāya, ī, p. 171 (E.T. by Sīlācāra).
24. Vive Warren, Buddhism in Trans., p. 354.
25. Vide Poṭṭha pāda-sutta, and Sāmañña-phala-sutta for the detailed treatment of the Jhānas (Dialogues.
I. pp. 84 f, and 245 f.).
26. Soṇadaṇda-sutta (ibid., p. 156).
27. Four stages, progressively attained by the initiate, on the path or stream leading to nirvāṇa are
distinguished viz. the stages of a Srotāpanna (one who has entered the stream, the path) a
Sakrdāgāmin (one who will return only once again to this world), an Anāgāmin (one who will not
return and an Arhat (liberated in this very life).
28. Visuddhimagga, Chap. xvii (Warren, pp. 168 f.) Etymologically pratītay = getting (something),
samutpāda = origination (of something else)
29. Saṁyuśta-nikāya, xxii (ibid., p. 165.)
30. Dialogues. II. p. 44.
31. Mahānidāna-sutta (Warren, p. 203).
32. Ibid.
33. Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra (quoted in Sogen's Systems, p. 9).
34. Dhammapada (Chinese and Tibetan), Sogen loe. cit.
35. Vide Warren, pp. 234 f.
36. Potthapāda-sutta (Dialogues, 1. p. 258).
37. Ibid., p. 261
38. Ibid., pp. 259–61.
39. Milinda-pañha, Warren, pp. 129–33.
40. Saṁyutta-nikāya, ibid., pp. 138–45. Vide also Mrs. Rhys Davids: Buddhist Psychology, Chap. III;
Suzuki: Outlines, pp. 150–53.
41. Dialogues. II, p. 44.
42. Vide Brahmajāla-sutta.
43. Vide Sogen Systems, p. 3.
44. e.g., Mokṣākaragupta in Tarkabhāṣā, pp. 60–71.
45. Ibid., Sogen mentions 21 schools of Hīnayāna and eight of Mahāyāna, which are said to have many
other less known schools.
46. According to non-Buddhist Indian critics. This interpretation is not supported by the Mahāyānist
writers as will be shown later.
47. Vide Stcherbatsky, The Central Conception of Buddhism, pp. 63–76 (where Sarvāstivādin =
Vaibhāṣika); also Hist. of Phil. E.W., Vol. I. pp. 174f. 190, 196, 200.
48. Vide, Sogen, Systems, Chap. V, p. 187.
49. This work, under the title, mūlamadhyamika-Kārika (Mādhyzmika sūtras of Nāgārjuna with the
Prasannapadā com. of Chandrakīrti) was published by Poussin in 1903, in St. Petersbourg.
50. Sarvadarśana-saṅgraha, Chap. II.
51. Mādhyamika-śāstra, Chap. 24, Kārikā, 18.
52. Ibid., Kārika, 19.
53. Sogen. Systems, p. 14 and pp. 194–98;
54. Suzuki, Outlines, Vide ante p. 134.
55. Kārikā 18 quoted above.
56. Mādhyamika-śāstra, Chap. 24, Kārikās 8–9.
57. Ibid., Chap. 24, Kārikā 3.
58. Vide Prof. Radhakrishnan's article, 'The teaching of Buddha by speech and silence,' Hibbert Journal,
April 1934 for a fuller discussion.
59. Vide Sogen, Systems, p. 258.
60. Ibid, p. 259.
61. Vide Sogen, Systems, p. 213.
62. Sarvadarśana-saṅgraha, Ch. II.
63. Vasubandhu's Vijñaptimātrasiddhi and Trisvathevanirdeśa, and Diṅnāga's Alambenaparīkṣā are the
other source books.
64. These are called respectively, the ālambana, the samanantara, the adhipati and the sahakārī pratyayas
(conditions).
65. Many works of this class are named suttānta.' Vide Sogen Systems, p. 5. for this interpretation of
'sautrāntika.'
66. Vide J.E. Turner, A Theory of Direct Realism, p. 8.
67. Vide Sogen. Systems, pp. 102 and 106.
68. 'atmadīpobhava.'
69. All these aspects of Mahāyānism are summed up by the eminent Japanese writer, D.T. Suzuki, in his
Outlines of Mahāyāna Buddhism, thus: 'It (Mahāyānism) is the Buddhism which, inspired by a
progressive spirit, broadened its original scope, so far as it did not contradict the inner significance
of the teachings of the Buddha, and which assimilated other religio-philosophical beliefs within
itself, whenever it felt that, by so doing, people of more widely different characters and intellectual
endowments could be saved' (p. 10.)
70. Vide Suzuki Outlines, P. 296.
71. Ibid., p. 292.
72. Ibid., pp. 293–94.
73. Vide Sogen, Systems pp. 23–24.
74. Vide Nāgārjuna's saying 'na saṁsārasya nirvāṇa kiūcidasti viśeṣanam' etc., Mādhyamika-śāstra, Chap.
25, Kārikā 19.
75. See Humphreys, Buddhism (Penguin, 1951), pp. 73f and 230f for the 12 principles of a nava-yāna
(new vehicle).
CHAPTER V

The Nyāya Philosophy

I. INTRODUCTION

The Nyāya philosophy was founded by the great sage Gotama who was also
known as Gautama and Akṣapāda. Accordingly, the Nyāya is also known as the
Akṣapāda system. This philosophy is primarily concerned with the conditions of
correct thinking and the means of acquiring a true knowledge of reality. It is very
useful in developing the powers of logical thinking and rigorous criticism in its
students. So we have such other names for the Nyāya philosophy as Nyāyavidyā,
Tarkaśāstra (i.e. the science of reasoning), and Ānvīkṣikī (i.e. the science of
critical study).
But the logical problem as to the methods and conditions of true knowledge
or the canons of logical criticism is not the sole or the ultimate end of the Nyāya
philosophy. Its ultimate end, like that of the other systems of Indian philosophy,
is liberation, which means the absolute cessation of all pain and suffering. It is
only in order to attain this ultimate end of life that we require a philosophy for
the knowledge of reality, and a logic for determining the conditions and methods
of true knowledge. So we may say that the Nyāya, like other Indian systems, is a
philosophy of life, although it is mainly interested in the problems of logic and
epistemology.
The first work of the Nyāya philosophy is the Nyāya-sūtra of Gotama. It is
divided into five adhyāyas or books, each containing two āhnikas or sections.
The subsequent works of the Nyāya system, such as Vātsyāyana's Nyāya-bhāṣya,
Uddyotakara's Nyāya-vārttika, Vācaspati's Nyāya-vārttika-tātparya-tikā,
Udayana's Nyāya-vārttika-tātparya-pariśuddhi and Kusumāñjali, Jayanta's
Nyāyamañjari, etc., explain and develop the ideas contained in the Nyāya-sūtra,
and also defend them against the attacks of hostile critics. The ancient school of
the Nyāya (prācīna-nyāya) is thus a development of the sūtra-philosophy of
Gotama through a process of attack, counter-attack and defence among the
Naiyāyikas and their hard critics. The modern school of the Nyāya (navya-
nyāya) begins with the epoch-making work of Gaṅgeśa, viz. the Tattvacintāmaṇi.
This school flourished at first in Mithilā, but subsequently became the glory of
Bengal with Navadvīpa as the main centre of its learning and teaching. The
modern school lays almost exclusive emphasis on the logical aspects of the
Nyāya, and develops its theory of knowledge into a formal logic of relations
between concepts, terms and propositions. With the advent of the modern Nyāya,
the ancient school lost some of its popularity. The syncretist school of the Nyāya
is a later development of the Nyāya philosophy into the form of a synthesis or an
amalgamation between the Nyāya and the Vaiśeṣika systems.
The whole of the Nyāya philosophy may be conveniently divided into four
parts, namely, the theory of knowledge, the theory of the physical world, the
theory of the individual self and its liberation, and the theory of God. It should,
however, be observed here that the Nyāya system is in itself an elaboration of
sixteen philosophical topics (padārtha).1 These are: pramāṇa, prameya, saṁśaya,
prayojana, dṛṣṭānta, siddhānta, avayava, tarka, nirṇaya, vāda, jalpa, vitaṇdā,
hetvābhāsa, chala, jāti and nigrahasthāna. These may be briefly explained here.
Pramāṇa is the way of knowing anything truly. It gives us true knowledge
and nothing but true knowledge. It thus includes all the sources or methods of
knowledge. Of the philosophical topics, pramāṇa is the most important and so it
will be treated more fully in the next section.
Prameya literally means a knowable or an object of true knowledge, i.e.
reality. The objects of such knowledge, according to the Nyāya, are (a) the self
(ātmā); (b) the body (śarīra) which is the seat of organic activities, the senses and
the feelings of pleasure and pain; (c) the senses (indriya) of smell, taste, sight,
touch and hearing; (d) their objects (artha), i.e. the sensible qualities of smell,
taste, colour, touch and sound; (e) cognition (buddhi) which is the same thing as
knowledge (jñāna) and apprehension (upalabdhi); (f) mind (manas) which is the
internal sense concerned in the internal perceptions of pleasure, pain, etc., and
limits our cognition to one at a time, the mind being like an atom and one in each
body; (g) activity (pravṛtti) which may be good or bad, and is of three kinds,
namely, vocal, mental and bodily; (h) mental defects (doṣa) such as attachment
(rāga), hatred (dveṣa) and infatuation (moha) which are at the root of our
activities, good or bad; (i) rebirth after death (pretyabhāva) which is brought
about by our good or bad actions; (j) the experiences of pleasure and pain (phala)
which result from the activities due to mental defects; (k) suffering (duḥkha)
which as a bitter and painful experience is known to everybody; (l) liberation or
freedom from suffering (apavarga) which means the absolute cessation of all
suffering without any possibility of its recurrence.2 This list of twelve is not an
exhaustive list of all realities. This mentions, as Vātsyāyana points out,3 only
those the knowledge of which is important for liberation.
Saṁśaya or doubt is a state of uncertainty. It represents the mind's wavering
between different conflicting views with regard to the same object. Doubt arises
when with regard to the same thing there is the suggestion of different alternative
views but no definite cognition of any differentia to decide between them. One is
said to be in doubt when, looking at a distant figure, one is led to ask; 'Is it a
plant or a man?' but fails to discern any specific mark that would definitely
decide which of them it really is. Doubt is not certain knowledge, nor is it the
mere absence of knowledge, nor is it an error. It is a positive state of cognition of
mutually exclusive characters in the same thing at the same time.4
Prayojana or an end-in-view is the object for which or to avoid which one
acts. We act either to obtain desirable objects or to get rid of undesirable ones.
Both these kinds of objects constitute the end of our activities and are, therefore,
included within prayojana.
Dṛṣṭānta or an example is an undisputed fact which illustrates a general rule.
It is a very useful and necessary part of any discussion or reasoning, and it
should be such that both the parties in the discussion may accept it without
dispute or difference of opinion. Thus when anyone argues that there must be
fire in a certain place because there is smoke in it, the kitchen may be cited as an
instance (dṛṣṭānta), for in the case of a kitchen we are all agreed that some smoke
is related to some fire.
Siddhānta or a doctrine is what is taught and accepted as true in a system or
school. A view that a certain thing is, or is such-and-such, if accepted as true in a
system, will be a doctrine of that system, e.g. the Nyāya doctrine that the soul is
a substance of which consciousness is a separable attribute.
Avayava or a member of the syllogism is any of the five propositions in
which syllogistic inference requires to be stated if it is to prove or demonstrate a
doctrine. It may be one of the premises or the conclusion of the syllogism, but
never any proposition that is not a part of any syllogism. The avayavas or
constituent propositions of the syllogism will be more fully explained under
Inference.
Tarka or a hypothetical argument is an indirect way of justifying a certain
conclusion by exposing the absurdity of its contradictory. It is a form of
supposition (ūha), but is an aid to the attainment of valid knowledge. It will be
explained more fully later on.
Nirṇaya is certain knowledge about anything, attained by means of any of
the legitimate methods of knowledge. It is usually preceded by doubt and
requires a consideration of all the arguments for and against a certain view or
doctrine. But it is not always conditioned by doubt in the mind of the inquirer
who ascertains the truth about something. So we may say that nirṇaya is just the
ascertainment of truth about something by means of any of the recognised
methods or sources of knowledge.
Vāda is a discussion which is conducted with the help of pramāṇas and
tarka, and in which arguments are fully stated in the five formal steps of
inference. It does not go against any accepted theory. In it each of the parties, the
exponent (vādī) and the opponent (prativādī), tries to establish his own position
and refute that of the other, but both try to arrive at the truth. This is very well
illustrated by a philosophical discussion between the teacher and his student,
provided both of them are honest seekers after truth.
Jalpa is mere wrangling in which the parties aim only at victory over each
other, but do not make an honest attempt to come to truth. It has all other
characteristics of a discussion than that of aiming at truth. Here the parties aim at
victory only and, therefore, make use of invalid reasons and arguments with the
full consciousness that they are such. Lawyers sometimes indulge in this kind of
wrangling.
Vitaṇḍā is a kind of debate in which the opponent does not establish his own
position but only tries to refute that of the exponent. While in jalpa each of the
parties somehow establishes his own position and tries to gain victory over the
other by refuting the other position, in vitaṇdā each of the parties tries to win
simply by refuting the other's position. Otherwise, the two are the same. So
vitaṇḍā may be said to be a sort of cavil in which the opponent indulges in a
merely destructive criticism of the exponent's views. It is something like abusing
the plaintiff's pleader when one has no case.
Hetvābhāsa literally means a hetu or reason which appears as, but really is
not, a valid reason. It is generally taken to mean the fallacies of inference. We
shall consider them separately in connection with the theory of inference.
Chala is a kind of unfair reply in which an attempt is made to contradict a
statement by taking it in a sense other than the intended one. It is a questionable
device for getting out of a difficulty by quibbling. Thus when an opponent
cannot meet the exponent's argument fairly and squarely he may take it in a
sense not intended by the latter and point out that it is fallacious. One man says
'the boy is nava-kambala' (possessed of a new blanket), and another unfairly
objects 'he is not nvva-kambala' (possessed of nine blankets); here the latter is
using 'chala'.5
The word jāti is here used in a technical sense to mean an unfair reply based
on false analogy. It consists in basing a futile argument on any kind of similarity
or dissimilarity between two things to controvert another sound argument. Thus
if one argues 'sound is non-eternal, because it is an effect like the pot,' and
another objects that 'sound must be eternal, because it is incorporeal like the sky,'
then the objection is a kind of jāti or futile argument, for there is no necessary
explanation of universal relation between the incorporal and the eternal, as we
find in the case of many objects like pleasure and pain.
Nigrahasthāna literally means a ground of defeat in debate. There are two
primary grounds of such defeat, namely, misunderstanding or wrong
understanding and want of understanding. If any party in a debate
misunderstands or fails to understand his own or the other party's statement and
its implication, he is brought to the point at which he has to admit defeat. Thus
one is defeated in a debate when one shifts the original proposition or one's
ground in the argument, or uses fallacious arguments and the like.
The Nyāya philosophy is a system of logical realism. In philosophy, realism
means the theory or doctrine that the existence of things or objects of the world
is independent of all knowledge or relation to mind. The existence of ideas and
images, feelings of pleasure and pain, is dependent on some mind. These cannot
exist unless they are experienced by some mind. But the existence of tables and
chairs, plants and animals, does not depend on our minds. These exist and will
continue to exist, whether we know them or not. Realism is a philosophical
theory which holds that the existence of all things or objects of the world is quite
independent of all minds, finite or infinite, human or divine. Idealism, on the
other hand, holds that things or objects can exist only as they are related to some
mind. Just as feelings and cognitions exist only as they are in some mind, so the
objects of the world exist only as they are actually experienced or at least
thought of by us or by God. Now the Nyāya is a realistic philosophy insofar as it
holds that the objects of the world have an independent existence of their own
apart from all knowledge or experience. In the Nyāya this realistic view of the
world is based, not on mere faith or feeling, intuition or scriptural testimony, but
on logical grounds and critical reflections. According to it, the highest end of
life, i.e., liberation, can be attained only through a right knowledge of reality. But
a true knowledge of reality presupposes an understanding of what knowledge is,
what the sources of knowledge are, how true knowledge is distinguished from
wrong knowledge and so forth. In other words, a theory of reality or metaphysics
presupposes a theory of knowledge or epistemology. Hence the realism of the
Nyāya is based on the theory of knowledge which is the logical foundation of all
philosophy. Thus we see that the Nyāya is a system of philosophy, which may be
justly characterised as logical realism.
 II. THE NYĀYA THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE

The Nyāya theory of reality is based on the Nyāya of knowledge. According to

this, there are four distinct and separate sources of true knowledge. These are (i)
pratyakṣ, perception; (ii) anumāna, inference; (iii) upamāna, comparison; and
(iv) śabda, testimony. We shall explain them separately. But before we come to
these pramāṇas or sources of valid knowledge, let us understand what
knowledge is, what the different kinds of knowledge are, and how true
knowledge is distinguished from false knowledge.

1. Definition and Classification of Knowledge6

Knowledge or cognition (jñāna or buddhi) is the manifestation of objects. Just as
the light of a lamp reveals or shows physical things, so knowledge manifests all
its objects. Knowledge is broadly divided into anubhava or presentative
cognition and smṛti or memory, i.e., representative cognition. Each of the two
can be valid (yathārtha) or non-valid (ayathārtha). Valid presentative knowledge
is called pramā. It is divided into perception, inference, comparison and
testimony. Non-valid presentative knowledge (apramā) is divided into doubt
(saṁśaya), error (bhrama or viparyyaya) and hypothetical argument (tarka). Thus
valid presentative knowledge (pramā) is a definite or certain (asandigdha),
faithful or unerring (yathārtha), and non-reproductive experience (anubhava) of
the object. My visual perception of the table before me is such knowledge
(pramā) because in it the table is presented to me directly just as it really is, and I
am certain about the truth of my cognition. Though memory is not pramā, asit is
non-presentative or a mere reproduction of past knowledge, it may also be valid
or non-valid, according as it is a reproduction of some previous valid or non-
valid presentative knowledge.7
Doubtful cognition cannot be called pramā, because it is not certain
knowledge. Error is undoubted knowledge indeed, and may also be presentative,
but it is not true to the nature of its object. Sometimes we perceive a snake in a
rope in the twilight and have then no doubt about the reality of what we see. Still
this perception is erroneous, because it is not a true cognition of the object
(yathārthānubhava). Tarka is not pramā, since it does not give us any knowledge
of objects. A tarka is like this: Looking out of the window of your classroom you
see a mass of smoke rising from a distant house and say that the house has
caught fire. A friend contradicts you and asserts that there is no fire. Now you
argue: If there is no fire, there cannot be smoke. This argument, starting with an
'if,' and exposing the absurdity of your friend's position, and thereby indirectly
proving your own, is tarka. It is not pramā or valid presentative knowledge,
because to argue like this is not to know the fire, but to confirm your previous
inference of fire from smoke. That there is fire, you know by inference. To argue
that if there is no fire there cannot be smoke, is not to know the fire as a real fact
either by way of perception or by that of inference.
The next question is: How is true knowledge distinguished from false
knowledge? Knowledge is true when it agrees with or corresponds to the nature
of its object, otherwise it becomes false. Your knowledge of the rose as red is
true, if the rose has really a red colour as you judge it to have (tadvati
tatprakāraka). On the contrary, your impression of the crow as white is false,
since the white colour does not really belong to the crow; the white colour is
ascribed to the crow in which it is absent (tadabhāvavati tatprakāraka). But then
it may be asked: How do we know that the first knowledge is true and the second
false?
In other words: How do we test the truth or falsity of knowledge? The
Naiyāyikas (also the Vaiśeṣikas, Jainas and Bauddhas) explain it in the following
manner: Suppose you want a little more sugar for your morning tea and take a
spoonful of it from the cup before you and put it into your tea. Now the tea tastes
sweeter than before and you know that your previous perception of sugar was
true. Sometimes, however, it happens that while looking for sugar, you find
some white powdered substance and put a pinch of it into your mouth under the
impression that it is sugar. But to your utter surprise and disappointment, you
find that it is salt and not sugar. Here then we see that the truth and falsity of
knowledge consist respectively in its correspondence and non-correspondence to
facts. But the test of its truth or falsity consists in inference from the success or
failure of our practical activities in relation to its object (pravṛttisāmarthya or
pravṛttivisaṁvāda). True knowledge leads to successful practical activity, while
false knowledge ends in failure and disappointment.8

2. Perception
In Western logic, the problem of perception as a source of knowledge has not
been properly discussed. The reason probably is this. We generally believe, that
what is given in perception must be true. Ordinarily, no man questions the truth
of what he perceives by his senses. So it is thought that it is unnecessary, if not
ridiculous, to examine the validity of perception, or to determine the conditions
of perception as a source of valid knowledge. Indian thinkers are more critical
than dogmatic in this respect, and make a thorough examination of perception in
almost the same way as Western logicians discuss the problem of inference.

(i) Definition of Perception

In logic perception is to be regarded as a form of true cognition. Taking it in this
sense, some Naiyāyikas define perception as a definite cognition which is
produced by sense-object contact and is true or unerring.9 The perception of the
table before me is due to the contact of my eyes with the table, and I am definite
that the object is a table. The perception of a distant figure as either a man or a
post is a doubtful and indefinite cognition, and, therefore, not a true perception.
The perception of a snake in a piece of rope is definite but false; and so it is
different from valid perception.
The difinition of perception as a cognition due to the stimulation of our
sense organs by the perceived object is generally accepted by us. It is accepted
also by many systems of philosophy, Indian and Western. Some Naiyāyikas, the
Vedāntins and others, however, reject it on the ground that there may be
perception without sense-object contact. God, we are told, perceives all things,
but has no senses. When I see a snake in a rope, there is really no snake to come
in contact with my eyes. Mental states like the feelings of pleasure and pain are
directly cognised or perceived by us withut the help of any sense organ. All this
shows that sense-object contact is not common to, and cannot, therefore, be a
defining character of, perceptions. What, however, is really common to, and
distinctive of, all perceptions is a feeling of 'directness' or 'immediacy' of] the
knowledge given by them. We are said to perceive an object, if and when we
know it directly, i.e., without taking the help of previous knowledge or any
reasoning process (jñānā-karaṇaka). If at midday you turn your eyes overhead,
you see the sun directly, and not by means of any process of inference or
reasoning. There is neither any necessity nor any time for you to think and
reason before the perception of the sun arises in your mind. So some Indian
logicians propose to define perception as immediate cognition (sākṣāt pratīti),
although they admit that perception is in almost all cases conditioned by sense-
object contact.10

(ii) Classification of Perception11

There are different ways of classifying perception. First, we have the distinction
between laukika or ordinary and alaukika or extraordinary perceptions. This
distinction depends on the way in which the senses come in contact with their
objects. We have laukika perception when there is the usual sense-contact with
objects present to sense. In alaukika perception, however, the object is such as is
not ordinarily present to sense, but is conveyed to sense through an unusal
medium. Perception, again is of two kinds, namely, external (bāhya) and internal
(mānasa). The former is due to the external senses of sight, hearing, touch, taste
and smell. The latter is brought about by the mind's contact with psychical states
and processes. Thus we have six kinds of laukika or ordinary perceptions, viz.,
the visual (cākṣuṣa) auditory (śrautra), tactual (spārśana), gustatory (rāsana),
olfactory (ghrāṇaja), and the internal or mental (mānasa) perception, Alaukika or
extraordinary perception is of three kinds, viz., sāmānyalakṣaṇa, jñānalakṣaṇa
and yogaja.
According to the Nyāya (also the Vaiśeṣika Mīmāṁsā, and Jaina), there are
six organs of knowledge. Of these, five are external and one is internal. The five
external senses are the organs of smell (ghrāṇa) taste (rasanā), sight (cakṣuḥ),
touch (tvak), and hearing (śrotra). These perceive respectively the physical
qualities of smell, taste, colour, touch and sound. They are physical in nature and
each of them is constituted by that very same physical element whose qualities
are sensed by it. This seems to be suggested by the fact that in many cases we
use the same name for both the sense organ and the physical quality sensed by it.
It is probably based on the principle that only like can perceive like. Mind
(manas) is the internal organ which perceives such qualities of the soul as desire
(icchā), aversion (dveṣa), striving or willing (prayatna), pleasure (sukha), pain
(duḥkha) and cognition. It is not made of the material elements (bhūtas) like the
external senses. It is not limited to the knowledge of any particular class of
things or qualities but functions as a central and common organ in all kinds of
knowledge. The Nyāya view of mind as an 'internal sense' (antarindriya) is
accepted by the Vaiśeṣikas, the Sāṅkhyas, the Mīmāṁsakas and others. But some
Vedāntins criticise and reject the Nyāya view of mind as an 'inner sense'.

(iii) Extraordinary Perception12

Alaukika or extraordinary perception is of three kinds. The first is called
sāmānyalakṣaṇa; when we ask whether all men are mortal, the question raised is
as to whether mortality is true, not of this or that man only, nor of all men who
are dead and gone, but of all men in the past, present and future. But such a
query presupposes some knowledge of the class of men. But the question is: how
do we know the whole class of men? We cannot know it by ordinary perception,
since all men cannot be physically present to our senses. Yet we must somehow
know all men. The Naiyāyika explains this knowledge of the class by
extraordinary perception, in which the class men is presented through the class
essence or the universal 'manhood'. When I perceive a man 'as man', I do
perceive the manhood in him; otherwise I cannot directly recognise him as man.
Now this direct knowledge or perception of the universal 'manhood' is the
medium through which I perceive all men or the class of men. To perceive
mahood is to perceive all men so far as they are possessed of the universal
'manhood'. In short, to perceive manhood is to perceive all men as the
individuals in which the universal 'manhood' inheres. This perception of the
class of men, being due to the perception of the universal (sāmānya), is called
sāmānya-lakṣaṇa perception and is marked off as extraordinary (alaukika) on
account of its obvious difference from our ordinary perceptions.
The second kind of extraordinary perception is called jñānalakṣaṇa. We
often use such expressions as 'ice looks cold', 'the stone looks hard', 'the grass
looks soft', and so forth. This means that the coldness of ice, the hardness of a
stone, the softness of luxuriant grass are perceived by us with our eyes. But the
question is: how can the eyes perceive touch qualities, like hardness and
softness, which can ordinarily be sensed only by the sense of touch? Among
Western psychologists, Wundt, Ward and Stout explain such perceptions by
'complication',13 a process by which sensations or perceptions of different senses
become so closely associated as to become integral parts of a single perception.
Similarly, when on 'seeing' something one says, 'I see a piece of fragrant
sandalwood', one has a perception of its fragrance by means of one's eyes. How
can we explain this visual perception of fragrance which can be ordinarily
sensed only by the sense of smell? The Naiyāyika says that here our past
olfactory experience of fragrance as closely associated with the visual
appearance of sandalwood (since every time we smelt it we saw its colour,
unless that was in a dark room) is vividly revived and brings about the present
visual perception of fragrance simultaneously with that of its colour. This present
perception of fragrance, being due to the revived past knowledge of fragrance
(saurabhajñāna), has been called jñānalakṣaṇa perception, which is also
extraordinary in the sense that it is brought about by a sense organ which is not
ordinarily capable of perceiving fragrance. The Naiyāyikas also explain illusion,
e.g., of a snake in a rope, as a case of jñānalakṣaṇa perception.
The third kind of extraordinary perception is called yogaja. It is the intuitive
perception of all objects—past and future, hidden and infinitesimal—by one who
possesses some supernatural power generated in the mind by devout meditation
(yogābhyāsa). In the case of those who have attained spiritual perfection (yukta),
such intuitive knowledge of all objects is constant and spontaneous. In the case
of others who are on the way to perfection (yuñjāna), it requires the help of
concentration as an auxiliary condition.

(iv) Three Modes of Ordinary Perception14

According to another classification, ordinary perception is of two kinds, namely,
nirvikalpaka or the indeterminate and savikalpaka or the determinate. Here the
principle of classification is the more or less developed character of perceptual
knowledge. To these two we may add pratyabhijñā or recognition. Keeping in
view the nature of perception, the Naiyāyikas distinguish thus between three
modes of ordinary perception. Extraordinary perception is always determinate,
since it is definite and explicit knowledge.
Nirvikalpaka or indeterminate perception is the primary cognition of an
object and its diverse characters without any judgment to inter-relate them.
Suppose you look at an orange placed on the other side of your table.
Immediately after the first glance, or after the first moment of contact between
your eyes and the object, you apprehend something, its colour, shape, etc., along
with a general character called orangeness. But at first sight, you do not think of
it as yellow or round, or as an orange. This kind of primary perception is called
indeterminate perception. Suppose on the first day of your examination you enter
the bathroom engrossed in thinking about the possible questions and their
answers, it is not unlikely that you may finish your bath without thinking of the
water used by you 'as water', 'as cold', etc. Yet it cannot be said that you did not
perceive the water. But for a very real perception of it, your act of bathing cannot
be explained. This perception of water and its characters, without any thought or
judgment of it as water, as liquid, as cold, etc., is the nirvikalpaka or
indeterminate perception of it.
Savikalpaka perception is the cognition of an object as possessed of some
character. While nirvikalpaka is the cognition of the existence of a thing as such,
savikalpaka may be said to be the recognition of its nature. Thus, when looking
at the orange, I judge within myself 'this is an orange', 'this is round, red, etc.' I
do not only cognize the unrelated elements as such, but also explicitly relate
them. Here the existent fact, this, becomes the subject of proposition and
orangeness, etc., are related to it as predicates Thus we may say that nirvikalpaka
is an indeterminate apprehension, and savikalpaka a determinate, predicative
judgment. There could not be any savikalpaka perception of an object without a
previous nirvikalpaka perception of it. Unless we first knew the unrelated
elements as such, we could not possibly know them as related. Unless I first
perceive water, coldness, liquidity, etc., I cannot come to know it as water or as
cold, or as liquid, etc.
Pratyabhijñā is recognition in its literal meaning. It is a recognition of some
object, i.e., a cognition of it as that which was cognised before. In it we know
immediately that the thing which we now cognise is the same as that which was
cognised before, as when one says: 'This must be the same man who helped me
into the tram-car yesterday.' It should be remarked here that the distinctions of
nirvikalpaka perception, savikalpaka perception, and pratyabhijñā have not been
recognised, or recognised in the same way, in all the systems of Indian
philosophy. While the Vaiśeśika, the Sāñkhya and the Mīmāṁsā systems accept,
on the whole, the Nyāya view as explained here, the Baudha and the Advaita
Vedānta systems reject it and hold very different views.

3. Inference
(i) Definition of Inference
After perception comes anumāna or inference. Anumāna (anu—after, māna—
knowledge) literally means a cognition or knowledge which follows some other
knowledge. Take the following illustrations: 'The hill is fiery, because it smokes
and whatever smokes is fiery;' 'Devadatta is mortal, because he is a man, and all
men are mortal.' In the first example, we pass from the perception of smoke in
the hill to the knowledge of the existence of fire in it, on the ground of our
previous knowledge of the universal relation between smoke and fire. In the
second example, we know the mortality of Devadatta. which is not now
perceived, from the presence of manhood in him. Thus we see that inference is a
process of reasoning in which we pass from the apprehension of some mark
(liṅga) to that of something else, by virtue of a relation of invariable
concomitance (vyāpti) between the two. As Dr. B.N. Seal puts it: 'Anumāna
(inference) is the process of ascertaining, not by perception or direct observation,
but through the instrumentality or medium of a mark, that a thing possesses a
certain character.'15

(ii) The constituents of Inference16

From the definition of inference it will appear that an inference must have as its
constituents three terms and at least three propositions. In inference we arrive at
the knowledge of some character of a thing through the knowledge of some
mark and that of its universal relation to the inferred character. Thus in the above
inference of fire we know the unperceived fire in the hill through the perception
of smoke in it and the knowledge of an invariable relation between smoke and
fire. There is, first, the knowledge or apprehension of smoke as a mark in the
hill. Secondly, there is a recollection of the relation of invariable concomitance
between smoke and fire, as we have observed it in the past. Thirdly, we have the
resulting knowledge of the existence of the unperceived fire in the hill. Now in
this inference the hill is the pakṣa (minor term), since it is the subject under
consideration in the course of the inferential reasoning. Fire is the sādhya (major
term), as that is something which we want to prove or establish in relation to the
hill by means of this inference. Smoke is the linga (middle term), as it is the
mark or sign which indicates the presence of fire. It is also called the hetu or
sādhana, i.e. the reason or ground of inference. Thus corresponding to the minor,
major and middle terms of the syllogism, inference, in Indian logic, contains
three terms, namely, pakṣa, sādhya, and hetu. The pakṣa is the subject with
which we are concerned in any inference. The sādhya is the object which we
want to know in relation to the pakṣa or the inferable character of the pakṣa. The
hetu is the reason for our relating the sādhya to the pakṣa. It is the ground of our
knowledge of the sādhya as related to the pakṣa.
In order of the events which take place when a certain thinker is inferring;
the first step in inference is the apprehension of the hetu (smoke) in the pakṣa
(hill), the second, recollection of the universal relation between hetu and sādhya
(smoke and fire), and the last is the cognition of the sādhya (fire) as related to
the pakṣa (hill). But as a matter of a formal statement or verbal expression, the
first step in inference is the predication of the sādhya with regard to the pakṣa,
e.g., 'The hill is fiery.' The second is the affirmation of the hetu as related to the
pakṣa, e.g., 'Because the hill is smoky.' The third is the affirmation of the hetu as
invariably related to the sādhya, e.g., 'Wherever there is smoke, there is fire, as
in the kitchen.' Thus in inference we must have at least three propositions, all of
which are categorical and one must be affirmative and the others may be
affirmative or negative. The first proposition corresponds to the conclusion of
the syllogism, the second to the minor premise, and the third to the major
premise. Thus inference, in Indian logic, may be said to be a syllogism
consisting of three categorical propositions. But the order of the propositions is
reversed in Indian logic, insofar as it puts the conclusion of the syllogism first,
and its usual major premise last, in the formal statement of an inference.
 Indian logicians are agreed that so far as inference is svārtha or for oneself, it
requires no formal statement by way of a number of propositions. It is only in
the case of inference which is parārtha, i.e., meant to prove or demonstrate some
truth, that we require to state an inference in the form of a rigorous chain of
argument without any gap. This is the logical form of an inference. We may say
that in Indian logic inference corresponds roughly, in respect of its form, to the
categorical syllogism of Western logic. But there are certain important
differences between the Indian and Western forms of the syllogism. In Western
logic, the syllogism is generally stated in the form of three propositions, of
which the first is the major premise, the second is the minor premise, and the last
is the conclusion. According to the Naiyāyikas, however, inference, as a
conclusive proof, must be stated in the form of five propositions, called its
avayavas or members. These are pratijñā, hetu, udāharaṇa, upanaya, and
nigamana.17 The five-membered syllogism may be thus illustrated:

1.-Ram is mortal (pratijñā);

2.-Because he is a man (hetu);
3.-All men are mortal, e.g., Socrates, Kant, Hegel (udāharaṇa);
4.-Ram also is a man (upanaya);
5.-Therefore he is mortal (nigamana).

The pratijñā is the first proposition, which asserts something. The hetu is the
second proposition, which states the reason for this assertion. The udāharaṇa is
the universal proposition, showing the connection between the reason and the
asserted fact, as supported by known instances. Upanaya is the application of the
universal proposition to the present case. Nigamana is the conclusion which
follows from the preceding propositions.18

(iii) The Grounds of Inference19

Now we come to the consideration of vyāpti or invariable concomitance between
the middle term and the major term, which is the logical ground of inference. In
inference our knowledge of the sādhya (fire) as related to the pakṣa (hill)
depends on the previous knowledge of the hetu (smoke) as connected with the
pakṣa on the one hand, and universally related to the sādhya on the other. We
infer that there is fire in the hill, because we see that there is smoke in the hill
and know that smoke is always accompanied by fire. It appears, therefore, that
an inference has two conditions. The first is a cognition of the hetu or middle
term (smoke) in the pakṣa or minor term (the hill). The second is the relation of
invariable concomitance between the middle and the major terms. That there is
fire in the hill is a conclusion which we can justify only if we know that there is
an invariable concomitance between the hill smoke and fire. This relation of
invariable concomitance between the hetu and the sādhya, or the middle term
and the major term of inference is technically called vyāpti, and is regarded as
the logical ground of inference, since it guarantees the truth of the conclusion.
So the questions we are to consider now, are; What is vyāpti? How is vyāpti
known by us?
With regard to the first question, we have to say that vyāpti literally means
the state of pervasion. It implies a correlation between two facts, of which one is
pervaded (vyāpya), and the other pervades (vyāpaka). A fact is said to pervade
another when it always accompanies the other. A fact is said to be pervaded by
another when it is always accompanied by the other. In this sense, smoke is
pervaded by fire since it is always accompanied by fire, or all smoky objects are
fiery. But while all smoky objects are fiery, all fiery objects are not smoky, e.g.,
the red-hot iron ball. A vyāpti between terms of unequal extension, such as
smoke and fire, is called asamavyāpti or viṣamavyāpti. It is a relation of non-
equipollent concomitance between two terms, from one of which we may infer
the other, but not vice versa. We may infer fire from smoke, but not smoke from
fire. As distinguished from this, a vyāpti between two terms of equal extension is
called samavyāpti or equipollent concomitance. Here the vyāpti holds between
two terms which are co-extensive, so that we may infer either of them from the
other, e.g., 'nameable' and 'knowable'. Whatever is nameable is knowable, and
vice versa.
For any inference, the minimum condition is some kind of vyāpti between
the middle and the major terms. This satisfies the fundamental law of syllogistic
inference that one of the premises must be universal. Now the vyāpti between
the middle and the major term means generally a relation of co-existence
(sāhacarya) between the two, e.g. 'Wherever there is smoke, there is fire.' Every
case of co-existence, however, is not a case of vyāpti. In many instances fire may
co-exist with smoke. Still there is no vyāpti or universal relation between fire
and smoke, since there may be fire without smoke. The reason is that in such
cases the relation of co-existence is dependent on certain conditions (upādhi)
other than the terms related. Thus the presence of smoke in fire is conditioned by
wet fuel (ārdrendhana). So we are to say that vyāpti is that relation of co-
existence between the middle and the major term which is independent of all
conditions. It is an invariable and unconditional relation of concomitance (niyata
anaupādhika saṁbandha) between the middle and the major terms.
 The second question is: how is vyāpti known? How do we get a universal
proposition like 'all smoky objects are fiery', or 'all men are mortal'? This is the
problem of induction. For the Cārvākas, who are radical empiricists, there is no
problem because there is no inference as a source of true knowledge. All the
other systems of Indian philosophy which admit the validity of inference try to
solve this problem in one way or the other. The Buddhists base the knowledge of
universal propositions on the principles of causality and essential identity, which
they regard as a priori and necessary principles of human thought and action. If
two things are related as cause and effect, we know that they are universally
related, for there cannot be any effect without its cause. To determine the causal
relation between them, the Buddhists adopt the method of pañcakāraṇī which is
as follows: (a) neither the cause nor the effect is perceived (b) the cause is
perceived, (c) immediately, the effect is perceived, (d) the cause disappears (e)
immediately, the effect disappears. Similarly, if two things are essentially
identical, (i.e., possess a common essence) they must be universally related. All
men are animals, because animality belongs to the essence of both, and men
without animality will not be men.
The Vedāntins hold that vyāpti or the universal proposition is the result of an
induction by simple enumeration. It is derived from the uncontradicted
experience of agreement in presence between two things. When we find that two
things go together or co-exist, and that there is no exception to their relation
(vyabhicārādarśane sati sahacāradarśanam) we may take them as universally
related.
The Naiyāyikas agree with the Vedāntins in holding that vyāpti is established
by the uncontradicted experience of the relation between two things, and not on
any a priori principle like causality or essential identity. They, however, go
further than the Vedāntins and supplement uncontradicted experience of the
relation between two facts by tarka or indirect proof and by sāmānyalakṣaṇa
perception. The Nyāya method of induction or generalisation may be analysed
into the following steps: First we observe that there is a relation of agreement in
presence (anvaya) between two things, or that in all cases in which one is
present, the other also is present, e.g., wherever there is smoke, there is fire.
Secondly, we see that there is uniform agreement in absence (vyatireka) between
them, e.g., wherever there is no fire, there is no smoke. These two steps taken
together correspond very well to Mill's 'Joint Method of Agreement' in presence
and in absence. Thirdly, we do not observe any contrary instance in which one of
them is present without the other (vyabhicārāgraha). From this we may conclude
that there must be a natural relation of invariable concomitance between the two
things.
 Still we cannot be sure if the relation in question is unconditional or free
from upādhis, which a real vyāpti must be. Hence the fourth step of the inductive
method is elimination of upādhis or conditions on which the relation may
possible be dependent (upādhinirāsa). I put on the switch and there is light; if I
do not, there is no light. From this if anybody concludes that there is a vyāpti or
invariable relation between switching on and lighting the room, then he would
commit the mistake of ignoring the upādhi or condition, vtz., the electric current,
in the presence of which alone there can be light. This upādhi, viz., electric
current, must be present when there is light, but it may not be present wherever
there is switching on. So an upādhi is defined as a term which is co-extensive
with the major (sādhyasamavyāpta) but not with the middle term of an inference
(avyāptasādhana). Taking the stock example, when one infers the existence of
smoke from fire, one relies on the conditional relation of fire to smoke, since fire
is attended with smoke on the condition of its being fire from 'wet fuel'.20 It will
be seen here that the condition 'wet fuel' is always related to the major term
'smoky', but not so related to the middle term 'fire', as there are cases of fire
without 'wet fuel'. Hence to eliminate the suspected conditions of an invariable
relation between two things, we must make repeated observation (bhūyodarśana)
of their agreement in presence and in absence under varying circumstances. If in
the course of this process we see that there is no material circumstance which is
present or absent just when the major term is present or absent, we are to
understand that its concomitance with the middle term is unconditional. In this
way we can exclude all the suspected conditions of a relation of invariable
concomitance between the middle and the major terms and say that it is a
relation of vyāpti or invariable and unconditional concomitance.
But there is still room for a sceptical doubt about the vyāpti or universal
proposition thus arrived at. It may be urged by a sceptic like Hume or the
Cārvāka that so far as our past and present experience is concerned, there is no
exception to the uniform relation of concomitance between smoke and fire. But
there is no knowing whether this relation holds good in distant regions, like the
planets, or will hold good in the remote future. To end this sceptical doubt, the
Naiyāyikas try next to fortify the induction by tarka. The proposition 'all smoky
objects are fiery' may be indirectly proved by a tarka like this: If this proposition
is false, then its contradictory, 'some smoky objects are not fiery', must be true.
This means that there may be smoke without fire. But this supposition is
contradicted by the law of universal causation, for, to say that there may be
smoke without fire is just to say that there may be an effect without a cause
(since fire is the only known cause of smoke). If anyone has the obstinacy to say
that sometimes there may be effects without causes, he must be silenced by
reference to the practical contradictions (vyāghāta) involved in his position. If
there can be an effect without a cause, why seek for fire to smoke your cigar or
to cook our food? This process of indirect proof in the Nyāya may be said to
correspond roughly to the method of reduction ad absurdum in Western logic.
Although the Naiyāyikas take great pains to establish vyāpti or universal
proposition on the ground of the observation of particular facts, still they feel
that a generalisation from particulars as mere particulars cannot give us that
certainty which we claim when we lay down a general proposition like 'all men
are mortal'. The proposition 'all crows are black' is not so certain as the
proposition 'all men are mortal'. We find it less difficult to think of a crow which
is not black, than to think of a man who is not mortal. Just as a cuckoo may be
black or grey and spotted, so crows may be black or dark, grey or brown. We
cannot, however, seriously and honestly think of ourselves as immortal, and
regulate our practical activities accordingly. Why this difference in the sense of
security of certainty? The answer that naturally suggests itself and that not
unreasonably is that while there is nothing in the nature of a crow to prevent it
from being grey or brown, there seems to be something in the nature of man that
makes him mortal. We say that all crows are black, not because they cannot be
otherwise, but because they happen to be so, as far as we have seen. On the other
hand, we say that all men are mortal because they are men, i.e., because they
possess some essential nature, manhood, which is related to mortality. This
becomes clear when we say, 'A, B, C are mortal, not because they are A, B, C
but because they are men.' It follows from this that an inductive generalisation
must be ultimately based on the knowledge of the essential nature of things, i.e.,
the class-essence or the universal in them. Hence it is that the Naiyāyikas finally
establish an induction by sāmānyalakṣaṇa perception.21 They hold that a
universal proposition like 'all men are mortal', or 'all smoky objects are fiery',
must be due to the perception of the universal 'manhood' as related to 'mortality',
or that of 'smokeness' as related to 'fireness'. It is only when we perceive
'manhood' as related to mortality that we can say that all men are mortal, for to
perceive 'manhood' is to perceive all men so far as they are man-as- such, and
not this or that man. So we may say that the essence of induction is not an
inference of the form 'some men are mortal; therefore, all men are mortal'. This
is not a logically valid inference, because there is an obvious illicit distribution
of the subject term men. On the other hand, induction is a process of
generalisation from the particulars of experience through the knowledge of the
class essences or universale underlying such particulars.22
(iv) The Classification of Inference
As we have seen before, inference is, in Indian logic, a combined deductive-
inductive reasoning consisting of at least three categorical propositions. All
inferences are thus pure syllogisms of the categorical type which are at once
formally valid and materially true. Hence we have not here a classification of
inferences into deductive and inductive, immediate and mediate, syllogistic and
non-syllogistic, pure and mixed types. The Naiyāyikas give us three different
classifications of inferences which we shall now consider.
According to the first classification, inference is of two kinds, namely,
svārtha and parārtha. This is a psychological classification which has in view the
use or purpose which an inference serves. An inference may be intended either
for the acquisition of some knowledge on our part or for the demonstration of a
known truth to other persons. In the first case, we have svārthānumāna or
inference for oneself. In the second, we have parārthānumāna or inference meant
for others. The first is illustrated by a man who first perceives a mass of smoke
in the hill, then remembers that there is a universal relation between smoke and
fire, and finally infers that there is fire in the hill. On the other hand, an inference
is parārtha when in making it a man aims at proving or demonstrating the truth
of the conclusion to other men. This is illustrated when a man, having inferred or
known the existence of fire in a hill, tries to convince another man who doubts or
questions the truth of his knowledge, and argues like this: 'The hill must be fiery;
because it smokes; and whatever is smoky is fiery e.g. the kitchen: so also the
hill is smoky; therefore, it is fiery'.23
According to another classification, we have three kinds of inference,
namely, pūrvavat, śeṣavat and sāmānyatodṛṣṛa.24 This classification has
reference to the nature of the vyāpti or universal relation between the middle and
the major terms. While pūrvavat and śeṣavat inferences are based on causal
uniformity, the last is based on non-causal uniformity. A cause is defined as the
invariable and unconditional antecedent of an effect. Conversely, an effect is the
invariable and unconditional consequent of a cause.25 Accordingly, a pūrvavat
inference is that in which we infer the unperceived effect from a perceived
cause, e.g. the inference of future rain from the appearance of dark heavy clouds
in the sky. A śeṣavat inference is that in which we infer the unperceived cause
from a perceived effect, e.g. the inference of past rain from the swift muddy
current of the river. In these two kinds of inference, the vyāpti or universal
relation between the middle and the major terms is a uniform relation of
causality between them. They are thus dependent on what is known as 'scientific
induction'. In sāmānyatodṛṣṭa inference, however, the vyāpti or universal relation
between the middle and the major terms does not depend on a causal uniformity.
The middle term is related to the major neither as a cause nor as an effect. We
infer the one from the other not because we know them to be causally connected,
but because they are uniformly related in our experience. This is illustrated
when, on seeing the different positions of the moon at long intervals, we infer
that it moves, although the motion might not have been perceived by us. In the
case of other things, whenever we perceive change of position, we perceive
motion also. From this we infer motion in the moon, although the movement of
the planet is not perceived. Similarly, we may infer the cloven hoof of an
unknown animal simply by seeing its horns. These inferences depend not on a
causal connection, but on certain observed points of general similarity between
different object of experience. Sāmanyatodṛsṭa inference is thus similar to
analogical argument.26
A third classification gives us the three kinds of kevalānvayi kevalavyatireki
and anvayavyatireki inferences.27 This classification is more logical in as much
as it is based on the nature of the induction by which we get the knowledge of
vyāpti, on which inferences depend. An inference is called kevalānvayi when it
is based on a middle term which is only positively related to the major terms.
Hence the knowledge of vyāpti between the middle and the major term is arrived
at only through the method of agreement in presence (anvaya), since there is no
negative instance of their agreement in absence. This is illustrated by the
following inference:

All knowable objects are nameable:

The pot is a knowable object;
Therefore the pot is nameable.

In this inference the major premise is a universal affirmative proposition in

which the predicate 'nameable' is affirmed of all knowable objects. It is not really
possible for us to deny the predicate with regard to the subject and say that here
is a knowable object which is not nameable, because we have at least to speak of
it as an object. The minor premise and the conclusion of this inference are also
universal affirmative propositions and cannot be otherwise. Hence, in its logical
form, this inference is a syllogism of the first mood of the first figure, technically
called Barbara.
A kevalavyatireki inference is that in which the middle term is only
negatively related to the major term. It depends on a vyāpti between the absence
of the major term and that of the middle term. Accordingly, the knowledge of
vyāpti is here arrived at only through the method of agreement in absence
(vyatireka), since there is no positive instance of agreement in presence between
the middle and the major terms excepting the minor term. This is illustrated thus
by the Naiyāyikas:
What is not different from other elements has no smell.
The earth has smell.
Therefore the earth is different-from-other-elements.28
In this inference, the major premise is a universal negative proposition in
which the predicate of the middle term 'smell' is denied of the subject or the
negative of the major term 'different-from-other-elements'. It is not possible for
us to affirm the predicate 'smell' of any other subject excepting the earth which is
the minor term of the inference. Hence the only way in which we can relate the
middle to the major is the negative way of saying that 'what is not different from
the other elements has no smell.' Hence the major premise is a universal negative
proposition arrived at only through the method of agreement in absence between
the major and the middle terms. The minor premise is an affirmative proposition.
but although one of the premises is negative, the conclusion is affirmative, which
is against the general canons of the syllogism in Formal Logic. Hence we are to
say that this inference is not any of the valid moods of syllogism recognized by
Formal Logic, nor should we forcibly convert the conclusion into a negative
proposition. But the validity of such an inference has been admitted by Bradley
as a special case of negative reasoning.29
An inference is called anvayavyatireki when its middle term is both
positively and negatively related to the major term. In it there is a vyāpti or
universal relation between the middle and the major terms in respect of both
their presence and absence. So the knowledge of the vyāpti or the universal
proposition is based on the Joint Method of agreement in presence (anvaya) and
in absence (vyatireka). The universal proposition is affirmative when it is the
result of the observation of positive instances of agreement in presence, and
negative when based on the observation of negative instances of agreement in
absence, between the middle and the major terms. The difference between the
universal affirmative and negative propositions (anvaya and vyatirekavyāpti) is
that the subject of the affirmative proposition becomes predicate and the
condradictory of the predicate becomes subject in the corresponding negative
proposition. Hence anvayavyatireki inference may be based on both universal
affirmative and universal negative propositions. It is illustrated in the following
pair of inferences:
 (1) All smoky objects are fiery.
The hill is smoky.
Therefore the hill is fiery.
(2) No non-fiery object is smoky.
The hill is smoky.
Therefore the hill is fiery.

(v) The Fallacies of Inference30

The fallacies of inference (hetvābhāsa) in Indian logic are all material fallacies.
So far as the logical form of inference is concerned, it is the same for all
inferences. There is, strictly speaking, no fallacious form of inference in logic
since all inferences must be put in one or other of the valid forms. Hence if there
is any fallacy of inference, that must be due to the material conditions on which
the truth of the constituent premises depends. It may be observed here that in the
Aristotelian classification of fallacies into those in dictione and those ertra
dictionem there is no mention of the formal fallacies of inference like the
undistributed middle, the illicit process of the major or minor term, and so forth.
The reason for this, as Faton31 rightly points out, is that 'to one trained in the arts
of syllogistic reasoning, they are not sufficiently persuasive to find a place even
among sham arguments.' As for Aristotle's fallacies in dictione, i.e., those that
occur through the ambiguous use of words, they are all included by the
Naiyāyika among the fallacies of chala, jāti and nigrahasthāna with their
numerous subdivisions.
In Indian Logic, a material fallacy is technically called hetvābhāsa, a word
which literally means a hetu or reason which appears as, but really is not, a valid
reason. The material fallacies being ultimately due to such fallacious reasons, the
Naiyāyikas consider all these as being cases of hetvābhāsa. According to the
Naiyāyikas, there are five kinds of material fallacies. These are (1) Savyabhicāra
(2) Viruddha, (3) Satpratipakṣa, (4) Asiddha, (5) Bādhita.32
The first kind of fallacy is called savyabhicāra or the irregular middle. To
illustrate:

All bipeds are rational.

Swans are bipeds.
Therefore swans are rational.

The conclusion of this inference is false. But why? Because the middle term
'biped' is not uniformly related to the major 'rational.' It is related to both rational
and non-rational creatures. Such a middle term is called savyabhicāra or the
irregular middle.
The savyabhicāra hetu or the irregular middle is found to lead to no one
single conclusion, but to different opposite conclusions. This fallacy occurs
when the ostensible middle term violates the general rule of inference, namely,
that it must be universally related to the major term, or that the major term must
be present in all cases in which the middle is present. The savyabhicāra middle,
however, is not uniformly concomitant with the major term. It is related to both
the existence and the non-existence of the major term, and is, therefore, also
called anaikāntika or an inconstant concomitant of the major term. Hence from
such a middle term we can infer both the existence and the non-existence of the
major term. To take another illustration:

All knowable objects are fiery.

The hill is knowable.
Therefore the hill is fiery.

Here the middle 'knowable' is indifferently related to both fiery objects like
the kitchen, and fireless objects like the lake. All knowables being thus not fiery,
we cannot argue that a hill is fiery because it is knowable. Rather, it is as much
true to say that, for the same reason, the hill is fireless.
The second kind of fallacy is called viruddha or the contradictory middle.
Take this inference: 'Air is heavy, because it is empty.' In this inference the
middle term 'empty' is contradictory because it disproves the heaviness of air.
Thus the viruddha or the contradictory middle is one which disproves the very
proposition which it is meant to prove. This happens when the ostensible middle
term, instead of proving the existence of the major, in the minor, which is
intended by it, proves its non-existence therein. Thus to take the Naiyāyikas'
illustration, if one argues, 'Sound is eternal, because it is caused,' we have a
fallacy of the viruddha or contradictory middle. The middle term, 'caused' does
not prove the eternality of sound, but its non-eternality, because whatever is
caused is non-eternal. The distinction between the savyabhicāra and the viruddha
is that while the former only fails to prove the conclusion, the latter disproves it
or proves the contradictory proposition.
The third kind of fallacy is called satpratipakṣa or the inferentially
contradicted middle. This fallacy arises when the ostensible middle term of an
inference is validly contradicted by other middle term which proves the non-
existence of the major term of the first inference. Thus the inference 'sound is
eternal, because it is audible' is validly contradicted by another inference like
this: 'sound is non-eternal, because it is produced like a pot.' Here the non-
existence of eternality (which is the major term of the first inference) is proved
by the second inference with its middle term 'produced' as against the first
inference with its middle 'audible.' The distinction between the viruddha and the
satpratipakṣa is that, while in the former the middle itself proves the
contradictory of its conclusion, in the latter the contradictory of the conclusion is
proved by another inference based on another middle term.
The fourth kind of fallacy is called asiddha or sādhyasama, i.e. the unproved
middle. The sādhyasama middle is one which is not yet proved, but requires to
be proved, like the sādhya or the major term. This means that the sādhyasama
middle is not a proved or an established fact, but an asiddha or unproved
assumption. The fallacy of the asiddha occurs when the middle term is wrongly
assumed in any of the premises, and so cannot be taken to prove the truth of the
conclusion. Thus when one argues, 'the sky-lotus is fragrant because it has
lotusness in it like a natural lotus,' the middle has no locus standi, since the sky-
lotus is non-existent, and is, therefore, asiddha or a merely assumed but not
proved fact.
The last kind of fallacy is called bādhita or the non-inferentially contradicted
middle. It is the ostensible middle term of an inference, the non-existence of
whose major is ascertained by means of some other pramāṇa or source of
knowledge. This is illustrated by the argument: 'Fire is cold, because it is a
substance.' Here 'coldness' is the sādhya or major term, and 'substance' is the
middle term. Now the non-existence of coldness, may mean that the existence of
hotness is perceived in fire by our sense of touch. So we are to reject the middle
'substance' as a contradicted middle. The fallacy of satpratipakṣa, as explained
before, is different from this fallacy of bādhita, because in the former one
inference is contradicted by another inference, while in the latter an inference is
contradicted by perception or some other non-inferential source of knowledge.
Another example of bādhita would be: sugar is sour, because it produces acidity.

4. Upamāna or Comparison
Upamāna is the third source of valid knowledge accepted by the Nyāya. It is the
source of our knowledge of the relation between a name and things so named or
between a word and its denotation (sañjñasāñjñisaṁbandha). We have such
knowledge when we are told by some authoritative person that a word denotes a
class of objects of a certain description and then, on the basis of the given
description, apply the word to some object or objects which fit in with that
description, although we might not have seen them before. For example, a man,
who does not know what a gavaya33 or wild cow is, may be told by a forester
that it is an animal like the cow. If subsequently he happens to meet with such an
animal in the forest and knows or recognizes it as a gavaya, then his knowledge
will be due to upamāna or comparison.34 A boy who does not know what a
jackdaw is, may be told by you that it is like a crow, but of bigger size and glazy
black colour. When next he sees a jackdaw and says, 'this must be a jackdaw,' we
know that he has learnt the denotation of the word. To take another example
from Dr. L.S. Stebbing,35 suppose you do not know what 'saxophone' means.
You may be told by a musician: 'A saxophone is a musical instrument something
like a Ushaped trumpet.' If, on subsequently seeing a saxophone, you are able to
give its name, it will be clear that you understand what 'saxophone' means. Now,
upamāna is just this way of knowing the denotation of words, or the relation
between names and the objects denoted by them. The grounds of our knowledge
in upamāna are a given description of the objects to be known and a perception
of their similarity, etc. to the familiar objects mentioned in the description. A
man recognizes a gavaya as such just when he perceives its similarity to the cow
and remembers the description, 'the gavaya is an animal resembling the cow.'36
That upamāna or comparison, as explained by the Naiyāyikas, is a distinct
source of valid knowledge, has not been recognised in the other systems of
Indian philosophy. The Cārvākas37 contend that upamāna is not a pramāṇa at all,
since it cannot give us any true knowledge about the denotation of words as
maintained by the Naiyāyikas. The Buddhist logicians recognise upamāna as a
form of valid knowledge, but they reduce it to perception and testimony, so that
we do not require a separate source of knowledge like upamāna.38 So also, the
Vaiśeṣika39 and the Sāṅkhya40 system explain upamāna as a form of inference,
and therefore, neither a distinct type of knowledge nor an independent way of
knowing. The jainas41 reduce upamāna to pratyabhijñā or recognition. While
recognising upamāna as a separate source of knowledge, the Mīmāṁsakas42 and
the Vedāntins43 explain it in a different way which will be considered under the
Mimāṁsā.44

5. Śabda or Testimony
(i) The Nature and Classification of Śabda
Śabda is the last pramāṇa accepted by the Nyāya. Literally śabda means verbal
knowledge. It is the knowledge of objects derived from words or sentences. All
verbal knowledge, however, is not valid. Hence śabda, as a pramāṇa, is defined
in the Nyāya as valid verbal testimony. It consists in the assertion of a
trustworthy person.45 A verbal statement is valid when it comes from a person
who knows the truth and speaks the truth about anything for the guidance of
another person.46 But it is a matter of common observation that a sentence or
statement is not by itself sufficient to give us any knowledge of things. Nor again
does the mere perception of the words of a sentence leads to any knowledge
about objects. It is only when one perceives the words and understands their
meanings that he acquires any knowledge from a verbal statement. Hence while
the validity of verbal knowledge depends on its being based on the statement of
a trustworthy person, its possibility depends on the understanding of the meaning
of that statement. Hence śabda or testimony, as a source of valid knowledge,
consists in understanding the meaning of the statement of a trustworthy person.47
There are two ways of classifying śabda or verbal knowledge. According to
the one, there are two kinds of śabda, namely, that relating to perceptible objects
(dṛṣṭārtha), and that relating to imperceptible objects (adṛṣṭārtha).48 Under the
first head we are to include the trustworthy assertions of ordinary persons, the
saints and the scriptures insofar as they bear on the perceptible objects of the
world, e.g. the evidence given by witnesses in the law courts, the statements of a
reliable farmer about plants, the scriptural injunctions to perform certain rites to
bring about rainfall, etc. The second will include all the trustworthy assertions of
ordinary persons, saints, prophets and the scriptures insofar as they bear on
supersensible realities, e.g. the scientists' assertions about atoms, ether, electrons,
vitamins, etc., the prophets' instructions about virtue and vice, the scriptural texts
on God, freedom and immortality.
According to another classification, there are two kinds of testimony, the
scriptural (vaidika) and the secular (laukika).49 In vaidika testimony we have the
words of God. Vaidika or scriptural testimony is thus perfect and infallible by its
very nature. But laukika or secular testimony is not all valid. It is the testimony
of human beings and may, therefore, be true or false. Of laukika testimony, only
that which proceeds from trustworthy persons is valid, but not the rest. It will be
observed here that the first classification of testimony (śabda) has reference to
the nature of the objects of knowledge, the second to the nature of the source of
knowledge. But the two classifications, given by different Naiyāyikas, agree in
implying that testimony must always be personal, i.e. based on the words of
some trustworthy person, human or divine. In respect of their truth, however,
there is no difference among the trustworthy statements of an ordinary person, a
saint, a prophet, and the scriptures as revealed by God.50

(ii) The Logical Structure of a Sentence

Śabda or testimony, we have seen, gives us knowledge about certain things
through the understanding of the meaning of sentences, either spoken or written
by some authoritative person. Hence the question is: what is a sentence and how
does it become intelligible? A sentence, we are told, is a group of words (pada)
arranged in a certain way. A word again, is a group of letters arranged in a fixed
order.51 The essential nature of a word lies in its meaning. A word is that which
has a fixed relation to some object, so as to recall it whenever it is heard or read,
i.e. it means an object. So we may say that words are significant symbols. This
capacity of words to mean their respective objects is called their śakti or potency,
and it is said to be due to the will of God.52 That a word has a fixed and an
unalterable relation to certain things only, or that this word always means this
object and not others, is ultimately due to the Supreme Being who is the ground
and reason of all the order and uniformity that we find in the world.
A sentence (vākya) is a combination of words having a certain meaning. Any
combination of words, however, does not make a significant sentence. The
construction of an intelligible sentence must conform to four conditions. These
are ākāṅkṣā, yogyatā, sannidhi and tātparya.53
By ākāṅkṣā or expectancy is meant that quality of the words of a sentence by
which they expect or imply one another. Generally speaking, a word cannot by
itself convey a complete meaning. It must be brought into relation with other
words in order to express a full judgment. When one hears the word 'bring,' he at
once asks: 'what?' The verb 'bring' has a need for some other words denoting
some object or objects, e.g. 'the jar.' Ākāṇkṣā is this mutual need that the words
of a sentence have for one another in order to express a complete sense.
The second condition of the combination of words in a sentence is their
yogyatā or mutual fitness. It consists in the absence of contradiction in the
relation of objects denoted by a sentence. When the meaning of a sentence is not
contradicted, there is yogyatā or fitness between its constituent words. The
sentence 'moisten with fire' is devoid of meaning, because there is a
contradiction between 'fire' and moistening.'
Sannidhi or āsatti is the third condition of verbal knowledge. It consists in
the juxtaposition or proximity between the different words of a sentence. If there
is to be an intelligible sentence then its constituent words must be continuous
with one another in time or space. Spoken words cannot make a sentence when
separated by long intervals of time. Similarly, written words cannot construct a
sentence when they are separated by long intervals of space. Thus the words
'bring a cow' will not make a sentence when uttered on three days or written on
three pages, even though they possess the first two marks of ākāṅkṣā or
expectancy and yogyatā or fitness.
Tātparya as a condition of verbal knowledge stands for the meaning
intended to be conveyed by a sentence. A word may mean different things in
different cases. Whether it means this or that thing in a particular case depends
on the intention of the person who uses the word. To understand the meaning of
a sentence, therefore, we must consider the intention of the writer or the speaker
who uses it. Thus when a man is asked to bring a 'bat' he is at a loss to
understand whether he is told to bring a particular kind of animal or a playing
implement, for the word means both. This can be ascertained only if we know
the intention of the speaker. Hence the understanding of sentence depends on the
understanding of its tātparya or intended meaning. In the case of ordinary
sentences used by human beings, we can ascertain their tātparya from the
context (prakaraṇa) in which they are used. For the understanding of the Vedic
texts, we are to take the help of the various rules of interpretation systematised
by the Mīmāṁsā.

III. THE NYĀYA THEORY OF THE PHYSICAL

WORLD54

So far we have considered the Nyāya doctrine of pramāṇa or the methods of

knowledge. Now we come to the second topic of prameya or the objects of
knowledge. According to Gautama, 'as already seen55, these are: the self, the
body, the senses and their objects, knowledge, mind (manas), pravṛtti or activity,
doṣa or the mental imperfections, pretyabhāva or rebirth, phala or the feelings of
pleasure and pain, duḥkha or suffering, apavarga or absolute freedom from all
sufferings. There are also such objects as dravya or substance, guṇa or quality,
karma or motion, sāmānya or the universal, viśeṣa or particularity, samavāya or
the relation of inherence, and abhāva or non-existence.
All of these prameyas or knowables are not to be found in the physical
world, because it includes only those objects that are either physical (bhūta) or
somehow belong to the world of physical nature. Thus the self, its attribute of
knowledge and manas are not at all physical. Time and space are two substances
which although different from the physical substances, yet somehow belong to
the physical world. Ākāśa is a physical substance which is not a productive
cause of anything. The physical world is constituted by the four physical
substances of earth, water, fire and air. The ultimate constituents of these four
substances are the eternal and unchanging atoms of earth, water, fire and air.
Ākāśa or ether, kāla or time, and dik or space are eternal and infinite substances,
each being one single whole. Thus the physical world is the product of the four
kinds of atoms of earth, water, fire and air. It contains all the composite products
of these atoms, and their qualities and relations, including organic bodies, the
senses, and the sensible qualities of things. To it belongs also the physical
substance of ākāśa or ether. The non-physical, infinite substances of kāla or time
and dik or space contain and interrelate all physical things and events in various
ways. The Nyāya theory of the physical world, in respect of these and other
connected subjects, is the same as that of the Vaiśeṣika. The Vaiśeṣika theory,
which is a more detailed account of the subject, is accepted by the Nyāya as
samānatantra or an allied theory common to the Nyāya and the Vaiśeṣika
systems. So we propose to take up this subject when we come to the Vaiśeṣika
philosophy.

IV. THE INDIVIDUAL SELF AND ITS LIBERATION

The Nyāya is a philosophy of life and seeks to guide individual selves in their
search for truth and freedom. With regard to the individual self (jīvātmā) we
have to consider first its nature and attributes. There are four main views of the
self in Indian philosophy. According to the Cārvākas, the self is the living body
with the attribute of consciousness. This is the materialistic conception of the
self. The Bauddhas reduce the self to a stream of thought or a series of
cognitions. Like some empiricists and sensationalists, they admit only the
empirical self. The Advaita Vedānta takes the self as one, unchanging and self-
shining consciousness (svaprakāśa caitnya) which is neither a subject nor an
object, neither the 'I' nor the 'me'. The Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta, however, holds that
the self is not pure consciousness as such but a conscious subject called the ego
or the 'I' (jñātā ahamartha evātmā). Both these views of the self may be called
idealistic in a broad sense.
The Nyāya-Vaiśeṣikas adopt the realistic view of the self. According to
them, the self is a unique substance, to which all cognitions, feelings and
conations belong as its attributes desire, aversion and volition, pleasure, pain and
cognition are all qualities of the soul. These cannot belong to the physical
substances, since they are not physical qualities perceived by the external senses.
Hence we must admit that they are the peculiar properties of some substance
other than different from all physical substances. There are different selves in
different bodies, because their experiences do not overlap but are kept distinct.
The self is indestructible and eternal. It is infinite or ubiquitous (vibhu), since it
is not limited by time and space.56
The body or the senses cannot be the self because consciousness cannot be
the attribute of the material body or the senses. The body is, by itself,
unconscious and unintelligent. The senses cannot explain functions like
imagination, memory, ideation, etc. which are independent of the external
senses. The manas too cannot take the place of the self. If the manas be, as the
Nyāya Vaiśeṣikas hold, an atomic and, therefore, imperceptible substance, the
qualities of pleasure, pain, etc., which should belong to the manas, must be
equally impreceptible. But pleasure and pain are experienced or perceived by us.
Nor can the self be identified with the series of cognitions as in Bauddha
philosophy, for then memory becomes inexplicable. No member of a mere series
of cognitions can, like a bead of the rosary, know what has preceded it or what
will succeed it. The Advaita Vedāntin's idea of the self as eternal, self-shining
consciousness is no more acceptable to the Naiyāyika than that of the Buddhists.
There is no such thing as pure consciousness unrelated to some subject and
object. Consciousness cannot subsist without a certain locus. Hence the self is
not consciousness as such, but a substance having consciousness as its attribute.
The self is not mere consciousness or knowledge, but a knower, an ego or the 'I'
(ahaṅkārāśraya), and also an enjoyer (bhoktā).57
Although knowledge or consciousness belongs to the self as an attribute, yet
it is not an essential and inseparable attribute of it. All cognitions or conscious
states arise in the self when it is related to the manas, and the manas is related to
the senses and senses come in contact with the external objects. Otherwise, there
will be no consciousness in the self. In its disembodied condition, therefore, the
self will have no knowledge or consciousness. Thus the attributes of cognition,
feeling and conation—in a word, consciousness is an accidental attribute of the
self, the accident being its relation to the body.58
How do we know that there is any self of the individual, which is distinct
from his body, his senses and mind? Some old Naiyāyikas59 seem to think that
there cannot be a perception or direct cognition of the self. According to them,
the self is known either from the testimony of spiritual authorities or by
inference from the functions of desire, aversion and volition, the feelings of
pleasure and pain, and the phenomenon of knowledge in us. That we have desire,
aversion, etc. nobody can doubt. But these cannot be explained unless we admit
a permanent self. To desire an object is to strive to obtain it as something
pleasurable. But before we obtain it we cannot get any pleasure out of it. So in
desiring the object we only judge it to be similar to such objects as were found to
be pleasurable in the past. This means that desire supposes some permanent self
which had experienced pleasure in relation to certain objects in the past and
which considers a present object to be similar to any of those past objects, and so
strives to get possession of it. Similarly, aversion and volition cannot be
explained without a permanent self. The feelings of pleasure or pain also arise in
an individual when he gets something considered to be the means of attaining a
remembered pleasure, or gets into something which had previously led to a
painful experience. So too knowledge as a process of reflective thinking requires
a permanent self which first desires to know something, then reflects on it and
finally attains certain knowledge about it. All these phenomena of desire, etc.,
cannot be explained either by the body or the senses or the mind as a series of
cognitions or a stream of consciousness. Just as the experience of one man
cannot be remembered by another man, so the present states of the body or the
senses or the mind cannot remember their past states; but without such memory
we cannot explain the phenomena of desire, aversion and volition, pleasure, pain
and cognition.60
The later Naiyāyikas go a step further and maintain that the self is directly
known through internal or mental perception (mānasapratyakṣa). Of course,
when its existence is denied or doubted by anyone, the self must be inferred and
proved in the way explained above. The mental perception of the self may take
either of two forms. It may be a perception in the form of pure self-
consciousness, which is due to a contact between the mind and the pure self, and
is expressed in the judgment 'I am.' According to some Naiyāyikas, however, the
pure self cannot be an object of perception. The self is perceived only as having
a perceived quality like cognition, feeling or willing, and so the pereceptual
judgment is in the form, 'I am knowing,' 'I am happy,' and so forth. We do not
perceive the self as such, but as knowing or feeling or doing something. Hence
self-consciousness is a mental perception of the self as present in some mode of
consciousness. While one's own self can be perceived, other selves in other
bodies can only be inferred from their intelligent bodily actions, since these
cannot be explained by the unintelligent body and require a conscious self for
their performance.61
 The end of almost all the systems of Indian philosophy is the attainment of
mukti or liberation for the individual self. This is especially true of the Nyāya
system which purposes, at the very outset, to give us a knowledge of reality or
realities for the realisation of the highest good or the summum bonum of our life.
The different systems, however, give us different descriptions of this
consummate state of the soul's existence. For the Naiyāyikas it is a state of
negation, complete and absolute, of all pain and suffering. Apavarga or liberation
is absolute freedom from pain. This implies that it is a state in which the soul is
released from all the bonds of its connection with the body and the senses. So
long as the soul is conjoined with a body, it is impossible for it to attain the state
of utter freedom from pain. The body with the sense organs being there, we
cannot possibly prevent their contact with undesirable and unpleasant objects,
and so must submit to the inevitable experience of painful feelings. Hence in
liberation, the soul must be free from the shackles of the body, and the senses.
But when thus severed from the body, the soul ceases to have not only painful
but also pleasurable experiences, may more, it ceases to have any experience or
consciousness. So in liberation the self exists as a pure substance free from all
connection with the body, neither suffering pain, nor enjoying pleasure, nor
having consciousness even. Liberation is the negation of pain, not in the sense of
a suspension of it for a longer or shorter period of time, as in good sleep or a
state of recovery from some disease or that of relief from some bodily or mental
affliction. It is absolute freedom from pain for all time to come. It is just that
supreme condition of the soul which has been variously described in the
scriptures as 'freedom from fear' (abhayam), 'freedom from decay and change'
(ajaram), 'freedom from death' (amṛtyupadam) and so forth.62 Some later
Naiyāyikas, however, hold that liberation is the soul's final deliverance from pain
and attainment of eternal bliss.63
To attain liberation one must acquire a true knowledge of the self and all
other objects of experience (tattva-jñāna). He must know the self as distinct from
the body, the mind, the senses, etc. For this he should first listen to the scriptural
instructions about the self (śravana). Then he should firmly establish the
knowledge of the self by means of reasoning (manana). Finally, he must
meditate on the self in conformity with the principles of yoga (nididhyāsana).
These help him to realise the true nature of the self as distinct from the body and
all other objects. With this realisation, the wrong knowledge (mithyā jñāna) that
'I am the body and the mind' is destroyed, and one ceases to be moved to action
(pravṛtti) by passions and impulses (doṣa). When a man becomes thus free from
desires and impulses, he ceases to be affected by the effects of his present
actions, done with no desire for fruits. His past karmas or deeds being exhausted
by producing their effects, the individual has to undergo no more birth in this
world (janma). The cessation of birth means the end of his connection with the
body and consequently, of all pain and suffering (duḥkha); and that is
liberation.64

V. THE NYAYA THEOLOGY

In the Nyāya-sūtra of Gautama we find short but explicit references to God.

Though in the Vaiśesika-sūtra there is no explicit mention of God by name, yet
the commentators interpret some of the sūtras as referring to God.65 But the later
Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika school gives us an elaborate theory of God and connects it with
the doctrine of liberation. According to these thinkers, the individual self can
attain true knowledge of realities and, through it, the state of liberation only by
the grace of God. Without God's grace neither the true knowledge of the
categories of philosophy nor the highest end of liberation is attainable by any
individual being of the world. So the questions that arise are: What is God? How
do we know that God exists?

1. The Idea of God

God is the ultimate cause of the creation, maintenance and destruction of the
world. He does not create the world out of nothing, but out of eternal atoms,
space, time, ether, minds (manas) and souls. The creation of the world means the
ordering of the eternal entities, which are co-existent with God into a moral
world, in which individual selves enjoy and suffer according to the merit and
demerit of their actions, and all physical objects serve as means to the moral and
spiritual ends of our life. God is thus the creator of the world in the sense of
being the first efficient cause of the world and not its material cause, i.e. a sort of
demiurge or a builder of the ordered universe. He is also the preserver of the
world insofar as the world is kept in existence by the will of God. So also He is
the destroyer who lets loose the forces of destruction when the exigencies of the
moral world require it. Then, God is one, infinite and eternal, since the world of
space and time, minds and souls does not limit Him, but is related to Him as a
body to the self which resides in it. He is omnipotent, although. He is guided in
His activities by moral considerations of the merit and demerit of human actions.
He is omniscient insofar as He possesses the right knowledge of all things and
events. He has eternal consciousness as a power of direct and steadfast cognition
of all objects. Eternal consciousness is only an inseparable attribute of God, not
His very essence, as maintained in the Advaita Vedānta. He possesses to the full
all the six perfections (ṣaḍaiśvaryya) and is majestic, almighty, all-glorious,
infinitely beautiful, and possessed of infinite knowledge and perfect freedom
from attachment.66
Just as God is the efficient cause of the world, so He is the directive cause of
the actions of all living beings. No creature, not even man, is absolutely free in
his actions. He is relatively free, i.e. his actions are done by him under the
direction and guidance of the Divine Being. Just as a wise and benevolent father
directs his son to do certain things, according to his gifts, capacities and previous
attainments, so God directs all living beings to do such actions and feel such
natural consequences thereof as are consistent with their past conduct and
character. While man is the efficient instrumental cause of his actions, God is
their efficient directive cause (prayojaka kartā). Thus God is the moral governor
of the world of living beings including ourselves, the impartial dispenser of the
fruits of our actions (karmaphaladātā) and the supreme arbiter of our joys and
sorrows.67

2. Proofs for the Existence of God

Now the more important question which naturally arises here is this: What are
the proofs for the existence of God? The Nyāya Vaiśeṣikas have to their credit an
array of proofs which include almost all the arguments given in the Western
philosophy for God's existence. There are as many as ten proofs, of which the
more important may be considered here.

(i) The Causal Argument

All composite objects of the world, formed by the combination of atoms (e.g.
mountains, seas, etc.), must have a cause because they are of the nature of
effects, like a pot. That all such objects of the world are effects follows first from
their being made up of parts (sāvayava) and secondly, from their possessing an
intermediate magnitude (avāntaramahattva). Space, time, ether and self are not
effects, because these are infinite substances, not made up of parts. Atoms of
earth, water, light and air, and the mind are not the effects of any cause, because
they are simple, indivisible and infinitesimal substances. All other composite
objects of the world, like mountains and seas, the sun and the moon, the stars
and the planets must be the effects of some cause, since they are both made up of
parts and possess limited dimensions. These objects are what they are because of
the concurrence of a number of material causes. Therefore, there must be an
intelligent cause (kartā), for all these effects. Without the guidance of an
intelligent cause the material causes of these things cannot attain just that order,
direction and co-ordination which enable them to produce these definite effects.
This intelligent cause must have a direct knowledge of the material causes (the
atoms) as means, a desire to attain some end, and the power of will to
accomplish or realise the end (jñāna-cikīrsākṛti). He must also be omniscient
(sarvajña), since only an omniscient being can have direct knowledge of such
absolutely simple and infinitely small entities as atoms and the like. That is, He
must be God and none but God.68
The first argument of the Naiyāyikas, it will be observed, resembles the
causal argument for God's existence as explained by some Western thinkers like
Paul Janet,69 Hermann Lotze70 and James Martineau.71 According to them, the
world of finite objects requires an intelligent cause which gives order and co-
ordination to their concurrent physical causes. Thus Janet lays it down as a
principle that all co-ordination between divergent phenomena implies a final
cause or an intelligent agent who effects the complex combination of such
separate phenomena. So also, both Lotze and Martineau start from the fact of
physical causation in the world and rise up to the conception of an intelligent
principle as its ultimate ground and reason. Indeed, the Naiyāyika view of an
efficient cause as an intelligent agent strikingly anticipates Martineau's idea of
cause as will directed to the realisation of ends. There is, however, some
difference between these theists and the Naiyāyikas. Western theists generally
believe that God is not only the cause of the order and unity of things in the
world, but also the creative energy that gives existence to the things of Nature.
For the Naiyāyikas, however, God is only the cause of the order of Nature, and
not of the existence of the ultimate constituents of it. Still the Nyāya conception
of God cannot be called deistic. According to deism, God creates the world at a
certain point of time and then leaves it to itself. He has usually no concern with
the affairs of the world, although he may occasionally interfere with them in case
of grave emergency, as a clock-maker does when the clock made by him gets out
of order. On the Nyāya theory, however, God maintains a continuous relation
with the world (being conceived as not only the creator, but also as its maintainer
and destroyer). This is the essence of theism as distinguished from deism and, as
such, the Nyāya conception of God is rather theistic than deistic.

(ii) The Argument from Adṛṣṭa

The second argument of the Naiyāyikas is this: we often wonder how we are to
account for the differences in our lot here on earth. Some people are happy and
some miserable, some wise and some ignorant. What may be the cause of all
these variations in our worldly life? We cannot say that they have no causes,
because these are so many events in our life, and every event must have its
cause. Now the causes which produce our joys and sorrows in this life are our
own actions in this or some previous life. We enjoy or suffer in this life because
of our good or bad actions. The law that governs the lives of individual souls is
the moral law of karma which requires that every individual being must reap the
fruits of its own actions, good or bad, right or wrong. There is nothing strange or
improbable in this. It follows logically from the law of universal causation,
which means that every cause must produce its effect and every effect must be
produced by its cause. That our moral actions are as good causes as our physical
actions must be admitted by every one who believes in the law of causation and
extends it to the moral world. Just as bodily acts produce bodily changes and
mental functions produce mental changes and dispositions, so morally good or
bad actions lead to good or bad moral consequences, such as reward or
punishment, happiness or misery. Hence it is established that our joys and
sorrows are due to our own actions.72
But the next question is: how do our moral actions produce their
consequences which may be separated from them, by long intervals of time?
Many of our joys and sorrows cannot be traced to any work done by us in this
life. Even those that are due to acts done in this life, do not arise out of them
immediately, but after some time. A sinner in the heyday of youth may be a
sufferer in the infirmity of old age. So it is maintained that our good actions
produce a certain efficiency called merit (puṇya), and bad actions produce some
deficiency called demerit (pāpa) in our souls and these persist long after our
actions have ceased and disappeared. This stock of merit and demerit accruing
from good and bad actions is called adṛṣṭa. There is nothing more mysterious in
the concept of adṛṣṭa than in those of virtue and vice. Just as good actions have a
purifying, so bad actions have a corrupting effect on our mind. And just as virtue
conduces to a sense of security, serenity and peace (in a word, happiness), so
vice plunges the mind into the ruffled waters of suspicion, distraction and
uneasiness (in a word, unhappiness). In the same way, adṛṣṭa, as the sum-total of
merit and demerit accruing from our past actions, produces our present joys and
sorrows.
But how is it that adṛṣṭa manages to produce the proper consequences? It is
an unintelligent principle which cannot by itself lead to just that kind or degree
of joy and sorrow which are due to our past actions. So it is argued that adṛṣṭa
must be guided by some inteligent agent to produce its proper consequences.
Individual selves cannot be said to direct or control adṛṣṭa, for they do not know
anything about their adṛṣṭa, and further, it is not infrequently that adṛṣṭa defies
the control of their will. So the intelligent agent who guides adṛṣṭa through the
proper channels to produce the proper effects, is the eternal, omnipotent and
omniscient Divine Being. It is God who controls our adṛṣṭa and dispenses all the
joys and sorrows of our life, in strict accordance with it. Or, as Kant would say, it
is God who combines happiness with virtue and misery with vice. God gives us
the fruits of our actions in the shape of enjoyments or afflictions in a way similar
to that in which a wise and potent monarch rewards or punishes his subjects
according to the merit or guilt attaching to their good or bad actions.73

(iii) The Argument from the Authoritativeness of the

Scriptures
Another argument for God's existence is based on the authoritative character of
the Vedas. The authority of the scriptures is accepted as unquestionable and
infallible in all religions. Now the question, we are to consider here, is this:
What is the source of the authority of the Vedas? According to the Naiyāyikas,
the authority (prāmāṇya) of the Vedas has its source in the supreme authority of
their author (āptaprāmānya). Just as the authoritativeness of the medical science,
or for that matter, of all sciences, is derived from the scientists who founded
them, so the authoritativeness of the Vedas is derived from some person who
imparted that character to them. The validity of the Vedas may be tested like that
of any science, by following their injunctions about worldly objects and seeing
how they produce the desired result. Of course, the truth of other Vedic texts
bearing on supersensible objects cannot, like some scientific truths, be tested in
this way. Still, we may accept the whole of the Vedas as valid and authoritative,
in the same way in which we accept the whole of science as true when, as a
matter of fact, we can verify only some parts of it. So we must explain the
authority of the Vedas by referring them to some authoritative person. Now the
individual self (jīva) cannot be the anthor of the Vedas since the supramundane
realities and the transcendent principles related in the Vedas cannot be objects of
the knowledge of any ordinary individual. Hence the author of the Vedas must be
the suprme person who has a direct knowledge of all objects, past, present and
future, Finite, infinite and infinitesimal, sensible and supersensible. That is, the
Vedas, like other scriptures, are revealed by God.74

(iv) The Testimony of Śruti

Another proof of God's existence is this: God exists because the Vedic scripture
(śruti) bears testimony to His existence. Here are some of the scriptural texts:
'The highest eternal self is the Lord of all, the ruler of all, the protector of all…'
'The great unborn spirit is the receiver of all offerings and the giver of all gifts.'75
'The one god lies hidden in all, is all-pervading, is the inmost self of all and the
controller and sustainer of all.'76 'He is the ruler of all selves and the creator of
the world.'77 In the Bhagavadgītā also, the Lord says: 'I am the Father and the
Mother of this world, its Foster-parent, and its eternal and immutable God.' 'I am
the highest end of all, the maintainer of all, the controller of all, the witness of
all, the abode of all, the shelter of all, the friend of all, the creator of all, the
destroyer of all, the substratum of all, and the unchanging ground of the origin
and destruction of all.'78
It will appear from the above that the śruti or the scripture bears
unmistakable testimony to the existence of God. But the question that may
agitate the mind of the reader is: why should one believe in God simply on the
authority of the scriptures? An ordinary man may be inclined to do so, if he has
not the spirit of critical enquiry in him. But a critical philosopher may say that
scriptural testimony has no importance for philosophy, which is satisfied with
nothing short of logically valid arguments in the attainment of true knowledge
about anything human or divine. So long as these are not forthcoming, the
appeal to authority is of no avail. It may also be thought that such logical support
for the belief in God is afforded by the traditional proofs of God's existence. But
as Immanuel Kant79 and, after him, Hermann Lotze80 have clearly shown, none
of the so-called proofs can really prove the existence of God. To prove anything
is to deduce it as a necessary conclusion from certain given premises. But God
being the highest of all premises, i.e. the ultimate reality, there cannot be any
anterior premise or premises from which we can deduce God as a conclusion.
The ontological proof starts from the idea of the most perfect being and infers its
existence on the ground that without existence it would not be most perfect. So,
the cosmological argument starts from the sensible world as a finite and
conditioned reality, and argues to the existence of an infinite, unconditioned and
supersensible reality as the ground thereof. Similarly, the teleological proof lays
stress on the adaptation of means to ends which we find so often in nature and
infers the existence of an infinitely intelligent creator of the world. But all these
proofs are vitiated by the fallacy of deducing the existence of God from the mere
idea of Him. The idea of the most perfect being may involve the idea of
existence but not actual existence, just as the thought of one hundred rupees in
my pocket involves the image or the idea of their existence, but not their real
physical existence. So, to think of the conditioned world we have to think of the
unconditioned, or to explain the adaptation of a thing we have to think of an
intelligent cause. But to think of the existence of something is not to prove its
existence, since the thought of existence is not actual existence.
The conclusion to be drawn from all this is that the existence of God canot
be proved by any argument. In truth, mere reasoning or logical argument cannot
prove the existence of anything. The existence of a thing is to be known, if at all,
through experience, direct or indirect. A man of normal vision may indirectly
know what orange colour is, if he has seen red and yellow but no orange as yet.
But a man who is born blind can never know what colour is, however much he
may argue and reason logically. If by some surgical operation, the man is blessed
with the power of vision, a single glance at some coloured objects shall reveal to
him the world of colours. Lotze81 told us the truth about our knowledge of God
when he said: 'Therefore, all proofs that God exists are please put forward in
justification of our faith and of the particular way in which we feel that we must
apprehend this highest principle.' This point becomes more clear when in his
criticism of Anselm's form of the ontological proof, he observes: 'To him
(Anselm) the assumption that it (God) does not exist seemed to conflict with that
immediate conviction of its reality, which all our theoretic, aesthetic, and moral
activities constrain our soul to entertain.' 'Athough,' he goes on to say, 'weak
enough as a proof, Anselm's argument expresses an immediate fact about our
minds, namely that impulse which we experience towards the supersensuous,
and that faith in its truth which is the starting-point of all religion.' It becomes
abundantly clear from all this that God must be known through direct experience
and not through any process of reasoning. If there is this direct experience, no
proof is necessary, just as no reasoning is needed to convince you that you are
now reading this book. If there is no direct experience of God, we may pile up
proof after proof and yet remain as unconvinced as ever with regard to the
existence of God.
For the knowledge of God or of any supersensuous reality, those who have
no direct experience must depend on the authority of those rare blessed souls
who are pure in heart and have been God, like the Upaniṣadic seers and the
Christian saints. So, śruti or the scripture, being the embodiment of the
knowledge imparted by the enlinghtend sages and seers of God, may be accepted
as a source of right knowledge about God. Just as the great scientists and their
sciences have been, for all ages, the source of our knowledge of many scientific
truths, so the Vedas and Upaniṣads (śruti) constitute a just ground of our belief in
our universal spiritual truth i.e. God.82

3. Anti-theistic Arguments
It may be objected here that the last two proofs given above involve us in the
fallacy of reasoning in a circle. In the third proof, it is shown that God is the
author of the Vedas, while in the fourth, the Vedas are exhibited as the ground of
our knowledge of God. It appears, therefore, that we prove God's existence from
the Vedas and the authoritativeness of the Vedas as being the revelation of God.
But that there is really no circular reasoning here becomes clear when we
distinguish between the order of knowledge and the order of existence. In the
order of existence, God is prior to the Vedas, and He reveals them. In the order
of bur knowledge, however, the Vedas are known first, and we rise from them to
a knowledge of God. But for our knowledge of the Vedas, we need not be
necessarily and absolutely dependent on God, since these may be learned from
an eligible and efficient teacher. All reciprocal dependence is not reasoning in a
circle. It is only when there is reciprocal dependence with reference to the same
order or within the same universe of discourse, that there arises the fallacy of
reasoning in a circle. In the present case, however, the Vedas depend on God for
their existence but not for their knowledge by us, while God depends on the
Vedas for our knowledge of Him but not for His existence. So there is really no
fallacy of reasoning in a circle.83
Another objection to the Nyāya theory of God is this: If God be the creator
of the world, He must have a body, since without body no action is possible.
This objection, the Naiyāyikas reply, fails because it is caught between the two
horns of a dilemma. If God's existence is proved by śruti, then the objection
stands precluded, for there is no point in arguing against what is already proved.
On the other hand, if the very existence of God is not proved, there is no basis
for an argument against the possibility of his action without a body.84
Still another anti-theistic argument is based on the problem of the end of
creation. In creating the world God must have some end in view, for nobody acts
without a desire to realise some end. But what may be the end of God's creative
activity? It cannot be any end of His own because there are no unfulfilled desires
or unattained ends in the Divine Being who is perfect. Nor can it be the end of
good of others. He who labours only for others must not be regarded as an
intelligent person. It cannot be said that God was moved by compassion (karuṇā)
in the act of creation. If it were really so, He should have made all his creatures
perfectly happy and not so miserable as we actually find them. Compassion is
just the desire to relieve the suffering of other creatures without any self-intetest.
So it follows that the world is not created by God. The Naiyāyikas meet this
objection thus: 'God's action in creation is indeed caused by compassion. But we
must not forget that the idea of creation which consists only of happiness is
inconsistent with the nature of things. Certain eventual differences in the form of
happiness or misery are bound to arise out of the good or bad actions of the
beings who are to be created. It cannot be said that this will limit God's
independence in so far as His compassionate creative act depends on the actions
of other beings. One's own body does not hinder one. Rather, it helps one to act
and achieve one's end. In a like manner, the created world does not hinder and
limit God, but serves as the means for the realisation of God's moral ends and
rational purposes.'85

VI. CONCLUSION

The value of the Nyāya system lies especially in its methodology or theory of
knowledge on which it builds its philosophy. One of the charges against Indian
philosophy is that it is based on religious authority and is, therefore, dogmatic
and not critical. The Nyāya philosophy is a standing repudiation of this charge.
The theory of knowledge, formulated by the Nyāya, is made the basis not only
on the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika, but also of other Indian systems, with slight
modifications. The Nyāya applies the method of logical criticism to solve the
problems of life and reality. It is by means of a sound logic that it tries to find out
the truth and defend it against hostile criticism. But the Nyāya theory of
pluralistic realism is not as satisfying as its logic. Here we have a common-sense
view of the world as a system of many independent realities, like material atoms,
minds, individual souls and God, which are externally related to one another in
space, time and ākāśa. It does not give us a systematic philosophy of the world
as a whole in the light of one universal absolute principle. The philosophical
position of the Nyāya is said to be lower than that of the Sāṅkhya or the Vedānta.
This becomes mainfest when we consider its theory of the individual self and
God. According to it, the individual self is a substance which is not essentially
conscious and intelligent, but is accidentally qualified by consciousness when
associated with a body. But such a view of the self is contradicted by the
evidence of our direct experience which reveals the self as an essentially
conscious subject and not as a thing with the quality of consciousness. Further,
on this view, the liberated self has no consciousness and is, therefore,
indistinguishable from a material substance. The Nyāya conception of God as
the architect of the world, its efficient but not material cause, has an obvious
reference to human analogy and reduces God to the position of a human artificer
who makes things out of the given material. There is indeed the suggestion that
the world of things and beings is related to God as one's body is to one's self. But
this idea is not properly developed in the direction of a full-fledged theism. Still,
as a philosophy of life, the Nyāya theism is no less edifying and assuring than
other forms of it.

1. Nyāya-sūtra and Bhāṣya, 1.1.1–1.2.23.

2. Nyāya-sūtra and Bhāṣya, 1.1.9–22.
3. Ibid., 1.1.9.
4. Ibid., 1.1.23.
5. The Sanskrit word, nava, means 'new', and also 'nine'; and kambala' means 'blanket'.
6. Vide Tarkasaṅgraha, pp. 32–35, 82–84 Tarkabhāṣā, p. 29; Tat-paryṭīkā, 1.1.1. f.
7. Vide Tarkasaṅgraha, p. 84. Some Mīmāṁsakas also exclude memory from pramā, on the ground that
it does not give us any new knowledge. It is only a reproduction of some past experience and not a
cognition of anything not known before (anadhigata).
8. For a detailed account of the nature and forms of knowledge, and the tests of truth and error, vide
S.C. Chatterjee, The Nyāya Theory of Knowledge, Chaps. II, V.
9. Nyāya-sūtra, 1.1.4.
10. Vide Tarkabhāṣā, p. 5; Siddānṭamuktāvats, pp. 235–36; Tattvacinṭāmaṇi i. pp. 539–43, 552.
11. Vide Bhāṣāpariccheda and Mukṭāvats, 52.
12. Op. sit., 63–65. For a fuller account, vide S.C. Chatterjee, The Nyāya Theory of Knowledge Ch. X.
13. Vide Stout, Manual of Psychology, p. 102; Wundt, Human and Animal Psychology, pp. 285-85; Ward,
Article 'Psychology.' Encyclopaedia Britannica, 9th ed., Vol. XX, p. 57. Cf. Wodworth, Psychology
9th ed., p. 115, where perception of the smell of roses shut in a glass-case and seen through the
glass is cited as an example of hallucination.
14. Vide Nyāya-bhāṣya and Tātparyaṭīkd, 1.1.4: Tarkabhāṣā, p. 5: Nyāyalīlāvati, p. 53. For a detailed
account, vide S.C. Chatterjee. The Nyāya: Theory of Knowledge, Ch.IX.
15. The Positive Sciences of the Ancient Hindus, p. 250.
16. Vide Muktāvalī, 66–67.
17. Vide Tarkabhāṣā, pp. 48–49. For a critical discussion of the logical form of inference, vide S.C.
Chatterjee, The Nyāya Theory of Knowledge, Ch. XIII.
18. The Mīmāṁsakas and the Vedāntins hold that the first three or the last three propositions suffice for
inference.
19. Vide Tarkabḥāṣā, pp, 7 f.; Tarkasaṅgraha, pp. 43f.; Bhāṣāpariccheda and Muktāvalī, pp. 137–38;
 Sarvadarśanī Ch. II; Paribhāṣā, Ch. II.
20. The inference is like this: 'Whatever is fiery is smoky; X is fiery; therefore, X is smoky.' Here the
conclusion is contradicted by the red-hot from ball, lighting, etc. The reason is that the relation of
the middle 'fiery' to the major 'smoky' is conditional on its being fiery from 'wet fuel.'
21. Vide Muktāvalī, p. 280; Tativaciniā, ii. pp. 153–54.
22. For a somewhat similar theory of induction the reader may be referred to R.M. Eaton, General Logic.
Part IV; A.N. Whitehead, Process and Reality, Part II, Ch. IX, Sections VI–VIII. Vide The Nyāya
Theory of Knowledge, Chaps. X, XII, for a fuller account.
23. Vide Tarkasaṅgraha, pp. 46–49.
24. Vide Nyāya-sūt and Bhāṣya, 1.1.5.
25. Vide Tarkabhāṣā, p. 2; Tarkasaṅgraha and Tarka-dīpikā, pp. 35–36.
26. According to another interpretation, purvavat inference is that which is based on previous experience
of the concomitance between two things and śeṣavat is pariśeṣa or inference by elimination, e.g.
sound is a quality, because it cannot be a substance or an activity or anything else.
27. Vide Tarkasaṅgraha, pp. 51–52, Bhāṣāparicheda and Muktāvalī pp. 142–43.
28. Another example of such inference would be: The sun is different from other planets, since it is
stationary, and what is not different from the other planets is not stationary.
29. Cf. Bradley, Principles of Logic, Vol. I, pp. 274–83.
30. Vide Tarkasaṅgraha, pp. 54–60.
31. General Logic, p. 314.
32. Vide The Nyāya Theory of Knowledge, Ch, XIV, for a detailed account of the fallacies.
33. In some parts of India, the 'gavaya' is more commonly known as nilgai.
34. Vide Tarkasaṅgraha, pp. 62–63.
35. Modern Introduction to Logic, p. 13.
36. Vide Nyāya-bhāṣya, 1.16; Nyāyamañjarī, pp. 141–42.
37. Vide Nyāya-sūt, and Bhāṣya, 2.1.42.
38. Vide Nyāyavārttika, 1.1.6.
49. Vide Tarkasaṅgraha and Dīpikā, p. 63.
40. Tattvakaumudī, p. 5.
41. Prameya-kamala-mārtaṇḍa, Ch. III.
42. Sāstradīpikā, pp. 74–76.
43. Vedanta-Paribhāṣā, Ch. III.
44. Vide The Nyāya Theory of Knowledge, Ch. XVI, for a critical discussion of upamā as a distinct source
of knowledge.
45. Nyāya-sūt, 1.1.7.
46. Tārkikarakṣā, pp. 94–95.
47. Tarkasaṅgraha, p. 73; Bhāṣāpariccheda and Muktāvalī, 81.
48. Nyāya-sūt and Bhāṣya, 1.1.8.
49. Tarkasaṅgraha, p. 73; Tarkabhāṣā, p. 14.
50. For a critical discussion of Śabda as an independent source of knowledge, vide The Nyāya Theory of
Knowledge, pp. 381–88).
51. Tarkasaṅgraha pp. 63–64.
52. Ibid., 64.
53. Tarkasaṅgraha, p. 72; Bhāṣāpariccheda p. 82.
54. Vide Nyāya-sūt, and Bhāṣya, 1.1.9–22.
55. See p. 150 & 151.
56. Nyāya-bhāṣya, 1.1.10; Padārthadharmasaṅgraha, pp. 301; Tarkabhāṣā, pp. 18–19.
57. Bhāṣāpariccheda and Muktāvalī, 4850; Vyāya-sūt and Bhāṣya I, 3.1.4 if.
58. Vācttika, 2, 22; Nyāyamañjari, p. 4.2.
59. Vide Nyāya bbāṣya, 1.1.9–10.
60. Vide Bhāṣya, 11,10.
61. Vide Tarkabhāṣā, p.6; Tarkakaumudi, p.8; Bhāṣāpariccheda and Muktāvalī, 47.50 and Dinakariī there
on.
62. Vide Bhāṣya, 1.1.22 Cf. Praśna Upaniṣad, 5.7.
63. Vide Bhāsarvajñ, Nyāyasāra, pp. 39–41 (Asiatic Society, Calcutta).
64. Cf. Bhāṣya, 1.1.2; Tarkasaṅgraha and Dipikā, pp. 106–07.
65. Vide Nyāya-sūt., 4.1. 19-21; Vaiśeṣka-sūt., 2.1. 17-19.
66. Vide Ṣaḍdarśana, Ch. 1; Kusumāñjali, 5.
67. Vide Nyāya-bhāṣya, 4.1.21.
68. Vide Kusumāñjali. 5; Sarvadarśana, Ch. XI; Tarkasaṅgraha and Dīpikā, pp. 21–22.
69. Vide Final Causes, Bk.I. Ch. I.
70. Vide Outlines of a Philosophy of Religion, Chs. I and II.
71. Vide A Study of Religion, Bk.II, Ch. I.
72. If the world be created by God, who is not only omnipotent but also morally perfect, it is not
unreasonable to think that good actions must produce good effects and bad actions must produce
bad effects in our lives. If God is both the creator and moral governor of the world, it logically
follows that human beings are responsible to God for their actions. It follows also that our actions
are judged by God as good or bad, right or wrong, according as they do or do not help us to realize
the end of our life, or to perform our own duties to God and man. And from this it is but natural and
rational to conclude that God rewards us for our good acts and punishes us for the bad ones. In
other words, in a world created by God, good actions must lead to good results and evil actions
must not fail to lead to evil consequences.
73. Vide Kusumāñjali, 1.
74. Nyāya-bhāṣya, 2.1.68; Kusumāñjali, 5, p.62.
75. Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad, 4.4.22, 4.24.
76. Svetāṣvatara Upaniṣad, 6.11.
77. Kauṣītaki Upaniṣad, 4.18.
78. Bhagvadgīta, 9. 17-18.
79. Vide E. Caird, The Critical Philosophy of Kant, Vol. II. Ch. XIII.
80. Vide Outlines of a Philosophy of Religion, Ch. 1.
81. Op. Cit., pp. 9.12.
82. Cf. Kusumāñjali, 5.
83. Vide Sarvadarśana., Ch. XI.
84. Ibid.
85. Ibid.
CHAPTER VI

The Vaiśeṣika Philosophy

I. INTRODUCTION

The Vaiśeṣika system was founded by Kaṇāda. It is so named in view of the fact
that 'viśesasa' as a category of knowledge has been elaborately discussed in it.
The founder of this pilosophy, we are told, was surnamed 'Kaṇāda' because he
led the life of an ascetic and used to live on grains of corn gleaned from the field.
He was also named Ulūka. So the Vaiśeṣika philosophy is also known as the
Kāṇāda or Aulukya system.
The first systematic work of this pilosophy is the Vaiśeṣika-sūtra of Kaṇāda.
It is divided into ten adhyāyas or books, each consisting of two āhnikas or
sections. Praśastapāda's Padārthadharma-saṅgraha, usually known as the
Bhāṣya, reads like an independent exposition of the Vaiśeṣika philosophy.
Further, we know from two commentaries1 on Śaṇkara's Śārīraka Bhāṣya that
Rāvaṇa, King of Ceylon, wrote a commentary on the Vaiśeṣika-sūtra.
Vyomaśiva's Vyomavatī, Udayana's Kiraṇāvalī and Śrīdhara's Nyāya-Kandalī are
three well-known and excellent commentaries on Praśastapāda's work. Jagadīśa
Tarkālaṅkāra's Sūkti and Padmanābha Miśra's Setu are two less-known
commentaries on the same work. Vallabhācārya's Nyāya-līlāvati and Udayana's
Lakṣaṇāvalī are two valuable compendiums of Vaiśeṣika Philosophy. The later
works on the Vaiśeṣika combine this system with the Nyāya. Of these Śivāditya's
Sapta-padārthī, Laugāksi Bhāskara's Tarka-kaumudī and Viśvanātha's
Bhāṣāpariccheda with its commentary Sidahānta muktāvali are important.
The Nyāya and the Vaiśeṣika are allied systems of philosophy
(samānatantra). They have the same end in view, namely, liberation of the
individual self. According to both, ignorance is the root cause of all pain and
suffering; and liberation, which consists in their absolute cessation, is to be
attained through a right knowledge of reality. There is, however, some difference
between the two systems on two fundamental pionts. While the Nyāya accepts
four independent sources of knowledge, namely, perception, inference,
comparison and testimony, the Vaisesika recognises only two, viz. perception and
inference, and reduces comparison and verbal testimony to perception and
inference. Secondly, the Naiyāyikas give us a list of sixteen padārthas which,
according to them, cover the whole of reality and include those accepted in the
other system. The Vaiśesikas, on the other hand, recognise only seven padārthas
and comprehend all reals under them. These seven categories of reality are (a)
dravya or substance, (b) guṇa or quality, (c) karma or action, (d) sāmānya or
generality, (e) viśesa or particularity, (f) samavāya or the relation of inherence
and (g) abhāva or non-existence. The Vaiśesika philosophy is an elaboration and
a critical study of these seven categories.
Padārtha literally means the object denoted by a word.2 So by padārtha we
propose to mean all objects of knowledge or all reals. Now, according to the
Vaiśesikas, all objects, denoted by words, may be broadly divided into two
classes, namely, being and non-being (bhāva and abhāva).3 Being stands for all
that is or for all positive realities, such as existent physical things, minds, souls,
etc. Similarly, non-being stands for all negative facts like the non-existence of
things. There are six kinds of being or positive realities, namely, substance,
quality, action, generality, particularity and inherence. To these the later
Vaiśeṣikas added a seven padārtha called abhāva which stands for all negative
facts.'

II. THE CATEGORIES

1. Substance or Dravya4
A dravya or substance is that in which a quality or an action can exist, but which
is distinct from both. Without substance there can be no quality or action. A
thing must be or exist, if it is to have any quality or action belonging to it. So a
substance is the substratum of qualities and actions. It is also the constitutive or
material cause (samavāyikāraṇa) of other composite things produced from it.
Thus a cloth is a composite thing formed by the combination of a number of
threads of a certain colour. Now the threads are the material or constitutive
causes of the clot, because it is made of threads and subsists in them. Similarly,
wood and lead are the material causes of a wooden pencil because it is made of
them.5
There are nine kinds of substances, namely, earth or pṛithhivī, water or jala,
light or tejas, air or vāyu, ether or ākāśa, time or kāla, space or dik, soul or ātmā,
and mind or manas. Of these the first five are called physical elements
(pañcabhhūta), since each of them possesses a specific or peculiar quality (viśeṣa
guṇa) which is sensed by an external sense. Smell is the peculiar property of
earth. Other substances have smell only as they are mixed up with some quantity
of earth. There is smell in muddy water, but no smell in water which is pure.
Taste is the peculiar property of water, colour of light, touch of air, and sound of
ākāśa or ether. These five specific qualities are sensed by the five external
senses. Each of the senses is constituted by the physical element whose specific
quality is sensed by it. The sense of smell is constituted by the element of earth,
the sense of taste by water, the sense of sight by light, that of touch by air, and
that of hearing by ākāśa. We find that earthy substances, like odoriferous
particles in smelling objects, manifest the quality of smell. From this we
conclude that the sense of smell which manifests smell is constituted by earth.
For similar reasons it is held that the senses of taste, sight, touch and hearing are
respectively made of the elements of water, light, air and ether.
The substances of earth, water, light, and air are of two kinds, namely,
eternal (nitya) and non-eternal (anitya). The atoms (paramāṇu) of earth, water,
light and air are eternal, because an atom is partless and can be neither produced
nor destroyed. All other minds of earth, water, etc. are non-eternal, because they
are produced by the combination of atoms, and are, therefore, subject to
disintegration and destruction. We cannot ordinarily perceive an atom. The
existence of atoms is known by an inference like this: the ordinary composite
objects of the world like jars, tables, and chairs, are made up of parts. Whatever
is produced must be made up of parts, for to produce a thing is to combine
certain parts in a certain way. Now if we go on separating the parts of a
composite thing, we shall pass from larger to smaller, from smaller to still
smaller, and from these to the smallest parts which cannot be further divided in
any way. These indivisible and minutest parts are called paramāṇus or atoms. An
atom cannot be produced, because it has no parts, and to produce means to
combine parts. Nor can it be destroyed, for to destroy a thing is to break it up
into its parts, whereas the atom has no parts. Thus being neither produced nor
destructible, the atoms or the smallest parts of a thing are eternal. The atoms are
different in kind. There are four kinds of atoms, namely, of earth, water, light and
air, each having its peculiar quality. The Vaiśeṣika view is thus different from
that of the Greek atomists like Democritus who believe that all atoms are of the
same kind, and that they differ in quantity and not in quality.
 Ākāśa is the fifth physical substance which is the substratum of the quality
of sound. While sound is perceived, ākāśa cannot be perceived. There are two
conditions of the external perception of a substance, namely, that it must have a
perceptible dimension (mahattva) and manifest colour (udbhūtarūpavattva).
Ākāśa is not a limited and coloured substance. Ākāśa is an all-pervading bearer
of the quality of sound and is inferred from the perception of that quality. Every
quality must belong to some substance. Sound is not a quality of the earth, water,
light and air, because the qualities of these substances are not perceived by the
ear, while sound is perceived by our ears. Further, there may be sound in regions
relatively free from the influence of these substances. Nor can sound belong as a
quality to space, time, soul and mind, for these exist even when there is no sound
to qualify them. So there must be some other substance called ākāśa or ether of
which sound is the quality. It is one and eternal because it is not made up of parts
and does not depend on any other substance for its existence. It is all-pervading
in the sense that it has an unlimited dimension and its quality, sound, is
perceived everywhere.
Space (dik) and time (kāla) are, like ākāśa, imperceptible substances each of
which is one, eternal and all-pervading. Space is inferred as the ground of our
cognitions of 'here' and 'there', 'near' and 'far'. Time is the cause of our cognitions
of 'past', 'present' and 'future', 'older' and 'younger'. Although one and indivisible,
ākāśa, space and time are distinguished into different parts and thus
conventionally, spoken of as many by reason of certain limiting conditions
(upādhi) which affect our knowledge of them. Thus the expressions 'the ether
enclosed by a jar', 'that by a house', 'filled and empty space', 'the east and the
west', 'a minute and hour and a day' are due to the apparent distinctions, made by
certain conditions, in what is really one ether, one space and one time.
The soul (ātmā) is an eternal and all-pervading substance which is the
substratum of the phenomena of consciousness. There are two kinds of souls,
namely, the individual soul (jīvātmā) and the supreme soul (paramātmā or
Īśvara). The latter is one and is inferred as the creator of the world. The former is
internally or mentally perceived as possessing some quality when, for example,
one says, 'I am happy', 'I am sorry,' and so forth. The individual self is not one
but many being different in different bodies.
Manas, which is a substance, is the internal sense (antarindriya) for the
perception of the individual soul and its qualities, like pleasure and pain. It is
atomic and cannot, therefore, be perceived. Its existence is inferred from the
following grounds: (a) Just as in the perception of the external objects of the
world, we require the external senses, so in the perception of internal objects,
like the soul, cognition, feeling and willing, there must be an internal sense, to
which we give the name of mind (manas). (b) Secondly, we find that although
the five external senses may be in contact with their respective objects at the
same time, we do not have simultaneous perceptions of colour, touch, sound,
taste and smell. But why must this be so? If when talking to a friend in your
house, your eyes are in contact with his facial expressions, your ears are in
contact with the rumbling sound of the tram car outside, and your skin is in
contact with the clothes you wear, you should have simultaneous perception of
the friend's face, of the tram car and of the clothes. But you do not get all these
perceptions at the same time. This shows that over and above the contact
between the external senses and their objects, there must be some other cause
which limits the number of perceptions to one at a time, and the order of
perceptions to one of succession, i.e. one after the other and not all together. Of
the different objects which may be in contact with our external senses at one and
the same time, we perceive only that to which we are attentive. This means that
we must attend to, or turn our mind (manas) and fix it on (manoyoga), the object
of perception. So every perception requires the contact of the mind (manas) with
the object through its contact with the sense organ in question. That is, we must
admit the existence of manas as an internal sense. That the manas is partless or
atomic also follows from the order of succession among our experiences. If the
mind were not an infinitesimal or partless entity, there could have been
simultaneous contract of its many parts with many senses, and so the appearance
of many perceptions at one and the same time. But as this is not the case, we are
to say that the manas is partless or atomic, and functions as an internal sense of
perception. It is the organ through which the soul attends to objects.

2. Quality or Guṇa6
A Quality or guṇa is defined as that which exists in a substance and has no
quality or activity in itself. A substance exists by itself and is the constituent
(samavāyi) cause of things. But a quality depends for its existence on some
substance and is never a constitutive cause of anything. It is a non-constitutive or
non-material cause of things insofar as it determines only their nature and
character, but not their existence. All qualities must belong to substances and so
there cannot be qualities of a quality. A red colour belongs to some thing and not
to any other colour. A quality (guṇa) is an unmoving or motionless property of
things. It inheres in the thing as something passive and inactive (niṣkriya). So it
is different from both substance (dravya) and action (karma).
There are altogether twenty-four kinds of qualities. These are rūpa or colour,
rasa or taste, gandha or smell, sparśa or touch, śabda or sound, saṅkhyā or
number, parimāṇa or magnitude, pṛthaktva or distinctness, saṁyoga or
conjunction, vibhāga or disjunction, paratva or remoteness, aparatva or nearness,
buddhi or cognition, sukha or pleasure, duḥkha or pain, icchā or desire, dveṣa or
aversion, prayatna or effort, gurutva or heaviness, dravatva or fluidity, sneha or
viscidity, saṁskāra or tendency, dharma or merit, and adharma or demerit. Many
of these qualities have subdivisions. Thus there are different kinds of colour like
white and black, red and blue, yellow and green. There are different kinds of
taste, such as sweet, sour, bitter, etc. Smell is of three kinds, viz. hot, cold, and
neither hot nor cold. Sound is of two kinds, viz. dhvani or an inarticulate sound
(e.g. the sound of a bell) and varna or an articulate sound (e.g. a letter sound).
Number is that quality of things for which we use the words, one, two, three.
There are many kinds of number from one upwards. Magnitude is that quality by
which things are distinguished as large or small. It is of four kinds, viz. the
atomic or extremely small, the extremely great, the small and the large.
Pṛthaktva is that quality by which we know that one thing is different and
distinct from another, e.g. a jar from a picture, a table from a chair.
Conjunction is the union between two or more things which can exist
separately, e.g. a book and a table. The relation between an effect and its cause is
not one of conjunction, since the effect cannot exist without relation to the cause.
Disjunction is the disconnection between things, which ends their previous
conjunction. Conjunction is of three kinds, according as it is due to motion in
one of the things conjoined (as when a flying kite sits on a hilltop), or to that of
both the things (as when two balls moving from opposite directions meet and
impinge). It may also be due to another conjunction. When the pen in my hand
touches the table, there is conjunction between my hand and the table, brought
about by the conjunction between my hand and the pen. Similarly, disjunction
may be caused by the motion of one of the things disjoined, as when a bird flies
away from a hilltop. Or, it may be due to the motion of both the things, as when
the balls rebound after impact. It may also be caused by another disjunction as
when I drop the pen from my hand and thereby disconnect my hand from the
table.
Remoteness and nearness are each of two kinds, namely, the temporal and
the spatial. As temporal, they mean the qualities of being older and younger, and
as spatial, those of being far and near.
Buddhi, knowledge or cognition, and its different forms have been explained
before.7 Pleasure and pain, desire and aversion are well-known facts. Prayatna or
effort is of three kinds, namely, pravṛtti or striving towards something, nivṛtti or
striving away from something, and jīvanayoni or vital function. Gurutva or
heaviness is the cause of the fall of bodies. Dravatva or fluidity is the cause of
the flowing of certain substances like water, milk, air etc. Sneha or viscidity is
the cause of the adhesion of different particles of matter into the shape of a ball
or a lump. This quality belongs exclusively to water.
Saṁskāra or tendency is of three kinds, viz. vega or velocity which keeps a
thing in motion, bhāvanā or mental impressions which help us to remember and
recognise things, and sthitisthāpakatva or elasticity, by which a thing tends
towards equilibrium when disturbed, e.g. a rubber garter. Dharma and adharma
respectively mean virtue and vice and are due to the performance of enjoined
and forbidden acts. One leads to happiness and the other to misery.
Thus we get a list of twenty-four qualities in the Vaiśeṣika system. Now one
may ask: Why should we admit just this number? Can it not be more or less than
that? To this we reply that if one takes into consideration the numerous
subdivisions of these qualities, then their number would be very great. But in a
classification of objects we are to reduce them to such kinds as are ultimate from
a certain standpoint, i.e., do not admit of further reduction. So we come to the
simplest forms or kinds of qualities. Thus while one compound colour like
orange may be reduced to red and yellow, or a complex sound may be shown to
arise out of the combination of other sounds, it is not possible for us to reduce
colour to sound or any other quality. It is for this reason that we have to
recognize colour, sound, touch, taste and smell as distinct and different kinds of
qualities. The Vaiśeṣika classification of qualities into twenty-four kinds is
guided by these considerations of their simplicity or complexity, and reducibility
or irreducibility. The guṇas are what the Vaiśeṣikas thought to be the simplest,
passive qualities of substances.

3. Action or Karma8
Karma or action is physical movement. Like a quality it belongs only to
substance, but is different from both. A substance is the support of both quality
and action: a quality is a static character of things, but an action is dynamic.
While a quality is a passive property that does not take us beyond the thing it
belongs to, action is a transitive process by which one thing reaches another. So
it is regarded as the independent cause of the conjunction and disjunction of
things. An action has no quality, because the latter belongs only to substance. All
actions or movements must subsist in limited corporeal substances
(mūrtadravya), such as earth, water, light, air and the mind. So there can be no
action or motion in the all-pervading substances like ākāśa, space, time and the
soul. There can be no movement of an all-pervading thing because it cannot
change its position.
There are five kinds of action or movement, namely, utkṣepaṇa or throwing
upward, avakṣepaṇa or throwing downward, ākuñcana or contraction, prasāraṇa
or expansion and gamana or locomotion. Of these, utkṣepaṇa is the cause of the
contact of a body with some higher region, e.g. throwing a ball upward.
Avakṣepaṇa is the cause of the contact of a body with some lower region, e.g.
throwing down a ball from a house-top. Ākuñcana is the cause of such closer
contact of the parts of a body as did not previously exist, e.g. clenching the
fingers or rolling up a cloth. Prasāraṇa is the cause of the destruction of previous
closer contact among the parts of a body, e.g. opening one's clenched hand. All
other kinds of actions are denoted by gamana. Such actions as the walking of a
living animal, going up of flames, etc, are not separately classed insofar as they
may all be included within gamana. All kinds of actions cannot be perceived.
The action of the mind (manas) which is an imperceptible substance does not
admit of ordinary perception. The actions or movements of perceptible
substances like earth, water and light can be perceived by the senses of sight and
touch.

4. Generality or Sāmānya
Things of a certain class bear a common name because they possess a common
nature. Men, cows and swans have, severally, something in common on account
of which they bear these general names. The thought of what they have in
common, is called a general idea or class-concept. Now the question is: what is it
that they have in common? Or, what is the something that is common in them,
and is the ground of their being brought under one class and called by the same
name? The first answer, which is only provisional, is that it is the class-essence
corresponding to the class-concept. The Nyāya-Vaiśeṣikas would say that it is
their sāmānya or generality. Or, in the words of modern Western philosophers,9 it
is the 'universal' in them. Hence the previous question leads to a second, viz.
what is sāmānya or the universal?
There are three main views of the universal or the class essence in Indian
philosophy. In the Buddhist philosophy we have the nominalistic view.
According to it, the individual (svalakṣaṇa) alone is real and there is no class or
universal other than the particular objects of experience. The idea of sameness
that we may have with regard to a number of individuals of a certain character is
due to their being called by the same name. It is only the name that is general,
and the name does not stand for any positive essence that is present in all the
individuals. It means only that the individuals called by one name are different
from those to which a different name is given. Thus certain animals are called
cow, not because they possess any common essence but because they are
different from all animals that are not cows. So there is no universal but the
name with a negative connotation.10
The Jainas11 and the Advaita Vedāntins12 adopt the conceptualistic view of
the universal. According to them, the universal does not stand for any
independent entity over and above the individuals. On the other hand, it is
constituted by the essential common attributes of all the individuals. So the
universal is not separate from the individuals but is identical with them in point
of existence. The universal and the individual are related by way of identity. The
universal has existence not in our mind only but also in the particular objects of
experience. It does not however come to them from outside and is not anything
like a separate 'essence' but is only their common nature.
The Nyāya-Vaiśeṣikas13 enunciate the realistic theory of the universal.
According to them, universale are eternal (nitya) entities which are distinct from,
but inhere in, many individuals (anekānugata). There is the same (eka) universal
in all the individuals of a class. The universal is the basis of the notion of
sameness that we have with regard to all the individuals of a certain class. It is
because there is one common essence present in different individuals that they
are brought under a class and thought of as essentially the same. Thus sāmānya
or the universal is a real entity which corresponds to a general idea or class-
concept in our mind. Some of the modern realists14 also hold that a 'universal is
an eternal timeless entity which may be shared by many particulars'. They agree
further with the Naiyāyikas in maintaining that universale do not come under
existence (sattā). These do not exist in time and space, but have being and
subsist in ṣubstance, attribute and action (dravyaguṇa-karmavṛtti). There is no
universal subsisting in another universal, because there is but one single
universal for one class of objects. If there are two or more universale in the same
class of things, then they would exhibit contrary and even contradictory natures
and we could not classify them one way or the other. The same individuals could
have been men and cows at the same time.
In respect of their scope or extent, universals may be distinguished into para
or the highest and all-pervading, apara or the lowest, and the parāpara or the
intermediate.15 Being-hood' (sattā) is the highest universal, since all other
universals come under it. Jar-ness (ghaṭatva) as the universal present in all jars is
apara or the lowest, since it has the most limited or the narrowest extent.
Substantiality or thing-hood (dravyatva) as another universal is parāpara or the
intermediate between the highest and the lowest. It is para or wider in relation to
substances like earth, water, ete. and apara or narrower in relation to the
universal 'being-hood' which belongs to substance, quality and action.

5. Particularity or Viśeṣa16
Particularity (viśeṣa) is the extreme opposite of the universal (sāmānya). By
particularity we are to understand the unique individuality of substances which
have no parts and are, therefore atoms of earth, water, light and air, How are we
to distinguish one mind or soul from another? How again is one atom of water
distinguished from another atom of water? That they are different from one
another must be admitted by us. Yet we cannot explain it by the difference of
their parts, because they have no parts at all. On the other hand, they are similar
in other respects. So we have to admit some peculiarity or unique character
whereby they are distinguished from one another. The category of viśeṣa stands
for this peculiar character of the otherwise indistinguishable substances.
As subsisting in the eternal substances, viśeṣas are themselves eternal
(nitya). We should not suppose that viśeṣa pertains to the ordinary things of the
world like pots, chairs and tables. It does not belong to anything made up of
parts. Things which are made up of parts, i.e. composite wholes, are easily
distinguishable by the differences of their parts. So we do not require any
category like viśeṣa to explain their distinction. It is only when we come to the
ultimate differences of the partless eternal substances that we have to admit
certain original or underived peculiarities called viśeṣas. There are innumerable
particularities, since the individuals in which they subsist are innumerable.
While the individuals are distinguished by their particularities, the latter are
distinguished by themselves (svataḥ). Hence particularities are so many
ultimates in the analysis and explanation of the differences of things. There
cannot be any perception of them; like atoms, they are supersensible entities.

6. Inherence or Samavāya17
There are two main relations recognised in the Nyāya Vaiśeṣika philosophy.
These are saṁyoga or conjunction which is a temporary inherence. Conjunction
is a temporary or non-eternal relation between two things which can, and usually
do, exist in separation from each other. Two balls moving from opposite
directions meet at a certain place. The relation which holds between them when
they meet is one of conjunction. It is a temporary contact between two
substances which may again be separated and yet exist (yutasiddha). So long as
the relation of conjunction is, it exists as a quality of the terms related by it. But
it does not affect the existence of those terms. It makes no difference to the
existence of the balls whether they are conjoined to each other or not. Thus
conjunction is an external relation which exists as an accidental quality of two
substances related by it.
As distinguished from conjunction, samavāya is a permanent or eternal
relation between two entities, of which one inheres in the other. The whole is in
its parts, a quality or an action is in a substance, or the universal is in the
individuals, and particularity is in some simple eternal substance. Thus we say
that the cloth as a whole is in the threads, the colour red as a quality is in the
rose, motion as an action belongs to the moving ball, manhood as a universal is
in individual men, and the peculiarity or the distinctive character of one mind or
soul is in that mind or soul. Samavāya is perceptible, according to Nyāya, but
not so, according to Vaiśeṣika.18
Conjunction is a temporary relation between two things which can exists
separately, and it is produced by the action of either or both of the things related,
e.g. the relation between a man and the chair on which he may be seated for the
time being. On the other hand, the whole is always related to its parts, a quality
or an action is always related to some substance, and so forth. So long as any
whole, say a jar, is not broken up, it must exist in the parts. So also, any quality
or action must be related to some substance as long as it exists. Thus we see that
the relation of a whole to its parts, of any quality or action to its substance, of the
universal to the individual, and of particularity to the eternal substances is not
produced by the conjunction of two separate things. Hence it is that they are said
to be related without conjunction (ayutasiddha). Samavāya is thus an eternal
relation (ayutasiddha). Samavāya is thus an eternal relation between any two
entities, one of which cannot exist without the other. Terms related by samavāya
cannot be reversed like those related by saṁyoga. If there is a contact of the
hand with a pen, the pen also must be in contact with the hand; but though a
quality is in a substance, the substance is not in the quality.

7. Non-existence or Abāva
We have dealt with the six positive categories above. Now we come to the
negative category of abhāva or non-existence, which does not come under any of
the six categories. The reality of non-existence cannot be denied. Looking at the
sky at night you feel as much sure of the non-existence of the sun there, as of the
existence of the moon and the stars. The Vaiśeṣika recognizes, therefore, non-
existence as the seventh category of reality. It is true that Kaṇāda did not
mention abhāva as a separate category in the enumeration of the ultimate objects
of knowledge (padārtha). Hence some people think that he was in favour of
accepting only six categories. But in view of the facts that non-existence as a
possible object of knowledge has been discussed in other parts of the Vaiśeṣikn-
Sūtra and that later commentators have treated it as the seventh category, we
propose to consider it as such.19
Abhāva or non-existence is of two kinds, namely, saṁsargābhāva and
anyonyābhāva. Saṁsargābhāva means the absence of something in something
else. Anyonyābhāva means the fact that one thing is not another thing.
Saṁsargābhāva is of three kinds, namely, prāgabhāva, dhvaṁsābhāva and
atyantābhāva.20 All kinds of saṁsargābhāva can be expressed by a judgment of
the general from 'S is not in P', whereas anyonyābhāva can be expressed by a
judgment like 'S is not P.'
Prāgabhāva or antecedent non-existence is the non-existence of a thing
before its production. When one says, 'a house will be built with bricks,' there is
non-existence of the house in the bricks. This non-existence of a house in the
bricks before its construction is prāgabhāva. It means the absence of a
connection between the bricks and the house which has not yet been built with
them. The house never existed before being built, so that its non-existence before
construction has no beginning (anādi). When, however, the house is built, its
previous non-existence comes to an end (anta). Hence it is that prāgabhāva is
said to be without a beginning, but having an end (anādi and sānta).
Dhvaṁsābhāva is the non-existence of a thing on account of its destruction
after production. A jar which has been produced by a potter may be subsequently
broken into pieces. When the jar is broken into pieces, there is its non-existence
in those pieces. This non-existence of a previously existing thing, due to its
destruction is called dhvaṁsābhāva. It is said to have a beginning (sādi), but no
end (ananta). The non-existence of the jar begins with its destruction, but it
cannot be ended in any way, for the very same jar cannot be brought back into
existence. It will be seen here that although in the case of positive entities (bhāva
padārtha), the general rule is that, whatever is produced must be destroyed, in the
case of negative entities (abhāva padārtha), something which is produced cannot
be destroyed. The non-existence of the jar is produced by its destruction, but that
non-existence cannot itself be destroyed. To destroy or end the jar's non-
existence, we are to restore the same jar to existence, which is impossible.
Atyantābhāva or absolute non-existence is the absence of a connection
between two things for all time—past, present and future, e.g. the non-existence
of colour in air. It is thus different from prāgabhāva and dhvaṁsābhāva.
Prāgabhāva is the non-existence of a thing before its production. Dhvaṁsābhāva
is the non-existence of a thing after its destruction. But atyantābhāva is the non-
existence of a thing, not in any particular time, but for all time. So it is subject
neither to origin nor to cessation, i.e. it is both beginningless and endless (anādi
and ananta).
While saṁsargābhāva is the absence of a connection between two things,
anyonyābhāva underlines the difference (bheda) of one thing from another thing.
When one thing is different from another thing, they mutually exclude each other
and there is the non-existence of either as the other. A table is different from a
chair. This means that a table does not exist as a chair, or, more simply, a table is
not a chair. Anyonyābhāva is this non-existence of one thing as another, from
which it is different. Thus saṁsargābhāva is the absence of a connection
(saṁsarga) between two entities, and its opposite is just their connection. On the
other hand, anyonābhāva is the absence of one thing as another, and its opposite
is just their sameness or identity. Take the following illustrations: 'A hare has no
horn,' 'there is no colour in air' are propositions which express the absence of a
connection between a hare and a horn, between colour and air. The opposite of
these will be the propositions 'a hare has horns,' 'there is colour in air.' 'A cow is
not a horse,' 'a jar is not a cloth' are propositions which express the difference
between a cow and a horse, a jar and a cloth. The opposite of these will be the
propositions 'a cow is a horse', 'a jar is a cloth.' Thus we may say that
saṁsargābhāva is relative non-existence in the sense of a negation of the
presence (saṁsargā) of some thing in some other thing, while anyonyābhāva is
mutual non-existence or difference in the sense of a negation of the identity
(tādātmya) between two objects. Like atyantābhāva or absolute non-existence
anyonyābhāva or mutual non-existence is without a beginning and an end i.e. is
eternal.

III. THE CREATION AND DESTRUCTION OF THE

WORLD21
From the standpoint of Indian philosophy, the world including physical nature is
a moral stage for the education and emancipation of individual souls. The
Vaiśeṣika theory of the world is guided by this general spiritual outlook of Indian
philosophy. In its attempt to explain the origin and destruction of the world it
does indeed reduce all composite objects to the four kinds of atoms of earth,
water, fire and air. So it is sometimes characterised as the atomic theory of the
world. But it does not ignore the moral and spiritual principles governing the
processes of composition and decomposition of atoms. Further, five of the nine
kinds of substances, to which all things may be reduced, are not and cannot be
reduced to material atoms. So the atomic theory of the Vaiśeṣika has a
background different from that of the atomism of Western science and
philosophy. The latter is in principle a materialistic philosophy of the world. It
explains the order and history of the world as the mechanical resultant of the
fortuitous motions of innumerable atoms in infinite space and time, and in
different directions. There is no mind or intelligent power governing and guiding
the operations of the material atoms; these act according to blind mechanical
laws. The atomism of the Vaiśeṣika, however, is a phase of their spiritual
philosophy. According to it, the ultimate source of the actions of atoms is to be
found in the creative or the destructive will of the Supereme Being who directs
the operations of atoms according to the unseen desserts (adṛṣṭa) of individual
souls and with reference to the end of moral dispensation. On this view, the order
of the world is like that of a monarchical state, which ultimately expresses the
will of a wise monarch and in which all things are so ordered and adjusted that
the citizens get ample opportunities for self-expansion and self-development as
free and responsible beings.
The atomic theory of the Vaiśeṣika explains that part of the world which is
non-eternal, i.e. subject to origin and destruction in time. The eternal
constituents of the universe, namely, the four kinds of atoms, and the five
substances of ākāsa, space, time, mind, and soul, do not come within the purview
of their atomic theory, because these can neither be created nor destroyed. On the
other hand, all composite objects, beginning with a dyad or the first compound
of only two atoms (dvyaṇuka), are non-eternal. So the atomic theory explains the
order of creation and destruction of these non-eternal objects. All composite
objects are constituted by the combination of atoms and destroyed through their
separation. The first combination of two atoms is called a dvyaṇuka and the
combination of three atoms is called a tryaṇuka or triad. The tryaṇuka is also
called the trasareṇu and it is the minimum perceptible object according to the
Vaiśeṣika philosophy. The paramāṇu or atom and the dvyaṇuka or dyad, being
smaller than the tryaṇuka or triad, cannot be perceived, but are known through
inference.
All the finite objects of the physical world and the physical world itself are
composed of the four kinds of atoms in the form of dyads, triads and other larger
compounds arising out of these. How can we account for the action or motion of
atoms, which is necessary for their combination? How, again, are we to explain
this particular order and arrangement of things in the world? In the Vaiśeṣika
philosophy the order of the world is, in its broad outlines, conceived like this.
The world, or better, the universe is a system of physical things and living
beings having bodies with senses and possessing mind, intellect and egoism. All
these exist and interact with one another, in time, space and ākāśa. Living beings
are souls who enjoy or suffer in this world accordingly as they are wise or
ignorant, good or bad, virtuous or vicious. The order of the world is, on the
whole, a moral order in which the life and destiny of all individual selves, are
governed, not only by the physical laws of time and space, but also by the
universal moral law of karma. In the simplest form this law means 'as you sow,
so you reap' just as the physical law of causation, in its most abstract form,
means that there can be no effect without a cause.
Keeping in view this moral order of the universe, the Vaiśeṣikas explain the
process of creation and destruction of the world as follows: the starting-point of
the process of creation or destruction is the will of the Supreme Lord
(Maheśvara) who is the ruler of the whole universe. The Lord conceives the will
to create a universe in which individual beings may get their proper share of the
experience of pleasure and pain according to their deserts. The process of
creation and destruction of the world being beginningless (anādi), we cannot
speak of a first creation of the world. In truth every creation is preceded by a
state of destruction, and every destruction is preceded by some order of creation.
To create is to destroy an existing order of things and usher in a new order.
Hence it is that God's creative will has reference to the stock of merit and
demerit (adṛṣṭa) acquired by individual souls in a previous life lived in some
other world. When God thus wills to create a world, the unseen forces of moral
deserts in the etrnal individual souls come into being to function in the direction
of creation and the active life of experiences (bhoga). And it is the contact with
souls, endowed with the creative function of adṛṣṭa, that first sets in motion the
atoms of air. Out of the combination of air-atoms, in the form of dyads and
triads, arises the gross physical element (mahābhūta) of air, and it exists as an
incessantly vibrating medium in the eternal ākāśa. Then, in a similar way, there
is motion in the atoms of water and the creation of the gross element of water
which exists in the air and is moved by it. Next, the atoms of earth are set in
motion in a similar way and compose the gross element of earth which exists in
the vast expanse of the gross elemental water. Then from the atoms of light
arises in a similar way, the gross element of light and exists with its luminosity
in the gross water. After this and by the mere thought (abhidhyāna) of God, there
appears the embryo of a world (brahmāṇda) out of the atoms of light and earth.
God animates that great embryo with Brahmā, the world-soul, who is endowed
with supreme wisdom, detachment and excellence (jñāna, vairāgya and
aiśvaryya). To Brahmā God entrusts the work of creation in its concrete details
and with proper adjustment between merit and demrit on the one hand, and
happiness and misery on the other.
The created world runs its course for many years. But it cannot continue to
exist and endure for all time to come. Just as after the stress and strain of the
day's work God allows us rest at night, so after the trials and tribulations of many
lives in one created world, God provides a way of escape from suffering for all
living beings for some time. This is done by Him through the destruction of the
world. So the period of creation is followed by a state of destruction. The periods
of creation and destruction make one complete cycle called Kalpa which has
been repeating itself eternally. The theory of cycles (kalpas) or recurring periods
of creation and destruction is accepted by most of the orthodox systems of
Indian philosophy. The belief that the world in which we live is not eternal, and
that at some distant time there shall be its dissolution, is supported by an
analogical argument. Just as earthen substances like jars are destroyed, so
mountains which are earthy shall be destroyed. Ponds and tanks are dried up.
Seas and oceans being only very big reservoirs of water shall dry up. The light of
a lamp is blown out. The sun being but a glorious orb of light must be
extinguished at some distant time.
The process of the world's dissolution is as follows: When in the course of
time Brahmā, the world soul, gives up his body like other souls, there appears in
Maheśvara or the Supreme Lord a desire to destroy the world. With this, the
creative adṛṣṭa or unseen moral agency in living beings is counteraced by the
corresponding destructive adṛṣṭa and ceases to function for the active life of
experience. It is in contact with such souls, in which the destructive adṛṣṭa
begins to operate, that there is motion in the constituent atoms of their body and
senses. On account of this motion there is disjunction of the atoms and
consequent disintegration of the body and the senses. The body with the senses
being thus destroyed, what remain are only the atoms in their isolation. So also,
there is motion in the constituent atoms of the elemental earth, and its
consequent destruction through the cessation of their conjunction. In this way
there is the destruction of the physical elements of earth, water, light and air,
one after the other. Thus these four physical elements and all bodies and sense
organs are disintegrated and destroyed. What remain are the four kinds of atoms
of earth, water, light and air in their isolation, and the eternal substances of
ākāśa, time, space, minds and souls with their stock of merit, demerit and past
impressions (bhāvanā). It will be observed here that while in the order of
destruction, earth compounds come first, and then those of water, light and air in
succession, in the order of creation, air compounds come first, water compounds
next, and then those of the great earth and light appear in succession.21

IV. CONCLUSION

Like the Nyāya system, the Vaiśeṣika is a realistic philosophy which combines
pluralism with theism. It traces the variety of the objects of the world to the
combination of material atoms of different kinds and qualities. But the creation
of the world out of the combination of eternal atoms, in eternal time and space,
has reference to the moral life of individual selves. The world is created and
destroyed by God according to the moral deserts of individual souls and for the
proper realization of their moral destiny. But the realistic idea of the soul and the
apparently deistic conception of God in the Vaiṣeśika labour under the
difficulties of the Nyāya theory and are as unsatisfactory as the latter. For it, the
soul is an independent substance, of which consciousness is an accidental
property. It may be admitted by us that the mind or the empirical consciousness
is not the real self and that the latter is different from the former. Still it is not
possible for us to explain mental phenomena or the empirical consciousness
unless we admit that the real or the noumenal self is an essentially conscious and
intelligent reality. So also the Vaiśeṣika idea of God as wholly transcendent to
and separate from man and the world, is not favourable for a deeply religious
view of life and the genuine religious consciousness of communion with God.
The special contributions of the Vaiśeṣika philosophy are its comprehensive
conception of padārtha or object as that which is denoted by a word, its
classification of objects and its atomic cosmology. In the classification of objects
it recognises the distinction between positive and negative objects, or between
those that have being and those which have no being, but are as real and as much
denoted by words as the former. Again, it is here pointed out that while most
objects can be classified and brought under certain genera (jāti), there are some
like ākāśa or ether, sāmānya, viśeṣa, samavāya and abhāva which do not come
under any corresponding genera like ākāśatva, sāmānyatva, etc., because none of
them is a genus or jāti at all. The Vaiśeṣika division of objects into seven classes
and of these into many other sub-classes is a logical classification of them based
on their distinctive characters and ultimate differences. The atomic theory of the
Vaiśeṣika is an improvement on the ordinary view of the world as constituted by
the physical elements of earth, water, air and fire. It is also an advance on the
materialistic theory that all things including life, mind and consciousness are
transformations and mechanical products of material atoms. The Vaiśeṣikas
harmonise the atomic theory with the moral and spiritual outlook of life and the
theistic faith in God as the creator and moral governor of the world. But they do
not carry their theism far enough and make God the author not only of the order
of nature but also of its ultimate constituents, viz. the atoms, minds and souls,
and see God at the heart of all reality.

1. Vide Praksṭārthha and Rainaprabhhā, 2.2.11.

2. 'Abhidheyāḥ, padārthāḥ'. Tarkakaumudī, p.1. See also Tarkadīpikā, p.4; Padārtha-dharmasaṅgraha,
p. 5.
3. Vide Tarkāmṛta, Cha. 1; Tarkabhāṣā, p. 29; Vaiśeṣika-sū., 1.1.14.
4. Vide Tarkasaṅgraha, Secs. on Uddeśs and Dravya; Tarkabhāṣā, pp. 20–23; Vaiśeṣika-sūt., 1.1.15.
5. As distinguished from samavāyikāriṇi, the colour of the threads is the asamavāyikāraṇa or non-
constitutive cause of the colour of te cloth. It is the indirect cause of an effect. The colour of the
threads determines the colour of the cloth through being related to the threads which are the
constitutive causes. There is still another kind of cause, namely, the nimittakāraṇa or efficient cause.
It stands for that cause of an effect which is neither constitutive, nor non-constitutive, but still
necessary for the effect. Thus the shuttle is the efficient cause of the cloth, because it is the
instrument by which the combination of threads is effected in order to manufacture a piece of cloth.
The nimittakāraṇa includes also the directive cause (prayojaka or nirvartaka) and final cause
(bhoktā) of the effect. Vide Tarkāmṛta pp.911; Tarkabhāṣā, pp. 2f. Tarkakaumudī, p.7;
Tarkasaṅgraha. pp. 37-38; Bhāṣāpariccheda and Muktāvalī 16–18. Cf. Aristotle's classification of
causes into the formal material, efficient and final.
6. Vide Vaiśeṣika-sūt., 1.1.16; Tarkasaṅgraha, Sec. on guṇa; Tarkabhāṣā, pp. 24–28.
7. Vide Ch. V. pp. 156-58.
8. Tarkasaṅgraha, p. 87; Tarkabhāṣā, p. 28; Vaiśeṣika-sūt., 1.1.17; Tarkāmṛta, p. 30.
9. Vide S.C. Chatterjee, The Problems of Philosophy, Ch. XI, for a full account of their views on the
nature of universale.
10. Vide Tarkabhāṣā, p. 28; Six Buddhist Nyāya Tracts. Ch. V.
11. Vide Outlines of Jainism p. 115: Pramsya-kamala-mārtaṇḍa Ch. IV.
12. Vide Paribhāṣā, Ch. I.
13. Vide Tarkasaṅgraha, p. 87; Bhāṣāpariccheda and Muktāvalī, 8, 15 15: Tarkabhāṣā, p. 28; Tarkāmṛta
Ch. 1: Padārthadharma., p. 164.
14. Cf. Russell, The Problems of Philosophy, Ch. IX.
15. Vide Bhāṣāpariccheda and Muktāvalī, 8, 9; Nyāyaīāvatī, pp. 80–81 Cf. Tarkāmṛta, Ch. I.'
16. Vide Tarkasaṅgraha, pp. 11, 88; Bhāṣāpariccheda and Muktāvalī, 10; Tarkabhāṣā, p. 28; Tarkāmṛta,
Ch. I; Padārthadharma., p. 168.
17. Tarkasaṅgraha, p. 88; Tarkabhāṣā, p. 2; Padārthadharma, pp. 171, 75: Bhāṣāpanccheda and
Muktavalī, 11, 60.
18. Vide Tarkakaumudī, p. 8; Bhāṣaparicchedā and Muktavalī, p. 260.
19. Vide Vaiśeṣika, sut 1.4, 9.1.1–10. Kiraṇāvalī, p. 6; Nyāyakandalī. p.7.
20. Bhāṣāpanccheda and Muktāvalī, p. 12; Tarkabhāṣā, p. 29; Tarkasaṅgraha, p. 89; Tarkāmrta, Ch.I.
21. Vide Padārthadharma, pp. 19–23; Nyāyakandalī, pp. 50-54; Kusumāñjali, 2; Tattvacintāmaṇi, ii,
21. The details of this account of creation and destruction are found in Praśastapādas's
Padārthadharmasaṅgraha which seems to draw on the Paurāṇika accounts.
CHAPTER VII

The Sāṅkhya Philosophy

I. INTRODUCTION

The Sāṅkhya system is the work of a great sage of the name of Kapila. The
Sāṅkhya must be a very old system of thought. Its antiquity appears from the
fact that the Sāṅkhya tendency of thought pervades all the literature of ancient
India including the śrutis, smṛtis and purāṇas. According to tradition, the first
work of the Sāṇkhya school is the Sāṅkhya-sūtra of Kapila. This being very brief
and terse, Kapila, we are told, wrote an elaborate work entitled the Sāṅkhya-
pravacana sūtra. Hence the Sāṅkhya philosophy is also known as
Sāṅkhyaprayacana. This system is sometimes described as the 'atheistic
Sāṅkhya' (nirīśvara-sāṅkhya), as distinguished from the Yoga which is called the
'theistic Sāṅkhya' (seśvara-sāṅkhya). The reason for this is that Kapila did not
admit the existence of God and also thought that God's existence could not be
proved. But this is a controversial point.
Next to Kapila, his disciple Āsuri, andĀsuri's disciple Pañcaśikha wrote
some books which aimed at a clear and elaborate exposition·of the Sāṅkhya
system. But these works were lost in course of time and we have no information
about their contents. Iśvarakṛṣṇa's Sāṅkhya-kārikā is the earliest available and
authoritative textbook of the Sāṅkhya. Gauḍapāda's Sāṅkhya-kārikā-bhāṣya,
Vācaspati's Tattvakaumudī, Vijñānabhikṣu's Sāṅkhya-pravacana-bhāṣya-vrtti are
some other important works of the Sāṅkhya system.
The origin of the name 'sāṅkhya' is shrouded in mystery. According to some
thinkers,1 the name 'sāṅkhya' is an adaptation from 'saṅkhyā' meaning number,
and has been applied to this philosophy because it aims at a right knowledge of
reality by the enumeration of the ultimate objects of knowledge. According to
others, however, the word 'saṅkhyā' means perfect knowledge (samyag-jñāna),
and a philosophy in which we have such knowledge is justly named sāṅkhya.
Like the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika system, the Sāṅkhya aims at the knowledge of reality
for the practical purpose of putting an end to all pain and suffering. It gives us a
knowledge of the self which is clearly higher than that given by the other
systems, excepting perhaps the Vedānta. So it may very well be characterised as
the 'sāṅkhya' in the sense of a pure metaphysical knowledge of the self. It is a
metaphysic of dualistic realism. While the Nyāya and the Vaiśeṣika admit the
ultimate reality of many entities—atoms, minds and souls—the Sāṅkhya
recognises only two kinds of ultimate realities, namely, spirit and matter (purusa
and prakṛti). The nature of these two ultimate and other derivative realities will
be considered in the Sāṅkhya metaphysics.

II. THE SĀNKHYA METAPHYSICS

1. Theory of Causation2
The Sāṅkhya Metaphysics, especially its doctrine of prakṛti, rests mainly on its
theory of causation which is known as satkārya-vāda. It is a theory as to the
relation of an effect (kārya) to its material cause. The specific question discussed
here is this: does an effect originally exist in the material cause prior to its
production, i.e. appearance as an effect? The Bauddhas and the Nyāya-
Vaiśeṣikas answer this question in the negative. According to them, the effect
cannot be said to exist before it is produced by some cause. If the effect already
existed in the material cause prior to its production, there is no sense in our
speaking of it as being caused or produced in any way. Further, we cannot
explain why the activity of any efficient cause is necessary for the production of
the effect. If the pot already existed in the clay, why should the potter exert
himself and use his implements to produce it? Moreover, if the effect were
already in its material cause, it would logically follow that the effect is
indistinguishable from the cause, and that we should use the same name for both
the pot and the clay, and also that the same purpose would be served by a pot and
a lump of clay. It cannot be said that there is a distinction of form between the
effect and its material cause, for then we have to admit that there is something in
the effect which is not to be found in its cause and, therefore, the effect does not
really exist in the cause. This theory that the effect does not exist in the material
cause prior to its production is known as asatkārya-vāda (i.e. the view that the
kārya or the effect is asat or non-existent before its production). It is also called
ārambhavāda. i.e. the theory of the beginning of the effect anew.
 The Sāṅkhyas repudiate this theory of causation and establish their view of
satkārya-vāda, namely, that the effect exists in the material cause even before it
is produced. This view is based on the following grounds: (a) If the effect were
really non-existent in the material cause, then no amount of effort on the part of
any agent could bring it into existence. Can any man turn blue into red, or sugar
into salt? Hence, when an effect is produced from some material cause, we are to
say that it pre-exists in the cause and is only manifested by certain favourable
conditions, as when oil is produced by pressing seeds. The activity of efficient
causes, like the potter and his tools, is necessary to manifest the effect, pot,
which exists implicitly in the clay, (b) There is an invariable relation between a
material cause and its effect. A material cause can produce only that effect with
which it is causally related. It cannot produce an effect which is in no way
related to it. But it cannot be related to what does not exist. Hence the effect
must exist in the material cause before it is actually produced, (c) We see that
only certain effects can be produced from certain causes. Curd can be got only
out of milk and a cloth only out of threads. This shows that the effect somehow
exists in the cause. Had it not been so, any effect could be produced from any
cause; the potter would not have taken clay to produce pots, instead of taking
milk or threads or any other thing, (d) The fact that only a potent cause can
produce a desired effect goes to show that the effect must be potentially
contained in the cause. The potent cause of an effect is that which possesses
some power that is definitely related to the effect. But the power cannot be
related to the effect, if the latter does not exist in some form. This means that the
effect exists in the cause in an unmanifested form before its production or
manifestation, (e) If the effect be really non-existent in the cause, then we have
to say that, when it is produced, the non-existent comes into existence, i.e.
something comes out of nothing, which is absurd, (f) Lastly, we see that the
effect is not different from, but essentially identical with, the material cause. If,
therefore, the cause exists, the effect also must exist. In fact, the effect and the
cause are explicit and implicit states of the same substance. A cloth is not really
different from the threads, of which it is made; a statue is the same as its material
cause, stone, with a new shape and form; the weight of a table is the same as that
of the pieces of wood used in it. The conclusion drawn by the Sāṅkhya from all
this is that the effect exists in the material cause even before its production or
appearance. This is the theory of satkārya-vāda (i.e. the view that the effect is
existent before its appearance).
The theory of satkārya-vāda has got two different forms, namely, pariṇāma-
vāda and vivarta-vāda. According to the former, when effect is produced, there is
a real transformation (pariṇāma) of the cause into the effect, e.g. the production
of a pot from clay, or of curd from milk. The Sāṅkhya is in favour of this view as
a further specification of the theory of satkārya-vāda. The second, which is
accepted by the Advaita Vedāntins, holds that the change of the cause into the
effect is merely apparent. When we see a snake in a rope, it is not the case that
the rope is really transformed into a snake; what happens is that the rope only
appears as, but is not really, a snake. So also, God or Brahman does not become
really transformed into the world while we may wrongly think that He undergoes
change and becomes the world.

2. Prakrti and the Guṇas3

The Sāṅkhya theory that causation means a real transformation of the material
cause into effect logically leads to the concept of prakṛti as the ultimate cause of
the world of objects. All objects of the world, including our body and mind, the
senses and the intellect, are limited and dependent things produced by the
combination of certain elements. So we see that the world is a series of effects
and that it must have a cause. What, then, is the cause of the world? It cannot be
the puruṣa or the self, since the self is neither a cause nor an effect of anything.
So the cause of the world must be the not-self, i.e. some principle which is other
than and different from spirit, self or consciousness. Can this not-self be the
physical elements or the material atoms? According to the Cārvākas or the
materialists, the Bauddhaṡ, the Jainas and the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣikas, the atoms of
earth, water, light and air are the material causes of the objects of the world. The
Sāṅkhya objects to this on the ground that material atoms cannot explain the
origin of the subtle products of nature, such as the mind, the intellect and the
ego. So we must seek for something which can explain the gross objects of
nature like earth and water, trees and seas, as well as its subtle products. Now it
is found that in the evolution of things, the cause is subtler than the effect and
that it pervades the effect, as when a seed develops into a tree or a wish into a
dream-object. Hence the ultimate cause of the world must be some unintelligent
or unconscious principle which is uncaused, eternal and all-pervading, very fine
and always ready to produce the world of objects. This is the prakṛti of the
Sāṅkhya system. It is the first cause of all things and, therefore, has itself no
cause. As the uncaused root-cause of all objects it is eternal and ubiquitous,
because nothing that is limited and non-eternal can be the first cause of the
world. Being the ground of such subtle products of nature as mind and the
intellect, prakṛti is a very subtle, mysterious and tremendous power which
evolves and dissolves the world in a cyclic order.
 The existence of prakṛti as the ultimate subtle cause of the world is known
by inference from the following grounds: (a) All particular objects of the world,
from the intellect to the earth are limited and dependent on one another. So there
must be an unlimited and independent cause for their existence. (b) Things of the
world possess certain common characters owing to which everyone of them is
capable of producing pleasure, pain and indifference. Therefore, they must have
a common cause having these three characters, (c) All effects proceed from the
activity of some cause which contains their potentiality within it. The world of
objects which are effects must, therefore, be implicitly contained in some world-
cause, (d) An effect arises from its cause and is again resolved into it at the
moment of its destruction. That is, an existent effect is manifested by a cause,
and eventually it is re-absorbed into the latter. So the particular objects of
experience must arise from their particular causes, and these again from other
general causes, and so on, till we come to the first cause of the world.
Contrariwise, at the time of destruction, the physical elements must be resolved
into atoms, the atoms into energies and so on, till all products are resolved into
the unmanifested, eternal prakṛti. Thus we get one unlimited and unconditioned,
all-pervading and ultimate cause of the whole world including everything but the
self. This is the eternal and undifferentiated causal matrix of the world of not-
self, to which the Sāṅkhya gives the different names of prakṛti, pradhāna,
avyakta, etc. We should not imagine a cause of this ultimate cause, for that will
land us in the fallacy of infinite regress. If there be a cause of prakṛti, then there
must be a cause of that cause, and so on, ad infinitum. Or, if we stop anywhere
and say that here is the first cause, then that first cause will be the prakṛti which
is specifically described as the supreme root cause of the world (pārā or mūlā
prakṛti).4
Prakṛti is constituted by the three guṇas of sattva, rajas and tamas. It is said
to be the unity of the guṇas held in a state of equilibrium (sāmyāvasthā). Now
the question is: what are these guṇas? Guṇa here means a constituent element or
component and not an attribute or quality. Hence by the guṇas of sattva, rajas
and tamas we are to understand the elements of the ultimate substance called
prakṛti. The reason why they are called guṇas is either their being subservient to
the ends of the puruṣa which is other than themselves, or their being intertwined
like the three strands of a rope which binds the soul to the world.5
The guṇas are not perceived by us. They are inferred from the objects of the
world which are their effects. Since there is an essential identity (tādātmya)
between the effect and its cause, we know the nature of the guṇas from the
nature of their products. All objects of the world, from the intellect down to the
ordinary objects of perception (e.g. tables, pots, etc.), are found to possess three
characters capable of producing pleasure, pain and indifference, respectively.
The same things are pleasurable to some person, painful to another, and neutral
to a third. The cuckoo's cry is a pleasure to the artist, a pain to his sick friend and
neither to the plain rustic. A rose delights the youth, dejects the dying man and
leaves the gardener cold and indifferent. Victory in war elates the victor,
depresses the vanquished and leaves the third party rather apathetic. Now, as the
cause must contain what is in the effect, we can infer that the ultimate cause of
things must have been constituted also by the three elements of pleasure, pain
and indifference. The Sāṅkhya calls these three sattva, rajas and tamas
respectively. These are constitutive of both prakṛti, the ultimate substance, and
the ordinary objects of the world.
Sattva is that element of prakṛti which is of the nature of pleasure, and is
buoyant or light (laghu), and bright or illuminating (prakāśaka). The
manifestation of objects in consciousness (jñāna), the tendency towards
conscious manifestation in the senses, the mind and the intellect, the luminosity
of light, and the power of reflection in a mirror or the crystal are all due to the
operation of the element of sattva in the constitution of things. Similarly, all sorts
of lightness in the sense of upward motion, like the blazing up of fire, the
upward course of vapour and the winding motion of air, are induced in things by
the element of sattva. So also pleasure in its various forms, such as satisfaction,
joy, happiness, bliss, contentment, etc. is produced by things in our minds
through the operation of the power of sattva inhering in them both.
Rajas is the principle of activity in things. It always moves and makes other
things move. That is, it is both mobile (cala) and stimulating (upaṣṭambhaka). It
is on account of rajas that fire spreads, the wind blows, the senses follow their
objects and the mind becomes restless. On the affective side of our life, rajas is
the cause of all painful experiences and is itself of the nature of pain (duḥkha). It
helps the elements of sattva and tamas, which are inactive and motionless in
themselves, to perform their functions.
Tamas is the principle of passivity and negativity in things. It is opposed to
sattva in being heavy (guru) and in obstructing the manifestation of objects
(varaṇaka). It also resists the principle of rajas or activity in so far as it restrains
(niyam) the motion of things. It counteracts the power of manifestation in the
mind, the Intellect and other things, and thereby produces ignorance and
darkness, and leads to confusion and bewilderment (moha). By obstructing the
principle of activity in us it induces sleep, drowsiness, and laziness. It also
produces the state of apathy or indifference (viṣāda). Hence it is that sattva, rajas
and tamas have been compared respectively to whiteness, rednes, and darkness.
 With regard to the relation among the three guṇas constituting the world, we
observe that it is one of constant conflict as well as co-operation. They always
go together and can never be separated from one another. Nor can any one of
them produce anything without the help and support of the other two. Just as the
oil, the wick and the flame, which are relatively opposed to one another, co-
operate to produce the light of a lamp, so the guṇas co-operate to produce the
objects of the world, although they possess different and opposed qualities. So
all the three guṇas are present in everything of the world, great or small, fine or
gross. But each of them tries to suppress and dominate the others. The nature of
things is determined by the predominant guṇa, while the others are there in a
subordinate position. We cannot point to anything of the world which does not
contain within itali the three elements, of course, in different proportions. The
classification of objects into good, bad and indifferent, or into pure, impure and
neutral, or into intelligent, active and indolent, has reference to the
preponderance of sattva, rajas and tamas respectively.
Another characteristic of the guṇas is that they are constantly changing.
'Change or transformation belongs to the very essence of the guṇas, and they
cannot help changing even for a moment.' There are two kinds of transformation
which the guṇas undergo. During praḷaya or dissolution of the world, the guṇas
change, each within itself, without disturbing the others. That is, sattva changes
into sattva, rajas into rajas and tamas into tamas. Such transformation of the
guṇas is called svarūpapariṇāma or change into the homogeneous. At this stage,
the guṇas cannot create or produce anything, because they do not oppose and co-
operate with one another. No object of the world can arise unless the guṇas
combine, and one of them predominates over the others. So before creation, the
guṇas exist as a homogeneous mass in which there is no motion (although there
is transformation), nothing, and none of the qualities of sound, touch, colour,
taste and smell. This is the state of equilibrium (sāmyāvasthā) for the gunas to
which the Sāṅkhya gives the name of prakṛti. The other kind of transformation
takes place when one of the guṇas dominates over the others which become
subordinate to it. When this happens, we have the production of particular
objects. Such transformation is called virūpa-pariṇāma or change into the
heterogeneous, and it is the starting-point of the world's evolution.

3. Puruṣa or the Self6

The second type of ultimate reality admitted by the Sāṅkhya is the self. The
existence of the self must be admitted by all. Everybody feels and asserts that he
or she exists, and has this or that thing belonging to him or her. The feeling of
one's own existence is the most natural and indubitable experience that we all
have. In fact, no one can consistently deny the existence of his self, for the act of
denial presupposes the reality of the denying self. So it has been said by the
Sāṅkhyas that the self exists, because it is self-manifest and its non-existence
cannot be proved in any way.
But while there is general agreement with regard to the existence of the self,
there is a wide divergence of opinion about its nature. Some Cārvākas or
materialists identify the self with the gross body, some with the senses, some
with life, and some others with the mind. The Buddhists and some empiricists
regard the self as identical with the stream of consciousness. The Nyāya-
vaiṣeśikas and the Prābhākara Mīmāṁsakas maintain that the self is an
unconscious substance which may acquire the attribute of consciousness under
certain conditions. The Bhāṭṭa Mīmāṁsakas, on the other hand, think that the
self is a conscious entity which is partially hidden by ignorance, as appears from
the imperfect and partial knowledge that men have of their own selves. The
Advaita Vedānta holds that the self is pure eternal consciousness which is also a
blissful existence (saccidānanda svarūpa). It is one in all bodies, and is eternally
free and self-shining intelligence.
According to the Sāṅkhya, the self is different from the body and the senses,
the manas and the intellect (buddhi). It is not anything of the world of objects.
The self is not the brain, nor the nervous system, nor the aggregate of conscious
states. The self is a conscious spirit which is always the subject of knowledge
and can never become the object of any knowledge. It is not a substance with the
attribute of consciousness, but it is pure consciousness as such. Consciousness is
its very essence and not a mere quality of it. Nor should we say that it is a
blissful consciousness (ānandasvarūpa), as the Advaita Vedāntin thinks; bliss and
consciousness being different things cannot be the essence of the same reality.
The self is the transcendent subject whose essence is pure consciousness. The
light of the self's consciousness ever remains the same, although the objects of
knowledge may change and succeed one another. It is a steady constant
consciousness in which there is neither change nor activity. The self is above all
change and activity. It is an uncaused, eternal and all-pervading reality which is
free from all attachment and unaffected by all objects. All change and activity,
all pleasures and pains belong really to matter and its products like the body,
mind and intellect. It is sheer ignorance to think that the self is the body or the
senses or the mind or the intellect. But when, through such ignorance, the self
confuses itself with any of these things, it seems to be caught up in the flow of
changes and activities, and merged in the mire of sorrows and miseries.
 The existence of the self as the transcendent subject of experience is proved
by the Sāṅkhya by several arguments: (a) Objects of the world like tables, chairs,
etc. which are composed of parts are means to the ends of other beings. These
beings whose purpose is served by the things of the world must be quite different
and distinct from them all. That is, they cannot be said to be unconscious things,
made up of parts like physical objects, for that would make them means to the
ends of others and not ends in themselves. They must be conscious selves, to
whose ends all physical objects are the means, (b) All material objects including
the mind and intellect must be controlled and directed by some intelligent
principle in order that they can achieve anything or realise any end. A machine
or a car does its work when put under the guidance of some person. So there
must be some selves who guide the operations of prakṛti and all her products, (c)
All objects of the world are of the nature of pleasure, pain and indifference. But
pleasure and pain have meaning only as they are experienced by some conscious
experiencer. Hence there must be some conscious subjects or selves who enjoy
and suffer pleasure and pain respectively, (d) Some persons at least of this world
make a sincere endeavour to attain final release from all suffering. This is not
possible for anything of the physical world, for by its very nature, the physical
world causes suffering rather than relieve it. So there must be some immaterial
substances or selves transcending the physical order. Otherwise, the concept of
liberation or salvation and the will to liberate or to be liberated as found in saints
and the saviours of mankind would be meaningless.
There is not, as the Advaita Vedāntin says, one universal self pervading all
bodies alike. On the other hand, we must admit a plurality of selves, of which
one is connected with each body. That there are many selves in the world follows
from the following considerations: (a) There is an obvious difference in the birth
and death, and the sensory and motor endowments of different individuals. The
birth or death of one individual does not mean the same for all other individuals.
Blindness or deafness in one man does not imply the same for all men. But if all
persons had one and the same self, then the birth and death of one would cause
the birth and death of all, and the blindness or deafness of one would make all
others blind or deaf. Since, however, that is not the case, we are to say that there
is not one but many selves. (b) If there were but one self for all living beings,
then the activity of any one would make all others active. But as a matter of fact,
when we sleep, others make restless efforts, and vice versa, (c) Men and women
are different from the gods, on the one hand, and birds and beasts, on the other.
But there could not have been these distinctions, if gods and human beings, birds
and beasts possessed the same self. Thus we see that there must be a plurality of
selves, which are eternal and intelligent subjects of knowledge, as distinguished
from prakṛti which is the one, eternal and non-intelligent ground of the objects of
knowledge, including manas, intellect and the ego.

4. Evolution of the World7

Prakṛti evolves the world of objects when it comes into relation with the puruṣa.
The evolution of the world has its starting-point in the contact (saṁyoga)
between puruṣa or the self and prakṛti or primal matter. The contact (saṁyoga)
between puruṣa and prakṛti does not, however, mean any kind of ordinary
conjunction like that between two finite material substances. It is a sort of
effective relation through which prakṛti is influenced by the presence of puruṣa
in the same way in which our body is sometimes moved by the presence of a
thought. There can be no evolution unless the two become somehow related to
each other. The evolution of the world cannot be due to the self alone, for it is
inactive; nor can it be due to matter (prakṛti) alone, for it is non-intelligent. The
activity of prakṛti must be guided by the intelligence of puruṣa, if there is to be
any evolution of the world. It is only when puruṣa and prakṛti co-operate that
there is the creation of a world of objects. But the question is: how can two such
different and opposed principles like puruṣa and prakṛti co-operate? What brings
the one in contact with the other? The answer given by the Sāṅkhya is this: just
as a blind man and a lame man can co-operate in order to get out of a forest, so
the non-intelligent prakṛti and the inactive puruṣa combine and co-operate to
serve their respective interests. Prakṛti requires the presence of puruṣa in order to
be known or appreciated by someone (darśanārtham), and puruṣa requires the
help of prakṛti in order to discriminate itself from the latter and thereby attain
liberation (kaivalyārtham).
With the contact between puruṣa and prakṛti, there is a disturbance of the
equilibrium in which the guṇas were held before creation. One of the guṇas,
namely, rajas, which is naturally active, is disturbed first, and then, through rajas,
the other guṇas begin to vibrate. This produces a tremendous commotion in the
infinite bosom of prakṛti and each of the guṇas tries to preponderate over the
rest. There is a gradual differentiation and integration of the three guṇas, and as a
result of their combination in different proportions, the various objects of the
world originate. The course of evolution is as follows.
The first product of the evolution of prakṛti is mahat or buddhi.8 Considered
in its cosmic aspect, it is the great germ of this vast world of objects and is
accordingly called mahat or the great one. In its psychological aspect, i.e. as
present in individual beings, it is called buddhi or the intellect. The special
functions of buddhi are ascertainment and decision. It is by means of the intellect
that the distinction between the subject and other objects is understood, and one
makes decisions about things. Buddhi arises out of the preponderance of the
element of sattva in prakṛti. It is the natural function of buddhi to manifest itself
and other things. In its pure (sāttvika) condition, therefore, it has such attributes
as virtue (dharma), knowledge (jñāna), detachment (vairāgya) and excellence
(aiśvaryya). But when vitiated by tamas, it has such contrary attributes as vice
(adharma), ignorance (ajñāna), attachment (āsakti or avairāgya) and imperfection
(aśakti or anaiśvaryya). Buddhi is different from puruṣa or the self which
transcends all physical things and qualities. But it is the ground of all intellectual
processes in all individual beings. It stands nearest to the self and reflects the
consciousness of the self in such a way as to become apparently conscious and
intelligent. While the senses and the mind function for buddhi or the intellect,
the latter functions directly for the self and enables it to discriminate between
itself and prakṛti.9
Ahaṅkāra or the ego is the second product of prakṛti, which arises directly
out of mahat, the first mainfestation. The function of ahaṅkāra is the feeling of 'I
and mine' (abhimāna). It is on account of ahaṅkāra that the self considers itself
(wrongly indeed) to be an agent or a cause of action, a desirer of and striver for
ends, and an owner of properties. We first perceive objects through the senses.
Then the mind reflects on them and determines them specifically as of this or
that kind. Next there is an appropriation of those objects as belonging to and
intended for me, and also a feeling of myself as somehow concerned in them.
Ahaṅkāra is just this sense of the self as 'I' (aham), and of objects as 'mine'
(mama). When ahaṅkāra thus determines our attitude towards the objects of the
world, we proceed to act in different ways in relation to them. The potter
constructs a pot when he accepts it as one of his ends and resolves to attain it by
saying within himself: 'Let me construct a pot'.
Ahaṅkāra is said to be of three kinds, according to the predominance of one
or the other of the three guṇas. It is called vaikārika or sāttvika when the element
of sattva predominates in it, taijasa or rājasa when that of rajas predominates,
and bhūtādi or tāmasa when tamas predominates. From the first arise the eleven
organs, namely, the five organs of perception (jñānendriya), the five organs of
action (karmendriya), and the mind (manas). From the third (i.e. tāmasa
ahaṅkāra) are derived the five subtle elements (tanmātras). The second (viz.
rājasa) is concerned in both the first and the third, and supplies the energy
needed for the change of sattva and tamas into their products.
The above order of development from ahaṅkāra is laid down in the Sāṅkhya-
kārikā and accepted by Vācaspati Miśra.10 Vijñānabhikṣu,11 however, gives a
different order. According to him, manas or the mind is the only sense which is
pre-eminently sāttvika or manifesting, and is, therefore, derived from sāttvika
ahaṅkāra. The other ten organs are developed from rājasa ahaṅkāra and the five
subtle elements from the tāmasa.
The five organs of perception (buddhindriya) are the senses of sight, hearing,
smell, taste and touch. These perceive respectively the physical qualities of
colour, sound, smell, taste and touch, and are developed from ahaṅkāra for the
enjoyment of the self. It is the self's desire to enjoy objects that creates both the
objects of and the organs for enjoyment. The organs of action (karmendriya) are
located in the mouth, hands, feet, anus and the sex organ. These perform
respectively the functions of speech prehension, movement, excretion and
reproduction. The real organs are not the perceptible external organs, like the
eyeballs, ear-holes, skin, hands, feet, etc. There are certain imperceptible powers
(śakti) in these perceptible end-organs which apprehend physical objects and act
on them, and are, therefore, to be regarded as the organs (indriyas) proper. As
such, an indriya cannot be sensed or perceived, but must be known by
inference.12 The mind (manas) is the central organ which partakes of the nature
of the organs of both knowledge and action. Without the guidance of the manas
neither of them can function in relation to their objects. The manas is a very
subtle sense indeed, but it is made up of parts, and so can come into contact with
several senses at the same time. The mind, the ego and the intellect (manas,
ahaṅkāra and buddhi) are the three internal organs (antaḥkaraṇa), while the
senses of sight, hearing, etc. and the organs of action are called the external
organs (bāhyakarana). The vital breaths or processes are the functions of the
internal organs. The ten external organs condition the function of the internal
ones. The mind (manas) interprets the indeterminate sense-data supplied by the
external organs into determinate perceptions; the ego owns the perceived objects
as desirable ends of the self or dislikes them; and the intellect decides to act to
attain or avoid those objects. The three internal and the ten external organs are
collectively called the thirteen karanas or organs in the Sāṅkhya philosophy.
While the external organs are limited to present objects, the internal ones deal
with the past, present and future.13
The Sāṅkhya view of the manas and other organs has certain obvious
differences from those of the other systems. According to the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣikas,
manas is an eternal atomic substance which has neither parts nor any
simultaneous contact with many senses. So we cannot have many experiences—
many perceptions, desires and volitions—at the same time. For the Sāṅkhya, the
manas is neither atomic nor eternal, but a composite product of prakṛti, and so
subject to origin and destruction in time. It is also held by them that we may
have many experiences—sensation, perception, feeling and volition—at the
same time, although ordinarily our experiences come one after the other. The
Nyāya-Vaiśeṣikas admit only the manas and the five external senses as indriyas
and hold that the external senses are derived from the physical elements
(mahābhūta). The Sāṅkhya enumerate eleven indriyas, e.g. the manas, the five
sensory organs and the five motor organs and derive them all from the ego
(ahaṅkāra), which is not recognised as a separate principle by the other systems.
The Vedāntins treat the five vital breaths (pañca-prāṇa) as independent
principles, while the Sāṅkhya reduce them to the general functions of
antaḥkaraṇa.14
The five tanmātras are the potential elements or generic essences of sound,
touch, colour, taste and smell. These are very subtle and cannot be ordinarily
perceived. We know them by inference, although the yogins may have a
perception of them. The gross physical elements arise from the tanmātras as
follows: (i) From the essence of sound (śabdatanmātra) is produced ākāśa with
the quality of sound which is perceived by the ear. (ii) From the essence of touch
(sparśatanmātra) combined with that of sound, arises air with the attributes of
sound and touch. (iii) Out of the essence of colour (rūpatanmātra) as mixed with
those of sound and touch, there arises light or fire with the properties of sound,
touch and colour, (iv) From the essence of taste (rasatanmātra) combined with
those of sound, touch and colour is produced the element of water with the
qualities of sound, touch, colour and taste, (v) The essence of smell
(gandhatanmātra) combined with the other four gives rise to earth which has all
the five qualities of sound, touch, colour, taste and smell. The five physical
elements of ākāśa, air, light, water and earth have respectively the specific
properties of sound, touch, colour, taste and smell. In the order in which they
occur here, the succeeding element has the special qualities of the preceding
ones added to its own, since their essences go on combining progressively.15
The whole course of evolution from prakṛti to the gross physical elements is
distinguished into two stages, namely, the psychical (pratyayasarga or
buddhisarga) and the physical (tanmātrasarga or bhautikasarga). The first
includes the developments of prakṛti as buddhi, ahaṅkāra and the eleven sense-
motor organs. The second is constituted by the evolution of the five subtle
physical essences (tanmātra), the gross elements (mahābhūta) and the products.
The tanmātras, being supersensible and unenjoyable to ordinary beings, are
called aviśesa, i.e., devoid of specific perceptible characters. The physical
elements and their products, being possessed of specific characters, pleasurable
or painful or stupefying, are designated as viśeṣa or the specific. The viśeṣas or
specific objects are divided into three kinds, namely, the gross elements, the
gross body born of parents (sthūlaśarīra) and the subtle body (sūkṣma or liṅga
śarīra). The gross body is composed of the five gross elements, although some
think that it is made of four elements or of only one element. The subtle body is
the combination of buddhi, ahaṅkāra, the eleven sense-motor organs and the five
subtle elements (tanmātra). The gross body is the support of the subtle body, in
so far as the intellect (buddhi), the ego (ahaṅkāra) and the senses cannot function
without some physical basis. According to Vācaspati there are only these two
kinds of bodies as mentioned before. Vijñānabhikṣu, however, thinks that there is
a third kind of body called the adhiṣṭāna body which supports the subtle one
when it passes from one gross body into another.16
The history of the evolved universe is a play of twenty-four principles, of
which prakṛti is the first, the five gross elements are the last, and the thirteen
organs (karaṇas) and five tanmātras are the intermediate ones. But it is not
complete in itself, since it has a necessary reference to the world of selves as the
witnesses and enjoyers thereof. It is not the dance of blind atoms, nor the push
and pull of mechanical forces which produce a world to no purpose. On the other
hand, it serves the most fundamental ends of the moral, or better, the spiritual,
life. If the spirit be a reality, there must be proper adjustment between moral
deserts and the joys and sorrows of life. Again, the history of the world must be,
in spite of all appearances to the contrary, the progressive realisation of the life
of spirit. In the Sāṅkhya, the evolution of prakṛti into a world of objects makes it
possible for spirits to enjoy or suffer according to their merits or demerits. But
the ultimate end of the evolution of prakṛti is the freedom (mukti) of self. It is
through a life of moral training in the evolved universe that the self realises its
true nature. What that nature is and how it can be realised, we shall consider
presently. Now the evolution of prakṛti in relation to the puruṣa may be
represented by the following table:
 III. THE SĀNKHYA THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE17

The Sāṅkhya theory of knowledge follows in the main its dualistic metaphysics.
It accepts only three independent sources of valid knowledge (pramāṇa). These
are perception, inference and scriptural testimony (śabda). The other sources of
knowledge, like comparison, postulation (arthāpatti) and non-cognition
(anupalabdhi), are included under these three, and not recognised as separate
sources of knowledge.
Valid knowledge (pramā) is a definite and an unerring cognition of some
object (arthaparicchitti) through the modification of buddhi or the intellect which
reflects the consiousness of the self in it. What we call the mind or the intellect is
an unconscious material entity in the Sāñkhya philosophy. Consciousness or
intelligence (caitanya) really belongs to the self. But the self cannot immediately
apprehend the objects of the world. If it could, we should always know all
objects, since the self in us is not finite and limited, but all-pervading. The self
knows objects through the intellect, the manas, and the senses. We have a true
knowledge of objects when, through the activity of the senses and the manas,
their forms are impressed on the intellect which, in its turn, reflects the light or
consciousness of the self.
In all valid knowledge there are three factors, namely, the subject (pramātā),
the object (pramey), and the ground or source of knowledge (pramāṇa). The
subject being a conscious principle is no other than the self as pure
consciousness (śuddha cetana). The modification (vṛtti) of the intellect, through
which the self knows an object, is called pramāṇa. The object presented to the
self through this modification is the prameya. Pramā or valid knowledge is the
reflection of the self in the intellect as modified into the form of the object,
because without the self's consciousness the unconscious intellect cannot cognise
anything.
Perception is the direct cognition of an object through its contact with some
sense. When an object like the table comes within the range of your vision, there
is contact between the table and your eyes. The table produces certain
impressions or modifications in the sense organ, which are analysed and
synthesised by manas or the mind. Through the activity of the senses and the
mind, budhi or the intellect becomes modified and transformed into the shape of
the table. The intellect, however, being an unconsious material principle, cannot
by itself know the object, although the form of the object is present in it. But as
the intellect has an excess of sattva, it reflects, like transparent mirror, the
consciousness of the self (puruṣa). With the reflection of the self's consciousness
in it, the unconscious modification of the intellect into the form of the table
becomes illumined into a conscious state of perception. Just as a mirror reflects
the light of a lamp and thereby manifests other things, so the material principle
of buddhi, being transparent and bright (sāttvika), reflects the consciousness of
the self and illuminates or cognises the objects of knowledge.
It is to be observed here that the reflection theory of knowledge has been
explained in two different ways by Vācaspati Miśra and Vijñānabhikṣu. We have
followed the former in the account of the knowledge process given above.
Vācaspati thinks that the knowledge of an object takes place when there is
reflection of the self in the intellect which has been modified into the form of the
object. According to Vijñānabhikṣu, the process of perceptual knowledge is like
this: when any object comes in contact with its special sense organ, the intellect
becomes modified into the form of the object. Then, because of the
predominance of sattva in it, the intellect reflects the conscious self and seems to
be conscious, in the same way in which a mirror reflects the light of a lamp and
becomes itself luminous and capable of manifesting other objects. But next, the
intellect, which is thus modified into the form of the object, is reflected back in
the self. That is, the object is presented to the self through a mental modification
corresponding to the form of the object. Thus on Vācaspati's view, there is a
reflection of the self in the intellect, but no reflection of the intellect back into
the self. Vijñānabhikṣu, on the other hand, thinks that there is a reciprocal
reflection of the self in the intellect and of the intellect in the self. This view is
accepted also in Vedavyāsa's commentary on the Yoga-Sūtra.18 What induces
Vijñānabhikṣu to suppose that the modified intellect is reflected in the self is
perhaps the necessity of explaining the self's experience of pleasure and pain.
The self, being pure consciousness, free from all pleasure and pain, cannot be
subjected to these experiences. It is the intellect which really enjoys pleasure and
suffers pain. So, the apparent experiences of pleasure and pain in the self should
be explained by some sort of reflection of the intellect in the self.
There are two kinds of perception, namely, nirvikalpaka or the indeterminate
and savikalpaka or the determinate. The first arises at the first moment of contact
between a sense and its object, and is antecedent to all mental analysis and
synthesis of the sense-data. It is accordingly called ālocana or a mere sensing of
the object. In it there is a cognition of the object as a mere something without
any recognition of it as this or that kind of thing. It is an unverbalised experience
like those of the infant and the dumb. Just as babies and dumb persons cannot
express their experience in words, so we cannot communicate this indeterminate
perception of objects to other people by means of words and sentences. The
second kind of perception is the result of the analysis, synthesis and
interpretation of sense-data by manas or the mind. So it is called vivecana or a
judgment of the object. It is the determinate cognition of an object as a particular
kind of thing having certain qualities and standing in certain relations to other
things. The determinate perception of an object is expressed in the form of a
subject-predicate proposition, e.g. 'this is a cow,' 'that rose is red.'19
Inference is the knowledge of one term of a relation, which is not perceived,
through the other which is perceived and known to be invariably related to the
first. In it what is perceived leads us on to the knowledge of what is unperceived
through the knowledge of a universal relation (vyāpti) between the two. We get
the knowledge of vyāpti between two things from the repeated observation of
their concomitance. One single instance of their relation is not, as some logicians
wrongly think, sufficient to establish the knowledge of a universal relation
between them.
With regard to the classification of inference, the Sāṅkhya adopts the Nyāya
view, although in a slightly different form. Inference is first divided into two
kinds, namely, vīta and avīta. It is called vīta or affirmative when it is based on a
universal affirmative proposition, and avīta or negative when based on a
universal negative proposition. The vīta is subdivided into the pūrvavat and the
sāmānyatodṛṣṭa. A pūrvavat inference is that which is bassed on the observed
uniformity of concomitance between two things. This is illustrated when one
infers the existence of fire from smoke because one has observed that smoke is
always accompanied by fire. Sāmānyatodṛṣṭa inference, on the other hand, is not
based on any observation of the concomitance between the middle and the major
term, but on the similarity of the middle with such facts as are uniformly related
to the major. How do we know that we have the visual and other senses? It
cannot be by means of perception. The senses are supersensible. We have no
sense to perceive our senses with. Therefore, we are to know the existence of the
senses by an inference like this: 'All actions require some means or instruments,
e.g. the act of cutting; the perceptions of colour, etc. are so many acts; therefore,
there must be some means or organs of perception.' It should be noted here that
we infer the existence of organs from acts of perception, not because we have
observed the organs to be invariably related to perceptive acts, but because we
know that perception is an action and that an action requires a means of action.
The other kind of inference, namely, avīta is what some Naiyāyikas call śeṣavat
or pariśeṣa inference. It consists in proving something to be true by the
elimination of all other alternatives to it. This is illustrated when one argues that
sound must be a quality because it cannot be a substance or an activity or a
relation or anything else. As regards the logical form of inference, the Sāṅkhyas
admit, like the Naiyāyikas, that the five-membered syllogism is the most
convincing form of inferential proof.20
The third pramāṇa is śabda or testimony. It is constituted by authoritative
statements (āptavacana), and gives the knowledge of objects which cannot be
known by perception and inference. A statement is a sentence made up of words
arranged in a certain way. A word is a sign which denotes something (vācaka),
and its meaning (artha) is the thing denoted by it (vācya). That is, a word is a
symbol which stands for some object. The understanding of a sentence requires
the understanding of the meanings of its constituent words. Śabda is generally
said to be of two kinds, namely, laukika and vaidika. The first is the testimony of
ordinary trustworthy persons. This, however, is not recognized in the Sāṇkhya as
a separate pramāṇa, since it depends on perception and inference. It is the
testimony of Śruti or the Vedas that is to be admitted as the third independent
pramāṇa. The Vedas give us true knowledge about super-sensuous realities
which cannot be known through perception and inference. As not made by any
person, the Vedas are free from all defects and imperfections that must cling to
the works of personal agencies. They are, therefore, infallible, and possess self-
evident validity. The Vedas embody the intuitions of enlightened seers (ṛṣis).
These intuitions being universal and eternal, experiences are not dependent on
the will or consciousness of individual persons. As such the Vedas are
impersonal (apauruṣeya). Yet they are not eternal since they arise out of the
spiritual experiences of seers and saints, and are conserved by a continuous line
of instruction from generation to generation.

IV. THE DOCTRINE OF LIBERATION21

Our life on earth is a mixture of joys and sorrows. There are indeed many
pleasures of life, and also many creatures who have a good share of them. But
many more are the pains and sufferings of life and all living beings are more or
less subject to them. Even if it be possible for any individual being to shun all
other pains and miseries, it is impossible for him to evade the clutches of decay
and death. Ordinarily, however, we are the victims of three kinds of pains, viz.,
the ādhyātmika, ādhibhautika and ādgudauvuja. The first is due to intraorganic
causes like bodily disorders and mental affections. It includes both bodily and
mental sufferings, such as fever and headache, the pangs of fear, anger, greed,
etc. The second is produced by extra-organic natural causes like men, beasts,
thorns, etc. Instances of this kind are found in cases of murder, snake-bite, prick
of thorns and so forth. The third kind of suffering is caused by extra-organic
supernatural causes, e.g. the pains inflicted by ghosts, demons, etc.
Now all men earnestly desire to avoid every kind of pain. Nay more, they
want, once for all, to put an end to all their sufferings, and have enjoyment at all
times. But that is not to be. We cannot have pleasure only and exclude pain
altogether. So long as we are in this frail body with its imperfect organs, all
pleasures are bound to be mixed up with pain or, at least, be temporary. Hence
we should give up the hedonistic ideal of pleasure and rest content with the less
attractive but more rational end of freedom from pain. In the Sāṅkhya system,
liberation (mukti) is just the absolute and complete cessation of all pain without
a possibility of return. It is the ultimate and or the summum bonum of our life
(apavarga or puruṣārtha).
How are we to attain liberation or absolute freedom from all pain and
suffering? All the arts and erafts of the modern man and all the blessings of
modern science give us but temporary relief from pain or short-lived pleasures.
These do not ensure a total and final release from all the ills to which our mind
and body are subject. So the Indian philosopher wants some other more effective
method of accomplishing the task, and this he finds in the right knowledge of
reality (tattvajñāna). It is a general rule that our sufferings are due to our
ignorance. In the different walks of life we find that the ignorant and uneducated
man comes to grief on many occasions because he does not know the laws of life
and nature. The more knowledge we have about ourselves and the world we live
in, the better fitted are we for the struggle for existence and the enjoyments of
life. But the fact remains that we are not perfectly happy, nor even completely
free from pain and misery. The reason for this is that we have not the perfect
knowledge about reality. When we have that knowledge, we shall attain freedom
from all suffering. Reality is, according to the Sāṅkhya, a plurality of selves and
the world of objects presented to them. The self is an intelligent principle which
does not possess any quality or activity but is a pure consciousness free from the
limitations of space, time and causality. It is the pure subject which transcends
the whole world of objects including physical things and organic bodies, the
mind and the senses, the ego and the intellect. All changes and activities, all
thoughts and feelings, all pleasures and pains, all joys and sorrows belong to
what we call the mind-body system. The self is quite distinct from the mind-
body complex and is, therefore, beyond all the affections and afflictions of the
psychical life. Pleasure and pain are mental facts which do not really colour the
pure self. It is the mind, and not self, that feels pleasure or pain, and is happy or
unhappy. So also, virtue and vice, merit and demerit, in short, all moral
properties belong to the ego (ahankāra) who is the striver and doer of all acts.22
The self is different from the ego or the moral agent who strives for good or bad
ends, attains them and enjoys or suffers accordingly. Thus we see that the self is
the transcendent subject whose very essence is pure consciousness, freedom,
eternity and immortality. It is pure consciousness (jñānasvarūpa) in the sense that
the changing states and processes of the mind, which we call empirical
consciousness, do not belong to the self. The self is the subject or witness of
mental changes as of bodily and physical changes, but is as much distinct from
the former as from the latter. It is freedom itself insofar as it is above the space-
time and the cause-effect order of existence. It is eternal and immortal, because it
is not produced by any cause and cannot be destroyed in anyway.23
Pleasure and pain, joy and sorrow really belong to buddhi or the intellect and
the mind. The puruṣa or self is by its nature free from them all. But on account
of ignorance it fails to distinguish itself from the mind and the intellect, and
owns them as parts of itself so much so that it identifies itself with the body, the
senses, the mind and the intellect. It becomes, so to say, somebody with a certain
name, and a particular 'combination of talent, temperament and character.' As
such, we speak of it as the 'material self, the 'social self, the 'sensitive and
appetitive self, the 'imagining and desiring self', or the 'willing and thinking
self'.24 According to the Sānkhya, all these are not-self which reflects the pure
self and apparently imparts its affections and emotions to the latter. The self
considers itself to be happy or unhappy when the mind and the intellect, with
which it identifies itself, become so, in the same way in which a father considers
himself fortunate or unfortunate in view of his beloved son's good or bad luck, or
a master feels insulted by an insult to his own servant. It is this want of
discrimination or feeling of identity (aviveka) between the self and the mind-
body that is the cause of all our troubles. We suffer pain and enjoy pleasure
because the experiencing subject in us (draṣtā) wrongly identifies itself with the
experienced objects (dṛśya) including pleasure and pain.25
The cause of suffering being ignorance (ajñāna) in the sense of non-
discrimination (aviveka) between the self and the not-self, freedom from
suffering must come from knowledge of the distinction between the two
(vivekajñāna).26 But this saving knowledge is not merely an intelletual
understanding of the truth. It must be a direct knowledge or clear realization of
the fact that the self is not the body and the senses, the mind and the intellect.
Once we realize or see that out self is the unborn and undying spirit in us, the
eternal and immortal subject of experience, we become free from all misery and
suffering. A direct knowledge of the truth is necessary to remove the illusion of
the body or the mind as my self. Now I have a direct and an undoubted
perception that I am a particular psychophysical organism. The knowledge that
the self is distinct from all this must be an equally direct perception, if it is to
contradict and cancel the previous one. The illusory perception of snake in a
rope is not to be substituted by any argument or instruction, but by another
perception of the rope as such. To realise the self we require a long course of
spiritual training with devotion to and constant contemplation of, the truth that
the spirit is not the body, the senses, the mind or the intellect.27 We shall
consider the nature and methods of this training when we come to the Yoga
philosophy.
When the self attains liberation, no change takes place in it and no new
property or quality accrues to it. Liberation or freedom of the self does not mean
the development from a less perfect to a more perfect condition. So also
immortality and eternal life are not to be regarded as future possibilities or
events in time. If these were events and temporal acquisitions, they would be
governed by the laws of time, space and causality, and, as such, the very
opposite of freedom and immortality. The attainment of liberation means just the
clear recognition of the self as a reality which is beyond time and space, and
above the mind and the body, and, therefore, essentially free, eternal and
immortal.28 When there is such realisation, the self ceases to be affected by the
vicissitudes of the body and the mind and rests in itself as the disinterested
witness of physical and psychical changes. 'Just as the dancing girl ceases to
dance after having entertained the spectators, so prakṛti ceases to act and evolve
the world after manifesting her nature to the self.'29 It is possibe for every self to
realise itself in this way and thereby attain liberation in life in this world. This
kind of liberation is known as jīvanmukti or emancipation of the soul while
living in this body. After the death of its body, the liberated self attains what is
called videhamukti or emancipation of the spirit from all bodies, gross and
subtle. This ensures absolute and complete freedom.30 Vijñānabhikṣu, however,
thinks that the latter is the real kind of liberation, since the self cannot be
completely free from the influence of bodily and mental changes so long as it is
embodied.31 But all Sānkhyas agree that liberation is only the complete
destruction of the threefold misery (duḥkhatrayā-bhighāta). It is not a state of joy
as conceived in the Vedānta. Where there is no pain, there can neither be any
pleasure; because the two are relative and inseparable.

V. THE PROBLEM OF GOD32

The attitude of the Sāṅkhya towards theism has been the subject of controversy
among its commentators and interpreters. While some of them clearly repudiate
the belief in God, others take great pains to make out that the Sāṅkhya is no less
theistic than the Nyāya. The classical Sāṅkhya argues against the existence of
God on the following grounds: (a) That the world as a system of effects must
have a cause is no doubt true. But God or Brahman cannot be the cause of the
world. God is said to be the eternal and immutable self: and what is unchanging
cannot be the active cause of anything. So it follows that the ultimate cause of
the world is the eternal but ever-changing (pariṇāmī) prakṛti or matter, (b) It may
be said that prakṛti being non-intelligent must be controlled and directed by
some intelligent agent to produce the world. The individual selves are limited in
knowledge and, therefore, cannot control the subtle material cause of the world.
So there must be an infinitely wise being, i.e. God, who directs and guides
prakṛti. But this is untenable. God, as conceived by the theists, does not act or
exert Himself in any way; but to control and guide prakṛti is to act or do
something. Supposing God is the controller of prakṛti, we may ask: what induced
God to control prakṛti and thereby create the world? It cannot be any end of His
own, for a perfect being cannot have any unfulfilled desires and unattained ends.
Nor can it be the good of His creatures. No prudent man bothers himself about
the welfare of other beings without his own gain. As a matter of fact the world is
so full of sin and suffering that it can hardly be said to be the work of God who
had the good of His creatures in view when he created, (c) The belief in God is
inconsistent with the distinctive reality and immortality or individual selves
(jīva). If the latter be included within God as His parts, they ought to have some
of the divine powers which, however, is not the case. On the other hand, if they
are created by God, they must be subject to destruction. The conclusion drawn
from all this is that God does not exist and that prakṛti is the sufficient reason for
there being a world of objects. Prakṛti creates the world unconsciously for the
good of the individual selves (puruṣa) in the same way in which the milk of the
cow flows unconsciously through her udder for the nourishment of the calf.
According to another interpretation of the Sāṅkhya, which is not generally
accepted, this system is not atheistic. This is the view of Vijñānabhikṣu and
some modern writers.33 They hold that the existence of God as possessed of
creative activity cannot be admitted. Yet we must believe in God as the eternally
perfect spirit who is the witness of the world and whose mere presence
(sannidhimātra) moves prakṛti to act and create, in the same way in which the
magnet moves a piece of iron. Vijñānabhikṣu thinks that the existence of such a
God is supported by reason as well as by the scriptures.

VI. CONCLUSION

The Sāṅkhya may be called a philosophy of dualisitic realism. It traces the whole
course of the world to the interplay of two ultimate principles, viz. spirit and
primal matter (puruṣa and prakṛti). On the one hand, we have prakṛti which is
regarded as the ultimate cause of the world of objects including physical things,
organic bodies and psychical products like the mind (manas), the intellect and
the ego. Prakṛti is both the material and the efficient cause of the world. It is
active and ever-changing, but blind and unintelligent. How can such a blind
principle evolve an orderly world and direct it towards any rational end? How
again are we to explain the first disturbance or vibration in prakṛti which is said
to be originally in a state of equilibrium? So, on the other hand, the Sāṅkhya
admits another ultimate principle, viz. puruṣa or the self. The category of puruṣa
includes a plurality of selves who are eternal and immutable principles of pure
consciousness. These selves are intelligent but inactive and unchanging. It is in
contact with such conscious and intelligent selves that the unconscious and
unintelligent prakṛti evolves the world of experience. But how can the inactive
and unchanging self at all come in contact with and influence prakṛti or matter?
The Sāṅkhya holds that the mere presence (sannidhi) of puruṣa or the self is
sufficient to move prakṛti to act, although it itself remains unmoved. Similarly, it
is the reflection of the conscious self on the unconscious intellect that explains
the cognitive and other psychical functions performed by the latter. But how the
mere presence of the self can be the cause of changes in prakṛti, but not in the
self itself, is not clearly explained. Nor, again, is it quite clear how an
unintelligent material principle like the intellect can reflect pure consciousness
(which is immaterial) and thereby become conscious and intelligent. The
physical analogies given in the Sāṅkhya are not sufficiently illuminating.
Further, the existence of many selves is proved by the Sāṅkhya from the
difference in the nature, activity, birth and death, and sensory and motor
endowments of different living beings. But all these differences pertain, not to
the self as pure consciousness but to the bodies associated with it. So far as their
intrinsic nature (i.e. pure consciousness) is concerned, there is nothing to
distinguish between one self and another. So there seems to be no good ground
for the Sāṅkhya theory of many ultimate selves. It may be that the many selves
of which we speak, are the empirical individuals or egos dealt with in ordinary
life and experience. From the speculative standpoint there seem to be certain
gaps in the Sāṅkhya philosophy. Still we should not underrate its value as a
system of self-culture for the attainment of liberation. So far as the practical end
of attaining freedom from suffering is concerned, this system is as good as any
other and enables the religious aspirant to realise the highest good of his life. viz.
liberation.

1. Vide Bhāgavata, 3.25, et passim and Srīdhara svāmin thereon.

2. Vide Sāṅkhya-kārikā and Tattvakaumudī, 8, 9; Sāṅkhya-pravacana bhāṣya, 1. 113–21: Anirudha's
Vṛtti, 1. 113–21.
3. Vide Kārikā and Kaumudī, 3, 10-16; Pravacana-bhāṣya and Vṛtti, 1. 110, 1. 122–37.
4. Vide Pravacana-bhāṣya, 1. 67–68, 1. 76–77, 6.35.
5. Op. cit., 1. (5. The word guṇa has many senses, such as 'quality,' 'strand.' 'subservient.'
6. Vide Vedānlasāra, 59–61; Kārikā and Kaumudī. 17–20; Pravaacanabhāṣya and Vṛtti, 1.66, 1.138–
64, 5.61–68.
7. Vide kārikā and Kaumudī, 21–41; Pravacana-bhāṣya and Vṛtti 1. 64–74, 2. 10–32.
8. Vide Sāṅkhya-sūt., 1.71.
9. Vide Kārikā, 36–37: Sāṅkhya-sūt, 2.40–43.
10. Cf. Kārikā and Kaumudī, 25.
11. Cf. Pravacana-bhāṣya. 2. 18.
12. Cf. Sāṅkhya-sūt., 2.23; Kārikā and Kaumudiā, 25 and 28.
13. Cf. Sāṅkhya-sūt., 2. 26–32, 2.1.38, 5. 71; Kārikā and Kaumudī, 27. 29–30, 32–33.
14. Cf. Sāṅkhya-sūt., 2.20–22, 2. 31-32. 5. 84; Kārikā, 24 and 29–30.
15. Cf. Kārikā and Kaumudī, 22.
16. Cf. Kārikā and Kaumudī, 38–41; Sāṅkhya-sūt., 3. 1–17; Pravacana-bhāṣya, 8.11.
17. Vide Kārikā and Kaumudī, 4–6; Pravacana-bhāṣya, 1. 87.89.99–103; 5, 27, 37, 42–51, Cf. The Nyāya
Theory of Knowledge (Ch. V. ante) for a fuller account of this subject.
18. Vide Pravacana-bhāṣya, 1. 99; Vyāsa-bhāṣya, 4, 22.
19. For a fuller account of nirvikalpaka and savikalpaka perceptions, vide S.C. Chatterjee, The Nyāya
Theory of Knowledge, Ch. IX.
20. Vide, p. 183 ante. For an elaborate account of the theory of inference, vide S.C. Chatterjee, The Nyāya
 Theory of Knowledge, BK. III.
21. Vide Kārikā and Kaumudī, 44–68; Sāṅkhya-sūt., Pravacana-bhāṣya and Vṛtti, 3. 65–84.
22. Cf. Saṅkhya-sūt and Vṛtti, 5. 25–26.
23. Cf. Pravacana-bhāṣya, 1. 146–48.
24. For an account of the different kinds of selves vide James, Principles of Psychology, Vol. 1. Chap. X,
and Ward, Psychological Principles, Chap. XV.
25. Cf. Kārikā and Kaumudī., 62; Pravacana-bhāṣya and Vṛtti, 3, 72.
26. Kārikā and Kaumudī, 44, 63; Sāṅkhya-sūt. and Vṛtti, 3. 23–24.
27. Cf. Sāṅkhya-sūt. and Vṛtti, 3. 66 and 75; Kārikā and Kaumudī 64.
28. Cf. Sāṅkhya-sūt, and Vṛtti, 5. 74–83; Sāṅkhya-sūt, 1. 56, 6. 20.
29. Cf. Kārikā and Kaumudī, 59. 65–66.
30. Cf. Kārikā and Kaumudī, 67–68: Saṅkhya-sūt, and Vṛtti, 3. 78–84.
31. Cf. Pravacana-bhāṣya, 3. 76–84, 5. 116.
32. Cf. Kārikā and Kaumudī, 56–57; Sāṅkhya-sūt., Vṛtti and Pravacana, 1. 92–95, 3. 56–57, 5. 2–12. Vide
also Gaudapāda, Sāṅkhya-kārikābhāṣya, and A.K. Majumdar, The Saṅkhya Conception of
Personality, Chapters I arid II.
33. Vide Pravacana-bhāṣya, ibid; A.K. Majumdar. The Sāṅkhya Conception of Personality, ibid.
CHAPTER VIII

The Yoga Philosophy

I. INTRODUCTION

The Yoga philosophy is an invaluable gift of the great Indian sage Patañjali to all
bent upon spiritual realisation. It is a great aid to those who wish to realise the
existence of the spirit as an independent principle, free from all limitations of the
body, the senses and the mind.1 It is known also as the Pātañjala system after the
name of its founder. The Yoga-sūtra or the Pātañjala-sūtra is the first work of
this school of philosophy. Vyāsa wrote a brief but valuable commentary on the
Yoga-sūtra called Yoga-bhāṣya or Vyāsa-bhāṣya. Vācaspati's Tattva-vaiśāradī is
a reliable sub-commentary on Vyāsa's commentary. Bhojarāja's Vitti and Yoga
maṇiprabhā are very simple and popular works on the Yoga system.
Vijñānabhikṣu's Yoga-vārtika and Yoga-sāra saṅgraha are other useful manuals
of the Yoga philosophy.
The Pātañjala-sūtra is divided into four pādas or parts. The first is called the
samādhipāda and treats of the nature, aim and forms of yoga, the modifications
of citta or the internal organ, and the different methods of attaining yoga. The
second, viz., the sādhanapāda, deals with kriyāyoga as a means of attaining
samādhi, the kleśas2 or mental states causing afflictions, the fruits of action
(karmaphala) and their painful nature, and the fourfold theme of suffering, its
cause, its cessation and the means thereof. The third or vibhūtipāda gives an
account of the inward aspects of yoga and the supernormal powers acquired by
the practice of yoga and so forth. The fourth part is called the kaivalyapāda and
describes the nature and forms of liberation, the reality of the transcendent self
and the other world and so on.
The Yoga is closely allied to the Sāṅkhya system. It is the application of the
theory of the Sāṅkhya in practical life. The Yoga mostly accepts the Sāṅkhya
epistemology and admits the three pramāṇas of perception, inference and
scriptural testimony. It mostly accepts also the metaphysics of the Sāṅkhya with
its twenty-five principles, but believes in God as the supreme self distinct from
other selves. The special interest of this system is in the practice of yoga as the
sure means of attaining vivekajñāana or discriminative knowledge which is held
in the Sāṅkhya as the essential condition of liberation.
The value of yoga as an important method of realising the spiritual truths of
Indian philosophy has been recognised by allmost all the Indian systems. We
have clear evidence of the recognition of yoga practices even in the Upaniṣads,
the Smṛtis and the Purāṇas.3 So long as the mind or the intellect of a man is
impure and unsettled, he cannot properly understand anything profound and
spiritual. We must have a pure heart and a tranquil mind if we are to know and
realise the truths of philosophy and religion. Now the practice of yoga is the best
way of self-purification, i.e. purification of the body and the intellect. Hence it is
that almost all the systems of Indian philosophy insist on the practice of yoga as
the necessary practical side of a philosophy of life.
The Pātañjala system makes a special study of the nature and forms of yoga,
the different steps in yoga practice, and other important things connected with
these. It holds, like the Sāṅkhya and some other Indian systems, that liberation is
to be attained through the direct knowledge of the self's distinction from the
physical world including our body, mind and the ego (vivekajñāna). But this can
be realised only if we can manage to suppress and terminate the functions of the
body and the senses, the manas and the intellect and finally, the ego (i.e. the
empirical self) and yet have self-consciousness or experience of the transcendent
spirit (puruṣa). This would convince us that the self is above the mind-body
complex, the senses and the intellect and also the suffering or enjoying
individual ego. It will be seen to be above all physical reality with its spatio-
temporal and cause-effect order. This is the realisation of the self as the free,
immortal spirit which is above sin and suffering, death and destruction. In other
words, it is the attainment of freedom from all pain and misery, i.e. liberation.
The Yoga system lays down a practical path of self-realisation for the religious
aspirant and the sincere seeker after the spirit. The Sāṅkhya lays greater stress on
discriminative knowledge as the means of attaining liberation, although it
recommends such practical methods as study, reasoning and constant meditation
on the truth.4 The Yoga, on the other hand, emphasises the importance of the
practical methods of purification and concentration for realising the self's
distinction from the body and the mind, and thereby attaining liberation. These
will be explained in the Yoga ethics. Before we come to that we have to study
the Yoga psychology which deals with the nature of the self, the mind and its
functions, and the relation between mind, body and the self.

II. YOGA PSYCHOLOGY

In the Sāṅkhya-Yoga system, the individual self (jīva) is regarded as the free
spirit associated with the gross body and more closely related to a subtle body
constituted by the senses, the manas, the ego and the intellect. The self is, in its
own nature, pure consciousness, free from the limitations of the body and the
fluctuations of the mind (citta). But in its ignorance it confuses itself with citta.
The citta is the first product of prakṛti, in which the element of sattva or the
power of manifestation naturally predominates over those of rajas and tamas. It
is essentially unconscious; but being in the closest proximity to the self it
reflects, through its manifesting power, the self's consciousness so as to become
apparently conscious and intelligent. It is different from manas which is the
internal sense. When the citta is related to any object through manas, it assumes
the form of that object. The self knows the objects of the world through the
modifications of citta which correspond to the forms of the objects known.
Although the self really undergoes no change or modification, yet because of its
reflection in the changing states and processes of citta, the self appears to be
subject to changes and to pass through different states of the mind or citta, in the
same way in which the moon appears to be moving when we see it reflected in
the moving waves.5
The modifications of citta, i.e. cognitive mental states are many and varied.
These may be classified under five heads, namely, pramāṇa or true cognition,
viparyaya or false cognition, vikalpa or merely verbal cognition, nidrā or sleep,
and smṛti or memory. There are three kinds of true cognition, viz. perception,
inference and verbal testimony. These have been explained in almost the same
way as in the Sāṅkhya. Viparyaya is the wrong knowledge of objects as what
they really are not and it includes doubt or uncertain cognitions. Vikalpa is a
mere verbal idea caused by words, to which no real facts correspond. When you
hear the words 'Rāhu's head,' you have the idea of a distinction between Rāhu
and its head, although really there is no distinction between the two, Rāhu being
only a head. Similarly, the phrase 'consciousness of the soul' arouses the ideas of
two different entities (soul and consciousness) related together, whereas in
reality there is no distinction between them (soul and consciousness being
identical).6 Sleep (nidrā) is another kind of mental modification (cittavṛtti). It is
due to the preponderance of tamas in citta and the consequent cessation of
waking consciousness and dream experiences. It thus stands for deep dreamless
sleep (suṣupti). Some philosophers think that in sound sleep there is no mental
function or conscious state at all. But this is wrong. On waking from sound sleep
we say, 'I slept well,' 'I knew nothing.' etc. Such memory of what took place
during sleep supposes direct experience of the state of sleep. So there must be in
sleep some cognitive mental state or process which is concerned in the
experience of the absence of knowledge (abhāvapratyayālambanā vṛtti). Smṛti or
memory is the reproduction of past experiences without any alteration or
innovation. All cognitive mental states and processes (citta-vṛtti) may be
included in these five kinds of modifications. We need not admit any other kinds
of cognitive functions of the mind (citta-vṛtti).7
When citta is modified into any kind of vṛtti or cognitive mental state, the
self is reflected in it and is apt to appropriate it as a state of itself. Hence it is that
it appears to pass through different states of the mind (citta) and stages of life. It
considers itself to be subject to birth and growth, decay and death at different
periods of time. It is led to believe that it sleeps and wakes up, imagines and
remembers, makes mistakes and corrects errors and so on. In truth, however, the
self (puruṣa) is above all the happenings of the body and the mind (citta), all
physical and psychical changes, like sleeping and waking, birth and death, etc. It
is citta or the mind that really performs these functions of sleeping and waking,
knowing and doubting, imagining and remembering. The self appears to be
concerned in these functions because it is reflected in citta or the mind which is
held up before it as a mirror before a person. It also appears to be subject to the
five kleśas or sources of afflictions, namely, (i) avidyā or wrong knowledge of
the non-eternal as eternal, of the not-self as the self, of the unpleasant as the
pleasant, and of the impure as pure, (ii)asmitā, i.e. the false notion or perception
of the self as indentical with buddhi or the mind (iii) rāga or desire for pleasure
and the means of its attainment, (iv) dveṣa or aversion to pain and the causes
thereof (v) abhiniveśa or the instinctive fear of death in all creatures.8
So long as there are changes and modifications in citta, the self is reflected
therein and, in the absence of discriminative knowledge, identifies itself with
them. As a consequence, the self feels pleasure or pain out of the objects of the
world, and loves or hates them accordingly. This means bondage for the self. If,
therefore, we are to attain liberation, we must somehow restrain the activities of
the body, the senses and the mind (manas) and finally suppress all the
modifications of citta. When the waves of the empirical consiousness (kārya-
citta) die down and leave the citta in a state of pefect placidity (kāraṇa-citta), the
self realises itself as distinct from the mind-body complex and as free, immortal
and self-shining intelligence. It is the aim of yoga to bring about this result
through the cessation of the functions of citta.

III. YOGA ETHICS

1. The Nature and Forms of Yoga9

Yoga here means the cessation of mental functions or modifications
(cittavṛttinirodha). It does not mean any kind of contact between the individual
self and some other reality like God or the Absolute. The aim of yoga, as we
have already said, is to prevent the self from identifiying itself with mental
modifications. But this is not possible so long as the modifications are there and
the self has not realised its distinction from citta or the mind. So what yoga
really stands for, is the arrest and negation of all mental modifications.
There are five conditions or levels of the mental life(cittabhūmi). The citta is
constituted by the elements of sattva, rajas and tamas. Its different conditions are
determined by the different degrees in which these elements are present and
operative in it. These conditions are called kṣipta or restless, mūḍha or torpid,
vikṣipta or distracted, ekāgra or concentrated, and niruddha or restrained. In each
of these there is some kind of repression of mental modifications. One state of
the mind excludes other different states. Love and hate, for example, naturally
oppose and cancel each other. But still yoga cannot be attained in all the levels of
citta. In the first, called kṣipta, the mind or citta is under the sway of rajas and
tamas, and is attracted by objects of sense and the means of attaining power. It
flits from one thing to another without resting in any. This condition is not at all
conducive to yoga, because it does not help us to control the mind and the
senses. The second, viz. mūḍha, is due to an excess of tamas in citta or the mind
which, therefore, has a tendency towards vice, ignorance, sleep and the like. In
the third level, called vikṣipta or distracted, the mind or citta is free from the
sway of tamas and has only a touch of rajas in it. It has the capacity of
manifesting all objects and makes for virtue, knowledge, etc. This is a stage of
temporary concentration of citta or the mind on some object, which is followed
by distraction. It cannot be called yoga, because it does not permanently stop the
mental modifications nor end our troubles and destroy the mental afflictions of
avidyā and the rest.
The fourth level of citta is called ekāgra or concentrated. Here citta is purged
of the impurity of rajas and there is the perfect manifestation of sattva. It marks
the beginning of prolonged concentration of the mind or citta on any object so as
to reveal its true nature, and it prepares the way for the cessation of all mental
modifications. In this state, however, the mind or citta continues to think or
meditate on some object, and so, even here, the mental processes are not
altogether arrested. At the last level, called niruddha, there is the cessation of all
mental functions including even that of concentration which marks the previous
stage. Here the succession of mental states and processes is completely checked,
and the mind (citta) is left in its original, unmodified state of calmness and
tranquillity. These last two levels are conducive to yoga insofar as both manifest
the sattva element of the mind to the highest degree and are helpful for the
attainment of the ultimate goal, viz. liberation. In fact, ekāgra or the state of
concentration, when permanently established, is called saṁprajñātayoga or the
trance of meditation, in which there is a clear and distinct consciousness of the
object of contemplation. It is known also as samāpatti or saṁprajñāta samādhi
inasmuch as citta or the mind is, in this state, entirely put into the object and
assumes the form of the object itself. So also the state of niruddha is called
asaṁprajñāta yoga or asaṁprajñāta samādhi, because all mental modifications
being stopped in this state, nothing is known or thought of by the mind. This is
the trance of absorption in which all psychoses and appearances of objects are
stopped and there are no ripples in the placid surface of citta or the mind. Both
these kinds of samādhi are known by the common name of samādhi-yoga or the
cessation of mental modifications, since both conduce to self-realisation.
There are, then, two main kinds of yoga or samādhi, viz. the asaṁprajñāta
and the asaṁprajñāta. Four kinds of asaṁprajñāta samādhi are distinguished
according to the different objects of contemplation. It is called savitarka when
the mind (citta) is concentrated on any gross physical object of the external
world, e.g. the image of a god or goddess. Having realised the nature of this
object, one should concentrate on subtle objects like the tanmātras or subtle
essences of the physical elements. The mind's concentration on these subtle
objects is called savicāra samādhi. The next step is to take some subtler objects
like the senses and concentrate the mind (citta) on them, till their real nature
becomes manifest to it, in what is called sānanda samādhi. The last kind of
saṁprajñāta samādhi is called sāsmita inasmuch as the object of concentration
herein is asmitā or the ego-substance with which the self is ordinarily identified.
The fruition of this stage of concentration is the realisation of the true nature of
the ego. But it also gives us a glimpse of the knowing self as something almost
indistinguishable from the ego.10
Thus the mind (citta) realises the nature of different objects within or
without the body and leaves them behind, one after the other, till it becomes
completely free from thoughts of all objects and attains what is called
asaṁprajñāta samādhi or yoga par excellence. It puts a stop to all mental
modification and does not rest on any object at all. This is the final stage of
samādhi because when it is attained the whole world of objects ceases to affect,
and to exist for, the yogin. In this state, the self abides in its own essence as pure
consciousness, enjoying the still vision of isolated self-shining existence. When
one attains this state, one reaches the final goal of life, namely, liberation or
freedom from all pain and suffering. All life is a quest of peace and a search for
the means thereof. Yoga is one of the spiritual paths that leads to the desired goal
of a total extinction of all pain and misery through the realisation of the self's
distinction from the body, the mind and the individual ego. But this final goal
cannot be attained all at once. Even if it be possible for a self to attain once the
state of samādhi and thereby release from pain, there is the possibility of a
relapse and consequent recurrence of pain, so long as all the impressions and
tendencies of the mind (citta) due to its past and present deeds are not wiped out.
It requires a long and arduous endeavour to maintain oneself steadily in the state
of samādhi and destroy the effects of the different kinds of karma, past and
present. For this it is necessary to practise yoga with care and devotion for a
sufficiently long time. The auxiliary means to the practice of yoga will be
explained in the next section.

2. The Eightfold Means of Yoga11

As we have already said, a man cannot realise spiritual truths so long as his mind
is tainted with impurities and his intellect vitiated by evil thoughts. It is in the
pure heart and the clear understanding that the truth of the spirit is revealed and
directly experienced. The Sāṅkhya Yoga system holds that liberation is to be
attained by means of spiritual insight (prajñā) into the reality of the self as the
pure immortal spirit which is quite distinct from the body and the mind. But
spiritual insight can be had only when the mind is purged of all impurities and
rendered perfectly calm and serene. For the purification and enlightenment of
citta or the mind, the Yoga gives us the eightfold means which consists of the
disciplines of (a) yama or restraint, (b) niyama or culture, (c) āsana or posture,
(d) prāṇāyāma or breath control, (e) pratyāhāra or withdrawal of the senses, (f)
dhāraṇā or attention, (g) dhyāna or meditation, and (h) samādhi or concentration.
These are known as aids to yoga (yogāṅga). When practised regularly with
devotion and dispassion, they lead to the attainment of yoga, both saṁprajñāta
and asaṁprajñāta.
 The first discipline of yama or restraint consists in (a) ahirhsā or abstention
from all kinds of injury to any life (b) satya or truthfulness in thought and
speech, (c) asteya or non-stealing, (d) brahmacharya or control of the carnal
desires and passions, and (e) aparigraha or non-acceptance of unnecessary gifts
from other people. Although these practices seem to be too well known to
require any elaboration, yet the Yoga explains all their details and insists that a
yogin must scrupulously follow them. The reason for this is obvious. It is a
psychological law that a sound mind resides in a sound body, and that neither
can be sound in the case of a man who does not control his passions and sexual
impulses. So also, a man cannot concentrate his attention on any object when his
mind is distracted and dissipated by sin and crime and other evil propensities.
This explains the necessity of complete abstention from all the evil courses and
tendencies of life on the part of the yogin who is eager to realise the self in
samādhi or concentration.
The second discipline is niyama or culture. It consists in the cultivation of
the following good habits: (a) śauca or purfication of the body by washing and
taking pure food (which is bāhya or external purification), and purification of the
mind by cultivating good emotions and sentiments, such as friendliness,
kindness, cheerfulness for the virtues and indifference to the vices of others
(which is called ābhyantara or internal purification), (b) san toṣa or the habit of
being content with what comes of itself without undue exertion, (c) tapas or
penance which consists in the habit of enduring cold and heat, etc., and
observing austere vows, (d) svādhyāya or the regular habit of study of religious
books, and (e) Īśvarapraṇidhāna or meditation of and resignation to God.
Āsana is a discipline of the body and consists in the adoption of steady and
comfortable postures. There are various kinds of āsana, such as padmāsana,
vīrāsana, bhadrāsana, etc. These can be properly learnt only under the guidance
of experts. The discipline of the body is as much necessary for the attainment of
concentration as that of the mind. If the body is not completely free from
diseases and other disturbing influences, it is very difficult to attain
concentraion. Hence the Yoga lays down elaborate rules for maintaining the
health of the body and making it a fit vehicle for concentrated thought. It
prescribes many rules for preserving the vital energy, and strengthening and
purifying the body and the mind. The āsanas or postures recommended in it are
effective ways by which the body can be kept partially free from diseases, and
all the limbs, especially the nervous system, can be brought under control and
prevented from producing disturbances in the mind.
Prāṇāyāma is the regulation of breath. It consists in suspension of the
breathing processes either after exhalation (recaka), or inhalation (pūraka), or
simply by retention of the vital breath (kumbhaka). The details of the process
should be learnt from experts. That respiratory exercises are useful for
strengthening the heart and improving its function is recognised by medical men
when they recommend walking, climbing, etc., in a garaduated scale, for patients
with weak hearts. The Yoga goes further and prescribes breath control for
concentration of the mind, because it conduces to steadiness of the body and the
mind. So long as the function of breathing continues, the mind also goes on
fluctuating and noticing the current of air in and out. If, and when, it is
suspended, the mind is in a state of undisturbed concentration. Hence by
practising the control of breath, the yogin can suspend breathing for a long time
and thereby prolong the state of concentration.
Pratyāhāra consists in withdrawing the senses from their respective external
objects and keeping them under the control of the mind. When, the senses are
effectively controlled by the mind, they follow, not their natural objects, but the
mind itself. So in this state the mind is not disturbed by sights, sounds, etc.,
coming through the eye, the ear, and other senses, but keeps all of them under
perfect control. This state is very difficult, although not impossible, of
attainment. It requires a resolute will and long practice to gain mastery over
one's senses. The five disciplines of restraint and culture (yama and niyama),
bodily posture (āsaṇa) breath-control (prāṇāyāma) and control over the senses
(pratyāhāra) are regarded as the external aids to yoga (bahiraṅga-sādhana). As
compared with these, the last three disciplines are said to be internal to yoga
(antaranga-sādhana), because they are directly related to some kind of samādhi
or yoga. These are dhāranā, dhyāna and samādhi.
Dhāraṇā or attention is a mental discipline which consists in holding
(dhāraṇa) or fixing the mind (citta) on the desired object. The object thus
attended to may be a part of one's body, like one's navel, the midpoint of the
eyebrows, etc. or it may be external to the body, like the moon, the images of
gods, etc. The ability to keep one's attention steadily fixed on some object is the
test of fitness for entering the next higher stage of yoga.
Dhyāna or meditation is the next step. It means the even flow of thought
about, or rather, round about, the object of attention. It is the steadfast
contemplation of the object without any break or disturbance. This has the effect
of giving us a clear and distinct representation of the object first by parts and
aspects. But by long continued meditation, the mind can develop the partial
representation of the object into a full and live presentation of it. Thus dhyāna
reveals the reality of the contemplated object to the yogin's mind.
Samādhi or concentration is the final step in the practice of yoga. In it the
mind is so deeply absorbed in the object of contemplation that it loses itself in
the object and has no awareness of itself. In the state of dhyāna, the act and the
object of thought remain distinct and separate states of consciousness. But in
samādhi the act of meditation is not separately cognised; it takes on the form of
the object and loses itself, as it were. So here only the object of thought remains
shining in the mind, and we do not even know that there is a process of thought
in the mind. It should be observed here that 'this samādhi as a discipline is
different from the samādhi or the yoga previously defined as 'the restraint of the
mind' (cittavṛttinirodha)'. The former is but the means for the attainment of the
latter which is its end. A long-continued practice of the one leads to the other.
These last three steps in the practice of yoga are called internal means
(antarangasādhana). They should have the same object, i.e. the same object
should be first attended to, then meditated and lastly concentrated upon. When
thus combined they are said to constitute saṁyama which is very necessary for
the attainment of samādhi-yoga.
A yogin is believed to acquire certain extraordinary powers by the practice
of yoga in its different stages. Thus we are told that the yogins can tame all
creatures including even ferocious animals, get any object by the mere wish of it,
know directly the past, present and future, produce supernatural sights, sounds
and smells and see subtle entities, angels and gods. They can also see through
closed doors, pass through stone walls, disappear from sight, appear at different
places at the same time, and so forth. While these may be possible, the Yoga
system warns all religious aspirants not to practise yoga with these ends in view.
Yoga is for the attainment of liberation. The yogin must not get entangled in the
quagmire of supernormal powers. He must overcome the lure of yogic powers
and move onward till he comes to the end of the journey, viz. liberation.12

IV. THE PLACE OF GOD IN THE YOGA13

As distinguished from the Sāṅkhya, the Yoga is theistic. It admits the existence
of God on both practical and theoretical grounds. Patañjali himself, however, has
not felt the necessity of God for solving any theoretical problem of philosophy.
For him God has more a practical value than a theoretical one. Devotion to God
is considered to be of great practical value, inasmuch as it forms a part of the
practice of yoga and is one of the means for the final attainment of samādhi-yoga
or 'the restraint of the mind.' The subsequent commentators and interpreters of
the Yoga evince also a theoretical interest in God and discuss more fully the
speculative problems as to the nature of God and the proofs for the existence of
God. Thus the Yoga system has come to have both a theoretical and a practical
interest in the Divine Being.
According to the Yoga, God is the Supreme Person who is above all
individual selves and is free from all defects. He is the Perfect Being who is
eternal and all-pervading, omnipotent and omniscient. All individual selves are
more or less subject to the afflictions (kleśa) of ignorance, egoism, desire,
aversion and dread of death. They have to do various kinds of works (karma)—
good, bad and indifferent—and reap the consequences thereof (vipāka). They are
also infected and influenced by the latent impressions of their past experiences
(āśaya). Even if the liberated self is released from all these troubes, it cannot be
said that he was always free from them. It is God and God alone who is eternally
free from all defects. God is the perfect immortal spirit who ever remains
untouched by afflictions and actions, and their effects and impressions (kleśa-
karma-vipākā-śayai-raparāmṛṣṭah). He possesses a perfect nature, the like of
which is not to be met with anywhere else. He has also the fullest possible
knowledge of all facts and is, therefore, capable of maintaining the whole world
by His mere wish or thought. He is the Supreme Ruler of the world, and has
infinite knowledge, unlimited power and wisest desires, which distinguish Him
from all other selves. The existence of God is proved by the following
arguments.
The Vedas, the Upaniṣads and other important scriptures speak of the
existence of God as the Supreme Self who is also the ultimate reality and the
final goal of the world. Therefore, God exists in the way in which the scriptures
testify to His existence.
According to the law of continuity, whatever has degrees must have a lower
and an upper limit. There are, for instance, different magnitudes, small and great.
An atom is the smallest magnitude, while ākāśa or space is the greatest
magnitude. Similarly, there are different degrees of knowledge and power. So
there must be a person who possesses perfect knowledge and perfect power.
Such a supreme person is God, the highest. There cannot be any self who is
equal to God in power and knowledge, for, in that case, there will be conflict and
clash of desires and purposes between them, and a consequent chaos in the
world.
The creation of the world is due to the association of puruṣa with prakṛti, and
its dissolution, to the dissociation of the one from the other. Puruṣa and prakṛti
being two independent principles cannot be said to be naturally related or
associated. Nor are they naturally dissociated, for that would make their relation
inexplicable. So there must be an intelligent cause which effects their association
and dissociation, according to the unseen moral deserts (adṛṣṭa) of individual
selves. No individual self can guide and control its adṛṣṭa or destiny, because it
has no clear understanding about it. Therefore, there must be a perfect and an
omniscient Being who brings about the association or dissociation between
puruṣa and prakṛti according as the adṛṣṭas of the individual selves require the
creation or the destruction of a world. This Being is God, without whose
guidance prakṛti cannot produce just that order of the world which is suited to
the moral education and final emancipation of individual selves.
Devotion to God is not only a part of the practice of yoga but the best means
for the attainment of concentration and restraint of mind (samādhi-yoga). The
reason is that God is not only an object of meditation (dhyāna), like other
objects, but is the Supreme Lord who, by His grace, purges away the sins and
evils in the life of His devotee and makes the attainment of yoga easier for him.
One who is sincerely devoted to God and is resigned unto Him cannot but
meditate on Him at all times and see Him in all the walks of life. On such a
devoted person God bestows his choicest gifts, viz. purity of the heart and
enlightenment of the intellect. God removes all the serious impediments and
obstacles in the path of His devotee, such as the kleśas or afflictions of the mind,
and places him under conditions most favourable for the attainment of yoga. But
while the grace of God can work wonders in our life, we, on our part, must make
ourselves deserving recipients of it through love and charity, truthfulness and
purity, constant meditation of and complete resignation to God.

V. CONCLUSION

To an unsympathetic critic the Yoga may appear to be not so much a system of

philosophy as a school of mysticism and magic. The Yoga conception of the self
as a transcendent subject which is quite distinct from the body, the mind and the
ego, is far removed from the common-sense and the ordinary psychological
concepts of it. As compared with these, the spiritual conception of the self in the
Yoga is apt to be regarded as unintelligible and mysterious. Similarly, the
supernormal powers associated with the different stages in the practice of Yoga
can hardly be reconciled with the known laws of the physical or the psychical
sciences. So these may appear to be reminiscent of some primitive religion of
magic. But it is to be observed that the Yoga scheme of self-realisation has a
solid foundation in the Sāṅkhya metaphysics which proves the reality of the self
as a metaphysical and eternal principle of consciousnes. If one believes in the
transcendent spirit, one cannot but admit that there are deeper levels of
consciousness than the empirical one, and wider possibilities and higher
potencies than those of the physical and the sensuous. Glimpses of this deeper
reality of our individual life have been caught not only by the seers and saints of
different countries, but also by some great philosophers like Plato and Aristotle,
Spinoza and Leibniz, Kant and Hegel. The Society for Psychical Research and
the modern school of psycho-analysis have of late contributed much towards our
knowledge about the dark regions of the psychical life hidden from the ordinary
view. The Yoga goes further in the same direction when it formulates certain
practical methods of purification and self-control for the realisation of the true
self of man. Both from a theoretical and a practical standpoint, it occupies a
better position than the Sāṅkhya in so far as it admits the existence of God and
relies mostly on actual experiences to carry conviction to its followers. What is
necessary for an appreciation of this philosophy is a sympathetic understanding
of it and a sincere endeavour to realise its truths. We find one such appreciation
of it by Miss Coster when she says: 'I am certain that there is a region beyond
that painted drop-scene which forms for so many the boundary of this life; and
that it is penetrable and susceptible of exploration by those who are sufficiently
determined.'14 The aim of yoga is to explore this region of genuine super-
physical experience and to reveal the reality of man and the world—'the real
Self, the Ātman as eternally pure, enlightened and free, as the only true,
unchanging happiness.'15

1. Miss G. Coster has the Yoga system in view when she says: 'We need a new kind of society for
Psychical Research … to demonstrate to the ordinary public the possibility (or impossibility) of
genuine super physical experience on this side' (vide Yoga and Western Psychology p. 246).
2. The verb, 'kliś' is ordinarily intransitive (kliśyati), meaning 'to be afflicted.' 'Kleśa,' then means
affliction or suffering. But 'kliś' is sometimes also transitive (kliśnāti) meaning 'cause affliction,'
'torment.' The present word is more conveniently derived from this transitive sense. Vide Vyāśa-
bhāṣya, 1.5, where kliśṭa = kleśa-hetuka.
3. Cf. Kaṭha Upaniṣad, 6.11.6.18: Svetāśvatara, 2.8, 3.11.
4. Vide Kārikā and Kaumudī, 51.
5. Vide Yoga-sūt. and Vṛtti, 1. 4. Cf. Sāṅkhya theory of 'Evolution of the World.' ante.
6. Yoga-bhāṣya, 1.9.
7. Vide Yoga-sūt., Bhāṣya and Vṛtti, 1.5.11.
8. Op. cit., 2 3–9.
9. Yoga-sūt, and Bhāṣya, 1. 1-4, 1. 12-18, 1. 23.2. 1-2, 4. 29–34.
10. The final stage of saṁprajñāta is called dharmamegha samādhi because it showers on the yogin the
blessing of self-realization. Vide Yoga-sūt, and Bhāṣya, 4.29.
11. Cf. Yoga-sūt. and Bhāṣya, 2.88-55, 3. 1–4.
12. Vide Yoga-sūt., and Bhāṣya, 3. 37, 3.51, 4.1.
13. Vide Yoga-sūt., Bhāṣya and Vṛtti, 1. 23–29. 2. 2, 32, 45, 3. 45.
14. Yoga and Western Psychology, pp. 246–47.
15. Cf. Prabhavānanda and Isherwood. How to Know God: The Yoga Aphorisms of Patañjali, p. 18.
CHAPTER IX

The Mīmāmsā Philosophy

I. INTRODUCTION

We have noticed in the General Introduction that the Pūrva Mīmāṁsā School or
the Mīmāṁsā School, as it is more usually called, is the outcome of the
ritualistic side of the Vedic culture just as the Vedānta (sometimes also called the
Uttara Mīmāṁsā) is the development of its speculative side. The object of the
Mīmāṁsā School is to help and support ritualism chiefly in two ways, namely,
(a) by giving a methodology of interptetation with the help of which the
complicated Vedic injunctions regarding rituals may be understood, harmonised
and followed without difficulty, and (b) by supplying a philosophical
justification of the beliefs on which ritualism depends. We are concerned here
with the second or the philosophical aspect of the Mīmāṁsā.
The faith underlying Vedic ritualism consists of different elements such as
belief in the existence of a soul which survives death and enjoys the fruits of
rituals in heaven, the belief in some power or potency which preserves the
effects of the rituals performed, the belief in the infallibility of the Vedas on
which rituals stand, the belief that the world is real and our life and actions
performed here are not mere dreams. The Buddhists, Jainas and Cārvākas
challenge the authority of the Vedas. The reality of the world and the existence
of the soul are denied by some Buddhists. Some Upaniṣads disparage the idea
that 'heaven' is the goal of man and rituals are the best possible human activities.
The Mīmāṁsā tries to meet all such criticisms and upholds the original faith
underlying ritualism.
Jaimini's Sūtra, in twelve elaborate chapters, laid the foundation of the Pūrva
Mīmāṁsā. Śabarasvāmī wrote the major commentary or Bhāṣya on this work.
He is followed by a long line of commentators and independent writers. The two
most important among them are Kumārila Bhatta and Prabhākara (nicknamed
'Guru'), who founded the two schools of Mīmāṁsā named after them, and thus
the Mīmāṁsā philosophy gradually developed. Etymologically, the word
Mīmāṁsā means 'solution of some problem by reflection and critical
examination.' As its subject-matter was karma or rituals, the Mīmāṁsā is also
sometimes called Karma or Dharma Mīmāṁsā.
The philosophy of the Mīmāṁsā School may be conveniently discussed
under three heads, namely, Theory of Knowledge, Metaphysics, and Ethics and
Theology.

II. THE MĪMĀṀSĀ THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE

In its attempt to justify the authority of the Vedas, the Mīmāṁsā came to discuss
very elaborately the nature of knowledge, the nature and criterion of truth as well
as of falsity, the different sources of valid knowledge (pramāṇas) and other
cognate problems. The epistemology of the Mīmāṁsā deals with some very
interesting problems. Other schools, specially the Vedānta, freely draw upon the
Mīmāṁsā in epistemological matters. We shall notice here very briefly some of
the peculiar and importnat things.

1. The Nature and Sources of Knowledge

The Mīmāṁsā, like most other schools, admits two kinds of knowledge,
immediate and mediate. Valid knowledge is one which yields some new
information about something, is not contradicted by any other knowledge and is
not generated by defective conditions (such as defective sense-organ in the cases
of perceptual knowledge, fallacious premises in the cases of inference, etc.)1
The object of immediate knowledge must be something existing (sat). Only
when such an object is related to sense (one of the five external senses and the
internal sense, manas), there arises in the soul an immediate knowledge about it.
When an object is related to sense, at first there arises a bare awareness of the
object. We simply know that the object is, but have not yet understood what it is.
This primary, indeterminate, immediate knowledge is called nirvikalpaka
pratyaksa or ālocana-jñāna. When at the next stage we interpret the meaning of
this object in the light of our past knowledge and come to understand what it is,
that is, what class it belongs to, what quality, activity and name it possesses, we
have a determinate (savikalpaka) perception, which is expressed by judgments
like 'This is a man,' 'This has a stick,' 'This is white,' 'This is moving.' 'This is
Ram.'2
Perception, thus completed in two stages, gives us a real knowledge of the
world composed of different objects. Though at the first stage the objects are not
known explicitly, all that we know about them at the second stage is implicitly
known even at first. In understanding the object at the second stage, the mind
only interprets, in the light of past experience, what is given at first; it does not
ascribe to it any imaginary predicate. For if we did not perceive at first a man, a
white one, etc., how could we judge later that it was a man, it was white, etc.,
and that it was not a cow and not black, etc. Hence it must be admitted that
perception in spite of containing an element of interpretation, is not necessarily
imaginary and illusory as some Baudhas and some Vedāntins hold. Neither is it
true that what we are immediately aware of, before the mind interprets, is a
purely unique particular (svalakṣaṇa) without any distinguishing class character
(as those Baudhas hold), or is pure existence without any differentiating property
(as those Vedāntins say). The diverse objects of the world with their different
characteristics are given to the mind at the very first moment when we become
aware of them.3

2. Non-perceptual Sources of Knowledge

In addition to perception, there are five other valid sources of knowledge,
admitted by the Mīmāṁsā, namely, inference (anumāna), comparison
(upamāna), authority or testimony (śabda), postulation (arthāpatti) and non-
perception (anupalabdhi). The last one is admitted only by the school of
Kumārila Bhaṭṭa and not by that of Prabhākara. The Mīmāṁsā theory of
inference is more or less similar to that of the Nyāya and need not be mentioned
here. We shall discuss the other four non-perceptual sources of knowledge.

(i) Comparison (upamāna)

It has been previously seen that the Nyāya admits comparison as a unique source
of knowledge. But the Mīmāṁsā, though accepting comparison as an
independent source, accepts it in quite a different sense. According to it,
knowledge arises from comparison when, on perceiving a present object to be
like an object perceived in the past, we come to know that the remembered
object is like the perceived one. Some examples will make this clear. On seeing a
rat one perceives that it is like a mouse perceived in the past, and thence he gets
the knowledge that the remembered mouse is like the perceived rat. This
knowledge, namely, 'that mouse, perceived in the past, is like this rat,' is obtained
from comparison, or from the knowledge of a similarity of the rat to the mouse.
Similarly one who has seen a cow previously at home goes to a forest and finds a
gavaya (nilgai) and perceives its similarity to the cow at home. He may thence
obtain by comparison (i.e. by the knowledge of this similarity) the further
knowledge that the cow at home is like the gavaya.4
Such knowledge cannot be classed under perception. For, the object (the
mouse or the cow) known to be similar is not perceived then. It does not come
under memory, because though the object was perceived in the past, its similarity
to the present object was not then known, and, therefore, this similarity cannot
be said to be simply remembered. It is not also an inference. From a knowledge
like 'this gavaya is like the cow at home' we cannot infer 'the cow at home is like
this gavaya,' unless we have another premise like 'all things are similar to other
things which are similar to them.'5 And such a universal premise containing an
invariable concomitance between two terms is not really used in the above case
where one arrives at the knowledge of the absent cow's similarity to the present
gavaya, from the perception of the gavaya being similar to the cow. Again, such
knowledge does not obviously arise from verbal testimony or authority. Hence it
is given an independent place.
The Nyāya holds that on learning from an authority that a gavaya is like a
cow, a person goes to a forest, perceives some animal like the cow and thence he
has by upamāna or comparison the knowledge that such an animal is a gavaya.
Against this Nyāya view it is pointed out by Mīmāṁsaka writers that the
knowledge that the particular animal perceived is like the cow is derived from
perception and the knowledge that such an animal looking like the cow is a
gavaya is obtained thrugh recollection of what was previously learned from
some authority. Lastly, the knowledge that this particular animal is a gavaya, is a
mere inference from the last knowledge. Hence what the Nyāya considers to be
derived from a new source, namely comparison, is not really so.6
It may be noted here that though the account given above is the one
generally accepted by later Mīmāṁsakas, Śabarasvāmī7 seems to understand
upamāna, as, what is called in Western logic analogical argument. The existence
of another self is proved, he remarks, by an argument like this. 'Just as you felt
the existence of your own self, similarly by analogy you can believe that others
also feel the existence of their own selves.' Such an argument he calls upamāna.
Śabara's definition of upamāna as 'knowledge of an unperceived object as being
similar to some known object,' is not incompatible with the suggestion that he
takes upamāna as analogical argument.
It should also be remembered that 'similarity' (sādṛśya), which is the object
of upamāna is regarded by the Mīmāṁsā as an independent category of reality. It
is pointed out that similarity cannot be called a quality (guṇa), because a quality
cannot be possessed by another quality; but 'similarity' is possessed by qualities
even. It cannot be treated as a universal (sāmānya or jāti). Because a universal
means something which is exactly identical in many individuals (e.g. cowness in
cows). Similarity does not mean any completely identical character.

(ii) Authority or Testimony (śabda)

The Mīmāṁsā pays the greatest attention to this source of knowledge, because it
has to justify the authority of the Vedas.
An intelligible sentence yields knowledge except when it is known to be the
statement of an unreliable person (anāpta-vākya). This is known as verbal
testimony or simply testimony (śabda) or authority. There are two kinds of
authority—personal (pauruṣeya) and impersonal (apauruṣeya). The first consists
in the written or spoken testimony of some person. The second denotes the
authority of the Vedas. Again, authority may either give information as to the
existence of objects (siddhārthavākya) or give directions for the performance of
some action (vidhāyaka vākya). The Mīmāṁsā is interested primarily in the
impersonal authority of the Vedas and that again, because the Vedas give
directions for performing the sacrificial rites. The Vedas are looked upon as the
Book of Commandments; and therein lies their value. The Mīmāṁsā even holds
that as the sole use of the Vedas lies in directing rituals, any part of them which
does not contain such direction but gives information about the existence of
anything is useless, unless it can be shown at least to serve the purpose of
persuading persons to follow the injunctions for performing rituals.8 The attempt
is constantly made, therefore, to show all existential sentences (regarding the
soul, immortality, etc.) as indirectly connected with some commandment, by
way of persuading people to perform some ritual or dissuading them from
forbidden activity. This attitude of the Mīmāṁsā reminds us of modern
Pragmatism which holds that every type of knowledge—ordinary, scientific or
philosophical—is valuable only in so far as it leads to some practical activity.
The Mīmāṁsā philosophy may be called ritualistic Pragmatism, for according to
it the value of Vedic knowledge is for ritualistic activity.
According to most of the pro-Vedic schools, the authority of the Vedas lies in
their being the words of God. But the Mīmāṁsā which does not believe in any
Creator or Destroyer of the world, believes that the Vedas, like the world, are
eternal.9 They are not the work of any person, human or divine. Hence the
authority of the Vedas is said to be impersonal. Elaborate arguments are
advanced to support this view. If the Vedas had any author, his name would have
been known and remembered; for, the Vedic lore has been passed down by an
unbroken series of successive generations of teachers and learners from
unknown antiquity. But no such name is remembered. Even those (among the
ancient Indian thinkers) who believe that the Vedas are not eternal, but produced,
are not unanimous as to their origin. Some ascribe them to God, some to
Hiraṇyagarbha, some to Prajāpati. The fact is that they think vaguely, on the
analogy of ordinary books, that the Vedas also must have some author, but do
not know precisely who the author is. The names of certain persons are of course
cited along with the Vedic hymns. But they are the seers (ṛṣis) to whom the
hymns were revealed, or the expositors or the founders of the different Vedic
shools (sampradāyas). So the Vedas are not the works of any person.
But are not the Vedas composed of words and are not words produced and
non-eternal? In reply to this question, the Mīmāṁsakas propound the theory that
word (śabdas) are not really the perceived sounds (dhvanis). The sounds
produced by the speaker and perceived by the hearer are only the revealers of the
words which are not themselves produced. Words are really the letters which are
partless and uncaused. A letter, like 'k', is pronounced (and revealed) by different
persons at different places and times in different ways. Though these letter-
sounds vary, we recognise that the same letter is pronounced by all of them. This
identity of the letter shows that it is not produced at any. time and place, but
transcends them. So the words as letters may be regarded as eternal, that is, as
having existence, but being uncaused.
Another argument in support of the theory that the Vedas are not the works
of any person is that they enjoin some ritual duties and declare that fruits (like
attainment of heaven) depend on how devotedly the rituals have been performed.
The connection between the actions and such fruits is not such as can be said to
have been observed by any person (like the connection between the taking of a
prescribed medicine and the cure of a disease). So no person can be said to be
the author of the Vedas. It is also not reasonable to hold that the author may be a
cunning deceiver (as the Cārvākas suggest). For had it been so, no one would
care to study such deceptive works and hand them down to posterity.10
The infallibility of the authority of the Vedas rests on the fact that they are
not vitiated by any defects to which the work of imperfect persons is subject.
But in addition to the impersonal Vedic authority, the testimony of a reliable
person (āpta) also is accepted by the Bhāṭṭas11 as a valid source of knowledge.
There, however, a special value is attached to Vedic authority, because the
knowledge of the commandments (dharma) which we have from it is not to be
obtained from any other source, such as perception and inference. While the
knowledge that personal authority may impart to us can be sometimes obtained
otherwise by perception, inference, etc. and is itself based on such previous
knowledge, the knowledge derived from the Vedas is neither obtainable
otherwise nor dependent on any previous knowledge, the Vedas being eternal.
But the Prābhākaras,12 like the Vaiśeṣikas, hold that the statement of a non-Vedic
authority yields knowledge through inference based on the reliability of the
authority.
In reply to those who try to reduce all knowledge derived from testimony to
inference on the ground that the validity of such knowledge is ascertained by
inference based on the reliability of authority, the Mīmāṁsā makes an important
reply. It asserts that the validity of every knowledge is assured by the conditions
which generate that knowledge, so that the knowledge imparted by authority,
like every other knowledge, carries with itself such assurance of its own truth.
We shall see later on the full reasons in support of this view.

(iii) Postulation (arthāpatti)

Pestulation13 (arthāpatti) is the necessary supposition of an unperceived fact
which alone can explain a phenomenon that demands explanation. When a given
phenomenon is such that we cannot understand it in any way without supposing
some other fact, we have to postulate this other fact byway of explaining the
phenomenon. This process of explaining an otherwise inexplicable phenomenon
by the affirmation of the explaining fact is called arthāpatti.14 Thus when a man,
who is growing fat, is observed to fast during the day, we find an apparent
contradiction between his growing fatness and his fasting. We cannot in any way
reconcile these two facts, namely, fatness and fasting, unless we admit that the
man eats at night. That the man must east at night explains the complex whole of
apparently conflicting facts, namely, fasting attended with increasing fatness.
Knowledge obtained in this way is distinctive because it is not reducible to
perception or inference: and it is not, of course, a case of testimony or
comparison. Such knowledge cannot be explained as perception since we do not
see the man eat at night. Nor is it a case of inference, because there is no
invariable concomitance (vyāpti) between fatness and eating at night, so that we
cannot say that whenever there is fatness there is eating at night, as we can say
that wherever there is smoke there is fire.
Though we are not ordinarily aware of it, we employ this method of
arthāpatti very often in daily life. Some examples will make this clear. When we
call on a friend and do not find him at home, though we are sure that he is alive,
we say: 'He must be somewhere outside home.' This last supposition is made by
us because this alone can explain how a man who is alive cannot be at home.
This method is also largely used by us in the interpretation of language. When
some words are omitted in a sentence, we suppose those words without which
the meaning implied by the context cannot be explained. On reading or hearing a
sentence like 'shut up,' we supply (by arthāpatti) the words 'your lips,' because
without them the meaning is incomplete. Similarly, when the primary meaning
of a word does not suit the context, we suppose a secondary or figurative
meaning which alone can explain the sentence. For example, when we are told,
'Industry is the key to success' we suppose that the meaning of 'key' here must be
'means' and not a real key.
Mīmāṁsakas distinguish between two kinds of postulation, that which is
employed to explain something which is perceived (dṛṣṭārthāpatti), such as
fatness in a man who is fasting by day, and that which is used to explain the
meanings of words heard (srutārthāpatti), such as those cited above.
It will be found that arthāpatti resembles a hypotheisis as understood in
Western logic. It appears to be like an explanatory hypothesis. But the difference
is that it lacks the tentative or provisional character of a hypothesis. What is
known by arthāpatti is not simply hypothetically supposed or entertained, but is
believed in as the only possible explanation. As arthāpatti arises out of a demand
for explanation, it is different from a syllogistic inference the object of which is
to conclude from given facts, and not to explain given facts. Atthāpatti is a
search for grounds whereas an inference is a search for consequents.

(iv) Anupalabdhi or non-perception

According to the Bhāṭṭa Mīmāṁsā and the Advaita Vedānta, non-perception
(anupalabdhi) is the source of our immediate cognition of the non-existence of
an object. The question here is: How do I know the non-existence, say, of a jar
on the table before me? It cannot be said that I perceive it with my senses,
because non-existence is a negative fact which cannot stimulate any sense as a
positive fact like the table can. The Bhāṭṭas and the Advaitins hold, therefore,
that the non-existence of the jar on the table is known from the absence of its
cognition, that is, from its non-perception (anupalabdhi). I judge that the jar does
not exist on the table because it is not perceived. It cannot be said that the non-
existence of the jar is inferred from its non-perception. For, such an inference is
possible, if we already possess the knowledge of a universal relation between
non-perception and non-existence, that is, if we know that when an object is not
perceived it does not exist. Thus it would be begging the question or assumption
of the very thing which was sought to be proved by inference. Nor can we
explain the knowledge of the jar's non-existence by comparison or testimony,
since it is not due to any knowledge of similarity or of words and sentences.
Hence to explain the direct knowledge of the jar's non-existence, we have to
recognise non-perception (anupalabdhi) as a separate and an independent source
of knowledge.15
It should, however, be remarked here that all non-perception does not mean
the non-existence of what is not perceived. We do not see a table in the dark, nor
do we perceive any such supersensible entities as atoms, ether, virtue, vice. Yet
we do not judge them to be non-existent. If a thing should have been perceived
under certain circumstances, then only its non-perception under those
circumstances would give the knowledge of its non-existence. It is such
appropriate non-perception (Yogyānupalabdhi) that is the source of our
knowledge of non-existence.

3. The Validity of Knowledge

Whenever there are sufficient conditions for the generation of a particular kind of
knowledge (and, therefore, no grounds for doubt or disbelief are known), there
arises at once that kind of knowledge containing an element of belief in the
object known. For example, when our normal eyes light on an object
conveniently situated in broad daylight, there is visual perception; when we hear
someone speak a meaningful sentence, we have knowledge from his testimony.
When there are sufficient premises, inference takes place. That we act on such
knowledge in everyday life as soon as we have it, without any attempt to test its
validity by argument, shows that we believe in it as soon as it arises; and the fact
that such knowledge leads to successful activity and not to any contradiction
shows further that such knowledge is valid. When, however, the conditions
required for the generation of that kind of knowledge are known to be defective
or wanting if, for example, the eyes are jaundiced, light is insufficient, premises
are doubtful or words are meaningless, etc. no such knowledge arises; neither,
therefore, does any belief arise, so long as the grounds for doubt and disbelief do
not disappear. From these facts two conclusions are drawn by the Mīmāṁsā. (a)
The validity of knowledge arises from the very conditions that give rise to that
knowledge, and not from any extra conditions (prāmāṇyam svataḥ utpadyate).
(b) The validity of a knowledge is also believed in or known as soon as the
knowledge arises; belief does not await the verification of the knowledge by
some other knowledge, say, an inference (prāmāṇyam svataḥ jñāyate ca). This
Mīmāṁsā view, in its double aspect, is known as the theory of intrinsic validity
(svataḥprāmāṇya vāda).16
Truth is self-evident, according to this view. Whenever any knowledge
arises, it carries with it an assurance about its own truth. Sometimes another
knowledge may point out that this assurance is misleading, or that the conditions
of the knowledge are defective. In such a case we infer from the existence of
defective conditions, the falsity of the knowledge. Thus the falsity of a
knowledge is ascertained by inference, while truth is self-evident. To put the
whole position simply, belief is normal, disbelief is an exception. As perception,
inference and any other knowledge arise, we implicitly accept them, believe in
them without further argument, unless we are compelled by some contrary
evidence to doubt their validity or to infer their falsity. On this unsuspecting faith
in our knowledge our life runs smoothly.
Against the Nyāya theory that validity is generated by some extra conditions
(such as soundness of organs), over and above the ordinary conditions which
generate the knowledge, the Mīmāṁsā points out that those extra conditions
really form a part of the normal conditions of that knowledge; without them
there would be no belief and, therefore, no knowledge at all. Against the Nyāya
view that the validity of every knowledge is ascertained by inference, the
Mīmāṁsā points out that this would lead us to an infinite regress and activity
would be impossible. If any knowledge, say, a perception, before being acted
upon were to be verified by an inference, then by the same Nyāya rule that
inference also would have to be verified by another inference and so on; and
there would have been no end to this process of verification and life would have
been impossible. As soon as we perceive a tiger we run away, as soon as we
infer the approach of a car from its horn we guard our steps; if we are to wait for
verifying our knowledge with the never-ending series of inferences, we should
have to wait for ever before we could act on any knowledge. It is true that when
there is any positive cause for doubt regarding any knowledge, we take the help
of verifying inference; but that only does the negative work of removing the
obstacles that stand in the way of knowledge. After the obstacles are removed,
knowledge arises out of its own usual conditions, if present there, and along with
it arise its validity and belief in its validity. If that verifying inference is unable
to remove doubt, then that knowledge does not arise at all.
Belief in authority, personal or impersonal, Vedic or non-Vedic, arises in a
similar way. On hearing a meaningful sentence we at once believe in what it says
unless there are reasons for doubt or disbelief. Therefore, authority of the
eternal, impersonal Vedas also stands on its own legs. Its validity is self-evident
and not dependent on inference. Arguments are necessary for the negative work
of clearing the mind of doubts. This being done, the Vedas themselves reveal
their own meanings, and belief invariably accompanies the understanding of
these meanings. To secure this belief all that the Mīmāṁsā does is to refute the
possible grounds on which the infallibility of the Vedas may be doubted, and
thus to prepare the mind for the immediate acceptance of what is known from
the Vedas.

4. What is error?
If truth is self-evident and every knowledge claims truth, how does error arise?
The problem of error has been discussed threadbare by every Indian School. The
Prabhākaras17 hold that every knowledge is true, that nothing false ever appears
in any error like the mistaking of a rope for a serpent. Even in a so-called case of
serpent, we have a mixture of two different kinds of knowledge, the perception
of a long tortuous thing and the memory of a serpent perceived in the past, and
each of these is true. Only owing to lapse of memory we forget that the serpent is
a thing perceived in the past; and the distinction between the perceived and
remembered objects is not observed: we behave towards the rope as we should
towards a serpent. It is this behaviour which is faulty. The cognitive defect here
is a lapse of memory (smṛti-Pramoṣa) or its effect, non discrimination
(vivekāgraha). This is negative and is surely not the same thing as error, which
means not merely a want of knowledge but a positive mental state. This
Prabhākara theory of error is technically known as akhyāti vāda or denial of
illusory appearance. The Bhāṭṭas do not accept this theory.18 They point out that
mere non-discrimination cannot explain error. We cannot deny that sometimes
the illusory object appears positively before us. No one can deny that if the eye-
ball is pressed while looking at the moon, two moons positively appear before
us. The serpent illusion is also similar. In explanation of error, the Bhāṭṭas point
out tht when we perceive snake in a rope and judge 'This is a serpent,' both the
subject and the predicate are real. The existing rope is brought under the serpent-
class which also exists in the world. Error consists, however, in relating these
two really existing but separate things in the subject-predicate way. 'Error always
attaches to such wrong relation' (saṁsarga), and not to the objects related which
are always real. Even in the moon illusion, two real parts of space perceived are
attributed to the real moon perceived, and by such wrong relation the one moon
appears to be in two places. Such wrong judgement makes one behave in a way
which is the reverse of the right one. This Bhāṭṭa theory of error is, therefore,
known as viparīta-khyāti-vāda or the view that error is the reversal of right
behaviour (akāryasya kāryatayā bhānam).
Thus we find that the Prabhākaras exempt all knowledge from error, but the
Bhāṭṭas admit that error may affect some cognitive relations of objects, though
the objects themselves are always correctly perceived. But according to both,
error chiefly affects our activity rather than knowledge. Moreover, error is rather
an exceptional case of the falsification of the normal claim that every knowledge
makes for truth. On the acceptance of this claim alone our everyday life becomes
possible. Therefore the falsification of the truth-claim in some cases does not
affect the normal acceptance of it.

III. MĪMĀṀSĀ METAPHYSICS

1. General Outlook
Depending on the validity of sense-perception, the Mīmāṁsā believes in the
reality of the world with all its diverse objects. It rejects, therefore, the
Buddhistic theory of voidness and momentariness, as well as the Advaita theory
of the unreality of the phenomenal world. In addition to objects perceived it
comes to believe, through other sources of knowledge, in souls, heaven, hell and
deities to whom sacrifice is to be performed, according to the Vedic
commandments. The souls are permanent, eternal substances, and so also are the
material elements by the combination of which the world is made. The law of
karma is thought sufficient to guide the formation of objects. The world is
composed of (a) living bodies wherein the souls reap the consequences of their
past deeds (bhogāyatana), (b) the sensory and motor organs, i.e. the indriyas,
which are instruments for suffering or enjoying those consequences (bhoga-
sādhana), and (c) the objects which constitute the fruits to be suffered or enjoyed
(bhogyaviṣaya). No necessity is felt for admitting the existence of God. Some
Mīmāṁsakas19 believe like the Vaiśeṣikas in the atomic theory. But the
difference is that, according to the Mimāṁsā, atoms do not require, for their
arrangement in the world, an efficient cause like God. The autonomous law of
karma independently regulates the atoms. There is neither creation nor total
destruction. 'The world is eternally there.'20 This Mīmāṁsā view is unique in
Indian Philosophy.
The Mīmāṁsakas mostly follow the Vaiśeṣika conception of Padārthas and
their sub-classes. The important points on which they differ from the Vaiśeṣikas
may be noted here. The Prabhā karas do not admit non-existence as a separate
reality, but consider it to be but an aspect of its locus. All Mīmāṁsakas recognise
Śakti (potency) as an important causal factor, some accepting it as a new
padārtha, others as a quality inherent in a cause. Some reject Viśeṣa and
Samavāya, and admit only the remaining five padārthas. Some admit Sound
(Śabda) as an eternal substance, the audible sounds being regarded as its
manifestations. In these deviations, even the writers of the same school
sometimes differ among themselves.
The Mīmāṁsā metaphysics is then pluralistic and realistic. It is not
empiricism, because it believes in the non-empirical Vedic source of knowledge
which is thought even to be more dependable than sense-experience21 and also
because it believes in many realities like potential energy, the unseen moral
principle, heaven, hell, etc., which cannot be known through sense-experience.

2. The Theory of Potential Energy (śakti and apūrva)

In connection with the question of causation, the Mīmāṁsā formulates the theory
of potential energy (śakti).22 A seed possesses in it an imperceptible power
(śakti) with the help of which it can produce the sprout; when this power is
obstructed or destroyed (as, for example, by the frying of the seed), it fails to
produce that effect. Similarly, there is the power of burning in fire, the power of
expressing meaning and inducing activity in a word, the power of illumination in
light and so on. The necessity of admitting such unperceived potency in the
cause is that it explains why in some cases though the cause (i.e. seed or fire) is
there, the effect (i.e. sprout or burning) does not take place. The explanation is
that in such cases though the cause-substance is there, its causal potency has
been destroyed or overpowered temporarily, as the case may be, by some
obstructing conditions obtaining there.
The Nyāya realists reject this theory. They say that even without admitting
an imperceptible potency in causes, the above difficulty may be solved by
holding that a cause produces the effect in the absence of obstructions and does
not produce it in their presence. The Mīmāṁsā meets this objection by saying
that as we have to admit, even according to the Nyāya, something else in
addition to the cause (namely, absence of obstruction), for the production of the
effect, the Nyāya suggestion is no improvement. If you must suppose something,
why not admit a positive something in the very substance (say, seed) which is
taken by all as the cause (say, of the sprout), rather than an additional negative
condition having a causal power. It would be reasonable, therefore, to suppose in
the cause-substance a positive power (śakti) to explain the positive effect, and to
suppose the non-functioning of this power (owing to its destruction or
suppression) to explain the negative fact of non-happening of the effect.
One important application of this theory of potency made by the Mīmāṁsā is
for the solution of the problem how an action like a sacrifice performed now
bears fruit after a long time (say, after this life, in Heaven) when the action has
ceased. It is held that the ritual performed here generates in the soul of the
performer an unperceived potency (i.e., power for generating the fruit of the
action) called apūrva, which remains in the soul and bears fruit when
circumstances are favourable.23 It will be found that the theory of apūrva is a
limited hypothesis which tries to explain a part of the general problem of
conservation of the fruits of all actions, ritualistic and non-ritualistic, which the
more universal law of karma seeks to explain.

3. The Mīmāṁsā Conception of Soul

The conception of soul in the Mīmāṁsā is more or less like that of other realistic
and pluralistic schools such as the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika.24 The soul is an eternal,
infinite substance, which is related to a real body in a real world and it survives
death to be able to reap the consequences of its action performed here.
Consciousness is not the essence of the soul, but an adventitious quality which
arises when some conditions are present. In dreamless sleep and in the state of
liberation the soul has no consciousness, because its conditions, such as the
relation of sense to object, are absent. There are as many souls as there are
individuals. The souls are subject to bondage and can also obtain liberation. In
all these respects, the grounds on which the Mīmāṁsā views are based, resemble
those of the other schools mentioned previously and we need not repeat them
here.
Regarding the knowledge of the soul, however, there is something worth
mentioning. The Bhāṭṭa School holds that the self is not known whenever any
object is known. It is known occasionally. When we reflect on the self, we know
it as the object of self-consciousness (ahaṁ-vitti). But the Prabhākara School
objects to this view on the ground that the very conception of self-consciousness
is untenable, because the self cannot be both subject and object of the same act
of knowledge any more than food can be both the cook and the cooked. The
functions of the subject and the object are mutually incompatible (karma-
kartṛvirodha) and cannot be attributed to the same thing at the same time. In
every act of knowing an object, however, the self is revealed as the subject by
that very knowledge. It is thus that we can speak of the self as the knower in
judgments like 'I know this pot.' If I myself did not appear as the subject in every
knowledge, the distinction between my knowledge and another man's knowledge
would have been impossible.25 The Bhāṭṭas reply to this that if the self were
revealed whenever an object were known, we would have invariably had then a
judgment like 'I know this pot.' But this is not always the case. This shows that
self-consciousness does not always accompany the consciousness of an object;
but it only occasionally takes place and is, therefore, something different from
the consciousness of objects. As for the opposition between subjectivity and
objectivity, it is more verbal than real. If there were any real opposition, then the
Vedic injunction 'Know the self,' and everyday judgments like 'I know myself
would have been meaningless. Besides, if the self were never the object of any
knowledge, how could we remember the existence of the self in the past? Here
the past self cannot be said to be the subject or knower of the present memory-
knowledge; it can only be the object of the present self that knows it.26 This
shows that the self can become the object of knowledge.
Closely connected with this question is another, namely, 'How is knowledge
known?' The Prabhākaras hold that in every knowledge of an object, such as
expressed by the judgment 'I know this pot,' three factors are present, namely, 'I'
or the knower (jñātā), the object known (jñeya) and the knowledge itself (jñāna).
All these three are simultaneously revealed (tripuṭījñāna). Whenever knowledge
arises, it reveals itself, its object and the subject. Knowledge is self-revealing
(svayamprakāśa) and is the revealer of its subject and object as well. The Bhāṭṭas
hold, on the contrary, that knowledge by its very nature is such that it cannot be
the object of itself, just as the finger-tip cannot touch itself. But how then do we
at all come to know that we have the knowledge of a certain object? The Bhāṭṭas
reply that whenever we perceive an object it appears to be either unfamiliar or
familiar. If it appears to be familiar or previously known (jñāta), then from this
character of familiarity or knownness (jñātatā) which the object presents to us,
we infer that we had a knowledge of that object. Knowledge is thus known
indirectly by inference on the ground of the familiarity or knownness observed
in the object.
 IV. MĪMĀṀSĀ RELIGION AND ETHICS

1. The Place of the Vedas in Religion

The Mīmāṁsā does not believe in a creator of the world. In its anxiety to secure
the supreme place for the eternal Vedas, the Mīmāṁsā could not believe in God
whose authority would be superior to, or at least on a par with, that of the Vedas.
According to the Mīmāṁsā, the Vedas embody not so much eternal truths as
eternal injunctions or laws which enjoin the performance of the sacrificial rites.
Religion or Dharma thus becomes identical with the Vedic injunctions (codanā-
lakṣaṇo'rtho dharmaḥ). The Vedas supply the criterion of what is right, and what
is wrong. A good life is a life led in obedience to the Vedic commandments.

2. The Conception of Duty

The sacrifices performed in the Vedic times were calculated to please, by
oblations and hymns, different deities (the Fire-god, the Sun-god, the Rain-god
and others) either to win some favour or avert some ill. Though the Mīmāṁsā is
a continuation of this Vedic cult, the ceremonial details of the rituals absorb its
interest, rather than the gods themselves who gradually recede and fade into
mere grammatical datives. A deity comes to be described not by its moral or
intellectual qualities, but as 'that which is signified, in a sacrificial injunction, by
the fourth case-ending' (the sign of a dative, to which something is given). In
short, a deity is necessary merely as that in whose name an oblation is to be
offered at a sacrifice. But the primary object of performing a sacrifice, says an
eminent Mīmāṁsaka, is not worship: it is not to please any deity. Nor is it
purification of the soul or moral improvement.27 A ritual is to be performed just
because the Vedas command us to perform them. Some of these rituals, it is true,
are to be performed in order to enjoy Heaven hereafter or to obtain worldly
benefits such as rainfall. But there are some (e.g. nitya and naimittika karmas)
which must be performed just because they are enjoined by the Vedas. Here the
Mīmāṁsā ethics reaches, through ritualism, the highest point of its glory,
namely, the conception of duty for duty's sake. Like Kant, the Mīmāṁsā believes
that an obligatory action is to be performed not because it will benefit the
performer but because we ought to perform it. Like him, again, the Mīmāṁsā
believes that though an obligatory duty is not to be done with any interested
motive, yet the Universe is so constituted that a person who performs his duty
does not ultimately go unrewarded. The difference is that while for this purpose
the Mīmāṁsā postulates in the universe the impersonal moral law of karma,
Kant postulates God. Again, whereas the source of obligation for Kant is the
higher self (which commands to the lower, 'thou oughtest to do what is good'),
for the Mīmāṁsā it is the impersonal Vedic authority which categorically enjoins
duty.

3. The Highest Good

The highest good in the early Mīmāṁsā conception appears to have been the
attainment of Heaven or a state in which there is unalloyed bliss. Heaven is
regarded as the usual end of rituals,28 The Mīmāṁsā writers gradually fall in
with the other Indian thinkers and accept liberation from bondage to the flesh as
the highest good (niḥśreyasa). They realise that the performance of actions, good
or bad, if dictated by any desire for enjoyment of objects, causes repeated birth.
When one understands that worldly pleasures are all mingled with pain, and
becomes disgusted with life in the world, one tries to control one's passions,
desists, from forbidden actions, as well as actions with motives of future
enjoyment. Thus the chance of future birth and bondage is removed. By the
disinterested performance of obligatory duties and knowledge of the self, the
karmas accumulated in the past are also gradually worn out. After this life such a
person, being free from all karma-ties, is never born again. He is thus liberated.
As bondage is the fettering of the soul to the world through the body including
the senses, the motor organs and manas, liberation is the total destruction of such
bondage through the stoppage of rebirth.29
We have seen already that, according to the Mīmāṁsā, consciousness and
other mental states are not inherent in the soul. They arise only when the soul is
related to objects through the body and the organs. The liberated soul, being
dissociated from the body and, therefore, from all the organs including manas,
cannot have any consciousness: nor can it, therefore, enjoy bliss. Liberation is
then desirable not as a state of bliss, but as the total cessation of painful
experience. It is a state where the soul remains in its own intrinsic nature,
beyond pleasure and pain.30 The soul in its intrinsic state (svastha) can be
defined only as substance having existence and a potentiality for consciousness
—though no actual consciousness. Some later Bhāṭṭas hold, however, like the
Advaitins, that liberation is an experience of joy31
4. Is Mīmāṁsā Atheistic?
Should the Mīmāṁsā be called atheistic? Though the reply to this question
would seem to be in the affirmative in the light of the traditional conception of
the Mīmāṁsā philosophy we have described above, doubts are raised by such a
competent authority as Max Müller.32 Bearing in mind that of all schools the
Mīmāṁsā claims to follow the Vedas most faithfully, he finds it difficult to
believe that it could reject the Vedic belief in God. The arguments adduced by
the Mīmāṁsakas against the conception of a creator of the universe mean,
according to Max Müller, that if God were supposed to be the creator, He would
be liable to the charges of cruelty, partiality, etc. But the rejection of a creator
God, he contends, is not necessarily the rejection of God. Even some forms of
pantheism like those of the Advaita Vedānta and Spinoza, Max Müller contends,
do not accept the reality of creation; and it is unfair to call them atheistic, just
because they do not conform to the customary conception of God.
If the Mīmāṁsā is to be judged by the Vedic ancestry, of which it is so
proud, then Max Müller is perhaps right. But judged by what the Mīmāṁsā itself
does and says, his contention cannot be fully accepted. When we find that the
early Mīmāṁsakas are silent about God and later ones reject the proofs for the
existence of God, like the Jainas, without replacing them by any other, we have
no positive proof that the early Vedic faith was still alive in them. The different
Vedic deities of course still form necessary parts of the sacrifices performed.
Depending on this evidence one might say at best that the Mīmāṁsā believes in
polytheism. But even such a view is rendered doubtful by the facts that these
deities are not regarded as objects of worship,33 nor even belived to have any
existence anywhere except in the Vedic hymns (mantras) that describe them.34
While the Vedic hymns are inspired by the living presence of the deity in the
place of worship, the Mīmāṁsaka wonders how the deity can be simultaneously
present in different places where he is invoked.35 So polytheism of the ordinary
kind cannot also be attributed to the Mīmāṁsā without some qualification. The
deities of the Mīmāṁsaka are immortal entities. They are not existing persons,
belonging to the space-time world. But they are not the products of our
imagination either; they are eternal and self-manifesting entities described by the
eternal, self-revealing Vedas. There may be some grandeur and even purity in
such a conception of deities, but one would miss here the living faith of the
Vedas. It would not be fair, then, to judge the Mīmāṁsā simply by its Vedic
ancestry. Inherited elements of a faith, like inherited limbs, become atrophied by
disuse. The Vedic conception of God had no active place in the Mīmāṁsā
scheme of life, as it had in the Vedānta one, and it is natural that it should
gradually fade away. The Mīmāṁsā is one of the many examples in human
history of how an over-emphasised means becomes its own end, and how gods
are sacrificed for temples, prophets and books. In its great anxiety to maintain
the supremacy of the Vedas, the Mīmāṁsā relegates God to an ambiguous
position. It is here that the Vedānta comes to differ from it, utilising its faith in
the Vedas to develop a still greater faith in God, as we shall see in the next
chapter.

1. Vide Śāstra-dīpikā on Jaimini's Sūtra, 1. 1.5.

2. Ibid., and Śloka vārtika on 1.1.4.
3. Vide Prakarana-pañcikā, pp. 54–55.
4. The Mīmāṁsā view of upamāna is fully discussed in Śloka-vārtika, Sāstra-dīpikā (1.1.5) and
Prakaraṇa (1.1.5) and Prakaraṇa-pañcikā and briefly in Sabara-bhāṣya on 1.1.5.
5. Vide Śāstra-dīpikā, 1.1.5.
6. Vide Prakaraṇa-pañcikā. For critical discussion of 'upamāna' vide D.M. Datta, The Six Ways of
Knowing, BK. II.
7. Vide his Bhāṣya on Jaim. sūt. 1.1.5.
8. Vide Jaim. sūt., 1.2.1. and 1.2.7 and Śabara-bhāṣya thereon.
9. Ibid., Adhikaraṇas, 6–8, Chap. I.
10. Vide Sāstra-dīpikā, Sabda-nityatādhikaraṇam (pp. 138 f.) and Prakaraṇa-pañcikā, Śabda-pariccheda
(pp. 87 f.).
11. Vide Śāstra-dīpikā, Śabda-pariccheda (p. 72).
12. Vide Prakaraṇa-pañcikā (p. 95).
13. It is difficult to find an exact word in English for 'arthāpatti'. Postulation in the Kantian sense has a
close similarity to 'arthāpatti'. A demand for explanation underlies the use of this method, and
'postulate' in Latin means 'demand'.
14. Vide Śabara-bhāṣya, 1.1.5. Sloka vārtika, Sāstra-dīpikā and Prakaraṇa-pañcikā on Arthāpatti. For
critical discussion, vide D.M. Datta, The Six Ways of Knowing, Ek. V.
15. Vide Sloka-vārtika, Sāstra-dīpikā and Vedānta-paribhāṣā on Anupalabdhi. For further critical
discussion, vide The Six Ways of Knowing, Bk. III.
16. Sloka-vārtīka, 2.1.1 and Sarva-darśana … on Jaimini system.
17. Vide Prakaraṇa-pañcikā, pp. 32-38.
18. Sāstra-dīpikā, 1.1.5.
19. Not all (vide Śloka-vārtika, Chap, on Inference, verse 183, and Mānameyodaya 2.13). For arguments
in support of atomism, vide Prabhkara-vijaya.
20. Vide Śloka-vārtika, pp. 672 f.
21. In fact Kumārila observes (in Śloka-vārtika, verse 72, 1.1.2) that the fact that the Vedas centradict
ordinary empirical knowledge is a proof of their superior authority.
22. Vide Śāstra-dīpikā p.80, and Prakaraṇa-pañcikā, p. 146.
23. Vide Śāstra-dīpikā, p. 80; Prakaraṇā-Pañcikā, pp. 184-95; Śabarabhāṣya, 2.1.5.
24. Vide Śloka-vārtika, Ātma-vāda: Śāstra-dīpikā, Ātma-vāda, p. 119 et seq.; Prakaraṇa-pañcikā,
Prakaraṇa 8.
25. Prakarana, p. 148.
27. Vide Prakaraṇa-pañcikā pp. 185–86.
28. 'svargakāmo yajeta.'
29. Vide Prakarana-pañcikā, Prakaraṇa 8, pp. 154–60.
30. Vide Śastrā-dīpikā, pp. 125–31.
31. Vide Mānameyodaya, 226.
32. Vide The Six Systems of Indian Philosophy, Ch. V. Dr. Paśupatināth Sāstrī also advocates this view in
his Introduction to Pūrva Mīmāṁsā. Vide also Mānameyodaya, 2, 14.
33. Yāgādīnāṁ devatārādhanahetutve pramāṇābhāvāt, Prakaraṇa-Pañcikā, P. 185.
34. Vide Jhā. Sloka-vārtika. Eng. Tr., Introduction.
35. Vide Prakaraṇa-Pañcikā p. 186.
CHAPTER X

The Vedānta Philosophy

I. INTRODUCTION

1. Origin and Development of the Vedānta

'Vedānta' literally means 'the end of the Vedas.' Primarily the word stood for the
Upaniṣads though afterwards its denotation widened to include all thoughts
developed out of the Upaniṣads. The Upaniṣads may be regarded as the end of
the Vedas in different senses, (a) First, the Upaniṣads were the last literary
products of the Vedic period. Three kinds of literature of this period can be
broadly distinguished: the earliest being the Vedic hymns or mantras compiled in
the different Samhitās (Ṛg, Yajus, Sāma and Atharva), the next being the
Brāhmaṇas, treatises guiding and encouraging the Vedic rituals and the last, the
Upaniṣads which discuss philosophical problems. All these three were treated as
revealed texts (śrutis) and sometimes also called the Vedas, in the wider sense of
this term, (b) Secondly, in respect of study also, the Upaniṣads come last. As a
rule, a man studied the Saṁhitās first; the Brāhmaṇas were required next for
guiding him when he entered life and had to perform the rituals enjoined on a
householder; and last of all the Upaniṣads (some of which are also known as
āraṇyakas or forest-treatises) were needed to help him when he retired from the
world, led a secluded life in forests and tried to understand the meaning of life
and contemplate the mystery of the universe, (c) Thirdly, the Upaniṣads may be
regarded as the end of the Vedas also in the sense that they mark the culmination
of the Vedic speculation. In the Upaniṣads themselves we are told that even after
the study of the Vedas with other branches of learning, a man's education is not
complete till he receives instructions in the Upaniṣads.1
'Upaniṣad' means 'what destroys ignorance and gets man near to God,' or
'what gets man near to the teacher (upa-niṣad)'.2 The last meaning tallies with the
fact that the Upaniṣadic doctrines were esoteric, i.e., they were very secretly
taught only to the select pupils seated close to (upāsanna)3 the teacher. The
Upaniṣads were regarded as the inner or secret meanings (rahasya) of the Vedas,
hence their teachings were sometimes called Vedopanisad4 or the mystery of the
Vedas. The Upaniṣads were many5 in number and developed in the different
Vedic schools (sākhās) at different times and places. The problems discussed and
solutions offered presented differences in spite of a unity of general outlook. The
need was felt, therefore, in course of time for systematising the different
teachings so as to bring out the harmony underlying them. Bādarāyaṇa's
Brahmasūtra (also known variously as Vedānta sūtra, Śānraka-sūtra or
Śāriraka-mimāṁsā, Uttara mīmāṁsā) undertakes this task. It discusses in four
chapters: (a) the coherence (samanvaya) of the Upaniṣadic teachings, (b) their
non-contradiction (avirodha) in relation to established theories and logical rules,
(c) the means of realisation (sādhana), and (d) the fruit (phala) achieved. His
surras, being brief, Were liable to different interpretations. Various commentaries
thus came to be written to elaborate the doctrines of the Vedānta in their own
light. Each tried to justify its position as the only one consistent with the
revealed texts (śrutis) and the sūtras. The author of each of these chief
commentaries (bhāṣya) became the founder of a particular school of the Vedānta.
Thus we have the schools of Śaṅkara, Rāmānuja, Madhva, Vallabha, Nimbārka
and many others.6 Each school of the Vedānta consists not simply of the
philosophers who theoretically accept its views but also of a large number of
monks and lay followers who try to mould their lives accordingly. It is in this
way that the Vedānta in its different forms still persists in the lives of millions.
After the chief commentaries, the literature of the Vedānta developed through the
innumerable, sub-commentaries, glosses and independent treatises written by the
leading thinkers of each school to support its views and refute those of the other
schools. The total output of Vedānta literature thus became very large, though
only a small fraction of it has been printed as yet.
The most common question on which the schools of the Vedānta are divided
is: what is the nature of the relation between the self (jīva) and God (Brahman)?
Some, like Madhva, hold that the self and God are two totally different entities;
thier view is called dualism (dvaita). Some others, like Śaṅkara, hold that the
two are absolutely identical; this view is known as monism (advaita). Some
others, like Rāmānuja, again hold that the two are related like part and whole;
this view may be briefly called qualified monism (viśiṣtādvaita). There were
many other views, each specifying a particular type of identity (abheda),
difference (bheda) or identity-in-difference (bhedābheda) between the self and
God, too many to be mentioned here. But the best known among the Vedānta
schools are those of Śaṅkara and Rāmānuja which will be discussed here.
Three stages in the development of the Vedānta may be distinguished in the
light of what has been said above: (i) The creative stage represented by the
revealed texts (śrutis) or the Vedic literature, chiefly consisting of the Upaniṣads.
The fundamental ideas of the Vedānta take shape here mostly in the poetic
visions and mystic intuitions of the enlightened seers. (ii) The stage of
systematisation represented by the Brahmasūtras which gather, arrange and
justify the ideas of the previous stage. (iii) The stage of elaboration represented
by all works beginning from the chief commentaries downwards in which the
ideas and arguments are cast into the proper philosophical forms, appeal being
made not simply to earlier authority but also to independent reasoning. Though it
is possible to consider separately the philosophical speculations of each of these
periods, in consideration of space we shall discuss them together. Orthodox
Indian writers themselves generally look upon the entire current of thought,
spread over the successive stages, as one flow, inseparable at source, but
developing and ramifying in its onward course. Let us have a bird's-eye view of
the development of the Vedānta through the Vedas and Upaniṣads.

2. How the Vedānta Developed through the Vedas and

the Upaniṣads
Of the three Vedas, Ṛg, Yajus and Sāma, the first is the basic work, the second
two contain Ṛg hymns (mantras) in different arrangements to suit thier
application to sacrifices. The hymns of the Ṛg-veda mostly consist of praises of
the different deities—Agni, Mitra, Varuṇa, Indra, and so on. They describe the
mighty and noble deeds of the various deities, and pray for their help and favour.
Sacrifices offered to the gods consisted in pouring oblations of clarified butter
and other things into the sacrificial fire along with which the hymns in their
praise were recited and sung. These deities were conceived as the realities
underlying and governing the different phenomena of nature, such as fire, sun,
wind, rain and others, on which life, agriculture and prosperity depended.
Nature, though peopled with different gods, was conceived as subject to some
basic law (called Rita) by which the whole world, objects of nature as well as
living beings, was regulated. Its function was not only the preservation of order
and regularity in planets and other objects, but also the regulation of justice.
Belief in many gods is called polytheism. The Vedas are, therefore, often
said to be polytheistic. But there is a peculiarity in Vedic thought that makes this
view doubtful. Each of many gods, when praised, is extolled by the hymn as the
supreme God, the Creator of the universe and the lord of all gods. Max Müller
thinks, therefore, that polytheism is not an appropriate name for such a belief,
and he coins a new word 'henotheism' to signify this. But whether the Vedic faith
is really polytheism or henotheism depends largely on the explanation of this
phenomenon. It is polytheism, if the raising of each god to the supreme position
be not the indication of real belief in the supremacy, but only a wilful
exaggeration, a poetic hyperbole. But if the Vedic poets really believed what
they said, henotheism would be a better name. The latter view is rendered more
than probable by the fact that in the Rg-veda we come across passages where it
is explicitly stated that the different gods are only manifestations of one
underlying reality. 'The one reality is called by the wise in different ways: Agni,
Yama, Mātariśvā' (Ekarh sad viprā bahudhā vaddanti …),7 It was possible,
therefore, to look upon each deity as the Supreme.
According to many writers, there is a development noticeable in Vedic
thought and they believe that the idea of God gradually developed from
polytheism through henotheism, ultimately to monotheism, i.e. belief in one
God. This hypothesis may be true. But henotheism is not a mere transition
phenomenon; even in its most developed form, Indian monotheism retains the
belief that though God is one, He has various manifestations in the many gods,
any one of which may be worshipped as a form of the Supreme Deity. Even
today we have in India the divergent cults—Śaivism, Vaiṣṇavism and the like—
flourishing side by side and almost every one of them is at bottom based on a
philosophy of one Supreme God, perhaps even one all-inclusive reality. Indian
monotheism in its living forms, from the Vedic age till now, has believed 'rather
in the unity of the gods in God, than the denial of gods for God.' Hence Indian
monotheism has a peculiarity which distinguishes it from the Christian or the
Mahomedan. This is a persistent feature of orthodox Indian faith throughout, not
a mere passing phase of the Vedic times.
Belief in the unity of all gods which we find in the Rg-veda is only a part of
a greater thought which also we find there in a clear form, namely, the unity of
all existence. In the famous Puruṣasūkta which is even now daily recited by
every devout Brāhmin, the Vedic seer visualises, perhaps for the first time in
human history, the organic unity of the whole universe. Some stanzas are quoted
below:

The Man had a thousand heads, a thousand eyes, a thousand feet: he

covered the earth on all sides and stretched ten fingers' length beyond it.
 The Man was all that is and all that will be: ruling over immortality,
he was all that grows by food.
Such was his greatness; and the Man was greater still: this whole
world is a fourth of him, three-fourths of him are immortal in the sky.
For with three-fourths the Man went on high, but a fourth of him
remained here, and then spread on all sides, over the living and the
lifeless world.8

All existence—earth, heavens, planets, gods, living and nonliving objects—

is conceived here as the parts of one great person (Puruṣa), who pervades the
world, but also remains beyond it. In Him all that is, has been and will be, are
united. We have in this hymn the poetic insight not only into the universe as one
organic whole, but also into the Supreme Reality which is both immanent and
transcendent9 God pervades the world, yet He is not exhausted thereby; He
remains also beyond it. In terms of Western theology, this conception is
panentheism—(pan—all, en—in, theos—God), not pantheism; all is not equal to
God, but all is in God, who is greater than all. One flash of the seer's
imagination, in this hymn, reveals a variety of ideas that inspired the Vedic
mind: monism, panentheism and organic conception of the world.
In another hymn (commonly known as the Nāsadīya-sūkta), we are
introduced further to the Vedic conception of the Impersonal Absolute. The
reality underlying all existence—the primal once from which everything
originates—cannot be described, it says, either as non-existent or as existent (na
asat, na sat). Here we have perhaps the first flash of a conception of the
Indeterminate Absolute, which is the reality underlying all things, but is in itself
indescribable.

The hymn thus begins:

There was then neither what is, nor what is not, there was no sky; nor the
heaven which is beyond.

It concludes:

He from whom this creation arose, whether he made it or did not make
it; the highest seer in the highest heaven, he forsooth knows, or does
even he not know?10

As for the relation between the conception of Ultimate Reality as a Person

and the conception of it as an Indeterminate Absolute, we may note that even in
the description of Reality as Person, there is also a mention of its transcendent
aspect, which is not describable in terms of the objects of the world and,
therefore, indeterminate. They are thus conceived as the two aspects of the same
Reality.
Though many of the important elements of the Vedānta are to be found thus
in the Rg-veda, they are presented in a poetic way. The method by which the
sages arrive at these views is not mentioned, neither the arguments which
support them. Philosophy proper must be based on explicit reasoning and
argument chiefly. There is therefore, no regular philosophy, strictly speaking, in
the Vedas. The first attempt at philosophical speculation is to be found in the
Upaniṣads, where problems about self, God and the world are clearly raised and
discussed. But even here the philosophical method of arriving at conclusions,
rigorously supported by arguments, is only partly in evidence. Some of the
Upaniṣads are written in verses and they contain, like the Rg-veda, inspired
utterances on philosophical matters. So also are some other Upaniṣads, though
written in prose. The only approach to philosophical method is to be found in the
few Upaniṣads, where through dialogues—questions and answers—attempt is
made to lead the sceptical pupil, step by step, to some conclusion. But in spite of
the lack of strict argumentative form, the Upaniṣads have a profound charm and
appeal. This is due to the joint effect of the loftiness of ideas, the depth of
insight, the mysterious appeal to all that is good and sublime in man and the
irresistible force with which the views are asserted as though they are born of a
direct vision of truth. A famous German philosopher. Schopenhauer, impressed
by the Upaniṣads, declared:

'In the whole world there is no study so beneficial and so elevating as

that of the Upaniṣads. It has been the solace of my life, it will be the
solace of my death.'

The problems of the Upaniṣads, to mention only some of the more frequent
ones, are: What is the Reality from which all things originate, by which all live
and into which all dissolve when destroyed? What is that by knowing which
everything can be known? What is that by knowing which the unknown becomes
known? What is that by knowing which one can attain immortality? What is
Brahman? What is Ātman? As the very nature of these questions implies, the
Upaniṣadic mind was already steeped in the belief that there is an all-pervasive
reality underlying all things which arise from, exist in and return to it; that there
is some reality by knowing which immortality can be attained.
 The name given to this Reality is sometimes Brahman (God), sometimes
Ātman (Self), sometimes Sat (Being). 'At first there was the Ātman alone,' say
the Aitareya (1.1.) and the Bṛhadāraṇyaka (1.4.1.). 'All this is Ātman,' says the
Chāndogya (7.25.2.), 'Ātman being known … everything is known,' says the
Bṛhadāraṇyaka again (4.5.6.). Similarly we find, 'There was only Being (sat) at
the beginning, it was one without a second.' (Chānd., 6.2.1.). Again, 'All this is
Brahman' (Muṇḍaka, 2.2.11. and Chānd., 3.1.4.1.). Brahman and Ātman are used
synonymously in these different contexts. We are also told explicitly in some
places that 'This self is the Brahman' (Bṛhad., 2.5.19.), 'I am Brahman' (Ibid.,
1.4.10.).11
The Upaniṣads shift the centre of interest from the Vedic gods to the Self of
man. They analyse the Self, distinguish between its outer husk and its inner
reality. The body, the senses, the manas, the intellect and pleasures arising out of
them are all tested and found to be passing, changeful modes, not the permanent
essence of the Self. These are merely the sheaths (koṣas), the outer covers, so to
say, which conceal an inner, permanent reality, which cannot be identified with
any of these, though all of these are grounded in it and are its manifestations.
The Real Self is pure consciousness, every particular consciousness of objects
being its limited manifestation. Not being limited by any object, this pure
consciousness is also infinite. The Real Self is called Ātman. As infinite,
conscious reality (satyam, jñānam, anantam) the self of man is identical with the
Self of all beings (sarva-bhutātmā) and therefore, with God or Brahman. In the
Kaṭha we are told: 'This Self is concealed in all things, and does not, therefore,
appear to be there. But it is perceived by the keen-sighted with the help of a
sharp, penetrating intellect' (3.12).
An attempt is made to help man discover this his Real Self. Realisation of
the Self (ātma-vidyā or ātmajñāna) is regarded as the highest of all knowledge
(parā-vidyā), all other knowledge and learning being inferior to it (aparā-vidyā).
The method of self-realisation lies through the control of the lower self, its deep-
rooted interests and impulses, and through study, reasoning and repeated
meditation (śravaṇa, manana, nididhyāsana) till the forces of past habits and
thoughts are completely overcome by a firm belief in the truths learnt. It is a
difficult path which can be followed only if one is strong and wise enough to
reject what is pleasant (preyas) for what is good (śreyas).
The Vedic belief in sacrifice is shaken by the Upaniṣads which declare that
with these one cannot achieve the highest goal of immortality. The Muṇḍaka
says that these sacrifices are like weak rafts (i.e., they are unable to take one
across the sea of worldly misery) and those fools that take these as the superior
means, suffer again the pangs of old age and death.12 A ritual can at best secure a
temporary place in Heaven, and when the merit (puṇya) earned by it is exhausted
there is again birth into this world. A deeper significance is attached to sacrifice,
when the worshipping self and the gods worshipped are realised to be the same.
The ceremonies of offering oblations to gods thus come to be looked upon as
mere external affairs fit for the ignorant who do not understand the mystery of
the universe.
Sacrifice to the Self or Brahman is regarded as superior to sacrifice to gods.
It is only through the realisation of the Self or Brahman that rebirth can be
stopped and along with it all misery. One who truly realises his unity with the
Immortal Brahman, realises immortality.
The Upaniṣads conceive Brahman not only as the pure ground of all reality
and consciousness, but also as the ultimate source of all joy. Worldly pleasures
are only the distorted fragments of that joy, just as worldly objects are limited
manifestations of that Reality.13 One who can dive into the deepest recess of his
Self, not only realises his identity with Brahman but gets to the heart of Infinite
Joy. The proof of the Self's being the source of all joy (says Yājñavalkya to his
wife Maitreyī) is that it is the dearest thing to man. One loves another person or
thing because he identifies himself with that person or thing, regards him or it as
his own self. Nothing is dear for its own sake says Yājñavalkya. The wife is not
dear because she is wife, the husband is not dear because of being a husband, the
son is not dear because of being a son, wealth is not dear for its own sake. All is
dear because of the Self.14 That the Self in itself is bliss is shown also by
pointing out that when a man falls into a dreamless sleep, forgets his relation
with the body, the senses, mind and external objects and thus retires into his own
intrinsic state, he is at peace, he is untouched by pleasure and pain.
Modern biology tells us that self-preservation is a basic instinct in all living
beings. But why is self or life so dear? The answer is given by the Upaniṣads.
Life is so dear because there is joy. Who would like to live if there was not joy?
15 The joy that we have in daily life, however disturbed and meagre it might be,

sustains our desire to live. Greater joy is not obtained by running further away
from the Self, after worldly objects. Desires for objects are the fetters that bind
us to the world, to the painful vicious circle—birth, death and rebirth. The forces
of desires take us away from the Self and condition our existence in the way we
hanker after. The more we give up our hankerings for objects and try to realise
our identity with the true Self (Ātman) or God (Brahman), the more do we
realise true happiness. To feel at one with the Self is to be one with the Infinite
God, the Immortal, the Infinite Joy. Nothing then remains unattained, nothing
left to be desired. The Kaṭha declares, therefore, that a mortal attains immortality
and unity with Brahman even here, in this very life, when his heart is free from
all desires.16
If Brahman or Ātman is the Reality underlying the whole universe then the
question may arise as to the exact relation between Brahman and the world. The
accounts of creation given in the different Upaniṣads do not exactly tally. But all
appear to be unanimous in holding that Ātman (or Brahman or Sat) is both the
creator and the material cause of the world. And in most of these accounts the
starting point of creation is described somewhat like this; at first there was the
self. It thought, 'I am one, I will be many,' 'I will create the worlds.' Description
of the subsequent steps by which things are caeated varies, some stating that out
of Ātman first arises the subtlest element 'Ākāśa,' thence gradually all the grosser
ones; others give different accounts.
From these statements creation would appear to be real and God (i.e., The
Absolute Soul) a real creator. But in many places we are told that there is no
multiplicity here (neha nānā asti kiñcana)17, that one who sees the many here is
doomed to death ('mṛtyoḥ as mṛtyum āpnoti ya iha nāneva paśyati').18 In
explanation of the unity of all things, which appear to be many, examples like
these are cited: just as different articles made of gold are all really one, gold is
the only real substance in them and the different names and forms (nāma-rūpa)
which make them appear as many, are merely matters of verbal distinction,
similarly in all objects there is the same Reality, and their differences are merely
verbal.19 The objects of the world are denied separate, individual existences.
Brahman (or Ātman) is also described in many passages not as Creator, but as a
Reality which is indescribable, being not only unspeakable but even unthinkable.
Brahman cannot be an object of worship even. Thus the Kena declares: 'That
(Brahman) is other than what is known and beyond the unknown. What is not
expressed by speech and by which speech itself is expressed, know that to be
Brahman, and not what one worships as Brahman.'20
These two different kinds of statements about the world and God naturally
present a puzzle. Is God really the creator of the world and the world also
therefore real? Or, is there really no creation and is the world of objects a mere
appearance? Is God a determinate knowable reality which can be described by
suitable attributes or is God indeterminate and unknowable? What is the real
view of the Upaniṣads? Subsequent Vedānta treatises take up these problems for
solution. As already stated, the Brahmasūtra of Bādarāyaṇa attempts to
systematise and ascertain the real views of the revealed texts, but its brief
statements themselves admit of different meanings. Subsequent writers who
commented on the Brahma-sūtra give their own interpretations to the Upaniṣads
and the sūtras very clearly and elaborately. Of the different rival schools that
came into existence in this way, that of Śaṅkarācārya is the leading one. In fact
what ordinarily passes nowadays as the Vedānta, and sometimes even as Indian
philosophy to outsiders, is really the Advaita Vedānta of the Śaṅkara school.
Next comes, in point of popularity, the Viśiṣṭādvaita school of Rāmānujācārya.
These two main and more widely known schools of the Vedānta are being
treated below.

3. The Unanimous Views of the main schools of the

Vedānta
Following Bādarāyaṇa, both Śaṅkara and Rāmānuja reject theories which
explain the world (a) either as the product of material elements which by
themselves combine together to form objects, (b) or as the transformation of an
unconscious nature that spontaneously evolves all objects, (c) or as the product
of two kinds of independent reality, such as matter and God, one of which is the
material, the other the efficient cause which creates the world out of the first.
Both agree that an unconscious cause cannot produce the world, and both hold
that even the dualistic conception of two ultimately independent realities, one
conscious and another unconscious, producing the world by interaction, is
unsatisfactory. Both take their stand on the Upaniṣadic view that 'All is
Brahman'(sarvam khalu idam Brahma), and matter and mind are not independent
realities but grounded in the same Brahman. Both are, therefore, monists or
believers in one Absolute, Independent Reality which pervades the world of
multiple objects and selves.
Bādarāyaṇa, whom both Śaṅkara and Rāmānuja follows, discusses at length
the unsatisfactory nature of other alternative theories of the world. Refutation of
other views is based both on independent reasoning and the testimony of earlier
scriptures. We may briefly sum up here the independent arguments by which the
chief theories are refuted.21
The Sāṅkhya theory that unconscious primal matter (prakṛti), composed of
the three guṇas (sattva, rajas and tamas), gives rise to the world without the
guidance of any conscious agent is not satisfactory, because the world is a
harmonious system of nicely adjusted objects which cannot be believed to be the
accidental product of any unconscious cause. As the Sāṅkhya itself admits, this
world consisting of bodies, senses, motor organs and other objects is made just
to fit the diverse souls born into it in accordance with their past deeds. But how
can an unconsious nature carry out such a complicated plan? In admitting that
there is a purpose in the world, but denying at the same time the existence of a
conscious creator, the Sāṅkhya commits itself to an absurd position. Unconsious
teleology is unintelligible. Adaptation of means to ends is not possible without
conscious guidance. The spontaneous flow of milk from the cow for the sake of
a calf is cited by the Sāṅkhya as an example of unconscious but purposive act.
But it is forgotten that the cow is a living, conscious being and milk flows
impelled by her love for the calf. No undisputed example of an unconscious
object performing a complicated purposeful act can be cited. The souls (puruṣas)
that the Sāṅkhya admits are said to be inactive and, therefore, they also cannot
help the evolution of the world.
The Vaiśeṣika theory that the world is caused by the combination of atoms is
similarly untenable because these unconscious atoms cannot produce this
wonderful world by adjusted atoms. For the regulation of the atoms in the
formation of the world, the moral law of Adṛṣṭa is, of course, admitted by the
Vaiśeṣika. But this law is also unconscious and the difficulty is not removed.
Besides, how atoms at first begin to move in order to create the world is not
explicable. If movement were the inherent nature of the atoms, they would never
cease to move and the dissolution (pralaya) of objects, as the Vaiśeṣika admits,
would never occur. Souls are of course admitted, but they are not admitted to
have any intrinsic consciousness. Consciousness arises after the souls are
associated with bodies and the organs of knowledge; and these do not exist
before creation. Hence atoms cannot receive any conscious guidance even from
souls.
Against those Bauddha thinkers who explain the objects of the world as
aggregates of different momentary elements, it is pointed out that momentary
things cannot possess any causality. Because to produce an effect the cause must
first arise and then act and, therefore, stay for more than one moment, which is
against the doctrine of momentariness. Even if the separate momentary elements
be somehow produced, no aggregate can be caused, for no substances are
admitted (by these Baudhas) which can bring together the elements and produce
the desired objects. As consciousness itself is admitted to be the effect of the
aggregation of the different elements, it cannot exist before aggregation, and the
difficulty of unconscious cause, seen before, arises here also.
Against those Bauddhas who hold the view of subjective idealism
(vījñānavāda) and declare that the world, like a dream, is only an illusory
product of the imagination, the following important objections are pressed by
Śaṅkara following Bādarāyaṇa. (a) The existence of external objects cannot be
denied because they are perceived to exist by all persons. To deny the existence
of a pot, cloth or pillar while it is being perceived, is like denying the flavour of
the food while it is being eaten: it is a falsification of immediate experience by
sheer force. (b) If immediate experience is disbelieved, then even the reality of
mental states cannot be believed in. (c) To say that ideas of the mind illusorily
appear as external objects is meaningless unless at least something external is
admitted to be real. Otherwise, it would be as good as to say that a certain man
looks like the child of a barren woman. (d) Unless different perceived objects
like pot and cloth are admitted, the idea of a pot cannot be distinguished from
that of a cloth, since, as consciousness, they are identical, (e) There is a vital
difference between dream objects and perceived objects: the former are
contradicted by waking experience, while the latter are not. External objects
perceived during waking experience cannot be said to be unreal so long as they
are not felt to be contradicted. So subjective idealism, and along with it also
nihilism (śūnyavāda), fail to explain the world satisfactorily.
Even a deistic theory (held by the Śaivas, Pāśupatas, Kāpālikas and
Kālāmukhas)22 which holds that God is the efficient cause and matter is the
material cause of the world is not accepted. The chief objection raised is that as
such a view is based not on the Vedas, but on independent reasoning and
ordinary human experience, it should tally with what we observe in life; but it
does not do so. So far as our experience goes, a spirit can act upon matter only
through a body, consisting of organs of perception and movement. Again this
activity is caused by some motive, such as attainment of pleasure and removal of
pain. But God is said to be devoid of body as well as passions and desires. In the
light of empirical experience we fail, therefore, to understand the manner as well
as the motive of God's creation of the world.
We have seen that God is conceived even as early as the Vedas in two
aspects: God pervades the world, but He is not exhausted in the world, He is also
beyond it. God is both immanent and transcendent. These two aspects of God
persist throughout the Upaniṣads23 and the later Vedānta, though the meanings of
transcendence and immanence are not the same in all thinkers. It is usual to call
the theory of the presence of God in all things 'pantheism', and Vedānta is
commonly described by this name. Pantheism etymologically means all-God-
theory. But if all is God, the question remains open whether God is the mere
totality of all objects of the world, or the totality of things and something more.
When such distinction is made, the word 'pantheism' is generally confined to the
first view, whereas 'panentheism' (a word coined by a German philosopher,
Krause) is used for the second. To avoid the ambiguity of the word 'pantheism'
and to remind ourselves of the fact that God in Vedānta is not simply immanent,
but also transcendent, we should call the Vedānta theory of God panentheism,
rather than pantheism.
It is necessary to mention here that in the Upaniṣads, and later Vedānta
literature, the word, Brahman, is used for the Highest Principle or Absolute
Reality, as well as for the creator of the world, the object of worship. The word,
Īśvara, is also sometimes used in later literature to denote the second aspect. In
English 'Absolute' is sometimes used for the first, and 'God' for the second. But
'God' is also used in a wider sense for both the aspects, (e.g., in Spinoza, Hegel,
Whitehead). In his Evolution of Theology in the Greek Philsophers (p. 32, Vol. I)
Edward Caird even defines 'the idea of God as an absolute power or principle.'
We have used the word, God, here, along with Brahman, in the wider sense (for
both God of religion and Absolute of Philosophy) and the context in each case
will show the precise meaning. The use of two names is apt to suggest two
corresponding realities and Obscure the truth of one reality having two aspects.
Another point of agreement among Vedāntins is that all of them believe that
the knowledge of the existence of God is, at the first instance, obtained not by
reasoning but from the testimony of the revealed scriptures. It is admitted, of
course, that on the perfection of religious life the presence of God can be
realised by the devout souls. But to start with, we have to depend on indirect
knowledge of God through the undoubted testimony of the scriptures. Scarcely
any attempt is made, therefore, in the Vedānta, as in the Nyāya and other theistic
systems, to adduce purely logical proofs for the existence of God. Arguments are
confined generally to showing the inadequacy of all theories of God, not based
on scriptures, and to the justification of the scriptural views. This attitude of the
Vedānta appears to be dogmatic and is sometimes made the object of criticism.
It should be noted, however, that even many Western philosophers (like
Kant, Lotze and others) have ever and anon rejected theistic proofs as
inadequate. Lotze makes it clear that unless we start with some faith in God, the
rational proofs are of little avail. As he puts it: 'Therefore, all proofs that God
exists are pleas put forward in justification of our faith.' This faith according to
him springs from 'the obscure impulse which drives us to pass in our thought—
as we cannot help passing—from the world given in sense to a world not given
in sense, but above and behind sense'.24 According to the Vedānta also an initial
faith is necessary for religious life and thought. Thisfaith, thought starting from a
personal feeling of inadequacy and disquiet and a longing for something higher,
remains a mere blind groping in the dark till it is enlightened by the teachings of
the scriptures that embody the sages' direct realisation of God. Reasoning is
necessary for the understanding of the teachings, for removing doubts and
realising their cogency. By itself reasoning is an empty form or method of
thinking which can work only when materials are supplied. The scriptures
supply to reason the matter for speculation, argumentation and meditation. This
kind of dependence of reason on matter supplied from a non-rational source is
nothing peculiar to theology. Even the greatest discoveries in science can be
traced back to some non-rational origin like intuitive flashes of truth in
imagination which reasoning afterwards attempts to justify, by futher
observation, experiment, proof and elaboration. 'Dialectic,' says Bergson,25 'is
necessary to put intuition to the proof.' Though all Vedāntins primarily depend
on the scriptures for belief in God, they make full use of reasoning in the
justification and elaboration of that belief. They learn from the Upaniṣads that
God is the Infinite Conscious, All-inclusive Reality, the Creator of the universe
as well as its Preserver and Destroyer. Each one tries in his own way to develop
what he thinks to be the most consistent theory of God.
The sūtras of Bādarāyaṇa have for their subject-matter God and are,
therefore, named Brahma-sūtra. But they are written for man, the embodied
soul, and, therefore; called also Śārīrakasūtra. Man, therefore, occupies a central
place in the Vedānta. It is for his enlightenment and his salvation that the
Vedānta undertakes philosophical discussion. But what is the real nature of man?
The Upaniṣads teach us that man has no existence independent of God. Both
Śaṅkara and Rāmānuja accept this view. But they interpret the self's dependence
on God in different ways.

II. THE MONISM OF ŚAṄKARA (ADVAITA)

1. Śaṅankara's Conception of the World

Śaṅkara finds it difficult to reconcile the Upaniṣadic statements about creation,
taken in the literal sense, with those denying the world of multiplicity.
Considered in the light of the general trend and spirit running throughout the
Upaniṣads, the stories of creation seem, to him, to be out of joint. Description of
Brahman as really devoid of all assignable marks becomes unintelligible if His
creatorship is real. The teachings about the disappearance of all multiplicity on
the realisation of Brahman cannot also be understood. If the world were real how
could it disappear? The dawn of the knowledge of Reality can dispel only the
unreal appearing as real, not what is really real. This idea furnishes Śaṅkara with
the clue to the mystery of the world. If the world is a mere appearance, like an
object in dream or illusion, then the present apearance of the world and its
disappearance on the knowledge of Reality become intelligible. This
reconciliation is suggested by the Upaniṣads themselves. Even in the Rg-veda26
the one Indra (God) is said to appear in many forms through powers creating
illusion (māyā). The Bṛhadāraṇyaka also accepts this.27 The Śvetāśvatara
clearly states that the origin (prakṛti) of the world lies in the magical power
(māyā) of God.28
Māyā as a power of God is indistinguishable from Him, just as the burning
power of fire is from the fire itself. It is by this that God, the Great Magician,
conjures up the world-show with all its wonderful objects. The appearance of
this world is taken as real by the ignorant, but the wise who can see through it
finds nothing but God, the one reality behind this illusory show.
If we try to understand the process by which ordinary illusions in life take
place, we find that an illusion, say, of snake in a rope, is due to our ignorance of
what really is there behind the appearance, i.e. ignorance of the substratum or
ground (adhiṣṭhāna), in this case, the rope. If we could know the rope as the
rope, there would be no illusion about it. But mere ignorance of the rope cannot
give rise to the illusion. For, otherwise, even a person who has never known
what a rope is would always see serpents in things. The ignorance creating an
illusion does not simply conceal from our view the real nature of the ground, the
rope, but positively distorts it, i.e. makes it appear as something else.
Concealment (āvaraṇa) of reality and distortion (vikṣepa) of it into something
else in our mind are then the two functions of an illusion-producing ignorance
(avidyā or ajñāna).
When an illusion is produced in us by someone else, for example, when a
magician makes one coin appear as many to us, it is an illusion for us, the
perceivers, and not for the conjurer. From our standpoint, then, illusion is the
product of our ignorance, which prevents us from seeing the real nature of the
thing and which makes us see something else in its place. If any spectator can
persist to see the one coin as it is, the magician's wand will create no illusion for
him. For the magician, the illusion is only a conjuring will, by which his
spectators are deceived, and not himself.
In the light of such cases, māyā, the cause of the world-appearance, may also
be understood from two standpoints. For God, māyā is only the will to create the
appearance. It does not affect God, does not deceive Him.29 For ignorant people
like us, who are deceived by it and see the many objects here instead of one
Brahman or God, māyā is on illusion-producing ignorance. In this aspect māyā is
also called, therefore, 'ajñāna' or 'avidyā' (synonyms for 'ignorance') and is
conceived as having the double function of concealing the real nature of
Brahman, the ground of the world, and making Him appear as something else,
namely the world. In so far as māyā positively produces some illusory
appearance it is called positive ignorance (bhāva-rūpam ajñānam); and in so far
as no beginning can be assigned to the world, māyā is also said to be
beginningless (anādi). But, for those wise few who are not deceived by the
world-show, but who perceive in it nothing but God, there is no illusion nor,
therefore, illusion-producing māyā. God to them is not, therefore, the wielder of
māyā at all.
Rāmānuja, following the Śvetāśvatara, speaks also of māyā, but he means
thereby either God's wonderful power of real creation or the eternal,
unconscious, primal matter which is in Brahman and which is really transformed
into the world. Śaṅkara also speaks of māyā as the power of God, but this
creative power, according to him, is not a permanent character of God, as
Rāmānuja thinks, but only a free will which can, therefore, be given up at will.
The wise who are not deceived by the world-appearance need not conceive God
at all as the bearer of this illusion-producing power. Besides, even when
conceived as a power, māyā is not a distinct entity in Brahman, but inseparable
and indistinguishable from it as the burning power is from fire, or will is from
the mind that wills. Even when Śaṅkara identifies māyā with prakṛti, he means
nothing more by it than that this creative power is the source or origin (prakṛti)
of world-appearance, to those who perceive this appearance. The difference
between Rāmānuja and Śaṅkara, then, is that while, according to Rāmānuja, the
matter or prakṛti which is an integral part of God really undergoes modification,
Śaṅkara holds that God does not undergo any real change, change is only
apparent, not real.
Illusory modification of any substance, as of the rope into the snake is called
vivarta, and real modification, as of milk into curd, is called pariṇāma. Śaṅkara's
theory of creation, as described above, is, therefore, known as vivarta-vāda and
is distinguished from the Sāṅkhya theory of evolution (by the real modification
of prakṛti) which is called pariṇāma-vāda. Rāmānuja's theory also is a kind of
pariṇāma-vāda, because he admits that the unconscious element in God really
changes into the world. Vivarta-vāda and pariṇāma-vāda both agree, however, in
holding that the effect is already contained somehow in its material cause and,
therefore, both come under satkārya-vāda or the theory that the effect (kārya) is
existent (sat) in the material cause, and is not a new thing. The process of the
imaginary attribution of something to where it does not exist is called adhyāsa.
In modern psychological terminology a process of this kind is called projection.
In all illusion there is such projection (adhyāsa), the serpent is projected
(adhyasta) by imagination on the rope, and the world on Brahman.
The Upaniṣadic accounts of creation, then, are to be understood in the sense
of the evolution of the world out of Brahman through its power of māyā. This
māyā, Śaṅkara admits, is described in some scriptures also as avyakta or even
prakṛti having three elements of sattva, rajas and tamas. But this should not be
mistaken to be the prakṛti of Sāṅkhya, an independent reality.30 It is a power of
God, and absolutely dependent on God.
Vedānta works, like the Upaniṣads, are not always unanimous regarding the
exact process by which, and the order in which, the world's objects arise out of
Brahman through māyā. According to a well-known account, at first there arise
out of Ātman or Brahman the five subtle elements, in the order—ākāśa (ether),
vāyu (air), agni (fire), ap (water), kṣiti (earth). These five are again mixed up
together in five different ways to give rise to the five gross elements of those
names. Gross ākāśa is produced by the combination of the five subtle elements
in the roportion, 1/2 ākāśa + 1/8 air + 1/8 fire + 1/8 water +1/8 earth. Similarly,
each of the other four gross elements is produced by the combination of the
subtle elements in the proportion of half of that element and one-eighth of each
of the other four. This process is known as combination of the five
(pañcīkaraṇa). The subtle body of man is made of the subtle elements, and the
gross body, as well as all gross objects of nature, is produced out of the gross
elements which arise by the mixture of the five subtle ones. Śaṅkara accepts this
account of creation; but he understands the entire process in the light of his
theory of vivarta (or adhyāsa).
In addition to the advantages of consistent interpretation of scriptures, the
theory of vivarta, Śaṅkara points out, gives also a more rational explanation of
creation. If God is the creator of the world and creates the world out of any other
substance like matter, then in addition to God, another reality is to be admitted
and God ceases to be the all-inclusive, only reality; His infinity is lost. But if that
matter be conceived as something real and within God, and the world be
conceived as a real transformation of it, we have to face a dilemma.31 Either
matter is a part of God, or identical with the whole of God. If the first alternative
is accepted (as Rāmānuja does), then we are landed into the absurdity that God, a
spiritual substance, is composed of parts like material substances, and is
consequently also liable to destruction, like such objects. If the second
alternative (namely that primal matter is the whole of God) be accepted then, by
the transformation of matter, God is wholy reduced to the world and there is no
God left after creation. Whether God changes partly or wholly, if change be real,
then God is not a permanent, unchanging reality. He then ceases to be God.
These difficulties are avoided by vivarta-vāda according to which change is
apparent.
These difficulties are felt also by Rāmānuja. But he thinks that the mystery
of creation is beyond human intellect and we are to accept the account of
creation given in the scriptures. As for difficulties, once we admit that God is
omnipotent, omniscient and has wonderful powers, nothing should be thought
impossible for him.32 Though Śaṅkara also believes that without the help of the
revealed scriptures the mystery cannot be solved simply by the unaided human
reasoning (kevalena tarkeṇa),33 he points out that the scriptures themselves have
told us how the many creations can illusorily appear out of the one. Following
the light shed by the scriptures we can employ our reasoning and understand,
even in the likeness of our ordinary experiences of illusion, the mystery of
creation so far as it is humanly possible.

(i) The Rational Foundation of Śaṅkara's Theory of the

World.
If we put together the arguments used by Śaṅkara to support the theory of
apparent change (vivarta) and the cognate concepts of nescience (māyā and
avidyā) and of projection or super-imposition by imagination (adhyāsa), we find
that they constitute a strong rational foundation of the Advaita theory. Those
who do not believe in any revealed scripture or in any mystic intuition, but try to
understand the real nature of the world in the light of common experience and
reasoning based thereon, will also value these arguments, if only for their great
logical and philosophical merit. The followers of Śaṅkara have multiplied such
arguments in independent treatises in some of which (e.g., Tattvapradipikā or
Citsukhi, Advaita-Siddhi, Khaṇdana-Khaṇḍakhādya) logical skill and dialectical
subtlety attain heights scarcely reached by the most profound treatises of this
kind in the West. While the Vedānta was based on intuitive experience,
embodied in the revealed texts, it did not ignore the fact that so long as the
reasoning faculty of man is not fully satisfied and the things are not explained by
reasoning in the light of common experience, there is no possibility of his
accepting the intuitions of others however high. To give the beginner an idea of
this aspect of Advaita philosophy, we shall briefly mention below how Śaṅkara
tries to reach his theory of the world by subjecting common experience to
rational criticism and logical construction:
(a)-If the relation between any effect and its material cause is carefully
examined it is found that the effect is nothing more than the cause. Perception
cannot show in a pot made of clay anything other than clay, nor in a ring made of
gold anything other than gold. An effect is, again, inseparable from its material
cause; the effect cannot exist without it. We cannot separate the pot from the
clay, nor the ring from the gold. It is not reasonable, therefore, to think that the
effect is a new thing which is now produced, but was absent before. In substance
it was always there in its material cause. In fact we cannot even think of a non-
existent entity coming into existence. We can only think of a substance changing
from one form into another. If something non-existent could ever be brought into
existence, there would be no reason why we could not press oil out of sand
(where it is non-existent), and why we have to select only a particular material,
namely oilseed, to produce the particular effect, oil. The activity of an efficient
cause, the oilman, the potter or the goldsmith, cannot produce any new
substance, it only manifests the form of the substance concealed by its previous
state. The effect must thus be admitted to be non-different (ananya) from the
cause, and to be existing in it from before.34
On these grounds Śaṅkara admits the theory of Satkārya-vāda which, we
have seen, is also accepted by the Śāṅkhya. But he finds that the Śāṅkhya does
not realise the full implication of Satkārya-vāda. For, it holds that though the
effect exists previously in its material cause, there is a real change (pariṇāma) of
the material into the effect, since the material assumes a new form. Now this
view amounts to the confession that this form which did not exist previously
comes into existence. The doctrine of Satkārya-vāda, that nothing which did not
exist previously can come into existence, thus breaks down. If the grounds on
which that doctrine stands, are sound, then we must be prepared to accept all that
logically follows from it, and cannot hold any view which implies any violation
of this doctrine, rationally established.
But how can we, it may be asked, deny the perceived fact that the effect does
have a new form? Śaṅkara does not deny the perception, but only questions the
interpretation, the logical significance, of it. Is the Śāṅkhya right in holding that
change in form means a change in reality? It would be right, only if a form had a
reality of its own. But closer consideration shows that the form is but a state of
the material or substance, and cannot be separated from the latter even in
thought. Whatever status in reality a form may possess is in virtue of its
substance. We have no reason, therefore, to interpret the perception of a change
in form as a change of reality. On the contrary, it is found that in spite of changes
in form, a substance is recognised by us as the identical entity. Devadatta, sitting,
standing or lying is recognised as the identical person. How could this be, if
change in form implied change in reality?35
 Moreover, if the form or, for that matter, any quality were granted any
distinct reality, we would fail to explain the relation between the quality and its
substance. For, two distinct realities cannot be conceived to be related without
the help of a third entity to connect them. Now, as soon as we think of this third
entity (which must be distinct from the two terms it attempts to relate) we have
to think of a fourth relating entity, and also a fifth, which would relate the third
with each of the first two terms respectively. Similarly, these fourth and fifth
entities would require other similar media for relating them to the terms they
themselves want to relate, and so on. There would then be an infinite regress
(anavasthā). We can thus never come to the end of our supposition and there will
never be a complete explanation of the relation between the quality and its
substance. In other words, the supposition of any distinction in reality between
any quality and its substance would be logically indefensible. So a form cannot
be treated as a distinct reality, and no change in form can be logically accepted
as a real change, unless there is change in substance.
But we have seen that no causation involves any change in substance. Hence
causation does not imply any real change. Moreover, as every change is a
process of causation, there cannot be any change in reality. This amounts to the
postion that though we perceive changes we cannot rationally accept them as
real. We have therefore to understand them in the same way as we do, when we
perceive an illusory object. We do perceive a rainbow, a blue sky, movement of
the sun and many other things which we cannot believe as real because
reasoning proves them to be unreal. Such a perceived but unreal phenomenon is
called an appearance and distinguished from reality. On the same ground we
must call change also an appearance, and distinguish it from reality. We can thus
reach, on purely logical grounds supported by common observation, the theory
of rivarta or apparent change, as a rational doctrine required for the explanation
of the world. The acceptance of this theory also leads us to think that our
perception of change is nothing more than a supposition or mental projection of
change on reality. This is but Śaṅkara's conception of adhyāsa. Again, a wrong
supposition of this kind implies that we are deluded by a sort of ignorance which
makes us perceive things where they do not really exist. This is but Śaṅkara's
conception of ajñāna, avidyā or māyā, which he regards as the cause of the
appearance of the world.
(b)-But it may be asked, supposing that the world, with its changing objects
is an appearance, what is the substance or reality which appears to us in various
forms as objects? Ordinarily we call anything which is the bearer of some
qualities as a substance. A pot or a ring is a substance in that sense. But we have
seen that the qualities of a pot have no reality apart from the pot, and also that
the pot itself has no reality apart from its cause, the clay, which is the real
substance of which the pot is only one form of manifestation. But as clay itself is
liable to modification and may tease to be clay, even it cannot be called a real
substance; it is only a form of manifestation, though more abiding than a pot, of
some other substance which persists through all the modifications of clay, and is
also present in what clay itself comes from and in what it is changed into, after
its destruction. If all so-called substances36 are thus liable to modification
(vikāra), then the substance underlying all objects of the world would be that
which persists through all forms of objects. And we observe that existence (not
of any specific form but existence pure and simple) is what is common to all
forms of objects. Existence is revealed in the perception of every object,
whatever be its nature. It can, therefore, be called the substance, the material
cause or the underlying reality behind the world of objects.
But when we examine the changing states within our minds what we also
find there is that every state, every idea, whatever its object, exists. Even an
illusory idea37 which lacks an external object exists as an idea (avagati). A state
of deep dreamless sleep or of swoon, also exists, though no object of
consciousness is present there.38 Existence is thus found to be the one
undeniable reality persisting through all states, internal and external.39 It can,
therefore, be accepted as the substance, and material cause of which all
determinate objects and mental states are the diverse manifestations.
We find then that pure existence which is the common cause of the entire
world is itself formless, though appearing in various forms; part-less, though
divisible into different forms; it is infinite, though it appears in all finite forms.
Śaṅkara thus reaches the conception of an infinite, indeterminate (nirviśeṣa)
existence as the essence or material cause of the world. He calls this Absolute or
Brahman.
(c)-But is this Absolute existence conscious or unconscious? Ordinarily we
think that external objects are unconscious and the internal states of our mind are
conscious. But what is the criterion of consciousness? A mental state is
conscious, because its existence is self-revealing. But when we perceive the
external world, its existence also reveals itself. The power of appearing (bhāti) is
common to both internal and external forms of existence; and it can, therefore,
be argued that existence which is common to the internal and the external world
must possess the power of revealing itself. Therefore, it is more reasonable to
hold that Absolute existence is of the nature of self-revealing consciousness. In
fact, a little reflection shows that self-revelation may even be taken as the
differentia that distinguishes existence from non-existence. What is non-existent
(e.g., the son of a barren woman) cannot even appear or reveal itself for a
moment.
But two objections may be raised against this view. Are there not objects
which exist but do not appear before us, and are there not also illusory objects
which lack existence and yet appear to be there? As to the first, the reply is that
the non-perception or the non-appearance of some existing objects may be
explained by supposing the existence of some obstruction to revelation, just as
the non-appearance of the sun, which is capable of self revelation, is explained
as being due to obstruction of light by clouds (or as the non-revival), at a
particular time, of some ideas existing in the mind, is explained by some
obstruction to recollection.40 As to the second objection, the reply is that even in
illusion there is existence underlying the illusory appearance, and that is what
appears before us. Existence is thus co-extensive with the power of self
revelation, that is, consciousness.
(d)-This conclusion is also strengthened by another consideration. Wherever
there is appearance of existence there is awareness invariably present. Even an
external object, say clay, which appears to us is presented by an awareness of
clay (mṛt-buddhi). When we perceive clay becoming a pot, our clay
consciousness turns into pot-consciousness (ghaṭa buddhi).41 An imaginary
object is just the idea of the object, and so also is an illusory object. So we find
that awareness prevades all forms of existence known to us.
By a series of arguments like these Śaṅkara reaches logically what he
accepts on the authority of the revealed texts, namely, that the world originates
from Brahman, which is Absolute Existence and Consciousness and that
Brahman has the power of manifesting itself in diverse apparent forms, without
really undergoing any modification.
Though Brahman (or Existence consciousness) appears in all our
experiences, or in all that appears to exist, the forms vary. Moreover, one form of
experience (e.g. illusion or dream) is contradicted by another form of it (e.g.,
normal waking experience). The contradicted form is thus regarded as less real
than the contradicting one. But in spite of such contradictions among the
different forms, existence (or consciousness) as such remains uncontradicted.
When we disbelieve an illusory serpent we only deny that the existence there is
of the form of a serpent, but do not deny that there is some existence. Again,
even when we deny a dream object, we do not deny that the experience or idea
existed. And when we think of a time or place where nothing exists, we are
thinking of the existence of at least that time or place. So existence, in some
form or other, is as wide as thought, and we cannot conceive of the absence or
denial of existence. This universal, pure existence (or consciousness) is thus the
only thing whose contradiction is unthinkable. Śaṅkara calls it, therefore,
supreme reality (Pāramārthika sattā). He thus logically arrives also at his
conception of reality as that which persists uncontradicted through all forms of
existence in all places and times.
About any definite or particular form of existence which may appear in our
experience, we can never be certain that it will not be supplanted by a
contradictory experience arising in the future. So the theoretical or logical
possibility of its being contradicted is always there. This is another reason why
Śaṅkara holds that such an object, or the world as the totality of such objects,
does not enjoy the status of uncontradictable or supreme reality. On account of
the above reasons, he sometimes defines reality as that which persists (through
all forms of existence) and unreality as that which does not do so. Persistence or
pervasion (anuvṛtti) is the criterion of the real, particularity or exclusion
(vyabhicāra) that of the unreal.42
It is in the light of this logic that we can understand the somewhat puzzling
assertion of Śaṅkara that a pot and a cloth which exclude each other, also
contradict and falsify each other. There are two kinds of contradiction that
Śaṅkara has in mind, experiential and logical. The perception of an existence as
a snake is contradicted by a stronger or better perception of it as a rope. Actual
experience is here corrected by another actual experience. We have here
experiential contradiction. This is what is ordinarily and almost universally
regarded as the mark of unreality. Śaṅkara also admits this. But he (like some
thinkers of the West, e.g. Zeno, Kant and Bradley) also recognises a kind of
logical contradiction which consists in actual experience being proved
inconsistent by thought, or one thought being contradicted by another thought.
We have seen previously how change, which is actually perceived, is shown by
Śaṅkara as unreal because it is found inconsistent by logical thinking. In a
similar manner it is shown that though the perception of a pot is not
experientially contradicted by that of a cloth, both are found logically
inconsistent with the nature of reality. The experience of the truly real (viz. pure
existence), we saw, is not only not actually contradicted, but also logically
uncontradictable, since the contradiction of it is unthinkable. The experience of a
particular, e.g. the experience of existence as a pot or as a cloth, does not,
however, possess such uncontradictable nature. On the contrary, the very fact
that existence is experienceable in different forms keeps the door open to the
possibility that what is experienced to have one particular form now may be
experienced to have a different form later (just as what was experienced as a
snake is experienced later as a rope). This theoretical possibility of change in
perception, and of consequent contradiction, then makes the status of every
particular object precarious, in respect of its reality. We can never be absolutely
certain that what appears now as pot will not appear otherwise later. We see,
therefore, how different particular forms of existence, like pot and cloth, weaken
and undermine each other's claim to indubitable reality. If, however, these
claimed only pure existence, and not existence of particular forms, their claims
would not have been mutually exclusive. Each would enjoy uncontradictable
reality as pure existence. The rival claims of particulars as particular existents
thus prevent them from having the position of indubitable reality such as pure
existence enjoys.
(e)-By assessing the claims to existence made by all changing and particular
objects of the world Śaṅkara discovers a dual nature in them. These objects
cannot be called real insofar as they are particular and changing; but they are not
surely utterly unreal like the son of a barren woman, since existence as such
shines even through their appearance, and is present in them. In view of this they
can be described as neither real, nor unreal. They are indescribable
(anirvacanīya). The world of appearance as a whole, and the power of ignorance
(māyā or avidyā) which conjures up such a puzzling world, are also
indescribable in this sense.

(ii) The Advaita Theory of Error

As Śaṅkara tries to explain the appearance of the world in the light of illusory
perception, he and his followers discuss the nature of perceptural error very
elaborately, particularly because the explanations of such error offered by other
schools make Advaita view of the world inconclusive. The Mīmāṁsakas
altogether deny the possibility of error in perception, holding like some Western
realists, that all knowledge, at least of the immediate kind, is true. If this view is
correct, the Advaita position would be altogether unfounded. The Advaitins
have, therefore, to examine this view. Now, the Mīmāṁsakas argue, as we have
seen, that the so-called case of illusion, e.g. of a snake in a rope, is really not one
simple kind of knowledge, but a mixture of perception and memory, and non-
discrimination between the two. Against this, the Advaitins urge the following
chief points. The judgment expressing an illusory perception, this is a snake,
shows that there is here a single piece of knowledge. It may be true that the
perception of the thing present 'this' awakens the memory of a snake perceived in
the past, but if this memory did not combine with the perception to constitute
one state of cognition, but simply lay undiscriminated in the mind alongside of
the perception, there would have been two judgments like, 'I perceive this' and 'I
remember a snake,' or This is' and 'That snake was.' The judgment 'This is a
snake' shows on the other hand, that snake-hood is predicated of 'This' or the
present object; and there is, therefore, a positive identification, and not merely
non-recognition of difference, between the two elements the perceived and the
remembered. In fact, without such identification, or the belief that the present
object is a snake, the reaction (such as fear and running away) which follows
such knowledge would remain unexplained. Perceptual error cannot, therefore,
be denied.
While admitting this, the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika school tries to explain perceptual
error in a realistic way by showing that it is only an extraordinary case of
perception, in which the memory-idea, for example, of a snake perceived in the
past is so vividly aroused in the mind (by the perception of the similarity of the
snake in the rope) that it amounts to an immediate awareness. So, what really
existed in the past (e.g. the snake previously perceived in another place) is
presented to the mind now through the instrumentality of a vivid idea. Illusion
does not, therefore, show, as the Advaitins think, the possibility of the perception
of an eternally unreal thing; no unreal object can ever be perceived. The present
perception of the world cannot be explained, therefore, like an illusion, without
supposing a real world perceived at least in the past; and the unreality of the
world at all times can never be proved. The Advaitins reject this view on the
following chief grounds. The perception, at the present place and time, of an
object which existed at some other place and time is absurd. However vivid the
memory-idea may be it will be an idea of a that (thing perceived there in the
past) and never of a this (object present here and now). So the quality of
presence belonging to the illusory object remains unexplained. To hold that a
memory-idea can really dislocate a real object from its own time and place and
transport it to a different time and place is equally absurd. In any case it has to be
admitted that what does not really exist here and now can appear as present, and
that it is also due to our ignorance of the thing (the rope) existing here and now.
Construing these facts into a consistent theory, the Advaitins hold that in
illusion, ignorance conceals the form of the existing object (rope) and constructs
instead, the appearance of another object. The non-perception of the existing
form is produced by different factors such as defective sense organ, insufficient
light. The perception of similarity, and the revival of memory-idea caused by the
help given by facts vanishes the ignorance to create the positive appearance of
an object (the snake). This apparent object must be admitted to be present as an
appearance, here and now. It is then a temporary creation (sṛṣṭi) of ignorance.
This creation is neither describable as real, since it is contradicted by later
perception (of the rope), nor as unreal, because it appears, though for a moment,
unlike what is unreal (e.g. the child of a barren mother) which can never appear
to be there. So it is called, by the Advaitin, an indescribable creation
(anirvacanīya sṛṣṭi, and his theory of illusion is called the theory of the
appearance of the indescribable (anirvacanîya-khyāti-vāda). This view may
appear as an admission of the mysterious. But every illusion does present a
mystery, and fling a challenge to the unsuspecting realist and the naturalist. Even
the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika realist has to admit this; and he calls it, therefore, an
extraordinary (alaukika) case of perception.
The explanation of the world-appearance, in the light of an ordinary illusion,
as the creation of an ignorance, with the power of concealing and distorting
reality, is, therefore, well-grounded. The question may still be asked, however, as
to how the present world can appear unless there were the experience of a
similar one in the past. But this would not present any difficulty, since the
Advaita, like many other Indian schools, does believe that the present world is
only one of a beginningless series of previous worlds and the present birth is
similarly preceded by a beginningless series of previous births. Śaṅkara
describes, therefore, the process of illusory superimposition (adhyāsa) as the
appearance of what was previously experienced, in a subsequent locus.43 He
means that through ignorance we superimpose on pure being (Brahman) the
diverse forms of objects experienced in the past lives. But even if this hypothesis
of a beginning-less series is not admitted, the possibility of the appearance of
existence in some other form can be maintained simply on the strength of an
illusory experience. In every case of illusion the possibility of the appearance of
some form of existence in place of another form of it is demonstrated—a fact
which clearly shows that what does not really exist now can appear as such. The
appearance of the unreal as real is thus shown to be possible by every illusion.
The Advaita view of error should not be confused with that of the nihilistic
Bauddha, who holds that the utterly unreal appears as the world, or with that of
the subjectivist Bauddha who holds that mental ideas appear as the external
world. Because unlike them, Śaṅkara and his followers clearly state that there is
always the background of pure existence (Brahman) behind every appearance,
and that this ground is neither unreal nor a mere subjective idea, but existence
itself.
Though the world of normal waking experience is explained in the light of
illusion and as the product of an ignorance like the latter, the Advaitin, we have
already seen, observes a distinction between these two kinds of appearance.
They distinguish, therefore, also the ignorance responsible for the normal world
by calling it the root ignorance (mūlāvidyā), from that causing a temporary
illusion by calling this latter similar ignorance (tulāvidyā).
 Objectivity is granted by the Advaitin to both the normal world and the
illusory object, by admitting creation in both cases. In this the Advaitin is more
realistic than ordinary realists. Where he differs from them is that according to
him objectivity does not imply reality, nor does unreality imply subjectivity (a
position which some contemporary American neo-realists like Holt also admit).
On the contrary, on the strength of arguments already mentioned, every object
which is particular and changeful is shown by him to have a contradictory
nature, and therefore, to be not real in the sense in which pure existence is.

(iii) Criticism of Śaṅkara's Philosophy of the World

Many kinds of objections have been raised against Śaṅkara's theory of the world.
The chief one is that Śaṅkara does not explain the world, but explains it away;
that philosophy has for its business the explanation of the world, and if it
explains the world away as unreal, it only cuts away the ground on which it
stands. But such criticism is rather rash. It is true that the task of philosophy is to
explain the world, that is, the sum total of experienced facts. But it does not
mean that philosophy is committed, from the beginning, to the view that the
world of common sense must be totally accepted as real. It must examine
common experience and common views of the world, but only to judge their
natures and interrelations in the light of reason, and find out what would be the
most consistent view of the world. But it is found, on examination, as shown by
Śaṅkara, that all experiences cannot claim to be equally reliable, nor all common
views about the world free from contradiction. One kind of experience actually
contradicts and, supplants another and claims greater reality. Again some
experiences and beliefs, in their particular forms, are found to be in conflict with
possible future experience. Philosophy must, therefore, rationally discriminate
between belief and belief, experience and experience, and critically assign to
each its proper place. On such rational grounds Śaṅkara grades and classifies
common experience. As we saw, he, first of all, distinguishes all objects of
possible and actual experience from utter unreality, like the child of the barren
mother. The former again are classed under three heads: (a) those that only
appear momentarily in illusions and dreams, but are contradicted by normal
waking experience, (b) those that appear in normal waking experience—the
particular and changing objects, which form the basis of our ordinary life and
practice, but which are still not acceptable to reason as completely real (because
they exhibit contradiction or are open to future contradiction), and (c) pure
existence which reveals itself through all experience, and is neither contradicted
nor contradictable.
 If 'world' is the name of all these kinds of experienced facts, surely it will be
irrational to say that the world, as a whole, and in every aspect of it, is real. The
first kind of facts possesses only ephemeral existence (prātibhāsika sattā or
apparent existence); the second empirical or virtual existence, the sort of
existence necessary for ordinary life and practice (vyāvahārika sattā or practical
existence) and the third absolute existence (pāramārthika sattā or supreme
existence). The world is thus not a homogeneous conception; and if, in spite of
this, one insists on being told what such a world (as a whole) is, the fairest reply
can only be, what Śaṅkara gives, namely, that it is indescribable (anirvacanīya)
either as real or as unreal. But if the word, world, is confined only to the second
aspect, it would be again fair to say, that the world is real only for practical
purpose, more real than the first and less real than the third kind of existence.
But if the word is taken in the third sense, Śaṅkara would emphatically assert
that the world is eternally real. As he puts it: 'As the cause, Brahman, does not
lack existence at any time, past, present or future, so does the world not lack
existence in any of the three periods of time.'44 Again, 'All particular modes of
existence with different names and forms are real as existence, but unreal as
particulars.'45
It will be quite clear now that Śaṅkara does not deny the world even in the
second or practical aspect, like a subjective idealist who reduces it to a mere idea
of the perceiving individual, and who does not allow it an extramental existence.
This will be further evident from the way in which he refutes the subjectivism of
the Vijñānavādin.46 Here he asserts that the objects of normal waking experience
are not on par with dream-objects, since dream experience is contradicted by
waking experience, which, therefore, is relatively more real; that external objects
like pillars, pots, etc., which are immediately felt to be outside the mind cannot
be reduced to the status of mere ideas in the mind, and that while the former are
perceived by all, the latter only by the individual in whose mind they are. He
also makes it clear that though he explains the world on the analogy of a dream,
he does not deny the difference between the contradicted dream-experience and
the contradicting waking experience on which the world is based, nor does he
overlook the fact that these two experiences are differently caused.47 The
ignorance responsible for the first is of an individual and temporary nature, and
that at the root of the second is public and relatively permanent. The first is
sometimes called avidyā (individual ignorance), the second māyā (general
ignorance), though these two terms are also sometimes used synonymously in
the sense of illusion-producing ignorance in general.
2. Śaṅankara's Conception of God
God, according to Śaṅkara, can be conceived from two different points of view.
If we look at God from the ordinary practical standpoint (vyāvahārika-dṛṣṭi)
from which the world is believed to be real, God may be regarded as the cause,
the Creator, the Sustainer, the Destroyer of the world and, therefore, also as an
Omnipotent and Omniscient Being. He then appears as possessed of all these
qualities (saguṇa). God in this aspect is called Saguṇa Brahman or Īśvara in
Śaṅkara's philosophy. He is the object of worship.
But the world, as we have seen, is conceived by Śaṅkara as an appearance
which rests on our ignorance. Description of God as the Creator of the world is
true only from the practical point of view, so long as the world-appearance is
regarded as real. Creatorship of the world is not God's essence (svarūpa-
lakṣaṇa); it is the description of what is merely accidental (taṭastha-lakṣaṇa) and
does not touch His essence.
Let us try to understand with the help of an ordinary example the distinction
that Śaṅkara wants to make here. A shepherd appears on the stage in the role of a
king, wages war, conquers a country and rules it.48 Now, the description of the
actor as a shepherd gives what he is from the real point of view. It is an essential
description of him (svarūpa-lakṣaṇa). But the description of him as a king, ruler
and conqueror, is applied to him only from the point of view of the stage and his
role there; it is merely a description of what is accidental to the person (taṭastha-
lakṣaṇa) and does not touch his essence.
Similarly, the description of God as conscious, real, infinite (satyam,
jñānam, anantam Brahma)49 is an attempt to describe His essence (svarūpa)
whereas the description of Him as Creator, Sustainer and Destroyer of the world,
or by any other characteristic connected with the world, is a mere accidental
description and it holds good only from the point of view of the world
(vyāvahārika-dṛṣṭi). As we can regard the actor on the stage from a point of view
other than that of the stage, so we can look at God also from a non-worldly point
of view (pāramārthika-dṛṣṭi) and try to dissociate Him from the characters which
we ascribe to Him from the point of view of the world. God in this aspect of
what He really is, without any reference to the world, is called by Śaṅkara as
Parambrahma or the Supreme God.
For understanding this higher aspect of God as He is really in Himself
(without relation to the world) along with the lower aspect, Śaṅkara constantly
draws on the analogy of the magician (māyāvī)50 as suggested in the
Śvetāśvatara. The magician is a juggler only to those who are deceived by his
trick and who fancy that they perceive the objects conjured up. But to the
discerning few who see through the trick and have no illusion, the juggler fails to
be a juggler. Similarly, those who believe in the world-show think of God
through this show and call Him its Creator, etc. But for those wise few who
know that the world is a mere show, there is neither any real world nor any real
Creator.
This is the only way, thinks Śaṅkara, in which we can understand in the light
of common experience how God can be both in the world and yet beyond it—
understand, that is to say, the immanence and the transcendence of God, which
are taught by the Upaniṣads. The world, so long as it appears, is in God, the only
Reality, just as the snake conjured out of the rope is nowhere else except in the
rope. But God is not really touched by the imperfections of the world just as the
rope is not affected by any illusory characters of the snake, or even as the actor is
not affected by the loss and gain of kingdom on the stage.
Rāmānuja, we shall see, finds difficulty in reconciling the immanence of
God with His transcendence. He tried to explain in different ways how God can
be said to be in the world and yet remain unaffected by the world's
imperfections. This difficulty, however, is not peculiar to Rāmānuja alone. It is
present in most Western forms of theism also which, like Rāmānuja's, look upon
creation as real.
God as the object of worship is based essentially on a belief in the distinction
between the worshipping self and the God worshipped. The reality of the limited
self like that of a worldly object is based on ignorance—on the failure to realise
that God is the only Reality. Besides, God is worshipped because God is thought
of as the creator and controller of the world. So worship and the God worshipped
are bound up with our lower standpoint (vyāvahārika dṛṣṭi) from which the
world appears as real and God appears as endowed with the many qualities in
relation to the world. It is this Saguṇa Brahma or Īśvara who can be regarded as
an object of worship.
Brahman from the higher or transcendental point of view (pāramārthika-
dṛṣṭi) cannot be described by qualities which relate on the world or to the ego.
Brahman in this aspect is devoid of all distinctions, external as well as internal
(sajātiya, vijātīya, and svagata bhedas). Here, therefore, Śaṅkara differs from
Rāmānuja who, we shall see, believes that God is possessed of at least internal
distinction (svagata bheda), because within Him there are the really distinct
conscious and unconscious realities. Brahman, in this absolutely transcendent
aspect, says Śaṅkara, cannot be described at all and it is, therefore, called
indeterminate or characterless or nirguṇa. The description of Brahman even as
infinite, real, consciousness, though more accurate than accidental descriptions,
cannot directly convey the idea of Brahman. It only serves to direct the mind
towards Brahman by denying it of finiteness, unreality and unconsciousness.51
Every quality predicated of any subject is a sort of limitation imposed on it.
This follows from the logical principle of obversion. If S is P, then it is not non-P
and, therefore, non-P is excluded from S, which becomes then limited to that
extent. A great Western philosopher, Spinoza, recognises this and lays down the
dictum, 'Every determination is negation.' He also thinks, therefore, that God, the
ultimate substance, is indeterminate and cannot be described by any positive
qualification. The Upaniṣads recognise this principle and deny of God all
predicates, even worshipability.52 This conception is developed by Śaṅkara who
calls Brahman, in this transcendent aspect, nirguṇa or attributeless.
We have said previously that the world-appearance is due to Māyā. God
regarded as the Creator of the world is, therefore, described as the wielder of
māyā. Ignorant people like us believe that the world is real and that, therefore,
God is really qualified by māyā, i.e. possessed of the power of creating the world
(māyā-viśiṣṭa). But really creativity is not an essential character of God, it is
only an apparent accidental predicate (upādhi) that we illusorily ascribe to God.
God is only apparently associated wtih creativity (māyopahita). God is
immanent (saguṇa) and God as transcendent reality (nirguṇa) are not two, any
more than the man on the stage and that man outside the stage are two. The first
is only the apparent aspect of the second. The first is relative to the world, the
second is irrelative or absolute.
Distinction between standpoints is always made by us in life and is nothing
new or queer in Advaita philosophy as it may appear to some. In daily life, we
say that a currency note is really paper, but conventionally it is money; a
photograph is really paper but appears as a man; the image in a mirror appears
as a real object, but is not really so; and so on. This ordinary kind of distinction
between the apparent and the real is philosophically utilised by Vedānta for
explaining the relation of God to the world. Thus the vyāvahārika and the
pāramārthika—empirical (conventional or practical) and the transcendental
(absolute or irrelative)—which the Vedānta distinguishes are neither uncommon
nor unintelligible. It is only the extension of a common distinction.
Though God as Creator is only apparent, yet His importance and value
should not be ignored. It is only through the lower standpoint that we can
gradually mount up to the higher. Advaita Vedānta, like the Upaniṣads, believes
in the gradual revelation of truth in stages through which spiritual progress takes
place. The unreflecting man who regards the world as a self-sufficient reality
feels no urge to look beyond it and search for its cause or ground. When he
comes to realise somehow the insufficiency of the world and looks for
something which sustains the world from behind, he comes to discover God as
the Creator and Sustainer of the world. He feels admiration and reverence and
begins to pray to the Creator. God thus becomes the object of worship. With the
further advancement of thought, so the Advaita thinks, the man may discover
that God, whom he reached through the world, is really the only reality, the
world is only an appearance. Thus at the first level, the world alone is real; at the
second, both the world and God; at the last, only God. The first is atheism. The
second represents theism as we find in Rāmānuja and others. The last is the
Absolute monsim of Śaṅkara. Śaṅkara recognises that the last level has to be
reached only gradually through the second. He therefore, believes in the utility
of worshipping God (as Saguṇa Brahma). For, this purifies the heart and
prepares one for gradually reaching the highest view, and without it no God,
immanent or transcendent, would ever be found. Śaṅkara gives a place even to
the worship of the many deities, because it redeems the spiritually backward at
least from utter atheism, and it serves as a stage on the way to the highest truth.

(i) The Rational Basis of Śaṅkara's Theory of God.

The different ideas about God, as explained above, are based primarily on the
interpretation of the scriptures. But they can also be logically deduced from the
conclusions established in the previous section by the critical analysis of
ordinary experience and by reasoning based thereon. We saw there how Śaṅkara
demonstrates by argument that (a) pure existence is the ground and material of
all particular and changing forms of existence constituting the world, (b) that
particular objects being open to contradiction cannot be taken as absolutely real,
(c) that only pure existence is beyond actual and possible contradiction and,
therefore, the only Absolute Reality, and (d) that pure existence is pure
consciousness as well. It will be found, therefore, that this Absolute Existence-
Consciousness is nothing other than God, described by the Upaniṣads as
Brahman, real, conscious and infinite. Now the two aspects of God, the
immanent and the transcendent, can also be logically deduced. The idea of God,
as pure existence is reached, we saw, through the world of particular objects, by
a logical enquiry into its nature and reality. Till such critical examination takes
place, the world of normal waking experience passes as the only reality. Our
ordinary practical life is based on such an unsuspecting acceptance of this world.
But when on examination one comes to realise pure existence as the universal
ground of the world, one perceives such existence in every phenomenon. In
other words, God or Brahman is found manifested through every particular form
of existence. Although the world appears to him in all its multiplicity, God is
thought to be its sole ground and substance. But when it is realised that though
pure existence appears in many forms, yet these latter cannot be accepted by
reason as real, one has to think that the cause of the world has the inscrutable
power of manifesting itself as many without undergoing any real modification.
This metaphysical idea, put in terms of theology, is nothing but the conception of
God as the Creator of the world and possessed of a magical creative power,
māyā. This is also the conception of Īśvara or Saguṇa-brahman, Brahman
endowed with the attributes of omnipotence (the power of causing all things) and
omniscience (consciousness revealing all forms of existence). Again, as all
objects perish only to merge in existence of some other form, objects can be
conceived as being withdrawn into their ground, that is existence. God can thus
be described as also the Destroyer or that into which the world's objects lose
their particular forms.
But on still deeper thought it is realised that the relation of the unreal to the
real cannot be itself real. The attributes ascribed to God to express His relation to
the apparent world cannot, therefore, be taken as real. Thus emerges the idea of
God in His transcendent and truly real aspect of Parabrahman, the Supreme
Reality, above all multiplicity and devoid of all really ascribable attributes, the
Nirguṇa Brahman or Indeterminate Absolute. Śaṅkara's conception of Brahman
in its twofold aspect and all ideas connected there with are, therefore, found to
be logically deducible also from a critical view of ordinary experience.
Like Spinoza's conception of God, as substance, Śaṅkara's conception of
God. as Parabrahman or Nirguṇa Brahman, differs from the God of Religion,
that is, God conceived as an object of worship, distinct from the worshipper and
endowed with the highest attributes. It is no wonder, therefore, that like Spinoza,
Śaṅkara also is sometimes accused of atheism. This charge stands or falls
according as God is taken in this narrow sense or in the wider one, we have
previously discussed. If God connotes, among other things, the Supreme Reality,
Śaṅkara's theory is not surely atheism, but rather the logical perfection of the
theistic faith. Indeed, whereas atheism believes only in the world and not at all in
God, and ordinary theism believes in both, the world and God, Śaṅkara believes
only in God. For him God is the only Reality. Rather than denying God, he
makes the most of God. This view also marks the highest extension of the
ordinary religious emotion towards God. For it points to the stage where love of
God becomes absolute, suffering neither the ego nor the world. If this type of
faith is to be distinguished from ordinary theism (or belief in personal God), the
word for it should be, not atheism, but rather 'super-theism'.
In connection with the process of creation, we saw, that the Advaitin
imagines the gradual evolution of the world out of Brahman through Māyā, by a
process of apparent change of the subtle to the gross. Three stages are sometimes
distinguished53 in this process of evolution in analogy with the development of a
seed into a plant, namely, the undifferentiated seed stage or causal stage, the
subtly differentiated germinating stage and the fully differentiated plant stage.
Brahman, the unchanging reality, cannot, of course, be said to be undergoing
evolution. All change and, therefore, evolution belong to the sphere of Māyā. It
is Māyā, the creative power which at first remains unmanifested, then becomes
differentiated into subtle objects, and then into the gross ones. Brahman
conceived as the possessor of the undifferentiated Māyā is named Īśvara, and
described as omniscient and omnipotent. It is the conception of God existing
prior to actual creation, but possesed of the power of creation. Brahman
possessed of subtly differentiated Māyā is called Hiraṇyagarbha (also Sūtrātmā
and Prāṇa). God in this aspect would be the totality of all subtle objects.
Brahman possessed of Māyā differentiated further into gross or perceptible
objects is called Vaiśvānara (also Virāṭ). This aspect of God is the totality of all
gross objects, the entire manifested world, including all individuals (jīvas).
Sometimes this gradual process of evolution is compared to the three states of
the individual, namely, deep sleep, dream and wakefulness. Īśvara is God in deep
slumber. Hiraṇyagarbha is God in dreaming state, and Vaiśvānara is God fully
awake. It should be remembered that whereas ordinarily Īśvara implies the entire
immanent aspect of God, that is Brahman associated with Māyā in all stages, the
word is used in the present context in a narrower sense, and confined only to the
first stage.
Counting these three immanent aspects of God in relation to creation along
with the transcendent aspect beyond all such relation, we have the four possible
aspects of Brahman, namely, Pure Consciousness-Existence (Parabrahman),
Īśvara, Hiraṇyagarbha and Vaiśvānara. Though these are generally taken as the
successive stages of manifestation. It is equally possible to think of them as
simultaneously existing. For, Pure Consciousness never ceases even when it
seems to evolve, nor do the subtle manifestations (e.g. buddhi, manas, prāṇas,
senses and motor organs) cease when the gross ones come into existence.
Śaṅkara does not seem to attach any serious importance to the different
alternative accounts of the order of creation, and metaphors in support thereof,
though he tries to explain all of them as they occur in the different scriptures,
without any attempt to justify some and reject the rest. There are two problems
that appear in the human mind as to the world. One of them is: What is the
ultimate ground, substance, or reality logically presupposed by the world? The
other is. Why or how does the world originate from what is accepted as the
ultimate? The solution of the first is the primary business of philosophy.
Śaṅkara, Spinoza, Green, Bradley and most other great philosophers of the world
address themselves to this problem. They start from the world of experienced
facts, analyse it critically and try to find out what is logically pre-supposed by it.
Reasoning or logic is the chief instrument here. We saw already how Śaṅkara
thus discovers pure existence and consciousness as the only and ultimate reality.
The solution of the second problem is the business of mythology which starts
with God (or some other ultimate) and gives an imaginary account of why and
how the world is created. Imagination is the chief instrument here, and no logical
rigour can be expected in its work. The mythological explanation of the world
has always been a pastime for the human mind in all lands, as all the scriptures
and legends of the world would show. Sometimes it is found intermingled also
with philosophical speculation. But all great philosophers have fought shy of
mythological explanation. The hackneyed criticism against Spinoza that his
substance is like a lion's den to which there are many steps but out of which
there are none, points to this fact, though it misunderstands the primary business
of the philosopher. Green54 and Bradley55 plainly confess that the why and how
of creation cannot be explained by philosophy. Similarly, Śaṅkara does not take
the stories and motives of creation, described in different scriptures, with the
same seriousness with which he tries to establish the reality of Brahman, the
ultimate ground of the world, or expose the contradictory character of all
changing and particular finite modes of existence. The accounts of creation are
true, for him, only from the lower point of view.

3. Śaṅkara's Conception of the self, Bondage and

Liberation
We have found already that Śaṅkara believes in unqualified monism. All
distinctions between objects and objects, the subjects and the object, the self and
God are the illusory creation of māyā. He holds fast to the conception of identity
without any real difference and tries to follow it out logically in every respect.
He accepts, therefore, without any reservation, the identity of the Soul and God,
that is repeatedly taught in the Upaniṣads.
Man is apparently composed of the body and the soul. But the body which
we perceive is, like every other material object, merely an illusory appearance.
When this is realised, the reality that remains is the soul which is nothing other
than God. The saying, 'That thou art', means that there is an unqualified identity
between the soul, that underlies the apparently finite man, and God. It is true that
if we take the word 'thou' in the sense of the empirical individual limited and
conditioned by its body, and the word 'that' as the reality beyond the world, there
cannot be an identity between the 'thou' and 'that'. We have to understand,
therefore, the word 'thou' to imply pure consciousness underlying man and 'that'
to imply also pure consciousness which forms the essence of God. Between
these two, complete identity exists and is taught by the Vedānta. An identity
judgment like 'This is that "Devadatta"' (which we pass on seeing Devadatta for
a second time) makes the above point clear. The conditions which the man had
the previous day cannot be exactly identical with those he has the second day.
Therefore, there cannot be any identity between the man qualified by one set of
conditions with the man qualified by another set. What we mean, therefore, must
be that the man, viewed apart from the diferent conditions, is the same. Similar
is the case with the identity taught between the Self and God. The Self, viewed
apart from the conditions that differentiate it from pure consciousness, is
identical with God viewed apart from the attributes that differentiate Him from
pure consciousness. Such identity judgment is not tautological and superfluous,
because it serves the purpose of pointing out that what are illusorily taken as
different are really one. The identity that is taught between man and God is a
real identity between terms which appear as different. Being identical with God,
the soul is in reality what God also really is. It is the supreme Brahman—the
self-luminous, infinite, consciousness. The soul appears as the limted, finite self
because of its association with the body which is a product of ignorance.
The body is not composed simply of what we perceive through the senses. In
addition to the gross perceptible body, there is also a subtle one, composed of the
senses, the motor organs (these two groups together being called indriyās), vital
elements (prāṇas) and internal mechanism of knowledge (antaḥkaraṇa). While
the gross body perishes on death, the subtle body does not, and it migrates with
the soul to the next gross body. Both of these bodies are the products of māyā.
Owing to ignorance, the beginning of which cannot be assigned, the soul
erroneously associates itself with the body, gross and subtle. This is called
bondage. In this state it forgets that it is really Brahman. It behaves like a finite,
limited, miserable being which runs after transitory worldly objects and is
pleased to get them, sorry to miss them. It identifies itself with a finite body and
mind (antaḥkaraṇa) and thinks 'I am stout,' 'I am lame,' 'I am ignorant.' Thus
arises the conception of the self as the 'Ego' or 'I'. This limited ego opposes itself
to the rest of existence, which is thought to be different from it. The ego is not,
therefore, the real self, but is only an apparent limitation of it.
Consciousness of the self, also becomes limited by the conditions of the
body. The senses and antaḥkaraṇa (the internal organ of knowledge) become the
instruments through which limited consciousness of objects takes place. Such
empirical, finite knowledge is of two kinds, immediate and mediate. Immediate
knowledge of external objects arises when, through any sense, the antaḥkaraṇa
flows out to the object and is modified into the form of the object. In addition to
immediate knowledge (pratyakṣa) the Advaitins admit five different kinds of
mediate knowledge, namely, inference (anumāna), testimony (śabda),
comparison (upamāna), postulation (arthāpatti) and non-cognition (anupalabdhi).
The Advaitins agree, in the main, with the Bhāṭṭa school of Mīmāmsā regarding
these sources of knowledge. As the Bhāṭṭa views have been already stated we
need not repeat them here.56
When a man is awake, he thinks himself identified with the gross body, as
well as with the internal and external organs. When he falls asleep and dreams,
he is still conscious of objects that arise from memory-impressions, and,
therefore, the feeling of his limitation as a subject or knower opposed to objects
still persists there. When he has deep, dreamless sleep, he ceases to have any
ideas of objects. In the absence of objects, he ceases to be a knower as well. The
polarity of subject and object, the opposition between the knower and the
known, vanishes altogether. He no longer feels that he is confined to and limited
by the body. But yet consciousness does not cease in dreamless sleep; for
otherwise how could we remember at all on awaking from sleep that we had
such a state? How could we report 'I had peaceful sleep, had no dreams,' if we
were unconscious then?
The study of dreamless sleep gives us a glimpse of what the self really is
when dissociated from its feeling of identity with the body. The soul in its
intrinsic state is not a finite, miserable being. It does not separate itself from the
rest of existence and does not limit itself by a feeling of the 'I' (aham) opposed to
a 'thou' or 'this' or 'that'. It is also free from all worries that arise from hankerings
after objects. The self, really, then is unlimited consciousness and bliss.

The Rational Basis of Śaṅkara's Conception of Self:

The conception of self set forth above is chiefly based on revealed texts. But
it is also independently reached by the Advaitin through different lines of
argument based on the logical analysis of ordinary experience. We may briefly
indicate them here. It should be clearly mentioned at the outset that Śaṅkara
never thinks that the existence of the self (ātman) need be proved by any
argument. The self is self-manifest in everyone. 'Everyone believes that he
exists, and never thinks "I am not."57 But there are so many different kinds of
meaning, attached to 'I' or 'self' that it requires a good deal of analysis and
reasoning to find out what the self really is.
One method of enquiry is the analysis of language. The word 'I' seems
sometimes to imply the body (e.g. 'I am fat'), sometimes a sense (e.g. 'I am
blind'), sometimes a motor organ (e.g. 'I am lame'), sometimes a mental faculty
(e.g. 'I am dull'), sometimes consciousness (e.g. 'I know'). Which of these should
be taken to be the real essence of the self ? To determine this we have to
remember the true criterion of reality. The reality or the essence of a thing is, as
we saw previously, that which persists through all its states.58 The essence or the
reality behind the world of objects was found, in this way, to be pure existence
because while other things about the world change and perish, this always
reveals itself in every state. In a similar way it is found that what is common to
the body, sense, mind, etc., with which the self identifies itself from time to time,
is consciousness. The identification of the self with any of these means some
form of consciousness or other that is the consciousness of the self as the body
('I am fat'), as a sense ('I am blind') and the like. Consciousness is, therefore, the
essence of the self in whichever from it may appear. But it is not consciousness
of any particular form, but simple consciousness common to all its forms. Such
consciousness is also pure existence since existence persists through all forms of
consciousness. The different particular and changing forms of consciousness can
be shown, from their contradictory natures, to be mere appearances, in the same
way as the different forms of existence were shown to be so before.
This conclusion is further supported by the linguistic expressions 'my body,'
'my sense,' 'my intellect,' etc. which show that the self can alienate itself from
these (body, sense, etc.) and treat them as external objects distinct from itself.
These cannot, therefore, be regarded as the real essence of the self. It is true, one
also sometimes says 'my consciousness'. But such an expression cannot be taken
literally, as implying a distinction between the self (as possessor) and
consciousness (as possessed). For, if the self tries to distinguish itself from
consciousness, it only assumes the form of distinguishing consciousness.
Consciousness thus proves inseparable and indistinguishable from the self. So
'my consciousness' must be taken in a metaphorical sense. The possessive case
here does not really imply distinction, but rather identity or apposition (as in 'The
city of London'). By comparing and analysing the different meanings of the self
expressed by 'I' and 'mine' we discover thus pure consciousness as the real
essence of the self.
If again we compare the three states, namely of waking, dreaming and
sleeping without dreams which the human self experiences daily, we can reach
the same conception. The essence of the self must remain in all these or the self
would cease to be. But what do we find common to all these states? In the first
state there is consciousness of external objects; in the second also there is
consciousness, but of internal objects present only to the dreamer. In the third
state no objects appear, but there is no cessation of consciousness, for otherwise
the subsequent memory of that state, as one of peace and freedom from worries,
would not be possible. The persistent factor then is consciousness, but not
necessarily of any object. This shows again that the essence of self is pure
consciousness without necessary relation to object.
But two more points of special importance also emerge out of this
consideration. The first one is that consciousness, the essence of the self, is not
dependent on objects. There is no reason, therefore, to think that consciousness
is produced by the relation of the self to objects through some proper medium.
We have to revise then our ordinary theory of knowledge. If the self is self-
existing and self-revealing consciousness, and every object also is, as we saw
before, a form of self-revealing existence-consciousness, the only way we can
understand the non-cognition of an existing object is that there is some obstacle
which conceals the object. The relation of the self to the object through sense,
etc. is required then only to remove this obstruction, just as the removal of the
obstacle of a cover is required for the perception of a self-revealing light.
The other point is that the self in its intrinsic nature, isolated from all objects,
as it is in dreamless sleep, is found to have blissful or peaceful existence.
Consciousness in that state is bliss. When in the light of this discovery we scan
the other two states we can understand that even there some joy or bliss does
exist though in distorted or mutilated forms. The fleeting pleasures which we
have in wakeful life and in dream can be understood as the fragmentary
manifestation of the joy or bliss which forms the essence of the self. This
explanation is further supported by the fact that man derives pleasure by owning
property, etc., that is, by identifying them with his self. The self can thus be
explained as the ultimate source of all joy. This joy is ordinarily finite and short-
lived because the self limits itself by identifying itself with finite and fleeting
objects. Sorrow is related to want and joy to fulness. When the self can realise
what it really is, namely, pure consciousness which is infinite (being free from
all particularity), it is one with the essence or self of the universe. It is then
above want and attains infinite bliss.
It is also found from the above arguments, that pure existence without any
specific limitation is common to the self and to the world outside, that
consciousness is also present in both, though it is patent in the former and
concealed in the latter. The reality underlying the world is, therefore, identical
with that underlying the self. Had the self and the world not a common basis,
knowledge of the latter by the former would not be possible; and far less
possible would be the identification of the self with external objects. In other
words, Brahman, the infinite existence-consciousness is the only reality that
constitutes the self and the external world. Brahman is also found to be bliss or
joy, since the state of dreamless sleep exhibits the intrinsic nature of the self,
pure objectless consciousness, to be identical with bliss. The finite appearance of
the self as the ego, 'I' in different contexts must, therefore, be due to ignorance
(avidyā) which makes it identify itself now with the body and then with a sense
or any other finite existence.
How infinite, formless consciousness, which is the self's essence, can
assume particular forms is a problem which we already came across in another
form, namely, how pure existence can appear as particular objects. As no
particular and changing phenomenon can be regarded as real we have to face
here the same insoluble puzzle, namely, the appearance, in experience of what is
unreal to thought. In admitting this unintelligible fact of experience, logical
thought has to acknowledge a mysterious or inscrutable power by which the
Infinite Self can apparently limit itself into the finite. So Māyā is admitted by the
Advaitin as the principle of apparent limitation and multiplication in this as in
every other sphere. But this Māyā may be conceived in a collective as well as in
a distributive way. We can imagine Brahman, the Infinite Pure Consciousness-
Existence-Bliss limiting itself by an all-overpowering Māyā and appearing as the
universe of finite objects and selves. Or we can think of each individual self as
labouring under a power of ignorance and seeing, in place of the One Brahman,
the universe of many objets and selves. These would be but thinking of the same
situation from two different points of view, the cosmic and the individual. When
such distinction is made, the word, Māyā, is restricted, as we said before, to the
first or collective aspect of the power of ignorance and avidyā to the individual
aspect.
The individual (Jīva) can then be imagined metaphorically as but the
reflection (pratibimba) of the Infinite Consciousness on the finite mirror of
ignorance (avidyā) and compared to one of the many reflections of the moon
cast on different receptacles of water. Just as there the reflection varies with the
nature of the reflecting water, appearing clear or dirty, moving or motionless,
according as the water is of one nature or another, similarly does the human self,
the reflection of the Infinite, vary with the nature of the avidyā. We saw
previously that the human body, gross and subtle, is the product of ignorance,
and the mind (the antaḥkaraṇa) is one of the elements composing the subtle
body. The mind is thus a product of avidyā. Now, the mind may be more or less
cultured; it may be ignorant, impure, swayed by passion or enlightened, pure and
dispassionate. These differences can be said to constitute differences in the
avidyās of the individuals. The analogy of reflection would thus explain how the
same Brahman can appear as different kinds of individual selves, without really
becoming different and only being reflected in different kinds of minds
constituted by different avidyās. This conception would also point to the
possibility of attaining to a better and better realisation of the Brahman in us by
purifying the mind more and more. The possibility of a more tranquil state is
also shown by our daily experience of dreamless sleep, wherein the self,
dissociated from objects, enjoys temporary peace.
The attempt to understand the appearance of individual souls on the analogy
of images, is called the theory of reflection (pratibimba-vāda). One great
disadvantage of this metaphor is that it reduces the souls to mere images, and
liberation, which according to it would consist in breaking the mirror of
ignorance, would also mean the total cessation of the illusory individuals. To
secure a status of greater reality for the individual, there is an alternative
metaphor preferred by some Advaitins, namely, the imaginary division of Space,
which really remains one and undivided, into different particular spaces. Just as
the same space is conceived to exist everywhere and yet it is conventionally
divided, for practical convenience, into the space of the pot, that of the room,
that of a town and so on, similarly though Brahman is the one and all-pervasive
Reality, it is supposed, through ignorance, to be limited and divided into
different objects and souls. Really, however, there is no distinction between
objects and objects, souls and souls, since all are at the bottom of the same pure
existence. What is illusory here (in this alternative imagery) is only the
limitation, the finitude imposed on Reality by ignorance. Every soul, even when
supposed to be finite, is really nothing other than Brahman. Liberation consists
only in breaking the illusory barriers, and what was limited by them, namely
existence, is then left unaffected. This alternative explanation is known as the
theory of limitation (avacchedaka vāda).
The attempt of Śaṅkara and his followers is to show how the intrinsic, pure
condition of the self can be regained. The fact that the blissful state of dreamless
sleep is not permanent and man once more returns to his finite, limited,
embodied consciousness on waking up, shows that there remain even in
dreamless sleep, in a latent form, the forces of karma or avidyā which draw man
into the world. Unless these forces, accumulated from the past, can be
completely stopped, there is no hope of liberation from the miserable existence
which the self has in this world.
The study of the Vedānta helps man conquer these deep-rooted effects of
long-standing ignorance. But the study of the truth taught by the Vedānta would
have no effect unless the mind is previously prepared. This initial preparation,
according to Śaṅkara, is not the study of the Mimāṁsā sūtra, as Rāmānuja
thinks. The Mīmāmsā, which teaches the performance of sacrifices to the various
gods, rests on the wrong conception of a distinction between the worshipper and
the worshipped. In spirit is, therefore, antagonistic to the absolute monism taught
by the Vedānta. Far from preparing the mind for the reception of the monistic
truth, it only helps to perpetuate the illusion of distinctions and plurality from
which man already suffers.
The preparation necessary for undertaking the study of the Vedānta is
fourfold, according to Śaṅkara59 One should, first, be able to discriminate
between what is eternal and what is not eternal (nityānitya-vastu-viveka). He
should, secondly, be able to give up all desires for enjoyment of objects here and
hereafter (ihāmut-rārtha-bhogavirāga). Thirdly, he should control his mind and
his senses and develop qualities like detachment, patience, power of
concentration (śamadamādi-sādhana-sampat). Lastly, he should have an ardent
desire for liberation (mumukṣutva).
With such preparation of the intellect, emotion and will one should begin to
study the Vedānta with a teacher who has himself realised Brahman. This study
consists of the threefold process: listening to the teacher's instructions (śravaṇa),
understanding the instructions through reasoning until all doubts are removed
and conviction is generated (manana), and repeated meditation on the truths thus
accepted (nididhyāsana).
The forces of deep-rooted beliefs of the past do not disappear so soon as the
truths of the Vedānta are learned. Only repeated meditation on the truths and life
led accordingly can gradually root them out. When wrong beliefs thus become
removed and belief in the truths of the Vedānta becomes permanent, the seeker
after liberation is told by the teacher Thou art Brahman.' He begins then to
contemplate this truth steadfastly till at last he has an immediate realisation of
the truth in the form 'I am Brahman.' Thus the illusory distinction between the
self and Brahman at last disappears and bondage, too, along with it. Liberation
(mukti) is thus attained.
Even on the attainment of liberation, the body may continue because it is the
product of karmas which had already borne their effects (prārabdha-karma). But
the liberated soul never again identifies itself with the body. The world still
appears before him, but he is not deceived by it. He does not feel any desire for
the world's objects. He is, therefore, not affected by the world's misery. He is in
the world and yet out of it. This conception of Śaṅkara has become well known
in later Vedānta as Jīvanmukti60 (the liberation of one while one is alive). It is
the state of perfection attained here. Like Buddha, the Śaṅkara, the Jaina and
some other Indian thinkers, Śaṅkara believes that perfection can be reached even
here in this life. It is not a mere extra mundane prospect, like heaven, to be
attained hereafter in an unperceived future. It is true that the seeker after
liberation is asked to begin with some faith in the testimony of the scriptures
regarding the utility of the spiritual discipline he is required to follow. But his
faith is fully justified and more than repaid by the end it secures in the very life.
Three kinds of karma can be distinguished. Karmas gathered in past lives
admit of a twofold division, those that have borne their effects (prārabdha-
karma) and those that still lie accumulated (sañcita-karma). In addition to these
two kinds, there are karmas which are being gathered here in this life
(sañcīyamāna). Knowledge of reality destroys the second kind and prevents the
third and thus makes rebirth impossible. But the first kind which has already
borne effects cannot be prevented. Hence the present body, the effect of such
karma, runs its natural course and ceases when the force of the karma causing it
becomes automatically exhausted, just as the wheel of a potter which has been
already turned comes to a stop only when the momentum imparted to it becomes
exhausted. When the body, gross and subtle, perishes, the jīvan-mukta is said to
attain the disembodied state of liberation (videha-mukti).
Liberation is not the production of anything new, nor is it the purification of
any old state; it is the realisation of what is always there, even in the stage of
bondage, though not known then. For, liberation is nothing but the identity of the
self and Brahman, which is always real, though not always recognised. The
attainment of liberation is, therefore, compared by the Advaitins to the finding of
the necklace on the neck by one who forgot its existence there and searched for it
hither and thither. As bondage is due to an illusion, liberation is only the removal
of this illusion.
Liberation is not merely the absence of all misery that arises from the
illusory sense of distinction between the self and God. It is conceived by the
Advaitin, after Upaniṣads, as a state of positive bliss (ānanda), because Brahman
is bliss and liberation is identity with Brahman.
Though the liberated soul, being perfect, has no end to achieve, it can work
still without any fear of further bondage. Śaṅkara, following the Gitā, holds that
work fetters a man only when it is performed with attachment. But one who has
obtained perfect knowledge and perfect satisfaction, is free from attachment. He
can work without any hope of gain and is not, therefore, affected by success or
failure. Śaṅkara attaches great importance to disinterested work. For one who
has not yet obtained perfect knowledge, such work is necessary for self-
purification (ātma-śuddho), because it is not through inactivity but through the
performance of selfless action that one can gradually free oneself from the yoke
of the ego and its petty interests. Even for one who has obtained perfect
knowledge or liberation, selfless activity is necessary for the good of those who
are still in bondage.61
The liberated man is the ideal of society and his life should be worthy of
imitation by the people at large. Inactivity or activity that would mislead them
should, therefore, be avoided by the perfect.62 Social service is not, therefore,
thought by Śaṅkara to be incompatible with the perfect life, but rather desirable.
In his own life of intense social service Śaṅkara follows this ideal. This ideal is
also advocated by some eminent modern Vedāntists like Svāmī Vivekānanda63
and Lokamānya B.G. Tilak.64
The critics of Advaita Vedānta have often urged that if Brahman be the only
reality and all distinctions false, the distinction between right and wrong also
would be false. Such a philosophy is, therefore, fruitful of dangerous
consequences for society. This objection is due to the confusion of the lower and
the higher standpoint. From the empirical standpoint, the distinction between
right and wrong, like other distinctions, is quite valid. For one who has not yet
attained liberation, any action which directly or indirectly leads him towards the
realisation of his unity with Brahman is good, and that which hampers such
realisation, directly or indirectly, is bad. Truthfulness, charity, benevolence, self-
control and the like would be found to fall under the first category even
according to this criterion, whereas falsehood, selfishness, injury to others would
come under the second. One who has attained perfect knowledge and liberation
would look back upon these moral distinctions as being relative to the lower
standpoint and, therefore, not absolutely valid. But neither would he perform a
bad action insofar as the motive of every bad action is based on the ignorant
identification of the self with the body, the senses and the like, in a word, on the
lack of the sense of unity between the Self and Brahman.65
A pragmatic critic, for whom practical utility is the highest value, often
complains that Śaṅkara indulges in visionary speculation which reduces the
world to an empty show, deprives life of all zest and causes failure in the
struggle for existence. The reply to such a charge is that if man chooses to live
the unreflecting life of an animal, or of the primitive man, he need not go beyond
the world of practical reality. But if he is to use his reason and think of the nature
and meaning of this world, he is irresistibly led by logical necessity to realise, as
we saw, the contradictory and unreal nature of it and search for its real ground.
Reason demands again that he should reshape his life on a rational basis in the
light of what it discovers to be the highest reality. As a child grows into an adult
he has to remodel life gradually in accordance with his changing outlook. The
play things which were once valued more than things precious to the adult, yield
place to the latter. Remodelling life to suit a truer conception of reality and value
causes no harm to practical life, but, on the contrary, places life on a more
rational, real and permanent footing. It surely deprives life of its zest in the sense
that it controls the passions and impulses which push the animal, the child, and
the primitive man blindly from behind. But it gradually replaces these blind
forces by conscious and rational ideals which can create for life an enthusiasm of
a higher and a more abiding kind.
As to the question of survival in the struggle for existence it should be borne
in mind that what constitutes fitness for survival in the plant world, is not the
same in the animal world, and it is all the more different in the human world.
Social qualities like love, unity, self-sacrifice and rational conduct possess
greater survival value than egoism, jealousy, selfishness and blind passionate
conduct. And no view of the world and life can supply a better foundation for
such superior qualities than the one which inspres man with the belief in the
unity of all men, all creation and all existence. Such is the view, we have found,
of Śaṅkara. It is a misunderstanding, then, to suspect it of baneful effect on
practical life. The moral and spiritual discipline which he recommends, aims at
the actual realisation, in immediate experience, of the unity of existence or the
presence of Brahman in all things, the unity which reasoning convinces us to be
real by its irresistible logic, but which our present actual experience of difference
and multiplicity tries to set aside.
In conclusion, we should observe that the Vedānta of Śaṅkara, in its different
aspects, is an attempt to follow out the Upaniṣadic idea of the unity of all
existence to its logical conclusion. With all its defects and excellence, it stands in
the history of human thought as the most consistent system of monism. As
William James puts it (in appreciation of Śaṅkara's Vedānta as presented by
Svāmī Vivekānanda in America): 'The paragon of all monistic systems is the
Vedānta Philosophy of Hindostan.'66 It is true that such a system fails to appeal
to those who turn to philosophy for the justification of their imperfect ideas of
worldly distinctions and worldly values. Like the teachings of early Buddhism
and Jainism, the monistic philosophy of Śaṅkara is only for the strong-hearted
who can follow logic dauntlessly and face conclusions, however subversive of
ordinary ideas of reality and value. But, for those few who have the heart for it,
Advaita monism is not without recompense and is not even without emotional
satisfaction. As James puts it: 'An Absolute One, and I that one,—surely we have
here a religion which, emotionally considered, has a high pragmatic value: it
imparts a perfect sumptuosity of security.'67 'We all have some ear for this
monistic music: it elevates and reassures.'68

III. THE QUALIFIED MONISM OF RĀMĀNUJA

(VIŚIṢṬĀDVATTA)

1. Rāmānuja's Conception of the World

Rāmānuja takes the Upaniṣadic accounts of creation, stated previously, in a
literal sense. He holds that God, who is omnipotent, creates the manifold world
out of Himself by a gracious act of will. Within the All-inclusive God (Brahman)
there are both unconscious matter (acit) and the finite spirits (cit). The first is the
source of the material objects and as such called prakṛti (i.e., root or origin) after
the Svetāśvatara-Upaniṣad,69 the Purāṇas and Smṛtis whose authority Rāmānuja
highly values. This prakṛti is admitted, as in the Sāṅkhya, to be an uncreated
(aja), eternal reality. But unlike the Sāṅkhya, Rāmānuja believes that it is a part
of God and controlled by God just as the human body is controlled from within
by the human soul. During the state of dissolution (praḷaya) this primal
unconscious nature of prakṛti remains in a latent, subtle (sūkṣma) and
undifferentiated (avibhakta) form. God creates out of this the world of diverse
objects in accordance with the deeds of the souls in the world prior to the last
dissolution. Impelled by the omnipotent will of God the undifferentiated subtle
matter gradually becomes transformed into three kinds of subtle elements—fire,
water and earth. These differentiated elements manifest also the three kinds of
qualities known as sattva, rajas and tamas. Gradually the three subtle elements
become mixed up together and give rise to all gross objects which we perceive in
the material world.70 In every object in the world there is a mixture of three
elements. This process of triplication is known as trivṛtkaraṇa.
Rāmānuja holds, therefore, the creation is a fact and the created world is as
real as Brahman. Regarding the Upaniṣadic texte which deny the multiplicity of
objects and assert the unity of all things, Rāmānuja holds that these texts do not
mean to deny the reality of the many objects, but only teach that in all of them
there is the same Brahman, on which all are dependent for existence, just as all
gold articles are dependent on gold. What the Upaniṣads deny is the
independence of objects, but not their dependent existence (aprthaksthiṭi).71
It is true, Rāmānuja admits, that God has been described (in the
Śvetāśvatara) as wielder of a magical power (māyā), but this only means that the
inscrutable power by which God creates the world is as wonderful as that of a
magician. The word 'māyā' stands for God's power of creating wonderful objects
(vicitrārtha-sargakari śakti). It also stands sometimes for prakṛti to signify her
wonderful creativity.72
Rāmānuja denies, therefore, that creation and the created world are illusory.
To strengthen this position he further holds that all knowledge is true
(yathārthaṁ sarva-vijñānam)73 and that there is no illusory object anywhere.
Even in the case of the so-called illusory snake in the rope, he points out that the
three elements (fire, water, earth) by the mixture of which a snake is made, are
also the elements by the mixture of which a rope is made, so that even in a rope
there is something of a snake and this common element really existing in a rope
is perceived when we take it for snake. No unreal object is perceived then. The
constituent elements of every object being in every other thing every so-called
illusion can be similarly explained away. This theory of Rāmānuja resembles in
essential respects the view of some modern realists like Boodin, who hold that
all immediate experience of objects is true on the strength of the quantum theory
of Schrödinger, according to which each of the electrons, which compose
material objects, pervades the whole world, so that 'Everything is immanent in
everything else.'74

(i) Rāmānuja Criticism of the Advaita Theory of Māyā

Rāmānuja, who lived long after Śaṅkara as well as of this followers, commented
on the theory of Māya, in the course of his commentary on the Brahmasūtra. We
are indebted to him for exposing many of the obscure points of the Advaita
school. Though the charges raised by Rāmānuja have been replied to by the
Advaitins, they have great value for understanding more clearly both Rāmānuja
and Śaṅkara. We shall mention here Rāmānuja's chief objections against the
Advaita theory of Māyā or ajñāna and also show briefly how they can be met
from the standpoint of Śaṅkara.
Where does the Ignorance (ajñāna), that is said to produce the world, exist?
It cannot be said to exist in an individual self (jīva), because individuality is
itself produced by Ignorance and the cause cannot depend on its effect. Neither
can Ignorance be said to be omniscient.
The reply to this, in defence of Śaṅkara, would be that even if Ignorance be
said to be in the individual self, the difficulty arises only if we regard the one as
preceding the other. But if we regard ignorance and individuality as but the two
interdependent aspects of the same fact, as a circle and its circumference, or a
triangle and its sides, or fatherhood and son-ship, the difficulty does not arise.
But if, on the other hand, Brahman be regarded as the locus of Ignorance, even
then the difficulty can be removed by removing a misunderstanding on which it
is based. Māyā in Brahman is Ignorance only in the sense of the power of
producing ignorance and illusion in individuals; it does not affect Brahman any
more than the magician's power of creating an illusion affects his own
knowledge.
It is said that māyā or ajñāna conceals the real nature of Brahman. But
Brahman is admitted to be essentially self-revealing. If Māyā conceals Brahman
it means that His self-revealing nature is destroyed by it and Brahman ceases to
be.
The reply to this is that ignorance conceals Brahman in the sense of
preventing the ignorant individual from realising His real nature, most as a patch
of cloud conceals the sun by preventing a person from perceiving the sun. So
Ignorance does no more destroy the nature of Brahman than the cloud destroys
the self-manifesting nature of the sun. Self-manifestation means manifestation of
itself in the absence of obstacles—and not in spite of obstacles. The sun does not
cease to be self-revealing because the blind cannot see it.
What is the nature of the Ignorance? Sometimes the Advaitins say that māyā
is indescribable (anirvacanīya), it is neither real nor unreal. This is absurd.
Because our experience shows that things are either real or unreal. How can
there be a third category besides these two contradictories?
The reply to this is that māyā, as well as every illusory object, is said to be
indescribable owing to a genuine difficulty. In so far as it appears to be
something, an illusion or illusory object cannot be said to be unreal like a square
circle or the son of a barren woman which never even appears to exist. Again in
so for as it is sublated or contradicted afterwards by some experience, it cannot
be said to be absolutely real like Ātman or Brahman whose reality is never
contradicted. Māyā and every illusory object have this nature and compel us to
recognise this nature as something unique and indescribable in terms of ordinary
reality or unreality. To say that māyā is indescribable is only to describe a fact,
namely our inability to bring it under any ordinary category, and it does not
mean any violation of the law of contradiction. In fact, as 'real' means here the
'absolutely real' and 'unreal' 'the absolutely unreal,' they do not constitute a pair
of contradictories any more than two words like 'extremely cold' and 'extremely
hot' do.
Again sometimes, māyā or avidyā is said by the Advaitins to be positive
ignorance (bhāva-rūpam ajñānam). This is also meaningless. Ignorance means
want of knowledge, and how can it be positive then?
The reply in defence would be that as the illusion-producing ignorance is not
merely an absence of the knowledge of the ground of illusion but positively
makes this ground appear as some other object, it is properly described as
positive in this sense.
Granting that māyā is something positive, how can it be destroyed by the
knowledge of Brahman? Nothing that positively exists can be removed from
existence by knowledge.
The reply is that if the word 'positive' be understood in the sense given
above, this misunderstanding would not arise. In our daily experience of illusory
objects, like the serpent in a rope, we find that the object positively appears to be
there and yet it vanishes when we have a clear knowledge of the ground of the
illusion, viz. the rope.

2. Rāmānuja's Conception of God

God, according to Rāmānuja, is the Absolute Reality possessed of two integral
parts, matter and the finite spirits. Brahman is the only reality in the universe in
the sense that outside or independent of God there is no other reality. But God
contains within Himself the material objects as well as the finite souls which are
real. The Absolute One contains the many. This monism of Rāmānuja is known,
therefore, as Viśiṣṭādvaita which means the Unity (advaita) of Brahman
possessed (viśiṣṭa) of real parts (the conscious and the unconscious). It is not a
distinctionless unity. Three types of distinction (bheda) are generally
distinguished by the Vedāntins. The distinction that anything—say, a cow—has
from things of other classes, such as horses, asses, is called heterogeneous
distinction (vijātīya-bheda). The distinction that one cow has from another cow
(i.e., an object of the same class) is called a homogeneous distinction (sajātīya-
bheda). In addition to these two kinds of external distinctions, there is a third
kind, i.e., internal distinction (svagata-bheda), which exists within an object,
between its different parts, such as between the tail and the legs of the same cow.
In the light of this threefold classification of distinctions, Rāmānuja holds that
Brahman is devoid of the two kinds of external distinctions (vijātīya and
sajātīya), because there is nothing besides God, either similar or dissimilar to
Him. But God is possessed of internal distinctions (svagata-bheda), as there are
within Him different conscious and unconscious substances which can be
mutually distinguished.
God is possessed of an infinite number of infinitely good qualities such as
omnipotence, omniscience, benevolence. Therefore, God is not characterless
(nirguṇa), nor indeterminate, but possessed of qualities (saguṇa). When the
Upaniṣads deny qualities of Brahman, they really mean that God is free from all
bad qualities, or imperfections.75 God really creates the world and when He is
withdrawn and its objects are destroyed, there remains in God matter in an
undifferentiated, homogeneous state, as well as the souls, because both are
eternal. Objects made by the modification of matter undergo change, growth and
decay, but matter out of which they are created always remains there. Similarly
the spirits always remain, though their bodies may change or perish. In the state
of dissolution, when objects are absent, Brahman remains with pure matter and
bodiless souls in an unmanifested form (avyakta). This may be called the causal
state of Brahman (kāraṇa-brahma). When again objects are created, God
becomes manifested as the world of objects and embodied souls. This second
manifested form of God may be called its effect-state (kārya-brahma). Those
texts of the Upaniṣads which deny the existence of objects and describe God
negatively as being beyond thought, speech, etc., really indicate the
unmanifested state or Brahman.76
If matter and spirit are parts of God, as Rāmānuja repeatedly asserts, then
does not God really undergo modification with the change of matter? Does He
not become also subject to the miseries from which the spirits suffer? Are not
then all the imperfections and defects which we find in the world, really in God?
In the face of these difficulties Rāmānuja seems to give up sometimes the
imagery of parts and whole and employ other similies. Sometimes he takes
recourse to the analogy of the body and the soul. God is the soul of which the
material objects and spirits compose the body. Just as the soul controls the body
from within, so God controls matter and spirits. He is thus conceived as the
Antaryāmin or regulator of the universe from within. With the help of this
analogy Rāmānuja tries to explain away the charge of God's being subject to
misery and imperfection. The soul, he says, is not affected by the bodily changes
and imperfections; similarly God is not affected by the changes in the universe.
He remains beyond them or transcends them. Sometimes again Rāmānuja tries to
prove God's immunity by the analogy of the king and his subjects. The ruler, in
spite of having a body, is not affected by the pleasures and pains suffered by the
subjects owing to their obeying or disobeying the ruler's laws.77
These different explanations of Rāmānuja show that we cannot understand
every aspect of the relation between God and the world with the help of any one
analogy. We can only try to understand each aspect in the light of one particular
type of experience. In fact no metaphor claims to resemble the thing compared in
every respect, and it is extremely difficult to find in the ordinary region of
experience anything bearing even partial resemblance to God, a unique reality,
which can be directly known in religious experience or indirectly from the
testimony of those who have realised God. So Rāmānuja stresses so much the
authority of scriptures rather than inferences regarding God, the inadequacy of
which he tries to expose with the zeal of a sceptic.
Rāmānuja's conception of God is a kind of theism. Theism, in this narrow
sense, means belief in God who is both immanent and transcedent,78 and is also
a Person, i.e., a self-conscious being possessed of will. We have seen that all
these characters are present in Rāmānuja's conception of God.
God is the object of worship and the goal of our religious aspiration. It is by
pleasing God through prayer that we can obtain salvation through His mercy.

3. Rāmānuja's Conception of the Self, Bondage and

Liberation
Rāmānuja holds that the identity between God and man taught by the Upaniṣads
is not really an unqualified one. It is unthinkable that man who is finite can be
identical with God in every respect. Man is not different from God in the sense
that God pervades and controls man as well as every other thing in the universe.
Just as the existence of a part is inseparable from the whole, that of a mode or
quality from its substance, or a living body from the soul which controls its life
from within, similarly the existence of man is inseparable from God. Identity
cannot be asserted, it is true, between two altogether different terms; but it is also
meaningless to assert any identity between exactly identical terms; because it
would be a needless tautology. Identity can be asserted between two forms of the
same substance. The statement, 'This is that Devadatta' asserts, for example,
identity between the person seen at present and the person seen in the past. The
person can be understood as the same in spite of different positions, since the
positions are occupied at different times. The Upaniṣadic dictum 'that thou art,'
(Tat tvam asi) should be understood in a similar way. 'That' stands for God, the
omniscient, omnipotent creator of the universe. 'Thou' stands for God existing in
the form of man, the embodied soul (acid-viśiṣṭa-jīva-śarīrakam). The identity
asserted here is, therefore, between God with certain qualification and God with
certain other qualification—identity of the same substance though possessed of
different qualities (viśiṣṭasya aikyam). Rāmānuja's philosophy is thus truly called
Viśiṣṭādvaita or the identity of the qualified.79
 Rāmānuja's conception of the relation between the self and God cannot be
easily brought under any well-known logical category (such as identity,
difference and identity-in-difference). While refuting Śaṅkara's view that this
relation is one of identity (abheda) he emphasises so much the difference
between the self and God that the reader would be quite justified to suppose that
according to Rāmānuja the relation is one of difference (bheda).80 This
supposition is further confirmed when one reads his commentary on
Bādarāyana's sūtra (2.1.22) which points out that Brahman is other than the
embodied self. But the impression is reversed when one reads his commentary
on the sūtra (2.1.115) teaching, the nondifference (ananyatva) of the world
(including the Jīvas) from its cause, Brahman. He thus seems to support two
contradictory views.
This conflict disappears, however, on reading his commentary on the sūtra
(2.3.42) purporting that the individual self is a part of Brahman. For, Rāmānuja
clearly says there that if the self is regarded as a part of Brahman we can
reconcile the two opposite kinds of teaching of the revealed texts and of the
aforesaid sūtras, namely, that there is difference (bheda), and that there is also
identity (abheda) between the two. In short, as there are both difference and
identity (bhedābheda) between the part and the whole, so also is there a similar
relation between the self and God.
It is reasonable to conclude then that according to Rāmānuja, in different
respects, there are different kinds of relations between the self and God. Insofar
as the self is finite and subject to imperfection, and God is just the opposite in
nature, there is difference; insofar as the self is inseparable from God who is its
inner substance (ātmā) there is identity (abheda or ananyatva or tādātmya)81; but
as the self is a part of God, both identity and difference are tenable. This is the
final impression created by Rāmānuja's writings on many competent readers,
among whom there is no less an authority than Mādhavācārya, who says in the
Śawadarśana-saṅgraha that Rāmānuja believes in all kinds of relations, bheda,
abheda, and bhedābheda, in different respects. Sadānanda82 also describes him
as a bhedābheda-vādin.
But unfortunately even this well-founded conclusion regarding Rāmānuja's
view receives a rude shock from his rather surprising statements here and there
in which he launches a wholesale attack on all the three kinds of philosophers
who advocate respectively identity (abheda), difference (bheda) and identity-in-
difference (bhedābheda).83 The reader is thus swept away even from the last
foothold and is left puzzled.
One can understand why Rāmānuja should reject unqualified identity
(abheda) or difference (bheda); but it is difficult to see why he criticises even the
theory of identity-in difference (bhedābheda) if he himself advocates the view
that both difference and identity, as taught by the scriptures, are real. The fact
seems to be that in criticising the advocates of bhedābhedā he has two classes of
them in mind: (a) those who hold that the self is nothing but Brahman imagined
as limited by some extraneous or accidental adjunct (upādhi)—just as the space
of the room is nothing but the all-pervasive space imagined as limited by the
room; and (b) those who hold that the self is but a mode of Brahman who has
really assumed a finite form.84 In respect of the former, Rāmānuja's objection is
that as they hold that the self is really Brahman (the distinguishing limiting
adjunct being imaginary), the imperfections of the self would also really belong
to Brahman. In respect of the latter, he points out that as Brahman according to
them is really reduced to a finite self. He really becomes subject to all the
imperfections of the latter. But these objections are obviated, he further points
out, by his own theory according to which the conscious souls (cit) and
unconscious matter (acit), though possessing different natures (svarūpa) from the
all-inclusive Brahman, are eternally and inseparably related to Him as parts to
their whole, effects to their material cause, attributes to their substance.
What Rāmānuja tries then to make out is that Brahman never becomes in any
way a self, just as the whole never becomes a part, or a substance never becomes
an attribute. Brahman is eternally Brahman, and the selves within Him eternally
exist as such. But how then can Rāmānuja speak of Brahman as the cause of the
Jīva (or of matter) if the latter does not arise from the former? It would appear
that by calling Brahman the cause he does not mean the immediate unconditional
antecedent but only the material or the substance. God as the ultimate whole of
existence (sat) in the substance eternally underlying all finites. The whole does
not precede the parts, nor do parts succeed the whole. Brahman always exists as
a whole possessed of parts and never becomes parts, and therefore, does not
become subject to the imperfections of the parts.
Though it is doubtful whether this analogy of the part and the whole saves
Brahman from all imperfections, it would be clear from the above that
Rāmānuja's objection is not so much against the relation of identity-in-difference
as such (which he himself advocates under sūtra 2. 3. 42) but against the
particular formulations of it. Identity-in-difference means, for him, identity of
the one-substance existing in two real forms ('ekam eva vastu dvirūpam
pratīyate'()85; 'prakāra dvayāvasthitatvāt sāmānādhikaranyasya'.86 What he
rejects are (a) identity of the one substance appearing as two owing to
misconception, and (b) identity of the one which has beocme really two.
Between the whole and the part there is identity-in-difference, not of any of
these last two kinds, but of the first kind. The whole really possesses different
parts from which it is always different as a whole, but the same identical whole
is also in every part, though it does not become reduced to many (in which case
the whole would be divided and cease to be a whole).
It will also be found that in upholding the unity of the substance, and making
it the foundation, and in treating multiplicity only as a dependent character of the
one, Rāmānuja's emphasis is on the aspect of identity rather than on that of
difference, though he treats both as real.
This view also enables us to distinguish the position of Rāmānuja from that
of Nimbārka, for example, who too believes in a kind of identity-in-difference
(bhedābheda). As Ghate rightly points out, 'Thus we see that the doctrine of
Nimbārka has very much in common with that of Rāmānuja, both regard the
difference as well as the non-difference as real. But, for Nimbārka, difference
and non-difference are on the same level, they co-exist and have the same
importance; while for Rāmānuja, non-difference is the principal; it is qualified
by difference, which is thus subordinate to it.'87 This also explains why
Rāmānuja's philosophy can be called qualified monism, rather than qualified
dualism or monism-dualism (dvaitādvaita).
The extremely puzzling statements of Rāmānuja, regarding his attitude to
identity, difference, and identity-in-difference tempt some writers to avoid the
attempt to bring his view under any of these usual categories of relation; and
lead them to hold that Rāmānuja's conception of the relation between self and
God, is a category by itself; it is inseparability ('apṛthaksthiti'). But this is merely
giving up the game of logical understanding. For, inseparability of existence is
itself a general relation, admitting of various formulations. Even Śaṅkara's
conception of the relation between the effect and the cause (ananyatva) can come
under this. Logical thought wants to understand what this relation means in
terms of identity and difference; or, failing this, why this relation defies such
affiliation. We have seen above that it is possible to interpret Rāmānuja's
conception as one of identity-in-difference of a specific kind, and that he himself
accepts this in some places. It may be noted that a later theistic school following
Caitanya frankly holds that the relation between self and God is an inconceivable
kind of identity in difference (acintyabhedābheda) not amenable to further
analysis.
Man, according to Rāmānuja, has a real body and a soul. The body is made
of matter which is a part of God. It is obviously finite. The soul is, of course, not
made; it is eternally existing. It is also a part of God, and cannot, therefore, be
infinite. The all-pervasive nature of the soul which the Upaniṣads describe
cannot, therefore, be taken, in the literal sense. The real sense of the
pervasiveness of the soul is that the soul is so subtle (sūkṣma) that it can
penetrate into every unconscious material substance.88 Having denied that the
soul is infinitely small (aṇu) nor finite it therefore can affect the unconscious.
For, if the soul has neither of these two extreme dimensions, it must be admitted
to have the medium one, which things composed by the combination of parts
(such as tables and chairs) have; and then like such objects the soul also would
be liable to destruction. The consciousness of the soul is not accidental to it, it is
not dependent on its connection with the body. Consciousness is not the essence,
but an eternal quality of the soul and it remains under all conditions.89 In
dreamless sleep and even in the state of liberation, when the soul is altogether
disembodied, the soul remains conscious of itself as 'I am'. The soul is, therefore,
identified by Rāmānuja with what we mean by the word 'I' or the 'ego' (aham).90
The bondage of the soul to the body is due to its karma. As the effect of its
karma, the soul is associated with the particular kind of body it deserves. Being
embodied, its consciousness is limited by the conditions of the organs of
knowledge, and the body it possesses. Though the soul is infinitely small, it
illumines or renders conscious every part of the body in which it is, just as a
small light illumines the entire room in which it is. It identifies itself with the
body and regards it as itself. Egoism (ahankāra) is a name for this identification
of the self with the not-self. Avidyā or ignorance consists in this base
propensity.91 Karma also is sometimes identified by Rāmānuja with this
ignorance.
The attainment of liberation must be sought through work and knowledge,
because they pave the way for devotion. By work (karma) Rāmānuja means here
the different obligatory rituals enjoined by the Vedas on persons according to
their respective castes and stations in life (varṇāśrama). These should be
performed life-long as bounden duties without any desire for reward, like
heaven. Disinterested performance of such duties destroys the accumulated
effects of the past deeds which stand in the way of knowledge. For the correct
performance of these rituals it is necessary to study the Mīmāṁsā philosophy.
Rāmānuja regards, therefore, the study of the Mīmāṁsā as a necessary
prerequisite to the study of the Vedānta. By the study of the Mīmāṁsā and
performance of the duties in its light, one comes to realise also that the sacrificial
rites cannot lead to any permanent good and cannot help man to attain salvation.
This persuades him to study the Vedānta. The Vedānta reveals to him the real
nature of the Universe. He comes to know that God is the creator, sustainer and
controller of all beings, and that his soul is not identical with the body, but is
really a part of God who controls it from within. He further learns that liberation
can be attained not by 'study and reasoning' but only if God is pleased to choose
him for liberation.
The study of the Vedānta produces only book-learning and does not bring
about liberation. It is true, as the Upaniṣads say, that liberation is brought about
by knowledge. But that real knowledge is not a verbal knowledge of scriptures;
for then everyone who reads them would be liberated at once. Real knowledge is
a steady, constant remembrance of God (dhruvā smṛti). This is variously
described as meditation (dhyāna), prayer (upāsanā) and devotion (bhakti).92
Constant meditation on God as the dearest object of love, should be practised
continuously along with the performance of the obligatory rituals which remove
the obstacles to knowledge. Intense remembrance of God, or devotion thus
practised, ultimately matures into an immediate knowledge (darśana or
sākṣātkāra) of God. This is, therefore, the final means to liberation. This brings
about the destruction of all ignorance and karmas by which the body is caused.
Therefore, the soul that realised God is liberated from the body for ever, without
any chance of rebirth. We should remember, however, that liberation cannot be
attained simply by human efforts. God, pleased by devotion, helps the devotee to
attain perfect knowledge by removing obstacles. God lifts from bondage and
misery the man who flings himself at the mercy of God and constantly
remembers Him as the only object of love. Such complete self-surrender is
called prapatti.
Liberation is not the soul's becoming identical with God. The liberated soul
having pure consciousness, untainted by any imperfection, becomes, in this
respect, similar to God (brahmaprakāra). This similarity of nature is what is
meant by the Upaniṣads which say that the liberated soul attains unity with
God.93
We saw previously that according to the unqualified monism of Śaṅkara, the
highest good lies in a complete denial of the separate self and the realisation of
its unity with God. The religious sentiment of the monist attains full satisfaction
by total self-effacement which leaves nothing but God, the sole, self-shining
Reality. But for the theist, like Rāmānuja, this is a dismal prospect. The highest
satisfaction of the religious emotion demands no doubt self-purification and self-
surrender, but not complete self-effacement. The highest good for the devotee is
the pure and constant contemplation of the infinite glory of God, and the
liberated one needs his self if only for the enjoyment of this highest bliss. Free
from ignorance and bondage of every kind, the liberated soul enjoys, in perfect
love and wisdom, infinite joy born of complete communion with God.94
 1. Vide Chāndogya, Chaps. 6 and 7.
2. Vide Śaṅkara's Introduction of Kaṭha, Taittirīya, Bṛhadāraṇyaka.
3. The verb 'upasad' ('go near') is repeatedly used in the Upaniṣads to describe the pupil's approaching
the teacher for instruction.
4. Vide Taittirīya, 1.11.
5. Vide Dasgupta, History of Indian Philosophy, Vol. I, p. 28, for a list of 112 Upaniṣads.
6. For a short comparative account of some of these schools, vide P. Nagaraja Rao's The Schools of
Vedānta (Bhāratīya Vidyā Bhavan, Bombay) and Ghate's The Vedānta.
7. Rg-veda, 1. 164, 46 (vide also 10, 114.4, 10.129, 10.82, et passim) O.P. 224.
8. Rg-veda, 10.90 (Peterson's trans.)
9. Sa bhūmiṁ viśvato vṛtvā atyatiṣṭhad daśāṅgulam. Pādo'sya viśvā bhūtāni, tripādasya amṛtam divi.
Ibid.
10. Rg-veda, 10, 129 (Max Müller's trans.)
11. The texts translated here are respectively: 'Om ātmā vāidam eke eva agre āsīt.' 'Ātmā eva idam agre
āsīt.' Ātmā eva idaṁ sarvam,' 'Ātmani khalu are dṛṣṭe śrutę mate vijñāta idaṁ viditam.' Sad eva
saumya idam agre āsīt, ekam eva advitīyam.' 'Brahma eva idaṁ viśvam.' 'Sarvaṁ khalu idaṁ
brahma.' 'Ayam ātmā brahma.' 'Ahaṁ brahma asmi,'
12. Muṇḍaka. 1.2.7.
13. Bṛhadāraṇyaka, 4.3.32.
14. Ibid., 4.5.6.
15. Ibid., 2.7.
16. Kaṭha, 6. 14.
17. Katha, 4. 11: Bṛhad., 4.4.10.
18. Bṛhad, 4.4.19.
19. Chānd., 6:1.
20. Kena, 1.4-5.
21. Vide Sec. 2. Chap. II of the Brahma-sūt. and the Bhāṣyas of Śaṅkara and Rāmānuja thereon.
22. For this fourfold classification of non-Vedic deistic schools vide Rāmānuja's Bhāṣya on 2.2 35 which
quotes Śaivāgama.
23. Cf. 'Dve vāva brahmaṇorūpe, etc.', Bṛhadāraṇyaka, 2.3.1.
24. Lotze, Outliness of a Philosophy of Religion, pp. 8–10.
25. Creative Evolution, p. 251, Eng, Tr. by A. Mitchell.
26. Rg., 6.47.18.
27. 'Indro māyābhiḥ puru-rūpa īyate.' Vide Bṛhād., 2.5.19 and Śaṅkara thereon.
28. 'Māyām tu prakṛtim vidyāt, Māyinam tu Maheśvaram.' Vide Śvet., 4.10 and Śaṅkara thereon.
29. Brahma-sūtra 2.1.9. and Śaṇkara thereon.
30. Vide Śaṅkara on Brahma-sūt, 1.4.3 and on Śvetāsvatara, 4.5 and 4.11.
31. Brahma-sūt., 2.1. 26–28.
32. Vide Srībhāṣya on 2.1.26–28 and 1.1.3.
33. Vide Śaṅkara on Brahma-sūt., 2.1.27.
34. Vide Śaṅkara on Br. sūt., 2.1.14–20; Chānd., 6.2; Tait, 2.6.; Bṛhad, 1.2.1; Gīta, 2. 16.
35. Śaṅkara, on Br. sūt, 2.1.18.
36. Modern Physics shows that even the so-called elementary substances of Chemistry, are not
immutable; that being made of electrons and protons, differently organised, these elements can be
transmuted into other forms.
37. Śaṅkara on Br. sūt., 2.1.14.
38. Śaṅkara on Chānd., 6.2.1.
39. Cf. Mc Taggart's The Nature of Existence, for a similar modern theory.
40. Vide Śaṅkara on Bṛhad., 1.2.1.
41. Vide Śaṅkara on Chānd., 6.2.2.
42. Śaṅkara on Chāna., 6.2,2. Brahma-sūt., 2.1.11. and Gitā, 2.16.
43. Introduction to Br. Sūt.
44. Vide Br. sūt., 2.1.16.
45. Vide Chānd., 6.3.2.
46. Br. sūt., 2.2.28.
47. Ibid., 2.2.29.
48. Vide Śaṅkara on Bṛahma-sūt., 2.1.19. for the analogy of the actor (nata).
49. Tait., 2.1.
50. Vide his com. on Br. sūt., 2.1.9.
51. Vide Śaṅkara's com.on Tait., 2.1.
52. Vide Kena, 1.5.
53. Vide Vedīntasīra of Sadānanda.
54. Prolegomena to Ethics, p. 93.
55. Appearance and Reality. p.453.
56. For a critical discussion of the Advaita theory of knowledge vide D.M. Datta, The Six Ways of
Knowing.
57. Brahma-sūtra, 1.1.1.
58. Vide Śaṅkara on Br. sūt., 2.1.11 (Eka-rūpeṇa hi avasthito yo'rthah sa paramārthḥ) and on Gīta, 2.16
(Yadviṣayā buddhir na vyabhicaratitat sat, yadviṣayā vyabhicarati tadasat).
59. Vide Śaṅkara's Bhāṣya on Br. sutra. 1.1.1.
60. Vide Śaṅkara's Bhāṣya on Br. sūt., 1.1.4; 'siddham jīvato'pi viduṣaḥ aśarīratyam' also on Kaṭha., 6.14:
'Atha martyo amṛto bhavatyatra brahma samaśnute.'
61. Vide Śaṅkara's Bhāṣya on the Bhagavadgītā 4.14, 3.2026 and passion.
62. Ibid.
63. Vide his Practical Vedānta.
64. Vide his Gitārahasya (a Marathi treatise on the Gīta) on the above verses and Introduction, sec. 12.
65. For a fuller discussion vide Radhakrishnan, Ind. Phil., Vol. II. pp. 612–34, and speches of
Vivekānanda quoted by James in Pragmatism, pp. 152 f.
66. Vide James, Pragmatism, p. 151.
67. Loc. cit., p.153.
68. Loc. cit., p. 154.
69. Sūt., 4.5 (ajām ekāṁ lohita-śukla-kṛṇām, etc.) and 4.10 (māyāṁ tu prakṛtiṁ vidyāt, māyinaṁ tu
Maheśvaram; tasyāvayavabhūtaistu vyāptaṁ servam idaṁ jagat). Also vide Brahma-sūt., 1.4.8. and
Rāmānuja's Bhāṣya thereon.
70. Vide Śrībhāsya, Vedāntasāra and Vedāntadīpa on 1.4.8–10, 1.1.3 and 2.1.15 (note that the guṇas are
conceived here, after the Gītā, as qualities and as produced by Prakṛti, not as the essence thereof).
71. Śrībhāṣya, 1.1.1. (p. 101, R.V. Co. ed.).
72. Ibid., p. 88.
73. Ibid., p. 83.
74. Vide J.E. Boodin's paper on 'Functional Realism,' The Philosophical, Review, March, 1934.
75. 'Nirguṇa-vādāśca parasya brahmano heya-gunāsamb andhād upapadyante,'—Śrībhāṣyam 1.1.1. (p.
103, R.V. Co. ed.).
76. Ibid., 1.1.1.1.1.2, 2.1.15.
77. Ibid., 2.1.14.
78. Vide Ward. The Realm of Ende, p. 234.
79. Vide Śrībhāṣya 1.1.1. 'Prakāradvaya-viśiṣṭaika-vastu-pratipādanena sāmānādhikaraṣvaṁ ca siddham'
(pp. 94–95 of R.V. Co. ed).
80. Vide Srībhāsya, 1.1.1., pissim.
81. All these words are used by Rāmānuja.
82. Vide Advaita-brahmo-siddhi (p.270, Calcutta University ed.): 'bhedābhedavādino
rāmānujāb…………..'
83. E.g. Śrībhāṣya, 1.1.1. (p. 96) 1.1.4.
84. Ibid., p.97.
85. Ibid., p. 150.
86. Ibid., p. 94.
87. V.S. Ghate. The Vedānta, p. 32.
88. 'vyāpī, ati-sūkṣmatayā sarvācetanāntaḥ-praveśana-svabhāvaḥ.' Śrībhāṣya, 1.1.1.
89. Contrast Sānkhya and Advaita which hold that consciousness is same as self, Rāmānuja school names
consciousness as dharmabhūtajūāma (—an attribute in relation to self and God).
90. 'Svarūpena eva ahamarthaḥ ātmā'; 'muktau api ahamarthaḥ prakāśate,' loc.cit.
91. 'Śarīragocarā ca ahaṁbuddhir avidyaiva'; anātmani dehe aham-bhāvakaraṇa-hetutvena ahaṅkāraḥ,'
ibid.
92. 'Ato…dhyānopāsanādi-vācyam jñanam'; 'vedanam upāsanamsyāt'; 'upāsana-paryāyatvāt bhakti-
śabdasya', Śrībhāṣya, 1. 1.1.
93. 'Jñanaikāratayā Brahman-prakāratā ucyate,' Śrībhāṣya, p. 71 (R.V. & Co. edition).
94. Ibid., 4th Pāda of the 4th Adhyāya, passim.
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