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Defending God in Sixteenth-Century India

OXFORD ORIENTAL MONOGRAPHS

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Professor Bjarke Frellesvig, Professor of Japanese Linguistics
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Professor Henrietta Harrison, Professor of Modern Chinese Studies
Professor Christopher Minkowski, Boden Professor of Sanskrit
Professor Alison G. Salvesen, University Research Lecturer in Hebrew
Dr Robert Thomson, formerly Calouste Gulbenkian Professor
of Armenian Studies
Defending God in
Sixteenth-Century India
The Śaiva Oeuvre of Appaya Dīks: ita
JONATHAN DUQUETTE
1
3
Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX2 6DP,
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© Jonathan Duquette 2021
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Acknowledgements
This book is the outcome of seven years of postdoctoral research at the various
academic institutions in Europe and Asia where I had the chance to pursue
exciting research alongside scholars generous with their time and expertise. The
idea of working on Appaya Dīks: ita’s Śaiva oeuvre developed while I was a SSHRC
(Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council) Postdoctoral Fellow at the
University of Concordia in Montreal in 2011. Back in 2009, I had co-authored,
together with my then teacher Krishnamurti Ramasubramanian (IIT Bombay), an
article on Appaya Dīks: ita’s critique of the Nyāya doctrine of anyathākhyāti.
I was then only (barely) acquainted with Appaya’s Parimala, his sub-commentary
in the Bhāmatī school of Advaita Vedānta. Later on, I heard about the
Śivārkamanidīpikā,
: his magnum opus of Śivādvaita Vedānta, and acquired a
copy of a printed edition during my stay in Delhi in 2012. I still remember
bringing this copy with me to a reading with Harunaga Isaacson in Hamburg a
month later, as I was just starting a postdoc on a project of a very different nature.
Harunaga noticed it and gladly encouraged me to start reading it. This is how this
project began. The text turned out to be pretty difficult for me in the early stages,
and without the patience and careful guidance of Harunaga I may not have
persisted in my study of Appaya’s work. For this, I am truly grateful to him.
In the years that followed, the aforesaid copy travelled with me to Leiden
University (Gonda Fellowship, 2013–14) where I had the chance to read
passages from the Śivārkamanidīpikā : with Peter Bisschop and Gonda
fellows like myself nearly every week; then to Kyoto University (JSPS Postdoctoral
Fellowship, 2014–15), where I focused on Appaya’s engagement with Vyāsatīrtha’s
Tarkatān: dava
: in readings with Diwakar Acharya, Somdev Vasudeva, and Yuko
Yukochi; and finally to the University of Oxford, where I spent four productive years
expanding my study of the Śivārkamanidīpikā
: to the rest of Appaya’s Śaiva oeuvre.
In Oxford, I benefitted from everything a scholar could dream of: a calm office in a
dynamic research centre (the Oriental Institute), a tremendous library, a collegial
atmosphere and a supportive network of scholars and friends. My stay in Oxford was
made possible by two postdoctoral fellowships: the Newton International Fellowship
(2015–17) and the Marie Skłodowska-Curie Fellowship (2017–19). I wish to express
my sincere gratitude to Christopher Minkowski, my supervisor and guide in Oxford.
Aside from providing me with constant support and advice during those years, he
encouraged me to submit my book proposal to the Oxford Oriental Monographs
series. I also wish to extend my heartful thanks to Alexis Sanderson. His scholarly
work on Śaivism was an unerring guide in this project. I also had the chance to read
vi 
the beginning of Appaya’s little-known Ratnatrayaparīks: ā with him just before his
retirement.
I wish to thank all the institutions and funding bodies that have made this book
project possible: the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council, which
granted me the two-year postdoctoral grant that eventually brought me to
Hamburg, a haven for Sanskritists around the world; the J. Gonda Fund
Foundation; the Japanese Society for the Promotion of Science; the British
Academy and the Royal Society, which granted me a Newton International
Fellowship to pursue my study of Appaya’s Śivādvaita corpus at the University
of Oxford; and the European Commission, for awarding me a prestigious Marie
Skłodowska-Curie Fellowship. I also wish to take this opportunity to thank the
Austrian Academy of Sciences for twice offering me a Visiting Fellowship (2016
and 2017), as well as the École Française d’Extrême-Orient for providing me
accommodation and other resources during my fieldwork in South India. Special
thanks go to Dominic Goodall who helped me in various ways during my stays in
Pondichery and always made himself available for thoughtful discussions on various
aspects of my research. I must also thank libraries that granted me access to their
collections, especially the Adyar Library and Research Centre, the Oriental Research
Institute in Mysore, the Saraswati Bhavan Library in Varanasi, the Government
Oriental Manuscripts Library in Chennai, and the British Library in London.
Aside from the several gifted scholars I met on the way and with whom I had
the pleasure to discuss Appaya’s work, many friends and colleagues have contrib-
uted to this volume through sharing material, ideas, and critical comments (in
alphabetical order): Whitney Cox, Hugo David, Florinda De Simini, Pierre-
Sylvain Filliozat and Vasundhara Filliozat, Elisa Freschi, Elisa Ganser, Kengo
:
Harimoto (with whom I first read the mangalaślokas of the
Śivārkamanidīpikā!),
: Andrey Klebanov, Nina Mirnig, Marion Rastelli, Marcus
Schmücker, Vishal Sharma, and Anand Venkatkrishnan. Special thanks go to
Sharathchandra Swami for the enjoyable time spent discussing matters pertaining
to Vīraśaiva religion and philosophy, as well as for facilitating my fieldwork in
Karnataka in so many ways; to his late guru, Immadi : Śivabasava Swamy, for
bringing to my attention the Śrīkan: t:hasamālocana; and to Jayatīrthācārya
:
Purānika (while revising this book, I learnt that Jayatīrthācārya unfortunately
passed away), who generously offered me copies of several works by Vijayīndra,
one of Appaya’s fiercest opponents. I also wish to take this opportunity to thank
Kristen de Joseph and Martin Noble, who helped with the editing of the book.
Above all else, it is my wife, Aslıhan Bökö, and our son, Emil-Jivan Duquette, to
whom I wish to express my deepest love and gratitude. Loyal companions on this
long journey, they offered me all the support that I truly needed to bring this book
to completion.
Cambridge
30 March 2020
Contents
List of Abbreviations ix
Introduction: The Rise of Śivādvaita Vedānta 1

1. Śrīkan: t:ha and the Brahmamīmāmsābhā: s: ya 10
1.1 Śrīkan: t:ha’s Date, Lineage, and Influences 10
1.2 References to Śrīkan: t:ha in Sanskrit Sources Prior to Appaya 16
1.3 Śrīkan: t:ha’s Theology and the Vīraśaiva Tradition 21
1.3.1 Śrīkan: t:ha and Nīlakan: t:ha 28
2. Early Śaiva Works 31

2.1 Śivatattvaviveka 33
2.2 Śivakarnām: r: ta 43
2.3 Brahmatarkastava 51
:
2.4 Bhāratasārasamgrahastotra 59
2.5 Śrīkan: t:ha in Appaya’s Early Śaiva Works 65
3. Reading Śrīkan: t:ha’s Commentary 70
3.1 Introducing Śrīkan: t:ha’s Vedānta 72
3.2 Śrīkan: t:ha’s Teachings and Pure Non-dualism 75
3.2.1 Śrīkan: t:ha’s Theory of Transformation 77
3.2.2 An Argument in the Śivādvaitanirnaya: 84
3.2.3 Coordination and Coherence: Daharavidyā in Śrīkan: t:ha’s
Commentary 89
3.2.4 The Argument Continued: Appaya on BS 1.3.16 in the
Śivārkamanidīpikā
: 92
3.2.5 Inclusivism and Hermeneutics: Advaita in Śivādvaita 95
3.2.6 Non-duality and Śiva’s Grace 100
3.3 Appaya on Śaiva Scriptures 106
4. Engaging with Śrīvais: navas
: 117
4.1 On Rāmānuja’s Reading of the Brahmasūtras 119
4.2 Subordination, Tolerance, and Orthodoxy 130
4.2.1 Ratnatrayaparīks: ā: Appaya’s Triadic Theology 130
4.2.2 Ānandalaharī: A Treatise on Cicchakti 139
4.3 Appaya on Sudarśanasūri’s Defence of Aikaśāstrya 152
4.4 Refutation of Pāñcarātra 160
4.5 Sudarśanasūri: Appaya’s Nemesis? 171
viii 
5. Reception of Appaya’s Śaiva Works 174

:
5.1 The Vais: nava Response 175
5.1.1 Dvaita Vedānta: Vijayīndra (c.1514–1595) 175
5.1.2 Śuddhādvaita Vedānta: Purus: ottama (c.1657/1668–1725) 184
5.1.3 The Śrīvais: nava
: Response 189
5.2 Two Advaitins in Banaras 198
5.3 The Śaiva Response 202
5.3.1 The Śaktiviśis: t:ādvaita Vedānta of Vīraśaivas 204
Conclusion: In Defence of Śiva 218
Appendix 1: List of Śaiva Works by Appaya Dīks: ita 227

Appendix 2: Opening Verses from the Brahmamīmāmsābhā: s: ya
and the Śivārkamanidīpikā
: 229
Appendix 3: Verses from the Ratnatrayaparīks:ā 234
Appendix 4: Śrīkan: tha
: and Nīlakan: tha:
: Further Details 237
Bibliography 247
Index Locorum 259
Index of Sanskrit Works 262
General Index 265
List of Abbreviations
BMB :
Brahmamīmāmsābhā :
sya
BS Brahmasūtras
ChU Chāndogya Upanis: ad
MBh Mahābhārata
MS :
Mīmāmsāsūtras
MU Mun: daka
: Upanis: ad
NCC New Catalogus Catalogorum
PāS :
Pāninisūtras
RTP :
Ratnatrayaparīksā
ŚAMD1, ŚAMD2 Śivārkamanidīpikā
: volume 1, volume 2
ŚU Śvetāśvatara Upanis: ad
Introduction
The Rise of Śivādvaita Vedānta
Once upon a time . . .
:
The illustrious Rangarājamakhin had a famous son, Appaya Dīks ita,
devoted to the moon-crested [Śiva].
Thanks to him, the fame of the illustrious king Cinnabomma,
breaker of armies, was unobstructed.
He raised up the commentary of Śrīkan: t:ha to support
the doctrine of the supreme Śiva.
These words¹ were inscribed in 1582 on the Kālakan: t:heśvara temple situated in
:
Adaiyapālam, a small village in the Tamil region and the birthplace of the
celebrated scholar at the centre of this book—Appaya Dīks ita (c.1520–1593).
Appaya was undoubtedly one of India’s most influential Sanskrit intellectuals in
the sixteenth century. A scholar of polymathic erudition, he wrote profusely in a
range of Sanskrit disciplines prominent in his day—especially poetic theory
:
(alamkāraśāstra), :
scriptural hermeneutics (mīmāmsā), and theology (vedānta)²—
and with an idiosyncratic boldness that generated both praise and blame in the
centuries to follow. While he is mostly remembered in India today for his writings
on the non-dualist school of Advaita Vedānta—most notably for his sub-
commentary on Śan kara’s famous Brahmasūtrabhās ya, the Parimala, which
continues to be part of the curriculum in some institutions of learning in
¹ The Kālakan: t:heśvara inscription includes a versified portion in grantha script and a prose
portion in both grantha script and Tamil. The passage translated here is extracted from the versified
portion, which reads: vidvadguror vihitaviśvajidadhvarasya śrīsarvatomukhamahāvratayājisūnoh: |
:
śrīrangarājamakhinah: śritacandramaulir asty appaidīks ita iti prathitas tanūjah: || yena śrīcinna
bommaks itipabalabhidah: kīrtir avyāhatāsīt yena śrīkan: t:habhās yam : paramaśivamatasthāpa
:
nāyoddadhāra | tena śrīrangarājādhvarivaratanayenāppayajvādhipenākāri praudhonnatāgra : m:
rajatagirinibham : kālakan: t:heśadhāma ||. The inscription, presumably composed by Appaya himself,
is reported in the Report on South Indian Epigraphy (no. 395). I follow here the transliteration in
Mahalinga Sastri 1929: 148. Sastri rightly suggests reading yaś ca śrīkan: t:habhās yam instead of yena
śrīkan: t:habhās yam to make sense of the active perfect uddadhāra (from ud + √dhr: ).
² Appaya, notably, did not write works on Nyāya, a discipline of epistemology and metaphysics most
prominent in his day. However, he was familiar with the technical language of Navya-Nyāya and did
engage in some of its key debates; see Duquette 2020b.
́
Defending God in Sixteenth-Century India: The Saiva Oeuvre of Appaya Dı k̄ s: ita. Jonathan Duquette,
Oxford University Press (2021). © Jonathan Duquette. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198870616.003.0001
2    - 
India—Appaya also devoted a large share of his long and prolific³ career to writing
about Śaivism, a major religious tradition centred on the god Śiva and to which
Appaya belonged by birth and remained devoted throughout his entire life. It is
this key dimension of Appaya’s career and scholarly persona, highlighted in the
Kālakan: t:heśvara inscription, that forms the central scope of this book.
Appaya wrote all his Śaiva works over the course of three decades (1549–1578),
while serving at the court of Cinnabomma—the ‘breaker of armies’ hailed in the
inscription and whose fame Appaya contributed to spreading. Cinnabomma was
an independent Śaiva ruler based in Vellore, a town in the Tamil country, located
a few hundred kilometres from Vijayanagara, the capital of the empire of the same
name. Vijayanagara was a powerful polity in South India founded in the four-
teenth century and arguably one of the greatest empires in the history of South
Asia.⁴ Appaya’s Śaiva works include a number of hymns in praise of Śiva
(often with a self-authored commentary), a ritual manual on the daily worship
of Śiva and a series of polemical treatises and works of Śaiva Vedānta theology
which, as this book will show, impacted on the intellectual and religious
landscape of early modern India in significant ways. Aside from highlighting
Appaya’s association with Cinnabomma and his construction of the temple
:
in Adaiyapālam, the Kālakan: t:heśvara inscription also hails Appaya as the
author of the Śivārkamanidīpikā,
: a monumental sub-commentary on the
:
Brahmamīmāmsābhās ya, a Śaiva commentary on the Brahmasūtras (a founda-
tional text of the Vedānta tradition) composed by Śrīkan: t:ha Śivācārya around the
fourteenth to fifteenth centuries.⁵ We are told that Appaya wrote this work thanks
to the generous support of his Śaiva patron. He himself says at the beginning of the
: that he was commanded to write this work twice: in a dream
by Śiva in His androgynous form as Ardhanārīśvara and, in waking life, in the
form of Cinnabomma, whom Appaya here implicitly identifies with Śiva.⁶ Upon
completion of the Śivārkamanidīpikā,
: continues the inscription, Appaya was
³ The same Kālakan: t:heśvara inscription mentions him as the author of no less than one hundred
works, an attribution that should probably not be taken too literally. See Bronner 2007: 1, fn. 2, on this
point.
⁴ Appaya had three patrons, the first (Cinnatimma of Trichy) and the third (Ven kat:a II) having
:
blood ties to the Aravīdus, :
the last dynasty to rule the Vijayanagara empire, known for its Vais nava
proselytism (Rao 2016); his second patron, Cinnabomma of Vellore, was Śaiva. We know from
colophons that he composed the Śivārkamanidīpikā, : his magnum opus of Śivādvaita Vedānta, and
his Śaiva ritual manual, the Śivārcanacandrikā, under the latter’s patronage; it is most likely that he also
composed all his other Śaiva works under Cinnabomma’s patronage. This is supported by the fact that
he composed works with a Vais nava : leaning under his two other patrons, notably a commentary on
Ven kat:anātha’s Yādavābhyudaya (under Cinnatimma of Trichy) and the Varadarājastava, a hymn of

praise to Vis nu: (under Venkat:a II). I agree with Rao that ‘it is likely that this connection between
patronage and scholarly activity was not incidental’ (Rao 2016: 62).
⁵ Śrīkan: t:ha’s commentary was translated into English and studied by Roma Chaudhuri (1959,
1962). On Śrīkan: t:ha’s date, see Chintamani 1927 and Chapter 1, Section 1.1 in this book. Accounts
of Śrīkan: t:ha’s theology are found in Dasgupta 1991[1922]: 65–95, Sastri 1930 and Sivaraman 1989.
⁶ See v. 12 of the ŚAMD in Appendix 2; see also v. 14.
     3
literally covered with gold by his patron and an endowment was established for
500 scholars to study Appaya’s magnum opus both in Adaiyapālam : and Vellore.
The composition of the Śivārkamanidīpikā : marked a new beginning in
Appaya’s Śaiva career. Prior to this work, Appaya had only written polemical
works claiming Śiva’s supremacy over Vis nu-Nārāya
: : based on a creative exe-
na
gesis of passages taken from smr: ti literature and Upanis ads. With the
: Appaya begins a new, more extensive exegetical project in
which he articulates the view that the canonical Brahmasūtras centre on Śiva as
the conceptual and semantic equivalent of Brahman, the absolute reality eulogized
in the Upanis ads. From here on, Appaya shifts his focus from plain polemics to
establishing a new theological position (siddhānta) combining Śaiva doctrine with
the orthodox theology of non-dual Vedānta—a position he refers to as Śivādvaita
Vedānta.⁷ Although he relies on Śrīkan: t:ha’s commentary as his main textual
source in this endeavour, Appaya approaches the latter with an unusual degree
of freedom, substantially reinterpreting its core teachings along the lines of
Advaita Vedānta, the school of Vedānta he cherishes the most. In this sense,
Appaya truly positions himself as the founder of a new school. Before him,
virtually no scholar had paid attention to Śrīkan: t:ha and his Śaiva commentary;
with Appaya’s commentarial work, the figure of Śrīkan: t:ha achieved wider recog-
nition among early modern scholars of Vedānta. Appaya was not only the first
scholar to present Śrīkan: t:ha’s Vedānta as a legitimate participant in intra-Vedānta
debates of his time, but also the first to actively promote and defend the positions
of Śrīkan: t:ha vis-à-vis other Vedānta schools, notably Viśis t:ādvaita Vedānta, as
I shall demonstrate in this book.
His work on Śivādvaita Vedānta not only earned Appaya a formidable reputa-
tion as a scholar, but also established him as a legendary advocate of Śaiva religion
in South India. Already during his lifetime, he was held as the representative of
this school par excellence: a Sanskrit copper-plate inscription, dated to 1580 and
ascribed to Sevappa Nāyaka of Tañjāvūr, praises him as the ‘sole emperor of Śaiva
Advaita’ (śaivādvaitaikasāmrājya).⁸ For his pioneering work on Śrīkan: t:ha’s com-
mentary, Appaya continued to be praised as an emblematic figure of Śaiva religion
in later hagiographies, and even as Śiva incarnate: his grand-nephew Nīlakan: t:ha
Dīks ita (seventeenth century), a great scholar in his own right, says in the opening
of his Nīlakan: t:havijayacampū that Śiva (śrīkan: t:ha) took on the body of Appaya,
the teacher of Śrīkan: t:ha’s doctrine (śrīkan: t:havidyāguru), in this Dark Age, just as
⁷ Appaya uses the term śivādvaita to label Śrīkan: t:ha’s position (siddhānta) at the beginning of his
Śivādvaitanirnaya,
: presumably following Śrīkan: t:ha’s own usage of this term in the
Brahmamīmāmsābhās : ya. See Chapter 3, fn. 1, for my usage of this term in contradistinction to the
more general term ‘Śaiva Vedānta’.
⁸ This inscription can be found in the Annual Report of the Mysore Archaeological Department of
1917 (1917, pp. 15–17, 55–6) and reads: tretāgnaya iva spas t:am : vijayīndrayatīśvarah: | tātācāryo
:
vais navāgrya h: sarvaśāstraviśāradah: || śaivādvaitaikasāmrājyah: śrīmān appayyadīks itah: | yatsabhāyām :
matam : svam
: svam : sthāpayantah: sthitās trayah: ||. For more details on this inscription, see Rao 2016: 49.
4    - 
: will one day appear as Kalkin, His last incarnation (avatāra).⁹ But Appaya’s
Vis nu
Śivādvaita work did not attract only praise. Right from its inception, it was met
with fierce criticism from several quarters, including from Śaiva scholars who did
not agree with the non-realist implications of this new form of Śaiva non-dualism.
This criticism continued throughout the early modern period and to some extent
into the modern period.
Appaya was not the first Śaiva scholar to undertake a major exegetical project
backed by a Śaiva ruler. Two centuries earlier and in the same imperial setting—
the Vijayanagara empire—Sāyana : had authored no fewer than eighteen commen-
taries on different Vedic texts under the patronage of the early Vijayanagara
ruler Bukka I (1356–1377) and his successor Harihara II (Galewicz 2009: 34),
both from the San gama dynasty. It has been shown that Sāyana’s : commentarial
work was unprecedented in scope and that the ‘image of grandeur’ attached to his
exegetical project was closely tied to the dynastical ambitions of the first
Vijayanagara rulers (ibid.: 22). There are significant parallels between Appaya’s
:
and Sāyana’s grand projects. Aside from the fact that they both authored
multiple works that were commissioned, and possibly encouraged, by a Śaiva
ruler, both wrote commentaries that could be characterized as both canonical and
scholarly. As Galewicz explains, Sāyana : wrote commentaries on canonical Vedic
texts with the clear intention that his own commentaries themselves be considered
‘canonical’ or authoritative. Furthermore, Sāyana : did so in ways that reached
beyond the ‘traditional idea of exegesis’, making skilful use of poetic literary
devices and manipulating the discourse of philosophical polemics with an imagined
opponent to convey his own personal views (ibid.: 20–1). Likewise, Appaya’s
: styles itself the first sub-commentary written from a Śaiva
perspective on a canonical text of the Vedānta tradition, the Brahmasūtras. As we
shall see, Appaya too made use of various literary devices and textual strategies to
reinterpret Śrīkan: t:ha’s commentary in a way to convey his own idiosyncratic views
on hermeneutics, grammar, and theology, and make his own sub-commentary—
and, by extension, the school he sought to firmly establish—authoritative.
Like Sāyana,: Appaya also sought to make an impact on his immediate social
milieu with his commentarial project. The last decades of the Vijayanagara empire
witnessed dramatic changes in its social, political, and religious life. In the second
half of the sixteenth century, the Aravīdus,: the last dynasty of the empire (which
came to an end in 1565), abandoned the diverse patronage of Śaiva, Vais nava, :
⁹ līdhālī
: :
dhapurā : t:ambhasambhāvanāparyastaśrutisetubhi
nasūktiśakalāvas : h: katipayair nīte kalau
sāndratām | śrīkan: t:ho ’vatatāra yasya vapus ā kalkyātmanevācyutah: śrīmān appayadīks itah: sa jayati
śrīkan: t:havidyāguruh: ||—‘Victorious is the illustrious Appaya Dīks ita, the teacher of Śrīkan: t:ha’s
doctrine, in whose body Śrīkan: t:ha [i.e., Śiva] descended—just as Vis nu
: [will one day] descend in the
form of Kalkin—[at the time when this] Dark Age is made thicker by people who breached the dams of
scriptures out of their esteem for some little bits of Purānic : sayings licked and licked again’
(Nīlakan: t:havijayacampū 1.3). See Bronner 2016: 19 for more details on Nīlakan: t:ha’s praise of his
grand-uncle.
     5
Jaina, and Muslim institutions that had been practised earlier, and started to
aggressively commission Vais nava : scholars and institutions. By the time of
Cinnabomma’s death in 1578, the Aravīdu : rulers had effectively taken control
of the capital, and replaced Virūpāks a (a local form of Śiva that had been the
ensign of the first Vijayanagara rulers) with Vit:t:hala (a form of Vis nu) : as the
empire’s tutelary deity (Rao 2016: 45). This shift in state policy in an empire that
used to be predominantly Śaiva arguably changed how Śaiva and Vais nava :
scholars interacted with one another. Not only did it dramatically enhance
competition for royal patronage, influence, and prestige, but it also led to increas-
ing polemicism and intellectual rivalry, particularly among theologians espousing
different interpretations of Vedānta.¹⁰ At the time when Appaya started his career
under Cinnabomma, theologians of Vedānta included primarily: smārta brah-
mins, typically adherents of pure non-dualism (Advaita Vedānta) who had man-
aged the court temple of Virūpāks a since the empire’s founding in the fourteenth
century; Śrīvais nava
: theologians, who advocated a non-dualism of the qualified
(Viśis t:ādvaita Vedānta) and whose influence on Vijayanagara royal agents had
been on the rise since the end of the San gama dynasty in the late fifteenth century
(Rao 2011: 30); and Mādhva theologians, also of Vais nava : affiliation, who
defended a realist and dualist view of reality (Dvaita Vedānta), and who achieved
wider prominence at the beginning of the sixteenth century under the leadership
of the scholar and religious leader Vyāsatīrtha. It is in this context of increasing
sectarian tensions between Śaivas and Vais navas : and of polemical debates
between Vedānta theologians that Appaya composed his Śaiva oeuvre. One key
difference between Appaya and Sāyana, : however, is that the former’s intellectual
production was not so much a ‘project of empire’ as a project on the verge of it.
Patronized by a self-declared Śaiva ruler rather than by a patron of imperial
calibre, Appaya did not get involved with the Vijayanagara court. Nonetheless,
it is likely that his militant defence of Śaiva religion was tied to the rise of Vais nava
:
religion in the imperial capital.¹¹
¹⁰ In her monograph focused on the figure of the Mādhva theologian and religious leader
Vyāsatīrtha (1460–1539), Stoker highlights important linkages between patronage practices in
Vijayanagara, religious institutions and intra-sectarian scholarly debates on Vedānta. She argues that
the ‘Vijayanagara court was selective in its patronage of primarily Hindu religious institutions’ and that
the ‘opportunistic flexibility of Vijayanagara patronage, coupled with generosity, galvanized Hindu
sectarian leaders to pursue certain kinds of intellectual projects as well as to form different intersectar-
ian alliances and rivalries’ (Stoker 2016: 2). Unlike Vyāsatīrtha, however, Appaya was not patronized by
the main rulers in place. The life and intellectual production of Vyāsatīrtha have attracted recent
scholarly attention; see Williams 2014 and McCrea 2015b. Appaya knew Vyāsatīrtha’s work and
engaged with it; on this point, see Duquette 2016b.
¹¹ The relation between Vijayanagara governance and religion is still a matter of debate. As rightly
noted by Stoker, although there was no state religion under Vijayanagara rule (that is, no religion was
imposed on its citizens), the ‘pageantry of the Vijayanagara state—displays of its power in the
abstract—depended upon religious symbols to a significant extent’ (Stoker 2016: 136). The replacement
of Virūpāks a with Vit:t:hala as the empire’s tutelary deity constitutes an example of how Vais nava :
religious iconography was used by rulers to promote the state’s authority during the last decades of the
6    - 
Likewise, Appaya was not the first Śaiva scholar to try and reconcile Śaiva
doctrine with Vedāntic ideas. Before Śrīkan: t:ha, both Bhat:t:a Bhāskarācārya (sec-
ond half of the tenth century?) and Haradatta Śivācārya (twelfth to thirteenth
centuries) had argued for the identity between Śiva and Brahman. These two Śaiva
scholars most probably inspired Śrīkan: t:ha’s own views. Appaya himself draws
attention to affinities between Śrīkan: t:ha’s and Bhat:t:a’s Śaiva theologies in the
: and several textual and conceptual parallels have been noted
between Śrīkan: t:ha’s theology and Haradatta’s understanding of the relation
between Śiva/Brahman and the world (Sastri 1930). A number of pre-modern
Vīraśaiva works written in Sanskrit also show a clear imprint of Vedānta termi-
nology and ideas, and share the same intention of establishing Śiva as the non-
dual Brahman of the Vedāntic tradition. What sets Appaya apart from these
scholars, however, is that he is the first Śaiva scholar to develop a fully fledged
Śaiva Vedānta position (siddhānta) and elevate it to the status of a school (mata)
on a firm footing with the other prominent Vedānta schools of his time. The
boldness and ingenuity with which he accomplished this scholarly feat as well as
the scope of his commentarial project are unprecedented in the history of Śaivism
in South India, and therefore fully deserve our attention. What drove the talented
Appaya to ‘support the doctrine of the supreme Śiva’? What were his message and
rationale? How was his Śivādvaita work received among Sanskrit intellectuals in
early modern India? What does this tell us about Appaya as a scholar and social
agent, and the complex world in which he lived and wrote?
This study puts the Śaiva oeuvre of Appaya and its reception in early modern
India into context for the first time.¹² In Chapter 1, I offer new insights on
empire. Furthermore, there is clear evidence that Vijayanagara rulers commissioned the construction of
:
Vais nava temples that did not include subsidiary Śaiva elements (Verghese 1995: 137). Rao has argued
that the desecration of temples during the battle of Tālikot:a in 1565, which marked the end of the
:
empire, was selective as mostly Vais nava temples were affected. The fact that Śaiva temples remained
for the most part undamaged suggests that Śaivas in Vijayanagara ‘were responsible for the desecration
:
of Vais nava temples, perhaps as a reaction to the dramatic loss of patronage under Sadāśivarāya and
Rāmarāya’ (Rao 2016: 45). In light of this evidence, it is reasonable to assume that Śaivas would have
been active ‘defending’ their religion in response to the significant religion-based changes in state policy
that were taking place in the imperial capital. While we have no direct evidence to this effect, it is
possible that religious tensions in the capital, though miles away from Appaya’s centre of activity, may
have impacted on his decision to ‘defend’ Śaiva religion contra Vais nava
: theologians of Vedānta.
¹² A few studies were published on Appaya’s scholarly work and persona at the beginning of the
twentieth century, notably by the Indian scholar S.S. Suryanarayana Sastri. The last decade has
witnessed a renewal of interest in Appaya’s thought. Worth noting is a special issue on Appaya
published in the Journal of Indian Philosophy in 2016, with contributions by Christopher Minkowski
(editor), Lawrence McCrea, Ajay Rao, Yigal Bronner, Madhav Deshpande, and myself. Further
publications have followed since then. On Appaya’s life and intellectual biography, see Mahalinga
Sastri 1929, Joshi 1966, Ramesan 1972, and more recently Bronner 2015b, 2016 and Minkowski 2016;
on his devotional hymns, see Bronner 2007 and Rao 2016, and Bronner & Shulman 2009 for a
translation of Appaya’s Ātmārpanastuti;
: on his work on poetics, see Edwin Gerow’s edition and
translation of the Vr: ttivārttika (Gerow 2001) as well as Bronner 2002 and 2004; on his work on
:
Mīmāmsā, see Pollock 2004, McCrea 2008, Bronner 2015a, and Duquette 2016b; on his work on
     7
Appaya’s main source of exegesis, Śrīkan: t:ha’s Brahmamīmāmsābhās : ya, and

reassess the current evidence about Śrīkan: t:ha’s lineage, influences, and date of
activity. Attention has recently been paid to the relationship between his Śaiva
Vedānta theology and the theology deployed in the work of Vīraśaiva scholars
writing in Sanskrit. Although there are significant linkages between these Śaiva
scholars, the extent to which they influenced each other’s theologies is not yet fully
understood. Among other things, my analysis will complicate the relationship
between Śrīkan: t:ha and Nīlakan: t:ha, a figure central to the Vīraśaiva Vedānta
tradition. In Chapter 2, I focus on Appaya’s ‘early’ Śaiva works. In these polemical
works, which I surmise to have been composed before the Śivārkamanidīpikā, :
Appaya emphasizes the greatness of Śiva and His superiority over Vis nu- :
Nārāyana,: based principally on the exegesis of passages taken from the Purānas, :
Upanis ads and epics. An overall understanding of Appaya’s early Śaiva works is
key to understanding his Śivādvaita Vedānta oeuvre. Aside from the fact that they
feature core theological concepts that prefigure the fully fledged theology of
Śivādvaita Vedānta, they also reveal that Appaya was engaged with Vais nava :
opponents early on. In these works, we begin to see Appaya’s aversion for those
‘heretics’ and ‘evil-minded’ scholars who denigrate Śiva’s worship. I will argue that
these scholars were principally Śrīvais nava
: adherents of Viśis t:ādvaita Vedānta, the
:
dominant Vais nava school of Vedānta theology in Appaya’s time and place.
One of the core arguments developed in this book is that Appaya’s Śivādvaita
project pursued the same ambition of defending Śaivism as in the early polemical
works, yet in a more systematic manner, that is, by shifting the debate to the
interpretation of the canonical Brahmasūtras. Prior to the sixteenth century,
Vedānta theology had essentially been the bastion of Vais nava : scholars. In the
aftermath of Śan kara’s Brahmasūtrabhās ya, four major Vais nava-leaning
: com-
mentaries on the Brahmasūtras were written, namely by Rāmānuja, Madhva,
Nimbarka, and Vallabhācārya, the first two of which led to the formation of
long-standing and systematic schools of thought—namely Viśis t:ādvaita Vedānta
and Dvaita Vedānta—and generated an important amount of commentarial
literature. In comparison, the production of Vedānta material by the other
prominent religious group in medieval India, the Śaivas, had been rather limited.
In Appaya’s time, the Viśis t:ādvaita Vedānta school dominated the theological
landscape in South India. Scholars still read and commented on the works of
Rāmānuja, Sudarśanasūri, and Ven kat:anātha while continuing to actively write
Advaita Vedānta, see Sastri 1935/1937, Joshi 1966, Gotszorg 1993, and Duquette 2009; on his work
critically engaging Dvaita Vedānta, see Deshpande 2016, Okita 2016, and Duquette 2016b; on his work
on epics, see Bronner 2011 and Minkowski 2017; on his engagement with the Navya-Nyāya tradition,
see Duquette 2020b. Much less work has been done on Appaya’s Śaiva work. S.S. Suryanarayana Sastri
pioneered research on this subject in the 1930s with a translation of the Śivādvaitanirnaya
: (Sastri 1929)
and a comprehensive study of Śrīkan: t:ha’s theology (Sastri 1930). Recent studies in this area include
Duquette 2015a, Duquette 2016a, McCrea 2016, Fisher 2017a, and Duquette 2020a, 2020c. To this date,
no comprehensive study of Appaya’s Śaiva oeuvre has ever been written.
8    - 
new independent works in this tradition. The flowering of Śrīvais nava: scholarship
on Vedānta in this period was increasingly stimulated as Śrīvais nava
: scholars were
gaining the support of Vijayanagara rulers. During the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries, several preceptors and advisors to the king belonged to the prestigious
Śrīvais nava
: Tātācārya family. In Appaya’s time, both Kr: s nadevarāya
: (ruled
c.1509–30) and Rāmarāya (c.1542–1565) were advised by Tātācārya preceptors
(rājaguru): the first by Ven kat:a Tātācārya, and the second by Pañcamatabhañjana
Tātācārya, a scholar whom later hagiographical sources describe as an important
rival of Appaya. It is my view that Viśis t:ādvaita Vedānta had gained enough
significance by Appaya’s time to inspire, for the first time, a parallel Śaiva
attempt—Śivādvaita Vedānta.
In Chapter 3, I turn to Appaya’s Śivādvaita Vedānta works per se. While these
works, composed later in Appaya’s Śaiva career, are also polemical to some degree,
they differ from the earlier Śaiva works in that their central concern is now the
correct interpretation of the Brahmasūtras in light of Śrīkan: t:ha’s commentary. It
is in these works that Appaya develops and promotes a fully consistent Śaiva
Vedānta position (siddhānta) in opposition to Viśis t:ādvaita Vedānta. For this
purpose, he relies on various textual and hermeneutical strategies, ranging from
including Śrīkan: t:ha’s position alongside other schools of Vedānta in an unprece-
dented doxography of Vedānta schools, to reinterpreting some of Śrīkan: t:ha’s key
doctrines in line with the doctrine of pure non-dualism advocated in the Advaita
Vedānta tradition, a position that Śrīkan: t:ha did not himself fully acknowledge.
Appaya’s lifelong endorsement of Advaita Vedānta is well known. Not only
did he write substantial works in this tradition, but he also remained a great
admirer of Śan kara (the bhagavatpāda, as he often refers to him) and of his
Brahmasūtrabhās ya throughout his entire career. We shall see that this commit-
ment not only influenced his reading of Śrīkan: t:ha’s commentary, but also—in
stark contrast with his Śaiva co-religionists in South India—how he interpreted
Śaiva scriptures and their validity vis-à-vis the Vedas.
In Chapter 4, I pursue my analysis of Appaya’s Śivādvaita works with a special
focus on the modalities of his engagement with the Śrīvais nava : tradition of
Vedānta. I examine a number of arguments Appaya employs to criticize
Rāmānuja’s theology and his reading of the Brahmasūtras, and thereby establish
Śrīkan: t:ha’s theology as the superior system. One of the core doctrines against
which Appaya argues—developed to a large extent by Sudarśanasūri, a late-
thirteenth-century scholar who may well have been Appaya’s nemesis—is that
the two Mīmāmsās, : namely Pūrvamīmāmsā : and Vedānta, form a single unified
corpus. I also pay attention in this chapter to a little-studied work of Śivādvaita
Vedānta, the Ratnatrayaparīks ā, a short devotional hymn with self-authored
commentary in which Appaya encapsulates his original vision of Śrīkan: t:ha’s
‘esoteric’ theology. I conclude this chapter with an examination of Appaya’s
critical take on Pāñcarātra, a key source of Śrīvais nava
: theology.
     9
The book concludes (Chapter 5) with an analysis of the reception of Appaya’s

Śaiva work in early modern India. Vais nava
: theologians of Vedānta from various
schools were quick to respond to Appaya’s bold theses; we will pay attention to
critical responses by Vijayīndra (Dvaita Vedānta), Purus ottama (Śuddhādvaita
Vedānta) and Śrīvais nava
: theologians such as Mahācārya, Ran garāmānuja and
Varadācārya. If the Śaiva response was generally more favourable, some Śaiva
scholars also took a critical stance on Appaya’s work and developed their own
position on Vedānta. This is most notably the case of Vīraśaiva scholars of
Vedānta, who promulgated their own distinctive position on Vedānta in the
wake of Appaya—Śaktiviśis t:ādvaita Vedānta.
By uncovering this intellectual history, I wish to demonstrate that Appaya
Dīks ita played a key role in the history of Śaivism in South India in being the
first Śaiva scholar to ever take up the challenge posed by Śrīvais nava
: theologians of
Vedānta in the medieval period. His comprehensive work based on Śrīkan: t:ha’s
commentary was not meant as a mere contribution to Vedānta scholarship; it was
a grand exegetical project designed to respond in particular to the Śrīvais navas’
:
interpretation of Vedānta material. Thus this study aims to provide a more
nuanced portrait of Appaya Dīks ita, the scholar and the religious figure. It will
present him not only as the prolific and bold intellectual we already know him to
be, but also as a social agent sensitive to the polemical conflicts that set Śaivas and
:
Vais navas apart in his time and place. In doing so, I hope that this book will open
up new possibilities for our understanding of the challenges of Indian theism, and
also shed light on the religious landscape of early modern India as seen through
the lenses of the most important scholar of the sixteenth century.
1
Śrīkan tha
and the Brahmamīmāmsābhā
sya

The Brahmamīmāmsābhā (hereafter ‘BMB’) of Śrīkan tha

sya Śivācārya is the
commentary on the Brahmasūtras (hereafter ‘BS’) upon which Appaya Dīksita
based his Śivādvaita Vedānta corpus. Although this commentary on the BS
may well be the first ever written from a Śaiva perspective, its author remained
more or less unheard of until Appaya decided to take over his commentary in
order to establish a Vedānta for Śaivas: Śivādvaita Vedānta. Appaya himself
does not reveal much about Śrīkan tha’s persona, lineage, scholarly affiliations,
and influences. Modern scholarship has not shed much light on this scholar
either, if only to suggest that Śrīkan tha
was a Śaiva scholar active in South India
between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries, and that he authored a single work,
the commentary in question. In this chapter, I investigate the current evidence
about Śrīkan tha’s
lineage, influences, and date of activity, and also provide further
details on the relationship between Śrīkan tha’s theology and the Vīraśaiva
tradition.
1.1 Śrīkan tha’s

Date, Lineage, and Influences
In the BMB, Śrīkan tha

does not say much about his own lineage and teachers. In
the fourth introductory verse, he refers to a certain Śveta as his guru. We are told
that Śveta authored scriptures (āgama) on various subjects and that he was a
dispenser of liberation for his illustrious disciples.¹ He mentions him only once
more in the concluding verse of the BMB as the inspiration for writing his
¹ namah śvetābhidhānāya nānāgamavidhāyine | kaivalyakalpatarave kalyānagurave namah ||—

‘Obeisance to the one named Śveta, who authored various scriptures, the teacher of the auspicious
ones, who is [for them] like a wish-fulfilling tree of liberation’ (v. 4, ŚAMD1: 5). It has been suggested
(Filliozat 2001: 50) that the compound kalyānaguru in this verse could refer to another teacher of
Śrīkan tha.
However, I have not been able to locate any source linking Śrīkan tha to a figure of this name.
Partly against this interpretation is the fact that Śrīkan tha
uses the adjective kalyāna in other places in
his commentary merely in the sense of ‘auspicious’ or ‘excellent’, as in the compound kalyānagu na:

daharākāśas tu svābhāvikātirohitatattatkalyānagu . . . —‘But the space in the cavity [of the heart] has
na
various excellent qualities that are natural and fully manifest . . . ’ (ŚAMD1: 443). Thus, kalyānaguru
could refer simply to Śveta and the fact that he was an excellent teacher. Note, however, that Appaya
allows for the possibility of interpreting this compound as a reference to another guru, namely
Śrīkan tha’s
āśramaguru, but ultimately favors the interpretation according to which the kalyānas
refer to those who bestow the fruit of prosperity (abhyudaya, i.e., enjoyment in this world and the
other) on those who desire welfare (kalyāna); here, kalyā naguru
refers to Śveta. See Appendix 2 for a
translation of Śrīkan tha’s
opening verses.
́
Defending God in Sixteenth-Century India: The Saiva Oeuvre of Appaya Dı ̄ksita.
Jonathan Duquette,
̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   11
commentary.² The historicity of Śveta as a Śaiva teacher is problematic. The name

‘Śveta’ does appear in the Vāyusamhitā and Liṅ gapurāna,
but refers there to the
first of twenty-eight yogācāryas, mythical incarnations of Śiva who taught a Vedic
form of Pāśupata Śaivism (Sastri 1930: 19). Appaya accepts this interpretation in
his Śivārkamanidīpikā
(hereafter ‘ŚAMD’), though he also points out the possi-
bility that Śveta may refer to Śrīkan tha’s
vidyāguru, on whom he gives no details.³
Interestingly, Appaya claims that yogācāryas were teachers in the Mahāpāśupata
tradition.⁴ The Mahāpāśupatas have been identified with the Kālāmukhas, the
‘black-faced’ ascetics, also known as the Lākulas, one of the major subdivisions
within Atimārga Śaivism (Sanderson 1993: 34). The association between the
Kālāmukhas and Pāśupatas in early medieval times is well documented. Several
South Indian inscriptions attest the importance of Lakulīśa—the Pāśupata teacher
to whom are traditionally attributed the Pāśupatasūtras—to the Kālāmukhas.
According to Lorenzen, one Śrīkan tha, possibly of Kālāmukha lineage, was active
in the Kedāreśvara temple at Belagāve in the Shimoga Distict (modern-day
Karnataka) around the eleventh century. A Kedāreśvara grant dated to 1103
praises this Śrīkan tha
as Kedāraśakti’s chief disciple and an expert in logic.
Another grant, dated to 1113, describes the same Śrīkan tha as fully conversant
with the Paramātmāgama, a skillful orator as well as a lord among yogins
(Lorenzen 1991: 106–7). None of these inscriptions, however, mention that the
Śrīkan tha
in question composed a commentary on the BS, nor does our Śrīkan tha
refer to Kedāraśakti as his guru in the BMB.
Clark (2006: 210), on the other hand, identifies our Śrīkan tha with a
Śrīkan thanātha
mentioned in an inscription ascribed to Bhoganātha, the youngest
brother of the famous scholars Mādhava-Vidyāranya and Sāyana. The inscription,
dated to 1356, narrates the grant of a village named Bitragu n ta
by the king
Saṅ gama II to Śrīkan thanātha;
it refers to the latter as having expounded a new
Śaiva doctrine. Another inscription by Bhoganātha reported by Clark, not dated
but possibly from the same period, mentions this same Śrīkan thanātha as a great
poet and the guru of Sāyana. Clark identifies this Śrīka n
tha with the Śrīka n tha

mentioned in the Kedāreśvara inscription, but does not provide any reason for
² śvetācāryapadadvandvaśuśrūsādyotitādhvanā
| krtam
etan mayā bhāsya
m kevalam
bhaktimā-
tratah ||—‘My path illuminated by serving the two feet of Śvetācārya, I composed this single commen-
tary purely out of devotion [to him]’ (ŚAMD2: 506).
³ Appaya reads the fourth opening verse of Śrīkan tha’s
In the first way
commentary as a pun (ślesa).
of reading the verse, Śveta refers to Śrīkan tha’s
vidyāguru, in which case nānāgamavidhāyin means that
this teacher taught that Upanisads
have Śiva as their main object. In the second way of reading the
verse, Śveta denotes the incarnation of Śiva, namely the first of the twenty-eight yogācāryas, in which
case nānāgamavidhāyin means that this incarnation composed the āgamas of the Pāśupatas and others
(nānāvidhapāśupatādyāgamanirmātr). See ŚAMD1: 6.
⁴ mahāpāśupatajñānasampradāyapravartakān | amśāvatārān īśasya yogācāryān upāsmahe ||—‘I
pay homage to the Yogācāryas, partial incarnations of the Lord, who expounded the traditional
doctrine of Mahāpāśupatas’ (third opening verse of the ŚAMD, ŚAMD1: 1). See Appendix 2 for a
translation of Appaya’s opening verses in the ŚAMD.
12    - 
this, nor does he explain on which basis he identifies this Śrīkan tha
with ‘the śaiva
advaitin who lived in the early twelfth century’ (Clark 2006: 210). Indeed, neither of
these inscriptions mention the fact—which, if true, would arguably be significant—
that Śrīkan thanātha
composed a Śaiva commentary on the BS. Śrīkan tha’s
date and
identity thus remain unclear as far as the epigraphical record goes.
A close textual analysis of the BMB strongly suggests that Śrīkan tha
was active
after Rāmānuja (eleventh to twelfth century).⁵ Several of its passages are parallel to
passages from the Vedāntasāra, an abridgement of the Śrībhāsya traditionally
attributed to Rāmānuja.⁶ Chintamani (1927: 71–4) highlights a number of such
passages and concludes that Śrīkan tha was more likely to be the borrower. Sastri
also leans towards the view that Śrīkan tha followed Rāmānuja based on his
analysis of Rāmānuja’s and Śrīkan tha’s commentaries ad BS 3.3.27–30, where
Śrīkan tha’s
criticism of views on post-mortem karman strongly suggests that he
knew Rāmānuja’s Śrībhāsya and responded to it (Sastri 1930: 60–4). Śrīkan tha

himself implies a certain parallelism between his views and those of scholars who,
like Rāmānuja and his followers, hold a non-dualism of the qualified
(viśis tādvaita):
he designates his own doctrine as viśis taśivādvaita
ad BS
2.1.14—a term most likely modelled on the Viśis tādvaita
Vedānta tradition⁷—
and says, ad BS 2.1.22, that his own views are closer to those of the adherents of
this tradition than to those who hold the view of difference (bhedavādin) or pure
non-difference (atyantābhedavādin).⁸
Although several of the concepts foundational to Śrīkan tha’s theology—cic-
chakti, cidākāśa, paramākāśa, etc.—are distinctively Śaiva, his terminology often
parallels that of Rāmānuja’s Viśis tādvaita
Vedānta tradition. Śrīkan tha’s
use of
expressions such as cidacitprapañcaviśis ta,
cidacidvastuśarīraka, kāranāvasthā/

⁵ Śrīkan tha
has sometimes been depicted as a contemporary of Śaṅ kara. The Śaṅ karavijaya, the
well-known hagiography of Śaṅ kara ascribed to Mādhava, claims that a certain Nīlakan tha, author of a
Śaivabhāsya on the BS, debated with Śaṅ kara and was eventually won over; see verses 33 to 72, canto
15, for the narration of this story. All evidence suggests that this story is spurious. It has been shown
that the Śaṅ karavijaya is a late hagiography (dated between 1650 and 1800 in recent studies; see Bader
2000: 5) with a strong bias for Advaita Vedānta. In addition, the claim that Śrīkan tha was a contem-
porary of Śaṅ kara is unfounded since Śrīkan tha cites a sentence from the Bhāmatī (Vācaspati Miśra’s
commentary on Śaṅ kara’s Brahmasūtrabhāsya) in his commentary (Chintamani 1927: 69).
⁶ However, the authorship of the Vedāntasāra by Rāmānuja was contested by van Buitenen in his
edition of the Vedārthasamgraha:
‘If the text was at all composed during Rāmānuja’s life-time, it will at
most have been an authorized epitome by one of his pupils’ (van Buitenen 1956: 31–2).
⁷ The compound viśis tādvaita
as a descriptive term for Rāmānuja’s theology does not appear in
Rāmānuja’s work but in the works of later Śrīvais nava exegetes, the earliest of whom is probably
Sudarśanasūri (late thirteenth century). If Śrīkan tha indeed borrowed this term from Rāmānuja’s
tradition, it would entail that he was active after the late thirteenth century.
⁸ These three doctrines (vāda) of Vedānta differ essentially in the way they envision the relation
between Brahman, the world and the self. The viśistādvaitavādins
hold that Brahman is the non-dual
(advaita) reality of everything, and that Brahman is qualified (viśista) by the insentient worldly entities
and sentient selves, which constitute as such the ‘body’ (śarīra) of Brahman. bhedavādins hold that
these three ontological principles represent entirely distinct realities, while the atyantābhedavādins, on
the contrary, hold that there is ultimately no difference whatsoever between Brahman, world, and self.
Śrīkan tha,
as we will discuss later, leans toward the first view.
̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   13
kāryāvasthā and several others clearly echoes the non-dualist theology of

Viśis tādvaita
Vedānta. This applies also to his description of Brahman as cause
and effect of the world. Compare, for instance, the definition of Brahman as the
cause of the world given by Śrīkan tha ad BS 1.4.27 with the definition given in
the Vedāntadīpa⁹ on the same sūtra: in both passages, Brahman, in its causal
state (kāranāvasthā),
is said to have as its body sentient and insentient entities
that are subtle and devoid of a differentiation in terms of names, forms, etc.
(nāmarūpādivibhāgarahitasūksmacidacidvastuśarīraka
in Śrīkan tha’s
commen-
tary, avibhaktanāmarūpasūksmacidacidvastuśarīraka
in the Vedāntadīpa).
Śrīkan tha
also shares distinctive philosophical views with adherents of
Viśis tādvaita
Vedānta. Like them, he rejects the ‘difference and non-difference’
(bhedābheda) interpretation of the BS (see also Appendix 4, Section A4.2) and
holds that the Pūrva and Uttara Mīmāmsās form a single śāstra—a position not
adopted by Śaṅ kara, for instance, and which Appaya himself refutes in his later
work (see Chapter 4, Section 4.3). It is worth noting that the early modern scholar
of Śuddhādvaita Vedānta, Purusottama (1657/1668–1725; see Smith 2005: 425),
believed that Śrīkan tha’s
views on the unity of both Mīmāmsās were taken from
Rāmānuja. Purusottama
even goes to the extent of describing Śrīkan tha
as a
‘stealer’ (caura) of Rāmānuja’s school for having appropriated the teachings of
Rāmānuja and lent them authority by using Śaiva rather than Vais nava scriptures.
The same view was held in more recent times by Nārāyanācārya, a commentator
on Veṅ katanātha’s
Paramatabhaṅ g a, who refers to Śrīka ntha
as a ‘stealer from
[Rāmānuja’s] Śrībhāsya’ (śrībhā syacora).¹⁰
In light of all this, it is safe to conclude
that Śrīkan tha
was heavily influenced by Rāmānuja’s tradition, and that he must
consequently have been active after the twelfth century.
⁹ The attribution of the Vedāntadīpa to Rāmānuja is also contested, but it is surely a work
belonging to the Viśis tādvaita
Vedānta tradition.
¹⁰ In his Bhāsyaprakāśa
(a commentary on Vallabhācārya’s Anubhā sya)
ad BS 1.1.1, Purusottama

paraphrases the views of Śrīkan tha
(whom he refers to simply as a ‘Śaiva’ in this context) and says that
he borrowed the teachings of Rāmānuja’s tradition on the unity of both Mīmāmsās: yat tu śaivo
rāmānujamataikadeśam ādāya ārādhanārādhyabhūtadharmabrahmapratipādakayor mīmāmsāśās-
trayoh phalaikyād aikyam [ . . . ]—‘As for the Śaiva [i.e., Śrīkan tha],
[he defended the view that] the
[two] Mīmāmsā śāstras, which teach dharma and brahman as worship and what ought to be
worshipped, form a unity based on the fact that they have the same fruit, by taking a portion of [the
teachings of] Rāmānuja’s school’ (Anubhā
sya:
89). Later, ad BS 1.1.4, Purusottama
is more explicit and
says that the Śaiva (Śrīkan tha
is again understood here), stealing at times from Rāmānuja’s and also
Madhva’s teachings, distinguishes his position from theirs by quoting from Śaiva scriptures that
contradict their views: śaivas tu rāmānujamatasyaiva cauro madhvamatasya ca kvacit kvacit
tadviruddhām śaivaśrutim udāharan bhinnam prasthānam abhimanyate (Anubhā sya:
247). The
same claim was made later by another important Śuddhādvaita theologian, namely Giridhara (fl.
1850–1900). In verse 63 of his Śuddhādvaitamārtan da, Giridhara describes the Śaiva[advaitin] as a
‘stealer’ (cora) of Rāmānuja’s tradition: śaivo ’py etena vidhvasto yatas taccora eva hi. A commentator
on this work, Rāmakr s nabha
glosses taccora as rāmānujamatacora, and adds that the Śaivādvaitin
tta,
also stole at times from Mādhvas (madhvamata) (Śuddhādvaitamārtan da: 37). See Chapter 5,
Section 5.1.2 for Purusottama’s
engagement with Appaya’s work. For Nārāyanācārya’s
reference to
Śrīkan tha
as śrībhāsyacora,
see Paramatabhaṅ ga: 87.
14    - 
Another influence on Śrīkan tha was most likely Haradatta Śivācārya, also
known as Sudarśanācārya, a prominent Śaiva scholar who may have been
active in the twelfth or thirteenth century (Kane 1930: 351, Sastri 1930: 42).
Appaya quotes one verse (v. 42) from Haradatta’s Śrutisūktimālā (also
known as Caturvedatātparyasamgraha or simply Tātparyasamgraha)
in the
Śivādvaitanirnaya,
and points out there that Śrīka ntha
‘follows’ (anuvartin)
him.¹¹ Nowhere does Śrīkan tha mention Haradatta in his commentary, and we
might therefore understand Appaya’s remark as highlighting intellectual affinities
rather than a historical relationship (such as Śrīkan tha
being an actual follower or
student of Haradatta) between the two scholars. Sastri adopts this view and notes
several doctrinal affinities—such as the Viśis tādvaita-modelled
view that Śiva/
Brahman relates to the world as an embodied person relates to his/her body, or the
view that the Mahānārāyana Upanisad praises Śiva—and the use of a shared
vocabulary between the works of both scholars (Sastri 1930: 319–20). Another
important commonality between the scholars is their preference, among the
several methods of contemplation (brahmavidyā) taught in Upanisads, for
the daharavidyā which teaches the contemplation of the deity in the cavity of the
heart. Sastri holds that these affinities suggest that Haradatta and Śrīkan tha were
near contemporaries. Moreover, since Haradatta and Rāmānuja were contempor-
aries in his view, and since Śrīkan tha
and Rāmānuja share a similar conceptual
vocabulary, he also holds that Śrīkan tha was a contemporary of Rāmānuja,
making all three scholars near contemporaries, with Śrīkan tha being the latest
(Sastri 1930: 42). However, such affinities need not be taken as direct evidence for
these scholars’ contemporaneity, as they may merely reflect the fact that Śrīkan tha
was influenced by the writings of Haradatta and Rāmānuja.
Another probable South Indian influence on Śrīkan tha was Bhatta
Bhāskarācārya (second half of the tenth century?), the well-known author of
extensive commentaries on the Taittirīya Samhitā, Taittirīya Āranyaka
and the
Rudrapraśna. In the ŚAMD (ad BS 1.4.27), Appaya himself makes a rapproche-
ment between Śrīkan tha’s
views on the identity between Śiva and Brahman and
the transformation of Śiva’s cicchakti into the world (see Chapter 3, Section 3.2.1),
on the one hand, and Bhatta Bhāskarācārya’s commentary on the Taittirīya
Āranyaka
on the other. Sastri also reports a number of parallel verbal descriptions
between the two works (Sastri 1930: 72).
¹¹ sudarśanācāryair api tātparyasamgrahe garudaikyabhāvanād

r stānta
evopāttah [ . . . ] iti
tadanuvartinām śrīkan thācāryā
nām
api tathaiva matam—‘The very same example of the contempla-
tion [in a state of] unity with Garuda occurs also in Sudarśanācārya’s Tātparyasamgraha.
The position
of Śrīkan thācārya,
who follows him, is also exactly the same’ (Sastri 1929: 21). Appaya refers to
Haradatta’s work as the Tātparyasamgraha,
which is an alternative title Haradatta himself gives to
his own work (see v. 2 in the Śrutisūktimālā). See Chapter 2, Section 2.2 for more details on Appaya’s
quotation of Haradatta in his Śaiva work.
̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   15
A less direct and yet important influence on Śrīkan tha’s thought is the
Kashmirian non-dualist Śākta Śaiva tradition. Several of the concepts and terms
used by Śrīkan tha
in his commentary are reminiscent of the conceptual vocabu-
lary used by Utpaladeva, Ksemarāja,
and others. Right at the beginning of his
commentary, in the second opening verse, Śrīkan tha
describes Śiva as the supreme
self on the surface of whose power the picture of the universe was drawn:
Victorious is Śiva, the supreme self, the sum of everything that is most important
in scriptures, who painted the multitude of pictures consisting of the entire net of
the world on the canvas that is His own power.¹²
As Sanderson has already pointed out (2014: 90, fn. 370), this depiction of Śiva is
typically Kashmirian and has parallels in Utpaladeva’s Īśvarapratyabhijñākārikā,
Śivadr s tyālocana
and Stavacintāmani,
as well as in Ksemarāja’s
Pratyabhi-
jñāhrdaya.
Śrīka ntha
also quotes from the Bodhapañcadaśikā (ad BS 1.2.1), the
Tantrāloka (ad BS 4.4.17) and from the Īśvarapratyabhijñākārikā. From the latter,
Śrīkan tha
quotes the following verse thrice in his commentary:
For, just like a yogin, God, which consists only in consciousness, must manifest
externally all the objects residing in [Him], by the force of His own will, without
any material cause.¹³
This well-known verse is oft quoted in Kashmirian sources as well as in early

medieval South Indian sources¹⁴ as encapsulating the essence of the idealist
doctrine of Pratyabhijñā. That Śrīkan tha
refers to this verse in his commentary
may therefore not be taken as direct evidence that he was well versed in
Kashmirian non-dualist philosophy. In fact, Śrīkan tha
interprets this verse some-
what differently than Utpaladeva and his commentators. For Abhinavagupta, for
instance, this verse stresses that God, as consciousness—just like the yogin who
makes perceptible to others complex phenomena like cities and armies without
any material cause, only thanks to his will—creates phenomena through an act of
pure freedom that depends solely on His own will (icchāvaśāt), without the need
for any material support (nirupādānam). According to Śrīkan tha,
however, Śiva
does not create the world spontaneously, without any material, but in a causal
manner, out of the material available, as it were, in Himself. To be ‘without
¹² nijaśaktibhittinirmitanikhilajagajjālacitranikurumbah | sa jayati śivah parātmā nikhilāga-

masārasarvasvam || 2 || (ŚAMD1: 1).
¹³ cidātmaiva hi devo ’ntahsthitam
icchāvaśād bahih | yogīva nirupādānam arthajātam
prakāśayet ||
(v. 1.5.7, Torella 2013: 21). Śrīkan tha
quotes the verse in three places in his commentary: as an
abhiyuktasūkti in BS 1.2.9; as an āptavacana in BS 2.1.18; and as an āgama in BS 2.2.38.
¹⁴ It is quoted, for instance, in Maheśvarānanda’s self-authored commentary (Parimala) on the
Mahārthamañjarī and in Natanānanda’s
Cidvallī commentary on Punyānanda’s
Kāmakalāvilāsa.
16    - 
material cause’ for Śrīkan tha

essentially means that Śiva does not create the world
out of a material cause that is external to Himself.
Śrīkan tha’s
non-dualism certainly shares family resemblances with the non-
dualism of Utpaladeva, Abhinavagupta, and others. It acknowledges the nature of
Śiva as pure consciousness, the identity between Śiva and His power (śakti), and
also admits that consciousness can apprehend the world through an act akin to
reflective awareness (vimarśa).¹⁵ But it radically differs from Pratyabhijñā non-
dualism in its firm defence of the Vedānta doctrine of causality and the absence of
emphasis on Śiva’s innate freedom and dynamism.¹⁶
1.2 References to Śrīkan tha

in Sanskrit Sources
Prior to Appaya
While there is little doubt that Śrīkan tha

was active after Haradatta and Rāmānuja,
his date remains uncertain. Recent scholarship, mostly following the lead of
Chintamani (1927) and Sastri (1930), has placed Śrīkan tha roughly between the
twelfth century and the fourteenth century. Chintamani argues that Śrīkan tha
lived after the thirteenth century based on Śrīkan tha’s
quotation of a statement
supposedly made by the Advaitin Akhan dānanda (c. thirteenth century), but
thinks that Śrīkan tha
was a rather late author, as he is ‘not referred to by any
writer older than Appaya Dīksita’ (Chintamani 1927: 75). Against this, Sastri
argues that Śrīkan tha
was already a known figure by the beginning of the four-
teenth century, since the Śaiva scholar of Śaiva Siddhānta, Umāpati Śivācārya
(who, according to Sastri, lived around 1400), quotes from Śrīkan tha’s commen-
tary in his Pauskarabhā
sya,
a commentary on the Pau skaratantra
(Sastri 1930:
33).¹⁷ However, it has been convincingly shown that Umāpati Śivācārya, the
author of the Pauskarabhā
sya,
is not the fourteenth-century author of the Tamil
Saiddhāntika works that Sastri has in mind, but a scholar who certainly belonged
‘to a period later than the first half of the 16th century’ (Colas-Chauhan 2007: 4),
¹⁵ See, for instance, Śrīkan tha’s

description (ad BS 3.2.16) of the wise person as one whose
consciousness perceives, i.e., self-represents (! vi + √mrś) the manifold world: vividham vastujātam
paśyantī vimrśantī
cid yasya sa vipaścit (ŚAMD2: 248).
¹⁶ See Chapter 3, Section 3.2 for more details on Śrīkan tha’s
philosophical views.
¹⁷ Umāpati quotes Śrīkan tha’s
commentary (ad BS 2.2.38) while discussing the authority of Śaiva
scriptures: ‘patyur asāmañjasyād’ ity atra bhāsye nīlakan thācāryai
h ‘vayam tu vedaśivāgamayor
bhedam na paśyāmah’ iti. yadi sarvātmanā vedasiddhāntaśaivāgamayor abhedah, kim artham tad
ubhayor nirmānam iti cen, na. astīyān anayor bhedah, vedas traivarnikādhikāra,
āgamāś
cāturvarnikādhikārā
iti. etad apy uktam śrīkan tha[bhā]
‘vedas traivarnikavi
sye saya
h. sarvavarnavi
s-
ayaś cānya’ iti (Pauskarabhā
10). Note that Umāpati refers to the author of the Śrīkan thabhā
sya: sya
as
Nīlakan thācārya
and not Śrīkan tha;
see Appendix 4, Section A4.1 for more details on this point. The
passage quoted here is also quoted, with almost the same wording, by Nirmalamani in his Prabhā on
Aghoraśiva’s Kriyākramadyotikā, a ritual manual of Śaiva Siddhānta written in the twelfth century.
Nirmalamani was a South Indian author who lived around the sixteenth or seventeenth century (Janaki
1986: 6; Sanderson 2014: 25).
̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   17
and who lived quite possibly after Śivāgrayogin (second half of the sixteenth
century), as Umāpati seems to be familiar with his works (ibid.: 7). Thus
Umāpati is more likely to have been active after Appaya Dīksita, so his quotation
cannot be used to establish that Śrīkan tha was active shortly after Rāmānuja.
Sastri also points out that three other commentaries on Śrīkan tha’s BMB may
have been composed before Appaya (none of which, it should be emphasized, are
referred to by Appaya in his Śivādvaita work): Nijaguna Śivayogin’s Tārāvali,
Haradatta Śivācārya’s Śrīkan thabhā
syasamartha
and Brahmavidyādhvarīndra’s
Vedāntasarvasvaśivadarpana (Sastri 1930: 16). Sastri gives no detail about the
first commentary, which all evidence suggests he was not able to consult, or the
sources from which he gathered this information. But even if such a commentary
were to be found, it would not help us determine the date of Śrīkan tha, since
Nijaguna Śivayogin lived, like Appaya, in the sixteenth century (Kittel 1875: lxvi).
Sastri claims that some scholars before him reported to have seen manuscripts of a
commentary by Haradatta, presumably the same Haradatta that Appaya quotes in
the Śivādvaitanirnaya;
he himself never consulted it and as of yet it has not been
found. Note, however, that if the date tentatively ascribed to Haradatta by Sastri is
correct (i.e., fl. 1119; Sastri 1930: 41), and if Śrīkan tha followed Rāmānuja, then
Haradatta could hardly have composed a commentary on Śrīkan tha’s bhāsya.
As
for the third ‘commentary’ by Brahmavidyādhvarīndra, after consulting the work
myself, I can confirm that it is not a commentary on the BMB, but a work aiming
to refute Appaya Dīksita’s interpretation of Śrīkan tha’s commentary. It was
therefore composed after Appaya.¹⁸
It has been suggested more recently that Śrīkan tha could be no later than about
1400, since the Vīraśaiva commentator Śrīpati¹⁹ refers to Śrīkan tha in his own
commentary on the BS, the Śrīkarabhāsya (McCrea 2014: 82). While it is true that
Śrīpati quotes Śrīkan tha
in the Śrīkarabhā sya,
the posited date of composition of
this work is questionable. There was certainly an early Śrīpati: this prominent
Śaiva figure is praised in the work of the thirteenth-century Vīraśaiva scholar
Pālkuriki Somanātha as one of the early exponents of Śaivism in Andhra Pradesh,
together with Śivaleṅ ka Mancana Pan dita and Mallikārjuna Pan dita (Lalitamba
1976: 17). Somanātha does not say, however, that Śrīpati composed a commentary
on the BS. Moreover, the Śrīkarabhāsya quotes from the Siddhāntaśikhāmani (late
fifteenth/early sixteenth century; see fn. 33, this chapter, below), so it could not
possibly have been composed by the early Śrīpati. Even more significant is the fact
that the Śrīkarabhāsya is not mentioned in any major Vīraśaiva work from the
medieval and early modern periods—even those with a Vedānta leaning, such as
¹⁸ See Chapter 5, Section 5.3 for a brief discussion of Brahmavidyādhvarīndra’s work.

¹⁹ The editor of the Śrīkarabhāsya, C. Hayavadana Rao, argues that Śrīpati’s commentary was
composed between 1300 and 1400 based on his identification of the author of the bhāsya with the
early Śaiva figure also called Śrīpati (Rao 1936: 17).
18    - 
the Anubhavasūtra, the Śivādvaitadarpana and the Vīraśaivānandacandrikā. For

this reason, I suspect that this work was composed in modern times.²⁰ The work
itself seems spurious, for it contains large sections copied entirely from
Rāmānuja’s Śrībhāsya, for which reason its authenticity has been dismissed even
by contemporary Vīraśaivas.²¹ According to K. A. Nilakantha Sastri, the
renowned historian of South India, the Śrīkarabhāsya ‘remained unknown till
quite recently . . . ’ (Sastri 1963: 95).
It has been argued elsewhere that Śrīkan tha must have lived prior to the
fifteenth century, because the Kriyāsāra, which the author ascribes (albeit without
providing direct evidence) to c.1400–1450, ‘directly cites Śrīkan tha’
(Fisher 2017a:
3). The Kriyāsāra is a work of Vīraśaiva theology that includes a running com-
mentary on the BS, based, as the author of the Kriyāsāra claims, on a Śaiva
commentary on the BS written by a certain Nīlakan tha Śivācārya. Most scholars
have so far assumed—though sometimes with reserve (e.g., Sastri 1930: 18)—that
is none other than Śrīkan tha.
this Nīlakan tha While this might well be true, the
identification of both scholars is not so straightforward, as I discuss in detail later
in this chapter and in Appendix 4. If we assume for the time being that both names
refer to the same scholar, then the BMB would indeed have been composed prior
to the Kriyāsāra. But this would not allow us to confirm the early date of
Śrīkan tha,
for the Kriyāsāra is not as early as has so far been assumed (see, for
instance, Sanderson 2014: 84, who places the Kriyāsāra between the thirteenth
and fifteenth centuries). I have recently argued (Duquette 2020a) that the
Kriyāsāra must have been composed during the seventeenth century or early
eighteenth century, since its author reuses Appaya’s ritual manual, the
Śivārcanacandrikā, and since the Kriyāsāra is quoted with attribution in an
eighteenth-century Vīraśaiva work, the Vīraśaivānandacandrikā.
The most compelling evidence for Śrīkan tha’s
terminus post quem, in my view,
is Sastri’s claim that Śivaliṅ gabhūpa—a prince from the Kon davī
du Reddy dynasty
who, according to Sastri, was active between 1350 and 1450—quotes without
attribution from Śrīkan tha’s BMB in his commentary on Haradatta’s
Śrutisūktimālā (Sastri 1930: 71). A detailed comparison of the two passages
²⁰ Hayavadana Rao relied for his own edition on an incomplete printed edition in Telugu script
published in 1893 by the Śrī Lakshmī Vilāsa Press in Secunderabad. He refers to the existence of two
palm-leaf manuscripts of the Śrīkarabhāsya as well as one paper copy, all in Telugu script and
preserved in the Saiva Grantha Kāryālaya at Devidi (Rao 1936: 3). While this suggests that the
Śrīkarabhāsya
could not have been composed after the close of the nineteenth century, the author
provides in my view no convincing evidence that this work is as early as he claims.
²¹ Compare the Śrībhāsya and Śrīkarabhāsya ad BS 2.3.33, 2.4.1, 3.1.25, 3.3.10, 3.4.8, 4.2.12, and
4.3.1; large sections are identical and, in some cases, the entire sūtra commentary is the same. I am
grateful to Sharathchandra Swamy for directing me to a Kannada work written by his late guru Immadi
Śivabasava Swamy, respected scholar and the former head of a Vīraśaiva matha (Srikundur) in Mysore.
In this work, entitled Siddhāntaśikhāmani hārū Śrīkarabhā sya
nijada nilavu (published by Samvahana,
Behind Evening Bazar, Mysore, 2003), Immadi Śivabasava Swamy convincingly argues that the
Śrīkarabhāsya
is a Vīraśaiva commentary on the BS written in modern times.
̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   19
pointed out by Sastri indeed reveals strong intertextuality.²² However, it is

difficult to conclude on this basis alone that it is Śivaliṅ gabhūpa who relies on
Śrīkan tha’s
commentary and not the other way around. For the identity of
Śivaliṅ gabhūpa, Sastri relies on an excerpt from Hultzsch’s Reports on Sanskrit
Manuscripts in Southern India (Hultzsch 1896, Vol. II). The excerpt includes the
beginning of Śivaliṅ gabhūpa’s commentary on Haradatta’s Śrutisūktimālā, where
Śivaliṅ gabhūpa describes his own lineage in detail. However, this entire passage is
absent from the Tinnevelly edition of Haradatta’s Śrutisūktimālā (which includes
a commentary ascribed to Śivaliṅ gabhūpa), where the passages parallel to
Śrīkan tha’s
commentary are found. It could be that the editor of the Tinnevelly
edition omitted this passage or that his manuscript(s) did not contain it. In any
case, in the absence of clear evidence showing that the commentary found in the
Tinnevelly edition was actually written by Śivaliṅ gabhūpa, and not wrongly
ascribed to him, we cannot conclude with certainty that Śrīkan tha’s
commentary
was composed prior to 1350–1450 (assuming as well that Sastri is right on
Śivaliṅ gabhūpa’s date and on the fact that Śivaliṅ gabhūpa was indeed the
borrower!).
If we assume that Śrīkan tha
was active some time between Rāmānuja’s period
and the fourteenth or fifteenth century, it is worth noting that no major scholars of
Vedānta refer to Śrīkan tha’s
commentary or to his persona as a bhāsyakāra
prior
to Appaya. The Mādhva scholar Vyāsatīrtha (1460–1539) does not engage with
Śrīkan tha’s
Vedānta in his monumental Tātparyacandrikā, which otherwise deals
in detail with Advaita and Viśis tādvaita
interpretations of the BS. Vijayīndra
(c.1514–1595; see Sharma 1981: 395²³) is to my knowledge the first Mādhva
²² Compare the two following passages: (1) ‘rta m satyam param brahma purusa m kr snapiṅ
galam |
ūrdhvaretam virūpāksa m viśvarūpāya vai namah’ iti. rta m satyam manoviparyāsarahitam, param
brahma pūrvoktadaharākāśe śeta iti purusa m śaktimayyā śabalākāratayā kr snapiṅ galam
krśānuretastayā
cordhvaretasam trilocanatayā virūpāksam iti [ . . . ] (Śrutisūktimālā: 68); and (2) tad
eva hi ‘rta
m satyam param brahma purusa m kr s napiṅ
galam | ūrdhvaretam virūpāksa m’ ity ucyate.
tatra paramaśaktyumāśabalākāratayā kr snapiṅ galam krśānuretaskatayā
cordhvaretaskam,
trilocanatayā virūpāksa m, puri pūrvoktadaharapun darīke śeta iti purusa m,
rta m satyam man-
ovāgviparyāsarahitam param brahma iti laksa nam
(ŚAMD1: 327). Or compare: (1) padma
kośapratīkāśam iti nārāyanasyaiva hrdayam
ucyate. katham tasya karmakartrvyapadeśatva
m saṅ -
gacchate? ‘paramātmā vyavasthita’ iti parameśvara eva paramātmā tadantarvartitayā dhyeyatveno-
cyate. tato dhyātrtvena
nārāyanasya
dhyeyatvena parameśvarasya kartrtva m vyapadiśyate. ato
nārāyanād anya evopāsyah paramātmā. ‘sa brahmā sa śivah’ ityādinā brahmavis nurudrendrādipra-

pañcavibhūtiviśistatva
m parameśvarasyopadiśyate (Śrutisūktimālā: 88); and (2) padmakośapratīkāśam
iti prakrtasya
nārāya nasyaiva
h rdayam
ucyate. ‘paramātmā vyavasthita h’
iti parameśvara eva
paramātmā tadantarvartitayā dhyeyatvenocyate. tato dhyātrtvena nārāyanasya
dhyeyatvena
parameśvarasya ca karmatvam kartrtva
m ca vyapadiśyate. ato nārāyanād anya evopāsyah
paramātmā. ‘sa brahmā sa śivah’ ityādinā brahmavisnurudrendrādiprapañcavibhūtiviśi
statva
m
parameśvarasyopadiśyate (ŚAMD1: 322–3).
²³ Sharma (1981: 395) approves the traditional claim that Vijayīndra was the disciple of Vyāsatīrtha
based on Vijayīndra’s own statement, in the introduction of his Upasamhāravijaya and other works, to
the effect that Vyāsatīrtha was his guru. However, the colophon in the Upasamhāravijaya clearly
mentions Surendra [Muni or Tīrtha] as his direct guru, as does the colophon of a manuscript of
Vijayīndra’s Paratattvaprakāśikā kept at the Adyar Library (no. 816, folio 26) that I have consulted.
20    - 
scholar to show awareness of Śrīkan tha’s

commentary.²⁴ No major commentator
on Rāmānuja’s Śrībhāsya, from Vātsyavaradaguru and Sudarśanasūri to
Veṅ katanātha,
ever engages with Śrīka n
tha’s views.²⁵ The first Śrīvais nava
scholar
who refers to Śrīkan tha’s
ideas is, I surmise, Mahācārya, who was a younger
contemporary of Appaya.²⁶ Vallabhācārya (1479–1531?), the author of a
Śuddhādvaita Vedānta commentary on the BS, also shows no awareness of
Śrīkan tha.
However, one of his commentators, Purusottama (c.1657/1668–1725),
does, and significantly refers to Śrīkan tha
as a navya (‘new’) Śaiva.²⁷ Although the
term navya could simply mean that Śrīkan tha’s ideas had only recently come to the
attention of scholars (perhaps through Appaya’s work), it also suggests that
Śrīkan tha
was not a very early figure.
In light of the quasi-absence of references to Śrīkan tha’s commentary prior to
Appaya’s time, and also owing to the lack of details available about his lineage and
teachers, one might even be led to think that Śrīkan tha, the bhāsyakāra,
simply
never existed: Śrīkan tha
could be a fictitious character created by Appaya, the
author of the bhāsya
being no one but Appaya himself. This bold hypothesis was
put forward by a respected Śrīvais nava pandit active in the 1960s, named
Varadācārya, in a short Sanskrit work called Śrīkan thasamālocana,
now out of
print.²⁸ According to the author, this hypothesis would explain, among other
things, why Appaya does not show any awareness of Śrīkan tha’s commentary in
his early Śaiva work (see Chapter 2, Section 2.5) and why barely anything is known
about Śrīkan tha.
The author argues that Appaya wrote this Śaiva commentary
because no Śaiva commentary on the BS was available at the time, and because he
needed one in order to meet the challenge posed by the Śrīvais nava Viśis tādvaita

Vedānta tradition.
²⁴ Vijayīndra concludes the tenth chapter of his Sarvasiddhāntasārāsāravivecana by saying

that the position of Śrīkan tha
is refuted by the very fact that Rāmānuja’s position has been refuted
earlier in the work: evam rāmānujamatanirākaranena śrīkan thamatam
api nirastam
veditavyam
(Sarvasiddhāntasārāsāravivecana [1976]: 41). This last statement argues in favor of the obvious
similarities between Rāmānuja’s and Śrīkan tha’s
systems. See Chapter 5, Section 5.1.1 for a discussion
of Vijayīndra’s reception of Appaya’s work.
²⁵ In his Tattvamuktākalāpa, an extensive philosophical treatise on topics salient to Viśis tādvaita

Vedānta, Veṅ katanātha
mentions Haradatta Śivācārya, Pāśupatas and Vedic Śaivas but never
Śrīkan tha.
Nor does he seem to be aware of the existence of a Śaiva commentary on the BS.
²⁶ For the date of Mahācārya, see Raghavan 1979: 57 and Charumathy 1999 (beginning of Chapter 2,
unpaged).
²⁷ This mention occurs in Purusottama’s
discussion of the unity of the two Mīmāmsās (aikaśāstrya)
in the Bhāsyaprakāśa,
his commentary on Vallabhācārya’s Anubhā sya:
ārādhanārādhyabhūtayor
dharmabrahmano h pratipādakatvenaikaśāstryam. ‘athāto brahmajijñāsā’ iti prthagārambhas
tv
‘athātah śesalak
sa
nam’
ityādivad avāntaraparicchedārtha iti tadekadeśī navya śaivah (Anubhā sya:

49). Compare with Śrīkan tha’s
commentary ad BS 1.1.1: dharmabrahmanor ārādhanārādhyabhūtayoh
pratipādakam ‘athāto dharmajijñāsā’ ity ārabhya ‘anāvrtti h śabdād’ ity etāvat paryantam ekam eva
śāstram. tatra ‘athātah śesalak
sa
nam’
ityādivad avāntaraparicchedārtho ’yam ‘athāto brahmajijñāsā’
ity ārambhah (ŚAMD1: 34–7).
²⁸ I was lucky to acquire a copy of this original piece through personal acquaintances in Mysore.
̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   21
Although, as I shall argue in this book, the prominence of Rāmānuja’s tradition

in Appaya’s time did play a large role in his Śivādvaita project, it appears unlikely
to me that he would himself have composed the BMB. Beside the time factor, there
is the obvious fact that Appaya ‘struggles’ to interpret Śrīkan tha’s
theology along
the lines of pure non-dualism (see Chapter 3, Section 3.2); were he the author of
the BMB, he would presumably have made his task easier by adapting the
commentary appropriately. Moreover, Appaya hints at the existence of circulating
manuscripts of the work in the ŚAMD.²⁹ The fact that Appaya does not mention
Śrīkan tha
in his early Śaiva work—especially in contexts where we would expect
such a mention—could simply be due to the fact that he came across the
commentary only later in his career (see Chapter 2, Section 2.5). In light of the
evidence presented here, it seems more reasonable to assume that Śrīkan tha’s
commentary was composed before Appaya—somewhere in the fourteenth or
fifteenth century, if we are to believe the evidence that Śivaliṅ gabhūpa knew this
commentary—but that it remained unknown or simply ignored until the famous
Appaya decided to bring it back to light, as the Kālakan theśvara
inscription
relates, in order to strengthen Śaiva religion.
1.3 Śrīkan tha’s

Theology and the Vīraśaiva Tradition
In composing his commentary on the BS, Śrīkan tha was influenced to a large
extent by Rāmānuja’s Viśis tādvaita
Vedānta and the work of early medieval Śaivas
such as Haradatta Śivācārya and Bhatta Bhāskarācārya. We have seen that
Śrīkan tha
was also acquainted, though to a lesser extent, with the work of
prominent Pratyabhijñā philosophers such as Utpaladeva, Ksemarāja,
and others.
Another important source to consider to better contextualize Śrīkan tha’s
thought
is the Sanskrit-language literature of the Vīraśaiva tradition. The historical roots of
this tradition are generally traced back to a corpus of Kannada-language Śaiva
devotional ‘sayings’ (vacana) composed by Śaiva saints and poets in the twelfth
century. The saints and poets who authored those vacanas rejected caste hierarchy
and brahmanical claims to superiority. In the course of time, however, the
militancy of the Vīraśaiva movement gave way to the validation of brahmanical
social norms and caste identities. This change was reflected in the composition of
an increasing number of Vīraśaiva works in Sanskrit that acknowledged the
authority of the Vedas, integrated Vedānta terminology and ideas, and eventually
defended a distinctive Vedānta position (siddhānta). Fisher (2017a) has drawn
attention to this Vīraśaiva Vedānta tradition—to which she refers retrospectively
²⁹ I have located a single example: atra ‘pūrvācāryair’ iti sthāne ‘vrddhavaidyair’

iti pātha
h kvacid
dr sta
h—‘Here
instead [of the words] “by previous teachers”, the reading “by senior experts” is
sometimes seen’ (ŚAMD1: 9).
22    - 
as Śaktiviśis tādvaita
Vedānta³⁰—and argued that it drew its inspiration directly
from Śrīkan tha’s
BMB. Although, as I shall now explain, there are significant
linkages between Śrīkan tha’s
theology and the Vīraśaiva tradition, the extent to
which each influenced the other is not yet well understood.
One of the earliest Vīraśaiva works in Sanskrit to show a clear imprint of
Vedānta is the Anubhavasūtra of Māyideva (c. fifteenth century).³¹ This short yet
influential treatise expounds on the distinctive Vīraśaiva theological doctrine of
the ‘six stations’ (sa tsthala),
according to which the Vīraśaiva devotee goes
through a series of six ‘stages’ or ‘stations’ (sthala) in his liberating journey
towards union with Śiva (śivaikya, śivajīvaikya): initially in a state where he
worships Śiva in a personified form and as an entity separate from himself, the
devotee gradually moves towards achieving a non-dual (advaita) state in which he
completely identifies with Śiva. Although Śiva is by nature non-dual, He under-
goes differentiation on a phenomenal level for the sake of His own worship. Śiva’s
first phenomenal duplication is between the worshipper—the individual self,
termed aṅ gasthala—and the worshipped—Śiva, termed liṅ gasthala. Each of
these two sthalas is then subdivided into six principles—hence the term
sa
tsthala—which
are in turn operated upon by six active principles, namely
‘powers’ (śakti) and ‘devotions’ (bhakti). On the one hand, the liṅ gasthala prin-
ciples account for the world experienced by the devotee through their conjunction
with six types of ‘powers’, foremost among which is the ‘power of consciousness’
(cicchakti), a concept that recurs with a different connotation in Śrīkan tha’s
theology. On the other hand, the aṅ gasthala principles account for the devotee’s
gradual union with Śiva through their conjunction with six types of ‘devotions’. In
the Anubhavasūtra, Māyideva describes the properties of every principle and its
corresponding active principle, and explains how the union of self and Śiva
(liṅ gāṅ gasamyoga)
can be achieved by combining devotion, right knowledge,
and the practice of rituals.
³⁰ The term śaktiviśistādvaita

(or śaktiviśis taśivādvaita)
is not attested in early Vīraśaiva sources in
Sanskrit. To my knowledge, the first Vīraśaiva scholar to explicitly use the term to describe the
Vīraśaiva position (siddhānta) on Vedānta is Maritōn tadārya in his Vīraśaivānandacandrikā;
Maritōn tadārya
was active in the middle of the eighteenth century. See Chapter 5, Section 5.3.1 on
this point.
³¹ The Anubhavasūtra is ascribed to the first half of the fifteenth century based on the fact that
Māyideva was a contemporary of Devarāya II, who ruled in Vijayanagara between 1423 and 1446
(Anubhavasūtra: 2). Chandra Shobhi (2005: 262–3) argued that the Anubhavasūtra was composed
after the Siddhāntaśikhāmani (see below) based on his presupposition that it synthesizes the
Siddhāntaśikhāmani’s doctrine of a ‘hundred and one stations’ (ekottaraśatasthala) into a doctrine
of ‘six stations’ (sa
tsthala).
In my view, the opposite is more likely to be true: the author of the
Siddhāntaśikhāmani shows prior knowledge of the doctrine of sa tsthala
(see vs. 15.1ff.) and
Maritōn tadārya,
a commentator on the Siddhāntaśikhāmani, claims that the ‘hundred and one
stations’ are included (antargata) within the broader scheme of ‘six stations’ (see introduction to v.
5.31). Moreover, the sa tsthala
doctrine is attested early in Vīraśaiva literature: it is discussed, for
instance, by the thirteenth-century Vīraśaiva scholar Pālkuriki Somanātha (Rao 1990: 23).
̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   23
The Anubhavasūtra traces its origins not to the Vedānta tradition, but to
the revealed corpus of Śaiva scriptures (śivasiddhāntatantra), particularly the
Vātulatantra, which it claims to be best among all Śaiva scriptures. In the intro-
duction, Māyideva says that the sa tsthala
doctrine forms the content of the second
and concluding part (uttarabhāga) of this tantra (see vs. 1.27–8) and that it was
taught, like the first part of the Vātulatantra, by Śiva to Devī. Māyideva’s aim, he
tells us, is to communicate in a concise manner the ‘secret meaning’ (rahasyārtha)
of this doctrine. It is to be noted that as a result of its close association with the
Vātulatantra, the Anubhavasūtra is often conflated with it in later Vīraśaiva
literature: the Siddhāntaśikhāmani, for instance, ascribes multiple passages
from it to the Vātulatantra or Vātulottaratantra. From a doctrinal standpoint,
the Anubhavasūtra also presupposes a Śaiva rather than a Vedāntic metaphysics:
it refers to the Śaiva ontology of thirty-six principles of existence (tattva) (v. 1.4),
and its scheme of six stations is based upon the idea that Śiva is inseparable
from Śakti.
Nevertheless, this work also has clear Vedāntic resonances. Although it ultim-
ately praises devotion (bhakti) over knowledge (jñāna), it acknowledges, as in
Vedānta, the latter’s importance in the pursuit of liberation. Māyideva’s descrip-
tion of Śiva as the non-dual absolute also echoes the non-dual Brahman of
the Vedāntic tradition. Right in the first verse, Māyideva describes Śiva as
the personified form (mūrti) of the sa tsthalabrahma,
the ‘six-station Brahman’,
which is non-dual and has the nature of existence, bliss, and consciousness
(sadānandacidātma, v. 1.7). He also invokes the well-known Upanisadic meta-
phor of the identity between the space in a pot and the space outside it to explain
how Brahman (Śiva) divides itself into several sthalas while retaining its non-dual
nature (v. 2.11). Māyideva also eulogizes the Upanisads (vedāntavākya) and those
acquainted with their teachings (vedāntavedin, vedāntaparāga), and also claims
that the realization of the sa tsthalabrahma
is the essence of Vedas and Vedānta
(vedavedāntasāra, v. 8.80). The concept of sa tsthalabrahma,
defined here as
the central principle of the sa tsthala scheme, will later be integrated into the
Śaktiviśis tādvaita
Vedānta doctrine of Vīraśaivas, where it is equated with the
non-dual Śiva/Brahman qualified by śakti (see Chapter 5, Section 5.3.1).
Overall, however, there is little in common between the doctrine laid down in
the Anubhavasūtra and Śrīkan tha’s Vedānta theology. Although it is perceptibly
influenced by Vedānta ideas and terminology, and also acknowledges the author-
ity of the Upanisads,
Māyideva’s position is distinctively Vīraśaiva in its focus on
the sa tsthala
doctrine and recognition of the Vātulatantra as its main authority. It
is true that the Anubhavasūtra is possibly the earliest Vīraśaiva work in Sanskrit to
make use of the term śivādvaita, the very same term used by Śrīkan tha to define
his brand of Vedānta (see Chapter 3, Section 3.2.1). But in Māyideva’s work, the
term does not have the doctrinal sense intended by Śrīkan tha in the BMB. All
instances of the compound in the Anubhavasūtra—śivādvaitavidyā (v. 1.23),
24    - 
śivādvaitapara (v. 1.25), śivādvaitarahasya (v. 1.30) and śivādvaitaparāyana

(v. 8.76)—refer to a state of complete union (advaita) with Śiva or, by extension,
to the knowledge of how to accomplish this union. It is neither the name of a school
nor a claim about the ontological nature of Śiva per se, as in Śrīkan tha’s
system.³²
The Anubhavasūtra influenced another major work of Vīraśaiva theology: the
Siddhāntaśikhāmani of Śivayogi Śivācārya.³³ Śivayogi lays down his teaching in
the form of a dialogue taking place at the beginning of the Kali Age between the
teacher Revanasiddha
and the sage Āgastya. Like the Anubhavasūtra, the
Siddhāntaśikhāmani is divided into two main parts—the first part (pūrvabhāga)
deals with the worshipper or self (aṅ gasthala), and the second part (uttarabhāga)
deals with the worshipped, Śiva (liṅ gasthala)—each of which is subdivided into
several sections. The Siddhāntaśikhāmani notably extends the sa tsthala
scheme
to include ‘one hundred and one stations’ (ekottaraśatasthala), each station
accounting for a specific aspect of Vīraśaiva doctrine and ritual: the application
of ashes (vibhūti) on the body, the wearing of a small liṅ ga on one’s body
(liṅ gadhārana),
the qualities of the guru, donations, mantras, meditation, forms
of worship, the realization of the unity with Śiva, the nature of Śiva, the greatness
of Śakti, the relationship of Śiva and Śakti to the world, etc.³⁴ Śivayogi holds that
the ekottaraśatasthala doctrine constitutes the main Vīraśaiva teaching
(vīraśaivamahātantra). Early modern Vīraśaiva scholars writing on Vedānta
Śivācārya (the author of the Kriyāsāra) and Maritōn tadārya
such as Nīlakan tha
maintain the same view.
As in the Anubhavasūtra, the main aim of the Siddhāntaśikhāmani is to explain
what the Vīraśaiva practitioner ought to know and how he is to worship Śiva, the
guru, etc. in order to reach unity with Śiva. Here too the term śivādvaita is used to
³² This interpretation of the compound is most evident in the verse that recurs at the end of every
section of the Anubhavasūtra: etad yo veda so ’vidyāgranthim vikirati prabhuh | śivasiddhāntakam
tantram śivādvaitam śivam padam ||—‘He who knows this tantra[, which belongs to the]
Śivasiddhānta [tradition], [which teaches] the auspicious state of non-duality with Śiva, tears apart
the knot of ignorance [and becomes] the Lord.’
³³ The Siddhāntaśikhāmani was presumably composed after the Anubhavasūtra, for it contains
verses that are exactly parallel to verses from the Anubhavasūtra and which the commentator
Maritōn tadārya
attributes to the Vātulottara or Vātulatantra. Sanderson (2014: 84, fn. 344) sets the
terminus post quem of the Siddhāntaśikhāmani as 1530 on the basis that it is quoted by Śrīpati in the
However, as argued earlier, the Śrīkarabhāsya
Śrīkarabhāsya. is probably spurious. The earliest work
I know of that quotes from the Siddhāntaśikhāmani is the Kaivalyasāra, a work authored by Virakta
Tōn tadārya
in the second half of the sixteenth century (Ripepi 1997). In light of this, I surmise that the
Siddhāntaśikhāmani was composed between the second half of the fifteenth century and the second
half of the sixteenth century.
³⁴ As noted earlier in this chapter (fn. 31), the ekottaraśatasthala scheme seems to conceptually
presuppose the sa tsthala
scheme. However, it is also possible that the ekottaraśatasthala scheme
coexisted with the sa tsthala scheme in the early stages. In support of this is the fact that Jakkanārya,

a contemporary of Māyideva who also worked under Devarāya II, wrote a work on the
ekottaraśatasthala doctrine, the Ekottaraśatasthalī. Incidentally, this last piece of evidence suggests
that works pertaining to the ekottaraśatasthala doctrine were already in circulation prior to the
composition of the Siddhāntaśikhāmani.
̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   25
denote the liberated state of unity between the worshipper and Śiva.³⁵ In his work,
Śivayogi lays down an elaborate theology in which Śiva (also referred to as the
supreme liṅ ga) is equated to the non-dual and indescribable Upanisadic
Brahman,³⁶ and in which Śakti, through Her inseparable connection to Śiva,
functions as the material cause of the universe. Like the Anubhavasūtra, the
Siddhāntaśikhāmani also bases its theology on Śaiva āgamas and Purānas and
the underlying Śaiva metaphysics of the thirty-six tattvas, and also acknowledges
the authority of Upanisads/Vedānta.
However, it goes further in its acceptance of
Vedānta, as it claims that its own teachings are in perfect conformity with the
Vedic-Upanisadic
tradition (vedasammata) and that Śaiva scriptures (śaivāgama,
siddhānta) have the same object as the Vedas.³⁷ In some places, Śivayogi shows
familiarity with the conceptual imagery of the non-dualist tradition of Advaita
Vedānta and seems to subscribe to some of its key ideas. He says, for instance, that
Śiva appears to be non-different from the world, just as a rope appears as a snake
in a false cognition, which entails the idea that the world is ultimately illusory, just
as the snake is.³⁸ For Śivayogi, the worshipper is real and distinct from Śiva, and
yet he has the capacity to achieve, through contemplating Śiva as himself (śivo
’ham)—what he otherwise calls the contemplation of supreme non-duality
(paramādvaitabhāvanā)—the blissful and complete union with Śiva.³⁹ In this
³⁵ Like Māyideva (e.g., v. 2.32), Śivayogi uses the term śivajīvaikya (or śivaikya, śivātmaikya or
liṅ gaikya, interchangeably) to describe the close union between the worshipper and Śiva. For Śivayogi’s
usage of the term śivādvaita, see for instance: evam sthire śivādvaite jīvanmukto bhavisyasi—‘When

established in this way in union with Śiva, you will become liberated while alive’ (Siddhāntaśikhāmani:
533). The term śivādvaita is also used by Śivayogi in expressions such as śivādvaitamahā-
nandaparāyana or simply śivādvaitaparāyana, which refer to those whose final aim is the union
with Śiva, or the great bliss resulting from it.
³⁶ For the identification of Śiva with Brahman, see, for instance: brahmeti vyapadeśasya visaya m
yam pracaksate
| vedāntino jaganmūlam tam namāmi param śivam ||—‘I bow down to that supreme
Śiva, the source of the world, whom Vedāntins declare to be the object of the designation “Brahman” ’
(Śiddhāntaśikhāmani: 5). For Śiva/Brahman as non-dual and indescribable, see: advitīyam anirdeśyam
param brahma sanātanam (ibid.: 21). Throughout the work, Śiva is repeatedly defined, like the
Upanisadic
Brahman, as having the nature of existence, consciousness and bliss (saccidānanda).
³⁷ vedadharmābhidhāyitvāt siddhāntākhyah śivāgamah | vedabāhyavirodhitvād vedasammata
ucyate || vedasiddhāntayor aikyam ekārthapratipādanāt |—‘The Śaiva scriptural corpus called
Siddhānta is said to be in conformity with the Vedas since it teaches religious practices [that are
taught] in the Vedas [and] since it is incompatible with heterodox [teachings, i.e., teachings “external”
to the Vedas]. Both Vedas and Siddhānta are one because they teach the same thing [i.e., Śiva as
Brahman]’ (Śiddhāntaśikhāmani: 75).
³⁸ tasmāc chivamayam sarvam jagad etac carācaram | tadabhinnatayā bhāti sarpatvam iva rajjutah
||—‘Therefore, this entire world [consisting of] moving and unmoving [entities] [and] constituted by
Śiva appears to be non-different from [Śiva], just as the snake [appears to be non-different] from the
rope’ (Śiddhāntaśikhāmani: 293). The author of the Tattvapradīpikā, a commentary on the
Śiddhāntaśikhāmani, stresses that the verse conveys that the world is pervaded by Śiva and partakes
of His very nature.
³⁹ See, for instance: nirdhūtamalasambandho niskalaṅ
kamanogatah | śivo ’ham iti bhāvena nirūdho

hi śivaikyatām ||—‘Having got rid of his relation to impurities and made his mind stainless, [devoted
to] the thought “I am Śiva,” he experiences unity with Śiva’ (Siddhāntaśikhāmani: 391, v. 14.5).
26    - 
liberated state, no difference (bheda) whatsoever is perceived by the worshipper:

notions such as ‘lord’ (pati), ‘soul’ (paśu), etc. simply cease to exist.⁴⁰
The Siddhāntaśikhāmani shares more affinities with Śrīkan tha’s
BMB than the
Anubhavasūtra does. First, as just noted, Śivayogi gives greater importance to
Vedānta than Māyideva when he explains the relation between the absolute,
world, and self, and also in claiming, like Śrīkan tha and other South Indian
Śaivas from the late medieval period, that Vedānta and Śaiva scriptures have the
same object (i.e., Brahman as Śiva) and equal authority (see Chapter 3,
Section 3.3). Secondly, like the BMB, it shows a certain familiarity with the non-
dualistic doctrines of Kashmirian Śākta Śaivas. As Sanderson has noted (2014: 84,
fn. 344), Śivayogi employs several distinctively Kashmirian terms throughout his
work. Besides, the Siddhāntaśikhāmani’s opening verse is parallel to Śrīkan tha’s

second opening verse (quoted earlier in this chapter, see Section 1.1) and presents
the same Kashmirian affinities in describing the world as being painted on the
canvas that is Śiva (or Śiva’s śakti).⁴¹ Thirdly, both works display the same central
Śaiva doctrinal features, such as the view that Śiva’s śakti is the material cause of
the world, the emphasis on worshipping Śiva inside the cavity of the heart and the
identification of śakti with the ‘supreme space’ (paramākāśa, parākāśa) and
consciousness. To designate the latter, Śrīkan tha and Śivayogi use the same
cognate terms: cicchakti, cidambara, cidākāśa, etc. These linguistic and doctrinal
affinities, however, need not entail that one work directly influenced the other,
as these terms and concepts—such as the distinctive identification of space
with consciousness and the goddess—already feature in earlier Krama-leaning
Śaiva works, such as the anonymous Mahānayaprakāśa, Maheśvarānanda’s
Mahārthamañjarī (c.1300) and Śrīvatsa’s Cidgaganacandrikā (c.1100–1300).⁴²
These sources, interestingly, are familiar to later Vīraśaiva scholars such as
⁴⁰ For the absence of difference (bheda) in the state of unity with Śiva, and the disappearance of
notions such as paśutva and patitva, see vs. 14.8–9. In his commentary on the next verse (v. 14.10), the
author of the Tattvapradīpikā explains that the notion of difference between self and Śiva
(jīveśvarabheda) is one of the manifestations of the dualistic understanding characteristic of samsāra,

the manifestations of which disappear upon liberation.
⁴¹ Compare the opening verse of the Siddhāntaśikhāmani—trailokyasampadālekhyasamullekhana-

bhittaye | saccidānandarūpāya śivāya brahmane namah || — with the first two introductory verses of
the BMB, namely: aum namo ’hampadārthāya
lokānām siddhihetave | saccidānandarūpāya śivāya
paramātmane || and nijaśaktibhittinirmitanikhilajagajjālacitranikurumbah | sa jayati śivah parātmā
nikhilāgamasārasarvasvam ||.
⁴² The equation between the goddess (śakti), space (vyoman) and consciousness occurs in the figure
of Vyomamāveśī (also called Vyomeśī or Vyomeśvarī) in the Mahānayaprakāśa; see, for instance:
nirvikalpavikalpādisamvidoghasamāśrayā
| yā citis tanmayasparśāt parānandacamatkrti h || sā
bhūtavyomavāmeśī—‘That [state] of consciousness in which the flood of cognitions, be they non-
conceptualised, conceptualised or otherwise, have their resting place, the contact with the evolutes of
which [evokes] the highest delighted wonder, is called She who Emits the Void of the Elements’
(Mahānayaprakāśa: 3, vs. 1.15–16a). This same figure is also mentioned in the Parimala (auto-
commentary) on the Mahārthamañjarī (see comm. on v. 37). The concept of ‘space of consciousness’
(cidvyoman) and that of ‘void of consciousness’ (cidambara) feature in the Cidgaganacandrikā. I am
grateful to Whitney Cox for pointing out to me in a personal communication (4 November 2013) the
aforesaid passage (together with his translation) from the Mahānayaprakāśa.
̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   27
Svaprabhānanda and Maritōn tadārya

(see Chapter 5, Section 5.3.1), and it is thus
likely that Śivayogi may also have been influenced by these or similar sources in
his exegesis. On the other hand, neither Śrīkan tha nor Appaya ever engages with
these sources.
If Śrīkan tha
does not extensively rely on Kashmirian non-dualist works or on
the South Indian works that transmit their doctrines, such as the
Mahārthamañjarī, what were the main sources of his Śaiva exegesis? Was he
possibly influenced by the philosophical writings of Vīraśaivas? The
Anubhavasūtra and the Siddhāntaśikhāmani are, to my knowledge, the two
most influential Vīraśaiva doctrinal works in Sanskrit composed in the pre-
modern period. While both show a leaning towards Vedānta, especially the
Siddhāntaśikhāmani, none of them can be said to strictly defend a Vedānta
doctrine in the way Śrīkan tha
does. It is true, as has been pointed out already
(Fisher 2017a), that Vīraśaivas composed philosophical works that uphold a Śaiva
Vedānta doctrine akin to that of Śrīkan tha, and in which the term śivādvaita
obtains a doctrinal sense as in Śrīkan tha’s
commentary. However, as I shall discuss
further in this chapter and in Chapter 5, Section 5.3.1, all these works (at least the
extant Vīraśaiva Vedānta works composed in Sanskrit⁴³) were, all evidence sug-
gests, composed after Appaya, and therefore cannot be held to have influenced
Śrīkan tha’s
theology. The first Vīraśaiva work to actually engage with the BS is the
Kriyāsāra, and it was arguably composed, as I pointed out earlier, in the seven-
teenth century or in the first half of the eighteenth century.
As for the term śivādvaita, Śrīkan tha uses it at least once in his commentary
and in a sense that is more reminiscent of Rāmānuja’s tradition than of the śakti-
oriented Vedānta that was (later) upheld by Vīraśaivas. In his commentary on BS
2.1.14, Śrīkan tha
discusses whether or not Brahman is an enjoyer (bhoktr) of
pleasures and pains like the individual self. In this context, he puts forward a
doubt that could possibly be raised about his own teachings:
The doubt [here] is whether or not the viśis taśivādvaita

[doctrine] that we have
taught earlier—[according to which] nothing but Śiva, who is qualified (viśista)
by the manifestation of sentient and non-sentient [entities], is non-dual, the
cause [of the world] and the effect [i.e., the world itself]—[a doctrine] that has
been established on the basis [that all scriptural texts] are in concordance [with
it], is set aside by reasoning.⁴⁴
⁴³ Note, for instance, that the term śivādvaita appears in the Śūnyasampādane,
an anthology of
poems composed in Kannada in the fifteenth century. However, the term obtains here the same general
sense of a devotional union between Śiva and the devotee.
⁴⁴ yad uktam pūrvatra cidacitprapañcaviśistātmā
śiva evādvitīyah kārana
m
kāryam ca bhavatīti
viśis taśivādvaitam,
tasya samanvayasiddhasya yuktibādhāpattir asti na veti samśaya h (ŚAMD2:
19–20).
28    - 
In this passage, Śrīkan tha

describes his own doctrine—which he labels with the
term viśis taśivādvaita—as
a form of non-dualism in which Brahman (or Śiva), the
cause and effect of the world, is a non-dual (advitīya) entity qualified (viśis ta)
by
sentient and non-sentient entities. His description broadly follows the
Viśis tādvaita
description of Brahman, except that Śiva replaces Vis nu as the
absolute Brahman. Furthermore, while commenting on BS 2.1.14 in his ŚAMD,
Appaya does not hint at the terminology employed by Vīraśaivas: his explanation
is also reminiscent of the Viśis tādvaita
Vedānta tradition.⁴⁵ While it is possible
that Śrīkan tha
implicitly relied on or was influenced by Vīraśaiva Vedānta works
that are yet to be discovered, we currently have no clear evidence to this effect.
1.3.1 Śrīkan tha

and Nīlakan tha

I have noted earlier that the first Sanskrit Vīraśaiva work to engage with the BS
Śivācārya, an influential work on
that I know of is the Kriyāsāra by Nīlakan tha
Vīraśaiva theology and ritual that was arguably composed in the seventeenth
century (Duquette 2020a). The Kriyāsāra contains thirty-two sections or ‘instruc-
tions’ (upadeśa), the first four of which consist in a running commentary on the
BS in the form of mnemonical verses (kārikā), which the author claims to be based
on a commentary (bhāsya) Śivācārya
on the BS authored by another Nīlakan tha
(hence the author of the Kriyāsāra and the author of the commentary on the BS
upon which he relies share the same name). Modern scholars have generally
is Śrīkan tha,
assumed that this Nīlakan tha the author of the BMB known to
Appaya. While several Vīraśaiva scholars (both modern and traditional) agree
from Śrīkan tha
with this, others distinguish Nīlakan tha and claim that the former
authored a commentary on the BS that is now lost.
The evidence provided in support of the view that Nīlakan tha,
the author of the
Śaiva commentary referred to in the Kriyāsāra, is the same as Śrīkan tha, the
author of the BMB, comes down to two observations: (a) Nīlakan tha Śivācārya
and Śrīkan tha
Śivācārya both authored Śaiva commentaries on the BS that defend
a similar theology of ‘non-dualism of the qualified’ (viśis tādvaita),
according to
which the non-dual Śiva (or Brahman) is qualified (viśis ta)
by His power (śakti);⁴⁶
⁴⁵ Appaya’s commentary reads: yad uktam iti. tatra sūksmacidacidviśi h śivah kārana
s ta m

sthūlacidacidviśista
h sa eva kāryam iti viśistaśivādvaitam
ārambha
nādhikara
ne
samarthayisyamā na
m

siddham krtvā
kāryakāranāvasthayor
viśesa nabhūtasya
cidacitprapañcasya taccharīratvam
upapāditam manusyādiśarīragatabālatvayuvatvādinyāyena
taddosā nā m
samsparśa
h śive na bhavatīti
samarthanārtham (ŚAMD2: 19). Note, for instance, the typically Rāmānujian way of describing Śiva as
the cause of the world qualified by subtle sentient and non-sentient entities; and also the Rāmānujian
notions that the manifested world is the body (śarīra) of Brahman, and that this world qualifies the
states (avasthā) of cause and effect characterizing Brahman.
⁴⁶ In the first section of the Kriyāsāra, the author narrates how Śiva, in His incarnation as
Śivācārya, composed a great commentary on the BS in which he upholds a doctrine of
Nīlakan tha
non-dualism of the qualified (viśistādvaita):
[ . . . ] pārvatīpatih || nīlakan thaśivācāryanāmnā
bhāsyam

̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   29
(b) a number of scholars (both modern and pre-modern) mention that the author
of Śrīkan tha’s
BMB is Nīlakan tha Śivācārya. I discuss the first observation in detail
in Appendix 4 (Section A4.2). In support of the second observation is the fact, for
instance, that Umāpati Śivācārya (second half of the sixteenth century or later)
says that the author of Śrīkan tha’s
commentary is Nīlakan thācārya
(see fn. 17, this
chapter, above). The Vīraśaiva scholar Maritōn tadārya
(middle of the eighteenth
century) also uses the names Śrīkan tha and Nīlaka n
tha interchangeably in his
Vīraśaivānandacandrikā,⁴⁷ while another Vīraśaiva scholar, Nāgaliṅ ga, explicitly
says in his Śivādvaitaparyaṅ kikā that the name Śrīkan thayogi
(by which he means
the author of the BMB) is another name (parābhidhāna) for Nīlakan tha.⁴⁸
Likewise, a modern commentator on Veṅ katanātha’s Paramatabhaṅ ga, Nārāya-
nācārya,
as the author of Śrīkan tha’s
refers to Nīlakan tha commentary.⁴⁹ Several
other such examples could be provided. To my knowledge, however, no sources
refer to Nīlakan tha
as the author of a commentary on the BS before either
Umāpati (if we assume that he lived in the second half of the sixteenth century)
or the author of the Kriyāsāra (seventeenth century). In other words, the use of the
name Nīlakan tha to denote the author of the BMB appears to be contemporary
with or post-date Appaya.
Given that the famous Appaya systematically mentions Śrīkan tha as the author
of the BMB in his Śivādvaita work, and given that ‘Nīlakan tha’ is a different
personal name than ‘Śrīkan tha’,
we may ask why the authors mentioned above
came to employ the name Nīlakan tha. This is intriguing also in view of the fact
that virtually all colophons of manuscripts of the BMB that I have consulted
acīkarat | viśistādvaitasiddhāntapratipādanam
uttamam ||—‘Under the name of Nīlakan tha Śivācārya,
the Lord of Pārvatī [i.e., Śiva] composed a great commentary teaching the doctrine of non-dualism of
the qualified’ (Kriyāsāra [1954]: 13, vs. 31d–32). In the following verse, he says that he will convey the
meaning intended in Nīlakan tha’s
commentary in the form of mnemonical verses (kārikā) for the
benefit of his audience: mayāpi tasya tātparyam śrotr nā
m sukhabuddhaye | kārikārūpatah sarvam
kramenaiva
nibadhyate ||—‘In order to facilitate the understanding of [my] audience [lit., in order for
them to have an easy understanding], I shall describe in order, in the form of verses, the intended
meaning of [Nīlakan tha’s
commentary] in its entirety’ (Kriyāsāra [1954]: 13, v. 33). See also later in the
same section—nīlakan thaśivācāryabhā
syārtham
anusandadhan | vīraśaivair abhimatam abhidhāsye
śruter matam ||—‘Bearing in mind the meaning [laid down] in the commentary of Nīlakan tha
Śivācārya, I shall explain the meaning of scriptures as intended by Vīraśaivas’ (Kriyāsāra [1954]: 19,
v. 100).
⁴⁷ See in particular the 22nd prakarana, where the colophon mentions Nīlakan tha while one of the
introductory verses mentions Śrīkan tha (Vīraśaivānandacandrikā: 425 and 431). See Chapter 5,
Section 5.3.1 for more details on this point.
⁴⁸ tasmān nīlakan thācāryāparābhidhānaśrīka
n thayogiviracitabhā
syasiddha
m viśis tādvaitam
eva
śivādvaitaśabditam ity avadheyam—‘Therefore, it should be considered that what is referred to as
śivādvaita is precisely the non-dualism of the qualified established in the commentary written by
Śrīkan thayogi,
which is another name for Nīlakan thācārya’
(Śivādvaitaparyaṅ kikā: 19). See Chapter 5,
Section 5.3.1 for more details on this work and its reception of Appaya’s work.
⁴⁹ . . . nīlakan thācāryo
vedāntasūtrabhāsyārambhe
‘vyāsasūtram idam netram vidusā
m
brahmadarśane | pūrvācāryaih kalusita m śrīkan thena
prasādyate’ ity āha (Paramatabhaṅ ga: 87). The
verse quoted here is the fifth opening verse of Śrīkan tha’s commentary.
30    - 
mention Śrīkan tha,

not Nīlakan tha,
as the author.⁵⁰ In addition to the fact that a
number of modern Vīraśaiva scholars have argued that Nīlakan tha
is a different
scholar altogether, two other sets of evidence further complicate the matter: (1)
two quotations of a Śaiva commentary on the BS by Nīlakan tha, found in
Vīraśaiva sources, present a text that is not found in our edition of the BMB;
and (2) the text of the commentary by Nīlakan tha Śivācārya presented by the
author of the Kriyāsāra does not always concord with our edition of the
BMB. I discuss this evidence in Appendix 4.
⁵⁰ I have consulted a single manuscript of this work at the Oriental Research Institute in Mysore
(nāgarī script, no. 2824/1) that mentions Nīlakan tha
as the author, but it is a paper manuscript and
therefore fairly recent.
2
Early Śaiva Works
Appaya Dīks: ita was a prolific writer and multifaceted scholar specializing in a
wide range of śāstric disciplines. During his career under the patronage of the
Śaiva ruler Cinnabomma of Vellore, which spanned nearly three decades
(1549–1578), he composed a considerable number of Śaiva works, varying in
genre, authorial intention and subject matter. I shall divide these works into four
broad categories:
A. Polemical Works. Appaya’s Śaiva polemical works focus on demonstrating
the greatness of Śiva and His superiority over Vis: nu-Nārāya
: : Here Appaya
na.
bases his exegesis mainly on the Purānas,: Upani :
s ads and epics, and only rarely on
the BS. Some of these works, like the Śivatattvaviveka and the Brahmatarkastava,
are doctrinal treatises written in the form of devotional hymns (stotra, stava, stuti)
with a self-authored (svopajña) commentary. Others, like the Śivakarnāmr : : ta, the
:
Bhāratasārasamgrahastotra and the Rāmāya :
natātparyasārasa :
mgrahastotra, are
shorter works in which Appaya offers more specific arguments in support of Śiva’s
supremacy. Common to all these works is an attempt to counteract, in different
:
ways and degrees, Vais: nava beliefs and doctrines. Some, like the Śivatattvaviveka
and the Śivakarnāmr
: : ta, are for the most part directed against Śrīvais: navas,
: while
others, like the Madhvatantramukhamardana and the Upakramaparākrama,
attack the doctrines and hermeneutical methods of Mādhvas.¹ I discuss some of
these works in this chapter.
B. Devotional Hymns. Aside from hymns composed in praise of Vis: nu- :
Nārāyana: and the goddess, Appaya composed other devotional hymns in praise
of Śiva’s supremacy that are not explicitly directed against Vais: nava: positions.
¹ In the Madhvatantramukhamardana and its commentary, the Madhvamatavidhvamsana, : Appaya

attacks the doctrines and hermeneutical methods used by Madhva in his commentary on the BS. The
Upakramaparākrama is a short polemical treatise in which Appaya refutes views upheld by the
celebrated Mādhva scholar Vyāsatīrtha (1460–1539). It deals with the hermeneutical problem as to
whether the introduction (upakrama) of a text is more important than its conclusion (upasamhāra) :
when it comes to resolving apparent contradictions in the text. While Vyāsatīrtha, following Jayatīrtha
(c.1365–1388) before him, held that the conclusion is more important, Appaya maintains the opposite.
After Appaya, this topic continued to generate interest among Mādhva theologians and to play a
significant role in intra-sectarian debates between Śaivas and Vais: navas : in general. Vijayīndra
(c.1514–1595) composed a rejoinder to Appaya’s Upakramaparākrama, the Upasamhāravijaya; :
another commentator of Madhva, Rāghavendratīrtha (1623–1671), continued to invoke the primacy
:
of the conclusion in his Tattvamañjarī on Madhva’s Anubhā : is
s:ya, in order to demonstrate that Vis: nu
the central object of the Upanis: ads. See Bronner 2015a, McCrea 2015a, and Duquette 2016b for more
details on Appaya’s Upakramaparākrama. See Deshpande 2016 for a study of the influence of Appaya’s
anti-Dvaita works on the early modern grammarian Bhat:t:oji Dīks: ita.
Defending God in Sixteenth-Century India: The Sˊaiva Oeuvre of Appaya Dı k̄ s: ita. Jonathan Duquette,
32    - 
These works include the Ātmārpanastuti,: the Śivamahimakalikāstuti, and the

Pañcaratnastuti. Also worthy of mention here is the Ratnatrayaparīks: ā, a devo-
tional hymn in praise of Śiva, Vis: nu
: and the goddess that has a Śivādvaita Vedānta
leaning. I discuss this work in Chapter 4, Section 4.2.1.
C. Śaiva Ritual. Appaya seems to have written a single work on Śaiva ritual: the
Śivārcanacandrikā, a ritual manual (paddhati) describing various procedures for
the daily worship of Śiva.² Appaya’s authorship of this work is confirmed by his
grand-nephew, the scholar and poet Nīlakan: t:ha Dīks: ita (seventeenth century), in
the Saubhāgyacandrātapa.³ Since the Śivārcanacandrikā contains no references to
any of Appaya’s other works, and since the other works likewise contain no
reference to it, we have no way of dating the Śivārcanacandrikā relative to
Appaya’s Śaiva oeuvre. In terms of content and sources, Appaya’s ritual manual
shows influence from other paddhatis of Śaiva Siddhānta that were composed
and/or widely circulated in South India during the medieval period. In Duquette
2020a, I show how this work is reused in the Kriyāsāra, an influential early
modern treatise on Vīraśaiva ritual and doctrine.
D. Śivādvaita Vedānta. In this category, I include all the works of Appaya that
depend, to a greater or lesser extent, on Śrīkan: t:ha’s BMB, most notably the
ŚAMD, the only extant sub-commentary on Śrīkan: t:ha’s Śaiva commentary.
While Śivādvaita works are also polemical to some degree, they differ from the
polemical works mentioned above in that they focus on presenting and defending
a consistent Śaiva Vedānta theology, and engage with the interpretation of the BS
propounded by other theologians. Appaya’s Śivādvaita works were composed later
on in his Śaiva career. In support of this is the fact that, for instance, one of
Appaya’s first Śivādvaita works, the ŚAMD, was composed after the
Śivatattvaviveka and the Śivakarnāmr : : ta (it quotes from them ad BS 1.1.2).
Aside from the fact that they arguably have a different agenda and generally
adopt a more aggressive rhetoric, it is significant that the polemical works
mentioned above contain no reference whatsoever to Śrīkan: t:ha, including in
contexts where we would expect at least a passing reference to his teachings (see
Section 2.5, this chapter).
An overall understanding of Appaya’s earlier polemical works is key to under-
standing his later Śivādvaita Vedānta oeuvre. Aside from the fact that they include
arguments about Śiva’s supremacy that are reused and developed further in the
Śivādvaita works, the polemical works feature core theological concepts that
² The New Catalogus Catalogorum, vol. 34 (p. 103), reports that another ritual manual, titled
Śivadhyānapaddhati, was composed by an ‘Appaya Dīks: ita’. The text is available online (https://
shaivam.org/scripture/Sanskrit/1699/ssk-srimad-appayya-dikshithar-shivadhyana-paddhatih), but no
details are given on the source.
³ asmatpitāmahacaranair: apy es:a eva paks: o likhitah: śivārcanacandrikāyām [ . . . ]—‘This same view
was propounded [lit. written] by my venerable paternal grand-father too in the Śivārcanacandrikā’
(Fisher 2013: 72).
 ś  33
prefigure the fully fledged theology of Śivādvaita Vedānta. In order to lay the
groundwork for my discussion of Appaya’s Śivādvaita Vedānta works in the follow-
ing chapters, I first provide an overview of four representative polemical works of
Appaya, namely the Śivatattvaviveka, the Śivakarnāmr
: : ta, the Brahmatarkastava
:
and the Bhāratasārasamgrahastotra. I focus on these works both because of
their relative importance within Appaya’s broader Śaiva oeuvre, and because
:
their anti-Śrīvais: nava rhetoric partly overlap with that found in his later
Śivādvaita Vedānta works.
2.1 Śivatattvaviveka
The Śivatattvaviveka (‘Inquiry into the Śiva-principle’) is an extensive auto-

commentary on the Śikharinīmālā
: (‘Garland of [Verses in the] Śikharinī : [Metre]’),
a hymn of praise to Śiva comprised of sixty verses in the śikharinī
: metre.⁴ All evidence
suggests it is one of Appaya’s earliest Śaiva works, as it is mentioned in the
:
Brahmatarkastava—which itself predates the Bhāratasārasamgrahastotra⁵—as well
as in the Madhvatantramukhamardana.⁶ The Śivatattvaviveka is one of Appaya’s
most important Śaiva works in terms of its sheer volume, scope of argumentation
:
(many of its arguments are reused in later works) and elaborate critique of Vais: nava
positions.
This work includes five introductory verses. The first two, also found in the
ŚAMD, praise Śiva as the dark-throated companion of Nārāyanī : and the chastiser
of the intoxicating love god Madana. In the next two verses, Appaya pays homage
to the great teachers that preceded him and to the devotees of Śiva who wish to
achieve liberation. The last verse sums up Appaya’s intention in composing his
work. In this last verse, Appaya remarks that the Śivatattvaviveka is an ‘abstruse
⁴ In his study of Appaya’s devotional hymns, Bronner remarks that the phenomenon of ‘self-
authored commentaries on stotras’ may have been ‘a new development of the late medieval period’
(Bronner 2007: 3). Appaya excelled in this genre of literature, as Bronner illustrates in his study of his
Durgācandrakalāstuti, Śrīvaradarājastava and Ātmārpanastuti. : We may add to this list Śaiva stotras
such as the Śivatattvaviveka, the Brahmatarkastava, the Ratnatrayaparīks: ā, the Pañcaratnastuti and
his two essays on epics. Appaya wrote other Śaiva stotras that have no extant self-authored commen-
tary: for instance, the Śivamahimakalikāstuti, whose only extant commentary was composed by
Tyāgarāja Śāstri (1815-1904), a descendant of Appaya.
⁵ See comm. on verse 6: suprasiddhāni vacanāni brahmatarkastavavivarane : samudāhr: tāni
dras: t:avyāni—‘The well-known statements given as examples in [my] commentary on the Brahma-
:
tarkastava should be examined’ (Bhāratasārasamgrahastotra: 340).
⁶ See v. 14: tad etad asmābhih: śivatattvavivekādis: u prapañcenopapāditam—‘I have explained this in
detail in the Śivatattvaviveka and other works’ (Brahmatarkastava: 29). See also: [i]ti upapāditam asmābhih:
śivatattvaviveke—‘I have proved this in the Śivatattvaviveka’ (Madhvatantramukhamardana: 78). The
Madhvatantramukhamardana was itself composed rather early, that is, before the ŚAMD (its auto-
commentary, the Madhvavidhvamsana, : is referred to ad BS 1.1.1 in the ŚAMD: ayam apy artho
’smābhir madhvavidhvamsana : eva . . . ; ŚAMD1: 91), though after the Siddhāntaleśasamgraha
: (see com-
mentary on v. 15 of the Madhvatantramukhamardana: yuktibhir asmābhih: siddhāntaleśasamgrahādi : s: u . . . ),
which is certainly one of Appaya’s earliest works (Gotszorg 1993: 22–3).
34    - 
commentary’ (vis: amavivr: ti) on the Śikharinīmālā,

: and that it is intended for those
who ‘follow the path of the ancients’ (vr: ddhavartmānuga), namely the teachings
:
of eminent Advaitins such as Śankara, Gaudapāda : and others. The pedagogical
dimension of Appaya’s work, particularly in his hymns and works on poetics, has
been addressed in recent scholarship.⁷ Like several other scholars of the early
modern period, Appaya wrote textbooks and manuals (among which his
Kuvalayānanda is a striking example) that were accessible and intended for
students, as opposed to difficult commentaries intended for a limited audience
of specialists. Appaya’s remark about the ‘path of the ancients’ and the
Śivatattvaviveka being ‘abstruse’ show that this work is not a textbook designed
to ease the process of learning for students, but an erudite commentary for those
:
thoroughly acquainted with the writings of Śankara and others.
In the introduction to the first verse, Appaya describes at length what he intends
to do in the Śivatattvaviveka. He writes this hymn of praise to Śiva in order to put an
end to the blabbering (pralāpa) of ‘evil-minded’ people (kumatikula) who have not
even a tiny bit of devotion to Śiva. He describes these people as being soiled with
impurities of the Kali age (kalimalamalīmasa), as having miserable sins lodged
deep in their heart (hr: dayakuharaviśrāntadurantadurita) and as having a ‘hole
as a mouth’ for they badmouth Śiva ([śiva]nindāmukharamukhabila). In verse 3,
Appaya refers to the same people as ‘infidels’ or ‘heretics’ (avaidika)—note that he
uses the same term in the Śivakarnāmr
: : ta to denote those who follow the teachings of
Pāñcarātra—and, in verse 4, stresses their unwillingness, if not inborn incapacity, to
accept the ‘Vedic truth’ that only Śiva ought to be worshipped. In his own words:
The Vedas clearly proclaim that only You, O Self, transcend the universe and
ought to be worshipped by all people, and yet, alas, rogues dispute even that.
What is this life they live, constrained by their irrepressible need to offend You?
[Only] death can expiate those who listen to their words.⁸
Appaya wonders how these miserable ‘two-legged animals’ (dvipadapaśu) (v. 5)

have become so deluded and incapable of appreciating Śiva’s greatness (vs. 6–7).
Such a lack of faith, he presumes, must result from evil actions performed in
previous lives (v. 9), or else reflect the conditions of the Kali age in which we live
(v. 10). In any case, there is no real way out for them: without Śiva’s grace
(prasāda), they cannot acquire the superior strength of intellect (medhābāhulya)
required to achieve a strong faith (śraddhā) in Śiva, and this grace can only come
after thousands of lives filled with good actions (v. 8). As a matter of fact,
⁷ See especially Bronner 2007.

⁸ tvam evātman viśvādhika iti jagatsevya iti ca spas: t:am
: brūte vedas tad api vivadante bata khalāh. :
kim es:ām: tvaddrohavyasananihatam : jīvanam idam : yaduktīh: śrotr nā
: m: maranam
: uditam: nis: kr: tir iti
:
(Śikharinīmālā: 5).
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“But why? You know I like you, George,” in a sudden rush of
compunction at the hurt, sullen look on George’s face; “do tell me,
why did you want to know where it was from?”
George hesitated a moment, then his story came out in a rush.
“Well, at home they all were talking about your letters, and my
brother Curt said that he bet they were from that fellow in Carlinville
that he saw you with one day. And he dared me to look at the
envelope and see what the postmark was. He said he’d let me drive
the bay colt if I would.”
“Well, you tell your brother Curt that he ought to be ashamed of
himself to set you at such tricks. You needn’t stay in this afternoon,
George. But next time, remember, keep your hands off what doesn’t
belong to you.”
CONSTRUCTIVE TREATMENT
Let each manifestation of curiosity be the means of leading pupils

to a broader life. When she found Ollie garbed in the sweater, Miss
Freeman might have said: “Would you like me to tell you where this
sweater came from, and what I saw when I wore it last summer in
Estes Park? There are so many stories connected with it—just as
there are about Ollie’s silk hair-ribbon. Let us hang it over this chair
while we’re talking about it; I’m always very careful never to handle it
unless my hands are clean, and always to keep it on a hanger lest it
lose its shape.”
In this way the children’s healthy curiosity about strange and
pretty things is satisfied, their knowledge increased, and some ideas
on the proper care of clothing inculcated. The lesson about silk-
worms and spinning and weaving processes is twice as vivid,
therefore twice as well learned, when it bears on the pretty silk
sweater before them, as it would be when read in the course from a
book.
The curiosity about the letter was of a kind which needs to be
inhibited, but Miss Freeman should have inquired into his motives
before, not after punishing George. Even then, perhaps, he deserved
a punishment of some sort, but it would have been given with the
knowledge that the fault was really his brother’s. The incident gave
the teacher a splendid chance to teach a lesson in the ethics of
property-treatment.
COMMENTS
In this case the elder brother’s curiosity was the outgrowth of a

healthy love of life and romance which his too narrow life was
starving into a desire to feed upon the personal affairs of the teacher.
Village gossip grows from just this condition—natural interest in the
picturesque elements of life, which the too restricted life of a small
community bound by many prejudices and traditions forces into
unwholesome channels. Miss Freeman’s pupils shared the interest of
their elders in the attractive teacher’s clothes, movements, and half-
revealed romance, besides having their own healthy curiosity in one
whose life was so much broader and richer than their own. This
curiosity gave the teacher a thousand chances to teach manners,
facts, and self-control to her boys and girls, but she did not know
how to utilize them.
ILLUSTRATION 1 (THIRD GRADE)
When Miss Murray came to the third grade she found bad
conditions as to attention. A street car line went by the school and
every time a car passed the children all looked up from their books
until it had gone out of sight.
Miss Murray at once put up sash- Watching Street
curtains, thick enough effectively to shut cars
out the sight of the street cars. She found the upper sashes nailed
shut, as the former teacher had opened the lower sashes only. She
had these unnailed, and the shades hung at the window sill instead of
from the top of the window. This enabled her to shut out the sight
and sound of the street cars pretty effectively. After several months,
the children forgot to look out of the window even when they could
see the cars; the habit of attention to work had been fixed through
the elimination of the lures to curiosity.
ILLUSTRATION 2 (HIGH SCHOOL)
Mr. Babbitt, the leading citizen of Visiting Exhibit

Hoopeston, had just returned from a long
trip to the Orient. As he was wealthy, he had brought back a great
many curios and art treasures; and as he was public-spirited, he
arranged to exhibit these in the large assembly room of the high
school building, and to lecture about them to any who cared to come.
While the exhibits were being arranged, the high school students did
not use the assembly hall, as Mr. Babbitt, aided by several assistants,
was busy unpacking and putting things into place. However, the
students came to Mr. Tower, the principal, to ask that they be
allowed to go into the assembly room at noon to look at things.
“I hardly know what to do about this,” said Mr. Tower, in chapel,
“but I feel that young people of your age and training should be able
to go to see these things, enjoy them, and not injure or even handle
them at all. Therefore, I asked Mr. Babbitt if you might go in at noon,
after giving a pledge that you would not touch or handle anything.
He said he would trust you if I could, and so we have decided that
you may go into the room at noon, by giving a signed promise to this
effect to the servant whom Mr. Babbitt leaves there at the door.”
This plan worked excellently. Practically the whole school spent
the greater part of their noon hours for several days looking at the
quaint and lovely things Mr. Babbitt had brought. Not one thing was
hurt or even touched, although a small vase was broken by accident
when some boys, examining the contents of a temporary shelf, fell
over each other in their eagerness. But the boys volunteered to pay
for this loss, and Mr. Babbitt was entirely satisfied.
Mr. Tower could not have trusted his students so fully had not he
and many other teachers and parents taught ideals of self-control
and honor for a long time preceding this test. The principal’s talk and
the written pledge were means of bringing and keeping before the
students’ minds the ideal of controlled curiosity, of a desire to touch
inhibited by the will.
This ideal of a fine sense of honor controlling the instinct to touch,
take apart, roll, toss or otherwise experiment with anything that
arouses interest, should be taught very early in school life. Little
children want to handle everything, including work material,
playthings, ornaments, books, curios, pictures; older ones want to
handle instruments and apparatus used in their laboratories. “Mine
and thine” must early be differentiated, and the satisfaction of
curiosity by handling limited to one’s own possessions. If this be
taught in the home and the primary grades, older children will be
found as reliable as Mr. Tower’s students when a serious test comes.
(2) Curiosity stimulated by destructive-constructive impulses.
Even very young children take pleasure in pulling things to pieces—
not so much because of a wish to destroy as because of the pleasure
of producing effects. Destroying is easier than constructing, so
naturally destructiveness develops before constructiveness. But the
latter characteristic becomes relatively stronger as ability to do
difficult things increases. With boys from twelve to fifteen years of
age the instinct sometimes becomes almost a mania. Then is the time
that the wise parent or teacher will find a means for harmless ways of
indulging an inclination that may develop later into genius, and in
any case will bring much first-hand information.
CASE 101 (EIGHTH GRADE)
Bert Slocum came from a miner’s home Dismembering

where the comforts of life were so few as to Piano
mar sadly the development of growing children. Bert said to himself
one day:
“I know how I can have a good time. Some Saturday night I’m
going to borrow a dark lantern, take along some lunch and I’ll go to
the schoolhouse and stay all night. I’ll take enough to eat to last me
over Sunday. I’ll stay up there all day Sunday and take the piano to
pieces and put it together again. I can do it.”
The program was actually carried out. What a glorious time he
had. No one came to interrupt, no one called him to dinner and
nothing marred the luxury of those sweet hours.
His parents knew nothing of his whereabouts, but that did not
disturb him, for every so often he was absent anyway and no one was
much concerned.
Unfortunately he had to finish his work in the nightfall, as his
supply of oil was exhausted the night preceding. He had taken out
nearly every bolt and screw until he came to the sounding board and
its strings. When darkness furnished a shelter from inquisitive eyes
he emerged from the building, called on a friend, and finally reached
home without giving an alarm.
On Monday the janitor found traces of Bert’s adventure. For one
thing the piano was not all put back together, for the pedals lay in a
heap at one side.
The teachers were notified and inquiry began. The superintendent
decided it was not a little boy and looked to the eighth grade to
furnish the culprit.
After a great deal of noisy inquiry, Bert held up his hand and said
to the teacher: “I know something about that piano.”
“What do you know, Bert?” said his teacher.
“I’ll tell, but I want to know what you all will do with the kid, after I
talk about him.”
“We can’t say about that. Bert, if you know, it’s time for you to
speak out and have it over.”
“I don’t want to, now; I’ll tell some time,” was Bert’s final remark.
Later he went to the superintendent and said:
“Mr. Knowles, is your pianner hurt some? I hear some un’s been
tinkering with it.”
“I don’t know that it’s hurt much. But somebody has been doing a
trick we simply can’t stand. Just think of it. You can see the whole
thing has been in pieces. I’ll have to suspend the boy that did this
thing, if I find him. I simply can’t stand it.”
Nothing came immediately of this interview, but Bert went home,
turned the matter over carefully in his mind, and in the morning
came to school with a grim determination to act, and perish if need
be. On the way he said to himself:
“I’d eat fire, before I’d hurt the pianner. If I have hurt it, as they
think, I’ll just take my medicine like a man.” And he did. He said very
briefly:
“I tore up your pianner, Mr. Knowles.”
The superintendent replied very shortly: “I’m sorry, Bert, I’ll have
to suspend you for a month for that, so as to keep other boys from
doing the same thing, or something worse.”
Give Bert an opportunity to talk out all of his thought about the
piano. Wait until he has told all, and you have planned a substitute
for piano-wrecking before informing him of the gravity of his
misconduct. Possibly that item can be passed over lightly.
Get answers to these questions: “Are you particularly interested in
pianos or do you take an interest in all kinds of mechanisms? What
are you planning to do for a living? What would you do if I found you
a place in a piano store, or in a machine shop, for spare time work?
Would you stiffen up your studies? Would your parents be willing for
me to make an arrangement of this sort? How will you pay for having
a piano man go over our instrument and see that everything is in
order?”
COMMENTS
This boy has broken out of the usual beat of pupil activities. The
great question is, will his teachers be equal to their opportunity?
Curiosity is hunger for experience; it lives at the basis of all
knowledge. It is a capital stock for educators; it can not be wasted
without impoverishing both the pupil and society.
In dealing with Bert, motive counts for nearly everything. He must
not be made to suffer for his mistake of judgment in such a way as to
imperil his future interest in school or in his favorite inquiries.
ILLUSTRATION (EIGHTH GRADE)
Lavia Smiley came into the eighth grade with a consuming passion
for color sensations. She had made collection after collection of
colors in all sorts of substances—cloth, paper, stone, soil, metals of
various sorts. She could give the names of all of them and could
imitate them in pigment mixtures with remarkable exactness, for a
girl of her age and very limited experience.
One day, in the nature study class, Lavia’s Breaking
teacher, Miss Westfeldt, had given a lesson Necklace
on shells, and among other interesting things had shown the class a
necklace of iridescent shells which her missionary brother had sent
her from Micronesia. The lovely bluish-whitish-greenish-pinkish
shimmer of the shells riveted Lavia’s attention like a magnet.
“O, please, Miss Westfeldt, let me take them,” said Lavia.
“No, Lavia,” answered Miss Westfeldt, “they are too delicate to
handle, but I’ll hold them here in the sunlight where you can see
them well. Aren’t they beautiful!”
“O, I never saw any thing so pretty!” was the reply.
The lesson ended, the necklace was laid back in the cotton in
which it had taken its long journey over sea and land. Miss Westfeldt
placed the box on the desk, intending to take it home with her when
she went to lunch, but just as the morning session was closing, a
telegram was handed her requiring an immediate answer. In her
haste to attend to this intrusive matter, and yet not forfeit her lunch,
the box with its precious necklace was forgotten.
The first bell was ringing when Miss Westfeldt returned.
She made haste to be in her place, as the children entered the
room, and not until they were seated did she think of the shell-
necklace. She opened the box. Ten were broken.
“O, what has happened to my beautiful shells!” she cried out, in
dismay. “How were they broken?”
No one answered, but Lavia was crying. Miss Westfeldt
immediately suspected that she was the guilty party, but she only
said:
“I am very, very sorry that this has happened, but never mind
about it just now. I am sure the one who broke them will come and
tell me about it.”
Lavia continued to weep and after the other children were busy
with their study Miss Westfeldt stepped quietly up to her and,
bending over her and speaking in a tone so low the other children
could not hear, said:
“Lavia, dear, what is the matter?”
“O, Miss Westfeldt, I broke your shells,” whispered Lavia, and then
burst into another freshet of tears.
“I am so sorry,” was the low reply. “After school tonight come and
tell me all about it.”
School closed. Lavia remained; and when all the other children
had gone, Miss Westfeldt sat down beside her, put her arm around
the child, her hand resting lightly on Lavia’s shoulder, and said, still
in a low tone:
“Now, Lavia, tell me how it all happened.”
“O, Miss Westfeldt,” began Lavia; “I wanted so bad to see if I could
paint the shells. I just ate a little bit of lunch and hurried back quick
before the children got here, and made this little painting of the
shells. Then I started to put them back in the box carefully; and I
heard somebody open the entry door as if they were coming in, and I
jumped and dropped the shells, and when I picked them up they
were all broken. I am awfully sorry, Miss Westfeldt. I’ll give you my
painting,” and the lips quivered again.
Miss Westfeldt looked at the painting. It confirmed Lavia’s story.
The different colors were crude, but remarkably good for a thirteen-
year-old girl. They indicated artistic promise. The teacher sat for a
moment with an absorbed expression on her face, then said:
“Lavia, you have grieved me very much today by breaking these
shells; now, will you do something to make me happy again? I did
not know this morning why you wanted to take the shells. If I place
the box on your desk where you can study the color effects and try to
paint them, will you promise me that you will try never again to
meddle with things that you have no right to touch?”
“O, yes, Miss Westfeldt, I will, indeed I will! And can I really have
them on my desk?”
“Yes, Lavia, and I will keep your painting as a pledge of your
promise. If you will ask me, after your lessons are learned, I have
some other beautiful things also, that you may paint. I am pleased
that you told me all the truth.”
Lavia kept her promise. The spirit of initiative in coöperation won.
ILLUSTRATION 2 (SIXTH GRADE)

Carl Lampey and George Coffman were Dissecting
two sixth grade boys who found an old Typewriter
typewriter in a small store-room opening off the principal’s office.
They went to their teacher to ask her if they might have this old
machine.
“Whose is it?” she asked.
“We don’t know. Mr. Shorey (the janitor) said he thought it used to
belong to Mr. Taney. Mr. Taney’s been gone three years, and never
has sent for it. We want to take it apart to see how it’s made.”
“That’s a good idea,” Miss Moore replied. “But I can’t give you
permission to do it until we find that Mr. Taney really doesn’t want
it.”
“But, Miss Moore, if he did want it, don’t you suppose he’d have
sent for it by this time? It’s too old to be of any use, or he’d have sold
it second-hand. And we want to see how a typewriter’s constructed.
Please, Miss Moore.”
“The fact remains that it is not our property, and we have no right
to take it. I’ll tell you what to do, though. Write to Mr. Taney and ask
him. If he says he’s done with it, take it with my blessing.”
“But we don’t know Mr. Taney’s address.”
“Then hunt it up; you can. I think he knew the Wallaces very well,
and doubtless they have it.”
So Carl and George went to the Wallace home, secured Mr. Taney’s
address, and wrote to him. Mr. Taney was a busy principal in a large
town, who laid the letter aside and forgot to answer it for weeks. Carl
and George teased Miss Moore to let them take the old machine,
saying that Mr. Taney’s silence gave consent. Miss Moore told them
they must wait until the owner gave up his property definitely.
Finally, a letter came from Mr. Taney, saying he had forgotten all
about the machine and that they were welcome to it; and two happy
boys, who had learned a valuable lesson in self-restraint and honor,
began to satisfy their healthy curiosity as to the construction of a
typewriter.
(3) Curiosity stimulated by fear of not “passing.” Curiosity may be
stimulated by almost any interest that seizes a child’s mind. The
disciplinarian is often so offended with the expression of curiosity
that the underlying interest is lost sight of.
CASE 102 (HIGH SCHOOL)
The morning after the report cards were Examining

given out in the Bridgewater High School, Record Book
Miss Penfield held a series of conferences concerning marks; among
them one proved tragic.
“I don’t understand why I got only 65 in English this month, Miss
Penfield.”
“That is what your daily recitations and test work averaged.”
“You gave Harriet 82 and she admits that she didn’t recite as many
times as I did, and you gave Elizabeth 75, and she never studies. I
don’t see why I got such a low mark when Elizabeth had as many
zeros as I did.”
“How do you know how many zeros you had?”
“I looked at your record book when you were out of the room.”
“Rhoda Kilborne! Do you mean to say you would do such a thing as
that? That notebook is my personal property. I wonder how many
more pupils have had access to it. Well! we shall see!”
At the beginning of the recitation period, Miss Penfield asked:
“How many persons in this room have ever looked at my record
book?” There was no response to her question. Every one sat
motionless, wondering what was going to happen next.
“Well, Rhoda, I guess you are the only culprit this time.
“I want you all to know that looking at a teacher’s record book is
no less than opening her pocket-book and taking some money.
“You may report to me at the close of school, Rhoda.”
Open your record book so that the pupil can see how her average
was obtained. Say to her, “Suppose you put the marks for your daily
recitations on the board and find out the average. Now average this
with your test work.
“Don’t you see, now why your mark was—?”
At the beginning of the recitation period, pass your book around
the class, saying: “There may be some who would like to know on
what basis their average was obtained. I work on the scale of —. Let
us figure out a few of the marks. Then, taking a good mark as an
example, show the pupils exactly how it was obtained.
Occasionally ask members of the class to exchange papers and
mark each other’s papers. Go over them again yourself, giving your
own mark. Ask those who marked tests to compare their marks with
yours.
A teacher’s record book should not be regarded as her private
property. Play so fair with your pupils that they will not want to look
in your book without permission. Have an understanding with them
that they are always privileged to ask to look at their marks. There is
little doubt, then they will show no undue curiosity.
COMMENTS
Miss Penfield made a mistake in punishing Rhoda for curiosity

which was incited by her own method of dealing with the children.
Mr. Middleton, instructor in physics in Enlisting

the Rensselaer Academy, had the freest, Coöperation
man-to-man attitude toward his pupils of any teacher in the school.
“How do you do it, Middleton?” one instructor asked.
“I don’t do it. They do it.”
Here is the explanation. When Mr. Middleton entered the
laboratory one morning he found that the little steam engine which
he had taken such pains to fix up had been taken entirely to pieces.
“Well, the fellow who couldn’t see how that engine worked without
pulling it to pieces was pretty dumb. I worked a good long time in
getting the materials collected for it, and I expect to see it together
when I enter the room tomorrow morning.” This remark was made
in the presence of a number of his pupils. He made no further
allusion to the subject, depending on the morale of his department to
work out the desired result. He was not disappointed.
When the fire engines rushed by the A Rush to

Shields High School, as by common consent Windows
the pupils rose in their seats and rushed to the east windows,
Frederick Hersey, keeper of the study hour, gasped in amazement
relieved only by the fact that he noticed that some of his pupils
seemed a little hesitant to take advantage of the excitement.
As soon as the interest waned he said, “You may now take your
seats.” Further than this no comment was made.
At the first opportunity, he asked Laura Blank how it came about
that the pupils of the school rushed to the windows without
permission. After fencing a short time, she said:
“Last year our teachers let us watch the engines and big auto
trucks go by and so we just ran to the windows.”
In order to handle the matter speedily Utilize Class
and effectively, after being informed of the Officers
facts, the principal summoned the four class presidents, and gave
them an opportunity to coöperate with him about breaking up school
work out of foolish curiosity.
“The school acted like four-year-old children. If for no other
reason than for the sake of discipline in case of accident, we must try
some way to correct this custom. I want to ask you class presidents if
you will mention the matter at your next meeting and get the pupils
to agree that we shall have no such breaking away from good order
for any reason.”
After some parleying back and forth the idea was adopted by the
classes and later put into effect. No public mention was ever made of
the principal’s decision and attitude on the matter, nor was there
need of any such announcement.
DIVISION VI
All good things perverted to evil purposes are worse than those which are
naturally bad.—Dickens.
CASES ARISING OUT OF THE EXPRESSIVE
INSTINCTS
Deeply ingrained is the impulse to exchange ideas with other

persons. So strong is it that even when not removed from human
associations we often personify animals and inanimate objects and
address the artificial persons in words expressive of ideas.
The expressive instinct has produced a large number of
meaningful human attitudes, actions and sounds—silence, gesture,
signalling, facial expression, singing, whistling, handclapping and
other noises made by hands and feet. All of these facts have direct
bearing on school discipline. If thoroughly understood they can be so
dealt with as to relieve a teacher of much anxiety. Otherwise the
torments of pandemonium await the teacher and failure marks
attempts at school work proper.
The most comprehensive desire that lies behind actions of this sort
is to gain recognition from other persons. We shall study the
evidence for this conclusion through a number of instances.
1. Oral Expression
Whisper not in the company of others.
—George Washington.
(1) Whispering. A few students of the In General

subject of school management may need to
be reminded that a child who whispers is attempting to conform to a
good school policy and at the same time to satisfy a powerful instinct.
He foregoes the use of the ordinary conversational tone in deference
to the custom or rule that outlaws the unrestricted use of the same
for pupils in the school-room.
It is a powerful instinct that impels one to communicate with his
fellows. No one has failed to experience the impulsion to talk, or in
some way, express himself to another person.
The child ordinarily speaks freely and in a normal tone of voice
when addressing another individual. Whispering is an unusual and
emergency measure, adopted when circumstances render the
customary mode of communication inappropriate, imprudent or
impossible. The interchange of ideas brings a pleasant glow of good
fellowship.
Whispering, also, is a relief from the weariness of work. If there is
any daring in a pupil he will try out the teacher on whispering. There
are always enough reasons why occasional communication is
necessary, to afford an excuse for asking permission to whisper, and
next, to whisper without permission.
No teacher ever attempts to secure absolute silence. Minor
infractions of a whispering rule are always tolerated. Such must ever
be the case. These concessions to human necessity lodge the idea
that more whispering may pass unnoticed. In a word the conditions
that favor whispering are numerous and very stimulating.
The impulse to whispering can never be eradicated from a pupil. It
may be suppressed or directed. A wise teacher has no wish to remold
human nature to the extent that a person ceases to care for the
opportunity of talking to another person.
We are confronted with the problem of how to control an impulse
that we desire to preserve without injury and yet without waste of
time and effort.
Whispering has always been a menace to the best school order.
Everywhere and in all grades it threatens to retard or make
impossible the highest type of school work. Not only is the noise of
whispering a nuisance in itself, but it stimulates unnecessary noise
from other sources. When whispering ceases many other sounds of
doors, rustling leaves, etc., will be either markedly subdued or
entirely eliminated.
Furthermore, whispering is a well recognized cause of inattention
to the subject in hand. The pupil who whispers, and the one to whom
he whispers, both have their attention withdrawn from the work of
the moment.
Whispering is not a wrong in itself, like dishonesty or theft. Again,
while all agree that better order can be maintained without
whispering, few have a tested method to suggest for reducing it to a
minimum.
The most useful principle of discipline for the control of
whispering seems to be that of substitution. Given a room full of
children with no work to do, whispering will spring up instantly.
Given a room where every pupil has urgent work on hand, the
amount of whispering will be greatly reduced.
If work can be substituted for communication, as an object of
interest and effort, a large gain will have been made.
Careful attention must be given to the age of the offender. In
younger pupils the joys of talking with one’s fellows are still very
enchanting. Usually offenders are not vicious in intention, rather
they are quite without self-control.
To require that whispering shall be reduced to a minimum can not
be looked upon as an injustice; at most it is only an inconvenience.
At church and theater and in the parlor or dining-room, whispering
is tabooed. The teacher, then, is merely requiring what good
manners prescribe in this respect for other assemblages of people.
The whispering problem can never be allowed to solve itself. The
offenders will wax worse and worse until intolerable conditions will
compel a reform. On the other hand a method of suppressing
whispering, that only interrupts school work the more, is not to be
adopted.
The most favored procedure is to adopt, first of all, a general policy
regarding quiet, one that is patiently urged and unceasingly
enforced. Sudden, explosive, distracting attempts at suppression are
to be avoided.
Every teacher, from the first grade to the last year in the high
school, will admit that whispering is one of the most general
annoyances. Some teachers succeed in holding it in check while
others aggravate the difficulty until it becomes a misdemeanor.
There are educators who recommend that as long as whispering is
carried on about lessons and school work, it should not be
prohibited. There are others who say it should be prohibited, but fail
to give prohibitive measures. The former fail to note that whispering
about lessons and school tasks is really a temptation to whisper
about almost anything that comes into the child’s mind.
In the first grade, whispering about First Grade
lessons and school work is unusual. Their
interests are play interests and their activities are the activities of
child life; about these they talk. It is only natural that they should do
so. While it does not seem fair to the child to transplant him from his
outside world of freedom to the school-room where the privilege of
free expression is denied, still the first grade teacher must bear in
mind that if she allows whispering to become a habit in the first
grade, it will become very annoying in the higher grades. There is no
argument in favor of whispering, and, therefore, the first grade
teacher should train her pupils not to whisper during the school
sessions.
In rural schools the matter of preventing whispering is more
difficult than in the city school, for what is busy work for one grade
cannot be used in another. What will interest one grade will not
interest another, hence study periods and periods of busy work must
be most carefully planned, especially in the first three grades. Too
much time must not be given to study, for that means opportunity
for play and mischief and, of course, for whispering.
Even with the best planning, an occasional child will whisper. Such
a child should not be reproved in a faultfinding way. The teacher may
preface her request to refrain from whispering by approval of
something that has been well done, then say, “My dear, we do not
whisper here at all.” Following her request, the teacher may do some
kindness for the child that will gain his love and affection and make
him willing to try to obey the teacher.
If the child repeats the offense the teacher must use the same
methods again. Say, “Oh, no. Do not do that, we must not whisper.”
The teacher should use an even, smooth tone of voice, devoid of the
least inflection that might indicate impatience or unkindness. She
should follow this second command by expectancy. She should feel
that the child will not do otherwise than obey her. The child may
repeat the offense, but the teacher must use the same method again
and again, until the child responds and does not whisper. Second
and third offenses usually make teachers impatient, and, instead of
kindness and indulgence toward the child, they manifest impatience.
By all means such a course should be avoided, even though the
offenses be many.
Teachers are often heard to complain that pupils recite before
called upon, or talk without permission. Such teachers confess to
faulty methods on their own part. Early in the year they failed to curb
such tendencies, thereby allowing them to become habits. In the very
first lesson require each pupil to wait for his turn in the recitation, to
secure permission to speak when he has something to say. If the
teacher will closely supervise her class work in this manner for the
first month, she will have no further trouble on this point. To begin
right is half the battle in school-room discipline. Those petty offenses
that a teacher dislikes must be prevented the first day, the second,
and so on, until they no longer recur.
In the first and second years it is highly important that the pupils
form correct school-room habits in all respects. Whispering is easier
to control here than in any subsequent grade.
CASE 103 (SECOND GRADE)
Carrie, a little girl six years old, was Whispering

nervous and talkative. She had a habit of Habit
turning her face half around toward Mabel, who sat just behind her,
and, half covering her mouth with her hand, she would whisper to
Mabel almost constantly.
While the teacher, Miss Bond, was giving general instructions she
was constantly reiterating, “Carrie, stop talking!” Carrie had a
semblance of obedience in this direction simply because her speeches
were never long.
Evidently Miss Bond had no other expectation than that the
offense would be repeated. The work of both Carrie and Mabel was
below par.
Change Carrie’s seat in order to give her new surroundings. Give

her and her classmates something that is easy to do, and expect them
to do it.
Use the principle of substitution by changing the work often. If
Carrie whispers in her new location, talk to her privately about it.
Show her your friendship for her in many ways. Never give up the
idea that she will soon stop whispering. Instead of calling out to her
so that all hear you, go to her privately and without faultfinding ask
her to stop whispering. Whenever you observe that she is diligent
and has refrained from talking for a little while, commend her
warmly. As soon as she realizes that you are her friend, and that you
really expect her to stop whispering she will do so.
COMMENTS
Habit breaking is possible only when a new habit is being formed

in place of the old one. A child will say, “I just can’t keep from
whispering,” telling thus both a truth and a falsehood. The truth is
that when the external conditions and the inner set of the mind are
both favorable, the habitual act is certain to occur. The falsehood is
that the child “cannot control the habit.”
Whispers need oftentimes a decisive shock in order to shake them
loose from an ingrained habit. This shaking up may be largely self-
administered if a tactful teacher knows how to make a pupil measure
himself and pass judgment on his own behavior.
Changing the seat breaks up the complex circumstances in which
whispering has hitherto been practiced. The removal to a new
location creates a mental shock, yet offers no insult to one’s personal
feelings.
There is valuable aid in hurrying the mind of a pupil on from one
point to another while establishing a new set of ideas in the mind.
Keeping a pupil busy following your program by the presentation of
new tasks, duties, recreations, helps to save him from falling back
into the moods that have been the fruitful source of improper
conduct.
When dealing with a disciplinary case, a wise administrator
attempts, just as far as possible, to keep a sharp eye on the train of
events that transpires in that pupil’s life. Any serious interruption of
the sequence of ideas and moods that are favorable to the reform,
necessarily postpones the fixation of the new trait, habit or
resolution.
Pupils will quickly learn that a firm disciplinary policy, a helpful
watchfulness, can be maintained without carrying with them an
aggravating scrutiny of conduct. Friendship and good fellowship can
be revealed through teamwork in the building of a character as well
as in the coaching of a football team.
Some of the best chums are those who occupy the relation of
player and coach. When on the athletic field the coach exercises rigid
mandatory control. The onlooker may suppose that he is something
of a tyrant, but the boys on the team know better; they sense his
genuine good fellowship underneath the harsh exterior. By common
consent the future victory is willingly bought with the price of
undergoing these strenuous activities under an apparently despotic
supervision.
In like manner the school teacher must learn to exercise a positive
control over the activities of a pupil, which shall not abolish, but
covertly disclose, rather, a fine sense of the comradeship that binds a
good teacher to a responsive pupil.
Sometimes out of a spirit of helpfulness a child is led to whisper
when, in reality, the one to whom he whispers is most at fault, as in
the following instance taken from an experience in the Fourth Grade.
CASE 104 (FOURTH GRADE)
Lawrence seemed given to constant “Helping” by

whispering. The most trying thing about it Whispering
was that he seemed to whisper more constantly while class
instruction was going on than at other times. Miss Blair was the
more puzzled over this because Lawrence was an exceptionally bright
pupil, and very courteous. This matter of whispering was the only
case in which he failed to obey Miss Blair.
When she spoke to him about it he listened respectfully with
flushed face and downcast eyes. He certainly did not seem indifferent
to her wishes, yet the very next time she began to pronounce words
in spelling he seemed to divide his attention between writing the
words and whispering to Freddie, who sat just behind him.
When she stood near Lawrence, he did not whisper; furthermore
he always seemed to whisper to Freddie only.
She consulted Freddie about changing his seat, but found him
anxious to retain his place behind Lawrence. She decided that the
best plan was to punish Lawrence as well as others for whispering.
So she announced that five minutes would be deducted from the
recess period of a pupil for every time he whispered.

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Defending God in Sixteenth-Century

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OXFORD ORIENTAL MONOGRAPHS

Introduction: The Rise of Śivādvaita Vedānta 1

2. Early Śaiva Works 31

5. Reception of Appaya’s Śaiva Works 174

Appendix 1: List of Śaiva Works by Appaya Dīks: ita 227

Once upon a time . . .

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     3

4    - 

     5

6    - 

     7

Appaya’s main source of exegesis, Śrīkan: t:ha’s Brahmamīmāmsābhās : ya, and

8    - 

     9

The book concludes (Chapter 5) with an analysis of the reception of Appaya’s

The Brahmamīmāmsābhā (hereafter ‘BMB’) of Śrīkan tha

1.1 Śrīkan tha’s

In the BMB, Śrīkan tha

¹ namah śvetābhidhānāya nānāgamavidhāyine | kaivalyakalpatarave kalyānagurave namah ||—

̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   11

commentary.² The historicity of Śveta as a Śaiva teacher is problematic. The name

12    - 

̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   13

kāryāvasthā and several others clearly echoes the non-dualist theology of

14    - 

¹¹ sudarśanācāryair api tātparyasamgrahe garudaikyabhāvanād

̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   15

This well-known verse is oft quoted in Kashmirian sources as well as in early

¹² nijaśaktibhittinirmitanikhilajagajjālacitranikurumbah | sa jayati śivah parātmā nikhilāga-

16    - 

material cause’ for Śrīkan tha

1.2 References to Śrīkan tha

While there is little doubt that Śrīkan tha

¹⁵ See, for instance, Śrīkan tha’s

̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   17

¹⁸ See Chapter 5, Section 5.3 for a brief discussion of Brahmavidyādhvarīndra’s work.

18    - 

the Anubhavasūtra, the Śivādvaitadarpana and the Vīraśaivānandacandrikā. For

̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   19

pointed out by Sastri indeed reveals strong intertextuality.²² However, it is

20    - 

scholar to show awareness of Śrīkan tha’s

²⁴ Vijayīndra concludes the tenth chapter of his Sarvasiddhāntasārāsāravivecana by saying

̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   21

Although, as I shall argue in this book, the prominence of Rāmānuja’s tradition

1.3 Śrīkan tha’s

²⁹ I have located a single example: atra ‘pūrvācāryair’ iti sthāne ‘vrddhavaidyair’

22    - 

³⁰ The term śaktiviśistādvaita

̣ ̣     ̣  ̣   23

24    - 