Bengali Vaishnava Epistemology PDF

Journal of Vaishnava Studies
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Deepak Heritage Books
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Senior Editors
Steven J. Rosen
(Journal of Vaishnava Studies)
Graham M. Schweig
(Christopher Newport University)
Managing Editor
Steven J. Rosen
Associate Editors
E. H. Rick Jarow
(Vassar College)
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Barbara Berasi
International Advisory Board

Guy L. Beck
(Tulane University)
Edwin F. Bryant
(Rutgers University)
Gerald T. Carney
(Hampden-Sydney College)
Amarnath Chatterjee
(Delhi University)
Nirmal Narayan Gupta

(Bengali Educational Facility,
Howrah, Calcutta)
Barbara Holdrege
(University of California,
Santa Barbara)
June McDaniel
(College of Charleston)
Joseph T. O’Connell
(University of Toronto)
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JOURNAL OF VAISHNAVA STUDIES
Volume 18 No. 1 Fall 2009
Introduction 1
Joseph T. O’Connell / “Kirtan O Gramin Krishti” (“Kirtan and 5

Village Culture”): The Final Chapter of Hitesranjan Sanyal’s
Bangla Kirtaner Itihas (“History of Bengal Kirtan”)
Jason D. Fuller/ Bengali Vaishnava Homelands

‑
39
Aleksandar Uskokov/Bengali Vaishnava Epistemology 53
Kiyokazu Okita/A Bengali Vaishnava Contribution to Vedånta: 87

Baladeva Vidyåbhüsana on the Word ‘atha’ in the Brahmasütra 1.1.1
Leena A. Taneeja/Expecting the Unexpected: The Secret of “the Gift” 101

in the Bengali Vaishnava Tradition

Satyanarayana Dasa/The Concept of Bhagavån in Bengal Vaishnavism 113
as found in Jiva Goswami’s Bhagavat-sandarbha
Dhanurdhara Swami/Ûrila Bhaktisiddhånta and Rågånuga- 125

sådhana-bhakti
Graham M. Schweig/Toward A Constructive and Comparative 151

Theology of Krishna Bhakti for Contemporary Bengal Vaishnavism
Book Reviews 175
About the Contributors 187

Introduction
Introduction
T
he religious path known as Vaishnavism can be described as devo-
tion to Krishna, Råma, Vishnu, or any of his divine incarnations. It is
seen by its adherents as a type of monotheism in which worship of a
personal God is the focus. In sheer numbers, it prevails as the leading reli-
gious system over Shaivism, Shaktism, and the many other paths commonly
associated with Hindu dharma.
There are ancient scriptural texts that form the basis of this religion: the
Vedas, the Purånas, the Mahåbhårata (including the Bhagavad-gîtå), the
Råmåyana, and the writings of the great åcåryas. Some of these texts date
back to at least the second century B.C., with an oral tradition that goes back
to antiquity. Vaishnavism is known as sanåtana dharma, or “the eternal func-
tion of the soul,” and adherents also refer to it as bhakti-yoga, or “the devo-
tional path through which one can link with the Supreme.”
The religion of Vaishnavism is expressed in various ways throughout the
Indian subcontinent. One such expression is Bengali or Gau∂îya Vaishnav
ism. This is a form of the religion that began in sixteenth-century Bengal
with the great avatåra/saint Ûrî Chaitanya Mahåprabhu (1486–1533), but
which participates in the much older form of the tradition. It is called gau
∂îya because Ûrî Chaitanya proclaimed his mission in the region that was
then known as Gau∂adeΩa. This extended throughout the southern side
of the Himalayan Mountains and the northern part of the Vindhyå Hills,
which is called Åryåvarta, or the land of the Åryans. This portion of India is
divided into five parts or provinces: Sårasvata (Kashmir and the Punjab),
1
2 The JOURNAL OF VAISHNAVA STUDIES
Kånyakubja (Uttar Pradesh, including the modern city of Lucknow),

Madhya-gau∂a (Madhya Pradesh), Maithila (Bihar and part of Bengal), and
Utkala (a portion of Bengal and all of Orissa).
The celebrated ancient capital of Gau∂adeΩa, or Gau∂a, was situated in
what is now the modern district of Maldah. The seat of the Sena dynasty,
this capital was eventually transferred to the ninth or central island on the
western side of the Ganges at Navadvîpa, which is now known as Måyåpura
(although at that time it was called Gau∂apura). Chaitanya Mahåprabhu
appeared in that area, and so Gau∂îya Vaishnavism naturally took on that
nomenclature to commemorate the event.
There are scholars, however, who argue that since the term “Gau∂îya”
refers only to Bengal or Gau∂adeΩa, it is not appropriate as an overall name
for the religious tradition. The ideological aspect of Gau∂îya Vaishnavism,
they say, extends beyond the designated parameters of Gau∂adeΩa, and so
they prefer to call the tradition “Chaitanya Vaishnavism” or “Chaitanyaite
Vaishnavism,” which is apparently more accurate in the sense that the reli-
gion is based on the inspiration and teaching of Ûrî Chaitanya—not on a
geographical location.
Addressing this objection, there is a scholarly contingent who have point-
ed out that there is a material Gau∂a (the land in and around Bengal) and
a spiritual one—Gau∂a ma∫∂ala—which is the “sacred space” of the same
area. This conception is reinforced by the etymology of the word “Gau∂îya,”
for the primary noun, gu∂a (anglicized as gur), which literally refers to
molasses, or sweetness, can be extended to the adjective gau∂a, the name
of the country associated with Gau∂îya Vaishnavism. This is a grammatical,
poetic, and even spiritual derivation, since Gau∂îya Vaishnavism is viewed
by its practitioners as the culmination of a long spiritual evolution, like the
proverbial icing on an already delicious cake. Adherents consider Gau∂îya
Vaishnavism the cap on the Vaishnava tradition—it adds the necessary
“sweetness” to a delectable recipe. The secret ingredient, say the Gau∂îyas, is
Ûrî Rådhå, for it is her sweet devotion to Krishna that embodies the essence
of Gau∂îya Vaishnavism. Her madhu-sneha, or honey-like love, was not fully
revealed before the time of Ûrî Chaitanya Mahåprabhu.
Rabindranath Tagore and others have written about the profusion with
which sugarcane grows in Bengal, and that the sweetness of that region
overflows into many aspects of everyday life, not least in the indigenous
religion. Such writers are quick to point out that Gau∂îya Vaishnavism,
unlike other forms of Vaishnavism, emphasizes mådhurya, or the sweet
Introduction 3
love of God, as opposed to aiΩvarya, or God’s majesty. Consequently, the

title “Gau∂îya” has deeper implications than one might at first suspect.
Ordinary or conventional understanding (såmånya) of terms such as
Gau∂îya tells only one side of the story; but the tradition gives another
perspective, one that is infused with a spiritual sensibility (påramårthika).
A real Gau∂îya Vaiß∫ava, then, is not one who merely lives in Gau∂a but
one who lives for gau∂a: one who lives for the sweetness associated with the
love and worship of Rådhå and Krishna. A Gau∂îya Vaishnava is one who is
absorbed in Rådhå-Krishna and in Chaitanya Mahåprabhu—and in their
divine service. Indeed, whether such a person is called a Bengali Vaishnava
or a Gau∂îya Vaishnava or what have you, he or she is a servant of the
Divine, first and foreforemost.
In this volume, we allow the Bengali Vaishnava tradition to unfold by
beginning with an overview article written by Joseph T. O’Connell, one of
the leading scholars of Bengali studies in the West. His paper is essentially
a translation of Båõgla Kîrtaner Itihås’ final chapter, which focuses on the
origins of Bengal Vaishnavism as a movement. Originally written by Indian
historian Hitesranjan Sanyal in Bengali, O’Connell offers us not only a
translation but a lengthy introduction and notes, providing special insight
into the work and the tradition. This leads into an article by Jason Fuller
who discusses Bengali Vaishnava “homelands,” both in the sense of earthly
“regions” that have special meaning for Bengali Vaishnavas (i.e., Måyåpur,
Navadvîp, V®ndåvana, and so on) as well as the spiritual counterparts of
these same land areas.
Next, Aleksandar Uskokov takes us into the complex world of Bengali
Vaishnava epistemology, explaining how the tradition views knowledge as
such as well as the various acceptable methods for acquiring knowledge.
Picking up on these self-same methods, Kiyokazu Okita looks at the all-too-
pregnant word “atha” in Brahmasütra 1.1.1, a seminal text in the Bengali
Vaishnava tradition, elucidating the insights of traditional Vaishnava com-
mentators, including Gau∂îya Vedåntists. Leena A. Taneja, too, engages
classical philosophical thinking as she explores Jacques Derrida’s theory of
“the pure gift” through the lens of the well-known Krishna/Sudåmå story, in
which the Lord’s devotee brings Him a gift, expecting nothing in return.
All such philosophical meandering reaches its zenith in the Bengali
discussion of God in His topmost personal form. This is the subject of
Satyanarayana Dasa’s paper, which focuses on “Bhagavan” as opposed to
“Brahman,” or the sweet personal Absolute, known as Krishna, in contrast
with the amorphous void known as “Supreme” in the various schools of

Advaita Vedånta. Satyanarayana takes us on a journey through traditional lit-
erature and the realizations of the sages, focusing mainly on Jîva Gosvåmî’s
Bhagavata Sandarbha, a densely philosophical text establishing the suprema-
cy of Bhagavån realization and the personality of Krishna.
Dhanurdhara Swami then directs our attention to more modern times,
when the renowned and scholarly spiritual master, Ûrîla Bhaktisiddhånta
Sarasvatî (1874–1937), proposed novel changes in the established tradition
for pragmatic reasons. Deeply considering the era in which he lived, as well
as his audience, Bhaktisiddhånta chose to de-emphasize the more esoteric
aspects of Bengali Vaishnavism, and he was criticized for it. Dhanurdhara
Swami explains this luminary’s decision, looking at his philosophical and
historical reasoning. In the end, the swami shows, Bhaktisiddhånta was not
deviating from the tradition in the slightest, but was rather reforming it and
bringing it into a modern context.
If Dhanurdhara Swami examines the life, teachings, and motives of one
of the twentieth-century’s leading Vaishnavas (Bhaktisiddhånta Sarasvatî),
Graham Schweig thoroughly analyzes that stalwart’s leading disciple, A. C.
Bhaktivedånta Swåmî Prabhupåda (1896–1977), the founder-åchårya of the
International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON), as a brilliant
contemporary theologian. Schweig does this, primarily, by looking at the
texts Prabhupåda chose as his focus, and also by analyzing the all-important
words prema, bhakti, and rasa, so fundamental to both the larger Bengali
Vaishnava tradition and to ISKCON’s more modern expression of it.
—Steven J. Rosen
Bengali Vaishnava Epistemology
Aleksandar Uskokov
Introduction
T
he problems of knowledge in the philosophical system of Gau∂îya
Vedånta (Bengali Vaishnavism) seem to be the most neglected ele-
ment in the secondary literature about the system. In my view, the
only serious attempt in recent years to treat the problems of knowledge
was the book Substance and Shadow by the late Suhotra Swami (1950–2007).
Although it is an excellent work of philosophy, a product of deep insight
into the problems, it can hardly be described as a secondary source. Thus,
an introductory yet exhaustive article on Gau∂îya epistemology would not
be out of place.
The purposes of this article, then, are three: (1) To give a comprehensive
overview of the subject. Since the primary sources dealing with Gau∂îya
epistemology are not yet translated into English, this overview should be
valuable for both the general reader and the specialist. (2) To note the
most significant points in Gau∂îya epistemology. These can be subsumed
under three categories: testimony, the subject of knowledge, and the pro-
cess of God-realization. (3) To emphasize some original contributions of
Gau∂îya epistemology to knowledge, in particular the treatment of the sub-
ject of knowledge. Relative to this third purpose, it is appropriate to men-
tion that the primary texts of Gau∂îya philosophy do not treat the subject of
knowledge in their epistemology sections, but in the sections on ontology.
Therefore, extracting the Gau∂îya conception of the subject of knowledge
53
54 ALEKSANDAR USKOKOV
will, I hope, contribute to the originality of this article, going beyond its
expository purposes.
Throughout this paper you will find bits of comparison to Western phi-
losophers. Clearly my goal is not a serious comparative study; that would
require a longer article than this. However, I am sure that ideas are like
seeds that can fructify, and thus I did not want to dispense with offering the
comparative in a seedlike form.
I assume that our readers are familiar with the metaphysical standpoints
of Vedånta in general and of Gau∂îya Vedånta in particular, and therefore I
will not treat them at all. This also holds true for the etymology of the word
“Gau∂îya.” For the first five parts of this paper my principal source is the
Vedånta-syamantaka of Baladeva Vidyåbhüßa∫a,1 and from the sixth section
on, subtitled “The Subject of Knowledge,” I primarily rely on the writings of
A. C. Bhaktivedånta Swami Prabhupåda. I will also draw from the Tattva-san-
darbha of Jîva Gosvåmî and from two commentaries thereon: Jîva Gosvåmî’s
auto-commentary titled Sarva-saµvådinî and Baladeva Vidyåbhüßa∫a’s com-
mentary titled Tattva-sandarbha-†ippa∫î.
Prelude to the Methods of Knowledge

in the Indian Philosophical Tradition
Before moving to what Gau∂îya Vedånta recognizes as methods of knowl-
edge in the broader context of the Indian philosophical tradition, we need
to say a few words about the general framework of the theory of knowledge.
In terms of this framework, the representatives of Gau∂îya Vedånta mainly
accept the formulations of Nyåya-darΩana. So the first thing we need to
mention is the terminological distinction between jñåna and pramå. The
term jñåna can be translated as “knowledge” in the sense of cognition,
or content of consciousness. “The characteristic mark of cognition is: the
immediate knowledge that becomes the subject of the consciousness, hav-
ing the form I know.”2 Knowledge is classified as representative (recollec-
tion, sm®ti) and given (experience, anubhava), and there are two kinds of
experience: valid and invalid.
“Valid apprehension is that in which an object is known as possessing
attributes it really possesses, e.g., the apprehension of silver arising in an
object where there is silverness. This is also known as the valid knowledge
(pramå) of a thing.”3
“That is non-valid apprehension in which an object is known as having an
attribute which it does not have in reality: e.g., the apprehension of silver
Bengali Vaishnava Epistemology 55
arising in a piece of mother-of-pearl. This indeed is called false cognition

(apramå).”4
Valid cognition is not only jñåna, content of consciousness, but also
pramå, correspondence of experience with reality. Obviously, this is a theo-
ry of truth as correspondence. We also have to mention that jñåna is a term
used much more often with different meanings. It refers to consciousness
as an antonym of insensibility, knowledge as an antonym of ignorance, and
so on. But, from a strictly gnoseological viewpoint, the distinction between
jñåna and pramå must be preserved. Thus a method of knowledge in the
Indian tradition is always a method of certain knowledge. Therefore bear
in mind that by “knowledge” we mean certain knowledge and not just any
content of consciousness.
In Sanskrit the method of knowledge is known as pramå∫a. Pramå∫a is
pramå-kara∫a—an instrument for gaining correct knowledge (Nyåya-bhåßå
5). In Sarva-saµvådinî, the auto-commentary by Jîva Gosvåmî on his own
Tattva-sandarbha, he lists ten methods of knowledge prominent in the vari-
ous schools of Indian philosophy. Baladeva Vidyåbhüßa∫a—in Vedånta-sya-
mantaka and in his commentary on the Tattva-sandarbha—lists nine meth-
ods, one less than Jîva. We will go through all ten. But we will not consider
all the nuances and differences in the understandings of these methods in
the various schools. There are differences, no doubt, and certainly we will
mention some. But the actual interest for us is what the representatives of
Gau∂îya Vedånta thought of the ten methods of knowledge, and what that
meant to them.
Here we should also mention that these ten methods of knowledge
(apart from Ωabda, testimony) receive no extensive critique from Jîva and
Baladeva. A good many of them (mainly those which can be subsumed
under the three principal or independent methods) do not deserve an
extensive critique, and the reasons for this lack of criticism are simple. First,
the theory of knowledge ought to be primarily interesting for the possibili-
ties of certain knowledge; probable knowledge is interesting to those who
fancy mental gymnastics, but it cannot plead for a central position in an
engaged philosophy that ascribes no value whatsoever to what is temporary
and uncertain. If it is possible to demonstrate in a simple manner that some
method of knowledge cannot provide certainty, its further extensive treat-
ment is inconsequential.
Second (this reason is connected with the first), the questions that sti
mulate the inquiry into the possibilities, methods, and limits of knowledge
simultaneously determine the treatment of the inquiry. No matter how

interesting the questions might be about a priori and a posteriori knowledge
or about the nature of the laws of physics and mathematics (in a Humean
and Kantian sense), they can never be the most essential questions. What
we really want to know is: Who am I? Is my existence meaningful or sense-
less? Am I sentenced to temporality, or I am eternal? Is there a way to find
out my true nature?5
The answers are beyond the reach of the faculties of sensual intuition,
beyond the understanding (which, even if endowed with a priori categories,
must still operate with the sensual intuitions, because without them it is
empty; its sole function is to make the sense intuitions “see”), and beyond the
mind (which inevitably enmeshes itself in its antinomies and lacks the lumen
naturale that St. Aquinas thought it possessed). Since my breakthrough, on
my own, into transcendence is impossible, all that is left for me is to hope
that a ray of transcendence or divine light will descend upon me. And this
presupposes submission to God’s revelation; at that point, all interest in the
subtleties of sensual knowledge, the understanding, and the mind stops.
The Ten Methods of Knowledge
1. Sense perception (pratyakßa6)

Sense perception is the basic knowledge from which all other knowledge
comes. Its origin is the contact of the senses with sense objects. “The cog-
nition born from the contact of the sense organ with its object is called
pratyakßa, perception, as in: I see this pot with my own eyes.”7 Some phi-
losophers in India think that the differentia specifica of perception is not
the direct contact of the senses with the sense objects; otherwise, how do
we explain that God sees everything in spite of having no senses? We can
explain this method of knowledge only by the immediacy of cognition, the
fact that this knowledge is not a product of either prior knowledge or some
process of reasoning.8 With the language of phenomenology, we would say
that perception is the immediacy of the objects to consciousness.
There are two modes of sense perception: indeterminate (nirvikalpaka)
and determinate (savikalpaka). Indeterminate perception is the primary
cognitive act, in which the object and its diverse characteristics are not
perceived as related. Tarka-saµgraha, the standard manual on the Nyåya-
VaiΩeßika system (written by Annaµbha††a, ca. 1600), describes indetermi-
nate perception as characterized by the apprehension, This is something. For

example, while perceiving an apple, we perceive something that has a shape,
color, fragrance, and so on. However, we do not think of it as an apple.
“Suppose on the first day of your examination you enter the bathroom
engrossed in thinking about the possible questions and their answers. It is
not unlikely that you may finish your bath without thinking of the water
used by you as water, as cold, etc. Yet it cannot be said that you did not per-
ceive the water. But for a very real perception of it, your act of bathing can-
not be explained. This perception of water and its characteristics, without
any thought or judgment of it as water, as liquid, as cold, etc., is the nirvikal-
paka or indeterminate perception of it.”9
When we process this aggregate of indeterminate perceptions with the
aid of the different categories of predication, we end up with a determinate
perception, and then we say that the perceived object is an apple, a cow, or
whatever. Thus determinate perception is cognition of the object as marked
by some characteristic. At that time the perceived object becomes a subject
(in a logical sense) to which attributes are predicated.
There is one more mode of pratyakßa, namely recognition (pratyabhijñå).
Recognition means cognition of something already known by cognition.
An example: “This must be the same restaurant that I visited the last time I
was in Prague.”
Depending upon which sense comes in direct contact with its object,
perception is classified as six kinds.10 We have five external senses and,
correspondingly, five kinds of external perception: visual, auditory, tactile,
gustatory, and olfactory. We have also an internal sense organ (anta˙-kara∫a
or manas, the mind), which perceives our states of consciousness—desire,
aversion, willing, pleasure, pain, and cognition. The contact of the mind
with these psychical states and processes is called mental perception.
The school of Nyåya further classifies perception into ordinary and ex
traordinary, and they are on their part subdivided into categories, but this is
beyond the scope of our undertaking.
2. Inference (anumåna11)
“Inference is the instrument of drawing conclusions, as in the example:
There is a fire on the hill, because there is smoke. The cognition of fire is a
conclusion. The instrument of this conclusion is the cognition of smoke.”12
Anumåna is knowledge which follows from some other knowledge. It is
actually a process of drawing a conclusion from some mark (liõga), stand-
ing for given knowledge, on the basis of universal concomitance (vyåpti)
between the conclusion and the mark. Take the classic example: While
walking in nature, we perceive smoke rising from a hill. This is a sensual
cognition—knowledge originating from the contact of the eye with the
sensum. But this simultaneously serves as a mark or sign of the presence of
fire on the hill. Fire is drawn as a conclusion from the mark of smoke. And
the conclusion is drawn because we know that there is a regular, invariant
concomitance (vyåpti) between smoke and fire.
One more classic example: In us there is the cognition that Devadatta13 is
mortal. This cognition comes from the knowledge that Devadatta is marked
with the attribute of humanity (in the sense of membership in a class) and
from being acquainted with the invariant concomitance of humanity with
mortality.
Inference as a propositional structure has members fully correspondent
with the terms of Aristotelian logic. To present these members, let us look
at the classic inference in an outline:
- The hill is on fire (or there is a fire on the hill);

- because there is smoke;
- wherever there is smoke, there is also fire.
The hill in this inference plays the role of pakßa, a subject about which
something is to be demonstrated or affirmed. It is correspondent with the
minor term in an Aristotelian syllogism. Fire plays the role of sådhya, that
which is supposed to be demonstrated or predicated about a subject. It is
correspondent with the major term in an Aristotelian syllogism. Finally, the
smoke plays the role of liõga, a mark of something, from which a conclu-
sion is consequent; or of hetu, a reason for the conclusion; or of sådhana,
a means by which the conclusion is drawn. It is correspondent with the
middle term in an Aristotelian syllogism.
In a cognitive sense, the sequence of apprehension corresponds to the
distribution of the two premises and the conclusion in an Aristotelian syl-
logism. What we are cognizant of first is that there is smoke on the hill (the
minor premise). Then we remind ourselves that wherever there is smoke
there is also fire (the major premise). Finally, we conclude that there must
be fire on the hill. However, as far as the formal expression of our cogni-
tion is concerned, Indian logicians claim that it has to follow the outlined
structure. And it is appropriate to remember at this point that the word
pramå∫a, apart from method of knowledge, also stands for demonstration
or proof. Thus it is no wonder that the structure of inference in Indian

logic does not correspond to the structure of Aristotle’s syllogism, but rath-
er with the structure of the demonstration, in which the conclusion is given
first and the arguments second.
The inference outlined above is called svårthånumåna, an inference for
oneself. Indian logicians distinguish svårthånumåna from parårthånumåna,
inference for others. They consider that an inference as a conclusive proof
appropriate for the comprehension of others has to be expressed in five
propositions, called anvayas, successors or members. These members,
exemplified with instances, are as follows:
- assertion (pratijñå): Socrates is mortal;

- reason (hetu): because he is a man;
- general rule or universal proposition, supported by known instanc-
es (udåhara∫a): all men are mortal;
- application of the general rule in the particular case (upanaya):
Socrates is a man;
- conclusion (nigamana): therefore he is mortal.
One remark about the third member: It seems to me that the instance is
meant to ground our inference in reality and to protect it from the danger
of formalism, in the sense that a true conclusion can follow from false prem-
ises provided the structure of the proposition is valid. The third member of
the inference also looks like an attempt to join the universal quantification
with the particular quantification, thanks to which the major premise would
not mean: “If there is such a thing as a man, then that thing would also be
mortal”; but rather “There is indeed such a thing as a man, and that thing is
mortal.”
Indian logicians classify inference—apart from inference for oneself and
inference for others—in various ways and on various grounds. For us, it is
important to mention the classification based on the type of relation of the
middle term to the major term.14 A purely positive inference occurs when
the middle term is only positively related to the major term, and we get the
knowledge of concomitance between the middle and the major term by the
method of agreement in presence. An example:
- All knowable objects are namable;

- the pot is a knowable object;
- therefore the pot is namable.
This is actually a universal, affirmative conclusion drawn from universal,

affirmative premises. (This inference is correspondent to the first figure in
Medieval logic, known as the Barbara modus.)
A purely negative inference occurs when the middle term is only negative-
ly related to the major term. It is a result of the concomitance of the absence
of the major term and the absence of the middle term. An example:
- That which is not different from other elements has no smell;

- the earth has smell;
- therefore the earth is different from other elements.
A mixed inference occurs when the middle term is related to the major
term both positively and negatively. There is an invariant concomitance
between the middle term and the major term both in the sense of pres-
ence and in the sense of absence. The universal premise is affirmative when
it is an effect of the apprehension of positive instances, or agreement in
presence; it is negative when it is an effect of the apprehension of negative
instances, or agreement in absence. Examples:
- All smoky objects are fiery;

- the hill is smoky;
- therefore the hill is fiery.
And:
- No non-fiery object is smoky;

- the hill is smoky;
- therefore the hill is fiery.
3. Testimony (Ωabda)
“Testimony is the word of a trustworthy person, like in the sentence: There
are five trees on the bank of the river; or in: He who desires heaven should
worship by performing the agniß†oma sacrifice.”15 Baladeva will pay special
attention to testimony after the critique of sense perception and inference.
For now, suffice it to say that valid testimony refers to the pronouncements
of a trustworthy person, and “trustworthy” is he who speaks about a state
of affairs as it actually is. This testimony can be sacred (vaidika – Vedic; the
pronouncements of God himself) and mundane (laukika – human). The
sacred testimony is certain in all circumstances, while the mundane testi-

mony is certain only if the person is trustworthy. The treatment of Ωabda in
the schools of Nyåya and Karma-mîmåµså is very interesting and important
for the philosophy of language, but the scope of our undertaking gives us
no license to dwell on that.
4. Comparison (upamåna)
“Comparison is the instrument of knowledge derived from analogy. It is
like the sentence: Gavaya is similar to a cow. Analogy is the cognition of
the relation of the name and the object it denotes. The instrument of anal-
ogy is the cognition of similarity.”16 Upamåna is, then, the source of our
knowledge about the relationship between the word and its denotation. If,
for example, we do not know what a wild cow (gavaya) is, and some experi-
enced and reliable forester tells us, “Gavaya is something similar to a cow,”
then, if we happen to see some gavaya when we go to the forest and remem-
ber the forester’s words, the cognition, “This is a gavaya,” occurs in us. In
this way the relationship between the word and its denotation is established.
The instrument, thanks to which this relationship between the word and its
denotation is established, is the similarity between the gavaya and the cow.
This is how comparison is explained in the school of Nyåya.
In Karma-mîmåµså it is understood in a different way. Cognition is pro-
duced from comparison when, while perceiving an object similar to some
object that we already know, we apprehend that the object we are already
familiar with is similar to the object we are becoming acquainted with.
Thus, if a man knows what a cow is and goes to the forest, he may see a
gavaya and apprehend its similarity to the cow. In this way he can find out
that the cow is similar to the gavaya.
5. The postulate (arthåpatti17)

“A postulate is the hypothesis of other circumstances as the cause, from
the observation of the (usual) circumstances not occurring. Like in the
sentence: The fat Devadatta does not eat during the day. Because Devadatta
does not eat during the day, his fatness cannot be (under such circum-
stances). Therefore this introduces his nocturnal eating (as the cause of
his fatness).”18 The postulate is, then, an assumption of a certain fact as
the cause of a state of affairs, without which this state could not have taken
place. As such, we use postulates in our daily life. Not finding in the trunk
of my car the bag filled with goods from the market that I left there (I went
back to the market to buy some more things, and I did not lock the trunk),
I conclude (and postulate) with annoyance—and, if I am a fragile nature, in
tears—that someone must have stolen it. If I look for my friend at his home
and I cannot find him, knowing that he is alive, I postulate that he must be
somewhere else; otherwise, we could not explain why he who is in fact alive
is not home.
The adherents of Karma-mîmåµså classify two types of postulate: d®ß†år
thåpatti—postulating a fact which is essential for explaining something
seen (Devadatta’s fatness or the absence of the bag in the trunk) and d®ß†år
thåpatti—postulating a fact which is essential for explaining something that
is heard. And for the second there are also countless examples. If my wife
shouts at me, “It is over!” I have to postulate the addition “with our mar-
riage” to her exclamation to make sense of it. When a word cannot make
sense in its literal meaning, we have to postulate a figurative meaning. For
example, in the sentence “Industry is the key to success,” we have to pos-
tulate that key is used in the sense of means; otherwise, the sentence will be
senseless. And when someone approaches me on the streets of Skopje, say-
ing, “Hey guys, can I ask you something?”19 I have to postulate a singular
number, though the literal meaning necessitates the plural; otherwise, the
pronouncement will lack any sense.
Arthåpatti, or postulate, is often compared with the disjunctive hypothetical
syllogism. The similarities between them are numerous, but insufficient to
suggest full equivalence. For the consequences are what are essential for the
hypothetical syllogism, while arthåpatti is a search for the ground or cause
for the state of affairs. (Arthåpatti is accepted as an independent means of
knowledge by followers of Karma-mîmåµså and Advaita-vedånta.20)
6. Non-perception (anupalabdhi)
“By the non-perception of a pot its nonexistence [or absence] is ascer-
tained. But non-perception is absence of perception. Thus, by the proof of
nonexistence we conclude to the nonexistence of the pot.”21 This method
of knowledge is also called nonexistence, absence (abhava), which is obvi-
ous from the quote. Nonexistence in this context does not mean absolute
nonexistence, but absence of the object of knowledge in conditions in
which it should be present. For example, if it is dark and I cannot see the
cup on the table (and I know that I have left it there), the fact that I cannot
perceive the cup does not give me the right to conclude that the cup is not
on the table.
Only appropriate non-perception (yogyånupalabdhi) is the source of our

cognition of nonexistence. The argument why non-perception should be
accepted as a separate means of knowledge is the fact that in anupalabdhi
there is no direct contact of the eye with the object of perception, which is exact-
ly the criterion upon which the cognition is qualified as sensual. Nor could
it be subsumed under inference, for in that case we would have to suppose
an invariant concomitance (vyåpti) of non-perception with nonexistence,
which is not the case. For, the universal affirmative proposition “Whatever
is not perceived does not exist” is invalid, and thus we cannot infer from it
to some particular affirmative conclusion. Non-perception is accepted as an
independent means of knowledge by the followers of the schools of Karma-
mîmåµså and Advaita-vedånta.
7. Inclusion (sambhava)
“Ten is included in one hundred. This assumption of the intellect is called
inclusion.”22 Inclusion is, then, cognition of a smaller quantity that must
be within a larger quantity. We could give countless examples: we know
that he who has a thousand dollars has to have one hundred; he who has
a car must have a steering wheel; he who has three children has to have
one; he who has a ton of coal has to have half a ton (at least until consump-
tion). Inclusion is accepted as an independent means of knowledge by the
Paurå∫ikas, the school of bråhma∫as fully conversant with the Purå∫as.
8. Tradition (aitihya)
“Tradition is notorious knowledge transmitted in an unbroken chain,
originating from an unknown speaker, like in the sentence: there is a ghost
living in this banyan tree.”23 Tradition is accepted as a separate means of
knowledge by the Paurå∫ikas.
9. Gesture (ceß†å)
“Some also accept gesture as a means of knowledge. Like, lifting (ten) fin-
gers may produce knowledge that there are ten pots, etc.”24 Two modern
examples: the index finger and the middle finger in the position of a V can
signify victory; a fist can be indicative of a threat.
10. The words of sages or exalted personalities (årΩa)

This method is fully correspondent with the Pythagorean ipse dixit.
Examination of the Pramå∫as

The materialistic philosophy of Cårvåka accepts only sense perception as a
valid method of knowledge. The VaiΩeßikas and the Buddhists, in addition
to sense perception, accept inference. Besides these two methods, Såõkhya,
Yoga, Jainism, and Vedånta (in the interpretations of Råmånuja and
Madhva) use the method of testimony. Nyåya accepts comparison, too. The
postulate is accepted by one branch of Karma-mîmåµså. Another branch
of Karma-mîmåµså and Advaita-vedånta also accept non-perception. Along
with these six, the Paurå∫ikas use tradition and inclusion.25
In Vedånta-syamantaka 1.4–9, Baladeva examines how many pramå∫as
can be accepted as independent. He starts with a critique of materialism,
because it accepts only sense perception. The Cårvåkas claim that men are
in ignorance, full of misgivings, liable to confusion, and thus have no right
to take a leap in the dark—from what is perceived (e.g., smoke) to what is
not (fire). By sense perception it is impossible to be cognizant of that which
is hidden, what is beyond the purview of the senses. And ignorance, misgiv-
ings, and mistakes are obstacles for drawing conclusions about what is con-
cealed. If someone burdened by these shortcomings speaks about things
that lie beyond perception and, consequently, is uncertain, a sensible per-
son will not accept his words.
But this discourse on ignorance, misgivings, and mixing things up is itself
a demonstration that the Cårvåka philosopher applied the method of infer-
ence; otherwise, which sense organ did he apply to apprehend that people
are in ignorance, full of misgivings, and erring? And how did he manage to
perceive these shortcomings when they are concealed within us, not within
the purview of our senses? So it does not matter how vigorously the Cårvåka
philosopher may defend this stance; he himself cancels it in practice. With
out adopting inference and the knowledge we receive from others, life will
become impossible. Baladeva mocks the rejection of inference in the fol-
lowing way: “Respected follower of Cårvåka, since you believe only in the
direct evidence of your senses, why do you cry so piteously seeing your dear
wife pregnant by her paramour?”26 You did not see it happen—so it did not
happen. Thus, willingly or unwillingly, even one sworn to believing one’s
eyes has to accept inference.
Apart from that, by entering into polemics with philosophical opponents,
the Cårvåka philosopher infers their standpoints on the basis of the words
they have said, and in this way he accepts their words. By his conduct he
demonstrates that he understood what they wanted to say. And his words
are also accepted because he does not indiscriminately speak of the others’
ignorance and so on, but only after having first ascertained their words.
Only thus will his words make sense to those who are prudent. In this way
he implicitly endorses testimony as a method of knowledge, i.e., knowledge
of the ignorance of others.
VaiΩeßikas accept inference as a valid method of knowledge, but do not
accept testimony. Rather, they subsume testimony under sense perception
and inference. This is ungrounded, because testimony is our source of
knowledge about what is difficult to obtain through sense perception and
inference. For example, our knowledge of the movements of the planets
and stars depends on testimony from others. Practically (perhaps even theo-
retically) it is impossible to determine the position of every plant and star
on the basis of our perception and inference. We learn from teachers the
laws of mathematics and astronomy used to calculate the planetary and stel-
lar positions; apart from that, instead of doing the calculus ourselves, we use
pre-calculated ephemerides. So testimony cannot be subsumed under per-
ception and inference, but is an independent process we may call adoption.
Comparison cannot be accepted as an independent method of knowl-
edge. Depending on its form, it is subsumed under perception, inference,
or testimony. The cognition occurring in us when we hear the sentence
“Gavaya is something like a cow” has the nature of received knowledge
(ågama), which is, no doubt, in the realm of testimony.
However, the cognition that the word “gavaya” signifies something similar
to a cow (i.e., the process of apprehending the relationship between the
name as a sign and the thing signified) is a product of inference. This is
how cognition takes place in comparison: “That word which is employed by
the elders in a certain sense (as a sign for a denotatum) is expressing exactly
that sense (it is using its primary significative force), unless the word has
some other force (some figurative meaning); like the word ‘cow’ is signify-
ing cowness. The word ‘gavaya’ is used as something similar to a cow. This
cognition is comparison indeed.”27 This quote from Vedånta-syamantaka is
very cryptic, and we have to unfold it.
According to traditional Sanskrit poetics, words have three significative
functions known as Ωabda-v®ttis, or forces of a word. The primary significative
force of a word is its literary or dictionary meaning. If it is a general name,
it stands for the generic nature of the class,28 but also for all the separate
members of that class. We learn this primary significance of the words from
our elders. The following is a classic example29 of how this goes on. A small
child still unable to talk hears the older brother tell the middle brother:
“Bring a cow.” Then he notices that the middle brother performs some
activity. And knowing from personal experience that every action presup-
poses some knowledge (for, even in order to play with something he knows
that he has to get that thing, and perhaps also to find it), he concludes that
the activity of the middle brother was induced by something that he learned
from the older brother. In short—a sentence produces knowledge, and
knowledge induces one to act.
But the child does not yet know what the specific words in the sentence
mean, and that learning is accomplished by the processes of åvåpa (change
to a fresh word in a sentence) and udvåpa (removal of an old word in a
sentence). The next time the older brother tells the middle brother: “Bring
a horse.” The youngest brother again notices that the middle brother is
induced to action, but he also notices: (1) in the pronounced sentence
something remains the same (“bring”), while something changes (instead of
“cow,” now it is “horse”); and (2) in the middle brother’s action something
remains the same (he brings something), while something changes (instead
of a cow, now it is a horse). So the child concludes that the word reoccur-
ring in the sentence refers to that which reoccurs in the action, namely the
act of bringing, and that which changes in the sentence refers to that which
changes in the action. Thus the word “cow” in the first sentence has to refer
to the cow which the middle brother brought, and the word “horse” in the
second sentence has to refer to the horse the middle brother brought.
The primary meanings of words are classified into two categories: (1)
rü∂hi—conventional30 usage, according to particularity, generic character,
or attribute—“He is ∂ittha.31 This is a cow. This is white.”32 and (2) yoga
—the meaning derived from some other word formed by the addition of
an affix—e.g., the word påcaka (chef) is formed from the root pac, which
has a sense of “cooking” and the agent suffix “ka.”
The second significative force of the word is lakßa∫a-v®tti, or the secondary
usage of the word, which implies something unexpressed. The classic exam-
ple is “a cowherds’ village in Gaõgå.”33 Because it is impossible for a village
to be in a river, that which is not stated has to be inferred: It is a cowherds’
village on the bank of the Ganges.
The third significative force of the word (gau∫a-v®tti) is the figurative
or metaphoric usage. Thus when we hear that “Devadatta is a lion,”34
Devadatta is referred to as such, not because he is a lion but because he has
some qualities similar to a lion’s (strength, courage and so on).
In comparison we are supposed to be learning the primary force of words.

So bearing this in mind and looking at the quotation from Vedånta-syaman-
taka, we could outline the process of comparison in which we learn the pri-
mary meaning of words as one inference:
- assertion: the word gavaya refers to something similar to a cow;

- reason: because the elders use it in that sense;
- general rule with an instance: words used by the elders in a par-
ticular sense signify that primary sense, unless there is some figura-
tive sense (such as “cow” signifying “cowness”);
- application: this is a case in which the elders use the word gavaya
to signify something similar to a cow;
- conclusion: the word gavaya is used to signify something similar to
a cow.
Thus we have the comparison, in which the relationship between the name
and the object named is actually a process of inference.
However, the cognition of similarity with the cow produced by the direct
contact of the senses with a gavaya is sensory knowledge. Thus comparison
in any case cannot be considered an independent means of knowledge.
And as for the postulate, it is also in the scope of inference, of the purely
negative type. The whole syllogism can be presented in an outline:
- assertion: Devadatta eats at night;

- reason: because he is fat, and he does not eat during the day;
- general rule with an instance: he who eats at night cannot be fat
if not eating during the day, just as he who eats neither during the
night nor during the day is not fat;
- application: he is not like that (that is, he is fat);
- conclusion: therefore he eats at night.
Non-perception cannot be accepted as an independent method of knowl-

edge, either, because the nonexistence of the object is actually perceived.
In non-perception there is a direct contact of the eye with the space qualified by the
attribute of nonexistence of the object.
Inclusion is also traditionally subsumed under inference, because “one
hundred” means not being bereft of ten; this is a sufficient condition for
inferring that ten and other quantities are included in one hundred.
Tradition as such is not at all a method of valid knowledge, for the credi-
bility of the originator of the belief transmitted in the tradition is uncertain.
If it is established that the originator is a trustworthy person, then tradition
is in the scope of received knowledge (ågama) or testimony. The same
holds true for the authority of the sage (årßa). If he is trustworthy, his words
are accepted as testimony; otherwise, he cannot be a source of accurate
knowledge.
Gesture is testimony using the services of inference.
Thus, after examining all the methods of knowledge, we come to the con-
clusion that three of them are independent: sense perception, inference,
and testimony. The other seven are within the scope of the other three and
thus are dependent. Baladeva substantiates this with a quotation from the
Manu-saµhitå.35
Critique of Sense Perception and Inference

In the next two paragraphs of Vedånta-syamantaka, Baladeva examines
whether sense perception and inference offer the certainty we need in
philosophy. As for sense perception, it is able to reach only what is in the
immediate proximity of certainty and yet at an appropriate distance. It can-
not grasp what is very far off, like a bird flying, or what is too close, like the
eyelids. Perception also depends on our mentality. When we are disturbed,
excited, or immersed in thoughts, we might not notice what we would oth-
erwise certainly notice. “My mind was not present; I did not see it.”36 Thales
did not fall in the ditch by accident.
Sense perception cannot grasp that which is covered, still unmanifested,
mixed, or minute. Thus we cannot perceive the planets and the stars cov-
ered by the sunshine. We cannot taste yogurt that is there in the milk as
potency, because it is not manifest. We cannot see the drops of rain mixed
with a reservoir of water, and although atoms exist, we cannot see them
because they are too small. As Bhaktivedånta Swami Prabhupåda concludes,
“Under these circumstances, whatever we are experiencing at the pres-
ent moment is totally conditional and is therefore subject to mistakes and
incompleteness. These mistaken impressions can never be rectified by the
‘mistaker’ himself or by another, similar person apt to commit similar mis-
takes.”37
As for inference, we should remember that inference is anumåna—
knowledge following upon some other knowledge. Therefore its certainty,
provided the process of inferring is conducted in a valid way, will depend
on the certainty of knowledge from which the conclusion is drawn.38 We

can easily realize that errors in perception will cause errors in inference.
Perception is uncertain even when all the necessary conditions for certainty
exist. Sometimes it creates illusory impressions. We can remind ourselves
of a good magician who demonstrates how to saw a girl in half, though
we know that this cannot be the case. And if he is exceptional, like David
Copperfield, the impressions will be that much stronger: Everything is fine
with us; we are alert and following his every movement; what he is trying
to do is impossible—but lo!—the Statue of Liberty is gone.39 The instance
cited by Jîva and Baladeva is a classic example in Indian philosophical texts:
Seeing the illusory severed head of someone we know, we conclude that
it belongs to Devadatta or Yajñadatta,40 but it is not so. In such circum-
stances the certainty whether sense perception is valid can only come from
someone who knows the reality—for instance, Copperfield himself. In its
absence, the probability of errors in the inference is inevitable.
Also, when we conclude from something perceived to something unper-
ceived on the ground of the invariant concomitance of the unknown with
the known (like the concomitance of fire with smoke), we can make an
error because we lack certainty of the existence of the cause (hetu) in the
predicate of the conclusion (sådhya). Baladeva gives the following example:
“The fire has been extinguished by rain, but there is still smoke rising above
the hill, and it continues for some time. [Not knowing this,] one concludes
that there is fire on the hill because of smoke.”41
There is a reason why people as subjects of knowledge cannot pretend
to certainty from perception and inference. We are burdened by four in
nate shortcomings, known in Sanskrit as bhrama, pramåda, vipralipså, and
kara∫åpa†ava. Bhrama means erring because of misidentifying something for
something else. The classic example pervading all Indian philosophy is see-
ing a man in a post because the conditions of perception are inappropriate.
Another classic example is seeing a snake in a rope. Mistakes in cognition
also condition our practical activities. Swami Prabhupåda often gave the
example of Mahatma Gandhi; though warned that he might be assassinated
at a meeting, he still decided to go there, and it happened.
Pramåda means inattention or intentness on something else, because of
which, that which is within the sensual grasp goes unperceived. We have
already hinted at this in the critique of perception. Here we can offer the
example Baladeva gives in his commentary on Tattva-sandarbha: “Because of
this (pramåda), we don’t listen to the song, although it is sung in our prox-
imity.”42 This intentness on something else manifests also on the ontologi-

cal plain: Being absorbed in the body, we fail to notice our real nature as
spirit. That is why pramåda is often referred to as illusion.
Vipralipså refers to the omnipresent tendency of cheating. The classic
example given by Swami Prabhupåda is that of the salesman who claims
that he will make no profit from us, though we know that this cannot be
true. Baladeva’s example is: “Because of this, the truth is not revealed to the
disciple, although it is known (to the teacher).”43
The fourth innate shortcoming is kara∫åpa†ava—imperfection or weak-
ness of the senses. We need not elaborate on this; it is a notorious fact. Ba
ladeva’s descriptive example is: “Because of this, although the mind is fixed,
one does not become cognizant of the object as it is.” In other words, one is
composed, his attention is well-directed, but still he cannot become cogni-
zant of the object because it is simply not within the range of perception.
In terms of the methods of knowledge, bhrama, pramåda, and kara∫åpa†ava
are peculiar to perception and inference, while vipralipså is an error of testi-
mony (however, this error, unlike the other three, is not fatal).
The Nature of Testimony

If perception and inference cannot provide certainty even in daily life, they
are all the more incompetent for establishing a contact with a reality of an
extramundane and inconceivable nature, namely God. So what is left for us
to examine is the character of testimony.
Baladeva claims that testimony as the word of a trustworthy person does
not cause fallacious cognition. If, for example, someone who deserves
unconditional confidence (because of being experienced and having
spotless character) tells us: “There are precious stones in this mine”, this
will produce a correct apprehension in us, though we do not have direct
experience. Not only that, testimony is the primary manner by which we
learn about the world, from the percepts of our elders, at school and the
university, and today from the mass media and so on. Baladeva44 lists a few
characteristics of testimony in the process of cognition of mundane objects
and gives illustrations for them one by one.
1. Testimony is a process of knowledge independent of perception and
inference. The proof of this is that there are facts which we do not form
a cognition of by perception and inference, although we have employed
these processes. Baladeva gives a simple example (perhaps too simple, but
nevertheless illustrative): Ten men cross a river. They want to be certain that
all of them arrived safe. One among them counted the others from one to
nine, but forgot to count himself. Everyone else did the same, but the result
did not change. Thus they began to lament, having lost the tenth man.
Some wise man passed by there, and finding out the cause of their grief, he
placed them in a row. Then he counted them from one to nine and to their
joy declared to the tenth, “You are the tenth!”
2. Testimony annuls (corrects) perception and inference. Baladeva’s
example refers to the power of mantras used by an expert physician while
treating the patient. One of these mantras is sarpa-daß†e tvayi vißaµ nåsti:
“Although you were bitten by a snake, there is no poison in you.”45
3. Testimony is not contradictory to perception and inference. For exam-
ple, “One drug alone removes the disorder of the three bodily humors;”
one could know this from an Ayurvedic text or doctor—in Ωåstras one does
not find logically impossible statements—and perhaps experience the
result by taking the drug.46
4. Testimony can use the services of perception and inference as an illus-
tration or a corrective. An example of the first: testimony claims that heat is
the remedy against cold, and this is confirmed by perception. An example
of the second: We hear that iron can cut anything earthly (pårthiva), and
on this basis we conclude that iron can cut diamonds; however, sense per-
ception shows that this is not the case. Although earthly, diamonds cut iron.
This corrects the testimony, and we conclude that iron can cut anything
earthly except diamonds.
5. Testimony can also be of service to perception and inference. For
example, travelers troubled by cold spot smoke rising from a nearby hill
and conclude that there is fire there. They start off in that direction to get
warm. On their way they meet a man who tells them: “There is no fire on
the hill; it was recently extinguished. However, on the next hill you will cer-
tainly find fire.”
6. Testimony is the best way to learn about things beyond the reach of
perception and inference, such as the position of the planets in the zodiac,
the times of solar eclipses, and so on.
All this may sound interesting, but the unavoidable question is: Is there
really a source deserving unconditional trust? What about the human ten-
dency of cheating, hanging above testimony like a guillotine? For—apart
from learning about the world, which cannot be done without confidence
in teachers, but which is irrelevant for existential questions—the doctrines
of the sages about that which is beyond the world are variegated. As we
learn from the Mahåbhårata, one cannot establish oneself as a sage or
philosopher unless one stands in opposition to other philosophers. This
being the case, who is the one deserving our confidence? Gautama, Ka∫åda,
Kapila, Patañjali, Yåjñavalkya, or Ûå∫∂ilya? Buddha or Ûaõkara? Plato,
Aristotle, or Aquinas? Descartes, Kant, or Hegel? Husserl, Bergson, Scheler,
or Heiddeger? Or Newton, Einstein, or Planck? Who is an åpta-purußa, a
trustworthy person? Well, in the ultimate analysis, no one. If something
comes from a man, it has to be burdened by his shortcomings and cannot
plead for certainty. For testimony to be absolutely certain and trustworthy, it
has to come from God himself. And thus we come to the point at which our
treatment of the problem has to turn 180 degrees. Seemingly we will make
an unwarranted leap, but eventually everything will fall into place.
The Subject of Knowledge

If we say that the true nature of a person is spirit, this will sound like a
mere repetition of something old; no one will laud us for an epoch-making
novel idea. For this is exactly what Plato, Descartes, Berkeley, and Scheler
have claimed, to name just a few. This is what Gau∂îya Vedånta also claims.
However, there is an epoch-making novelty in what Gau∂îya Vedånta means
by saying man is spirit.47 And it is this: that my nature as spirit manifests in
the fact that I never come in touch with matter.
As spirit I am qualified by consciousness. But apart from being spirit, I
have impressions of the world, which is not spirit. Bearing in mind that
cognition can represent only that which is similar, how is it possible that
something different from my nature reflects in me? This question is one
over which philosophers in the West often disputed. Berkeley, for example,
claimed that my knowledge of the world is possible because both the world
and I share the same nature; the world is an idea appropriate for spirit
and without a material carrier, for if it had such a carrier, I could not have
formed a cognition of it, because the only things that spirit is capable of
knowing are ideas. Marx and his followers would also equate the nature of
thinking and being, but at the opposite end, by saying they are both matter,
and thus their connection is unproblematic. Descartes postulated two sub-
stances harmonized in a parallelism made possible by God.
The solution to this problem offered by Gau∂îya Vedånta is different
from these three. It is true that I am spirit, but in my present condition this
spirit is in a potential state, is seedlike, and its role is to give life to what by
nature is dead—the body. My self-conception, the way I experience myself
in such circumstances, could be called an empirical, impure self—impure
because I identify myself with something I am not. Namely, although I am
pure spirit, I consider myself to be matter, or the body I use.

As an empirical self, my microcosm is composed of a few elements.
We already have mentioned the first element, what in Sanskrit is called
ahaõkåra, the principle of identification by which I identify myself with
matter though I am spirit. Swami Prabhupåda calls it the “false ego.” The
second element, or layer of my microcosm, is the mind (manas), but not
mind in a Kantian sense. The manas is the focal point of my conation, the
aspect of mental processes or behavior directed toward action or change
and including impulse, desire, volition, and striving. The third element or
layer is the intelligence (buddhi) or understanding. Together these three
make up citta—empirical, impure consciousness.
Now, for cognition of what is around me, I need senses, five in all: hear-
ing, sight, touch, smell, and taste. That which is “around” me refers to
the sense objects: sound, form, tactile impressions, aroma, and flavor. For
action I also need senses, five in all: arms, legs, voice, anus, and genitals. If
we consider the empirical consciousness as representing the false ego, the
mind, and the intelligence and count them as one, then these sixteen form
my subtle body.48
Apart from this subtle form, I also have a gross body that acts as the bear-
er of the subtle one. It is composed of earth, water, fire, air, and ether, and
their modifications, in the form of the sensory and active organs.
All of this is matter: fine, subtle matter on the one hand and gross, cor-
poreal matter on the other. This is precisely why it is possible to establish
the connection between the world as the object of knowledge and myself as
the subject of knowledge. What I may ordinarily consider spirit (the subtle
body) is actually matter with a semblance of spirit, being energized by spirit.
The subtle body is similar to both matter and spirit and is their mediate
link. Thus I, being spirit, am the subject of knowledge—something that
matter could never be. Matter cannot be the subject of cognition because
it is dead. I am the subject of cognition, yet I do not come in direct contact
with matter. As “myself” I am only a seedlike potency; my real nature is
unmanifest, but capable of manifestation. I am the subject of knowledge
through the complex of the subtle, material body, which makes my medi-
ate contact with matter the object of knowledge. So I am the subject of
knowledge “not as myself”—eternal pure soul—but as the conditioned soul
covered by the gross and subtle bodies.
We will go through this same analysis the other way around. There is a
world around me consisting of five elements: earth, water, fire, air, and
ether. These elements come in contact with me, as the subject of knowl-
edge, through the sense organs. This contact generates perception. The
five objects of knowledge are rudimentary or subtle elements, representa-
tive of the gross elements. The vibrations transmitted through ether cause
cognition of sound. Fire or light causes cognition of form, air of touch,
water of taste, and earth of smell. And thus Berkeley was right—there is no
sound, form, touch, taste, and smell outside of me. However, this does not
mean that there is nothing that is not an idea.
These sense objects are processed by the mind. The mind is attracted by
some of them and repulsed by the others—acceptance and rejection is its
faculty.49 While doing this, it can use the services of the intelligence. The
role of intelligence is to illuminate the nature of the objects deemed attrac-
tive or repulsive by the mind. Intelligence has five states, conditions, or
modifications (v®ttis): doubt (saµΩaya), misapprehension (viparyåsa), cor-
rect apprehension (niΩcaya), memory (sm®ti), and sleep (svåpa).50
Philosophy is in the domain of intelligence because the origin of philoso-
phy is in doubt. The essential property of philosophy is doubt; doubt gives
rise to the impetus for philosophical speculation. To deal with philosophical
questions, Aristotle said, one needs free time, schole, or the leisure gained by
being a free man (not a slave) and by not having to work for one’s mainte-
nance. Leisure is a required accidental, but leisure is no guarantee that one
will engage in philosophy. Moreover, philosophizing can end in either mis-
apprehension or correct apprehension. But we will say more on this later.
My state of pure spirit in such circumstances is in a state akin to suspen-
sion. Perhaps it is most appropriate to compare it to a dream. While dream-
ing, I preserve the concept of my identity and remain a knower of cogni-
tion, but that identity can take new and different variants, some of which I
could not even imagine while awake. Although apprehensive in reality, in
my dream I could be the main hero in some battle. My son could all of a
sudden appear as my grandfather, and my grandfather could turn out to
be my lover. There is no need to enumerate examples—that could go on
ad infinitum. What is crucial here is that the dream is my illusory state, albeit
a real one, and so is my condition of identifying with the body. It is illusory,
but real. I remain the subject of knowledge, but I consider myself some-
thing I am not. Situated within the heart of this body, which is compared to
a tree by the Upanißads,51 I, like a bird tasting the fruits of the tree, halluci-
nate, dreaming the dream of material existence.
God as the Source of Certain Knowledge

Next to me, in the same heart, on the same tree, is another person, another
“bird.” Unlike me, who is hallucinating—enjoying and suffering the dream
life—that person is fully awake, observing my condition while I am both
awake and asleep.52 The Upanißads call him the Paramåtmå, Supersoul,
or God. Although capable of breaking my dream life by force and putting
an end to my sorrow, God does not want to interfere with my freedom. In
regular circumstances his role is to take care of the execution of the law of
karma. I myself cannot break my dream, but to induce him to do that for
me, I have to become disgusted with dreaming and have to want to awaken
without reservation or second thoughts.
The fact that God does not interfere with my dream does not mean he is
uninterested in me. In many ways, but without using force, he tries to point
out the inappropriateness of my misidentification with something I am not.
One of these ways is that from him, within my heart, constantly emanates
true knowledge. “Krishna, or God, is situated in everyone’s heart. As you
become purified, He speaks. He speaks always, but in our impure condi-
tion, we cannot hear.”53 Apart from that, using pure souls as media, he
reveals the knowledge of himself in the form of holy scriptures. In Sanskrit
these scriptures are known as Vedas. Veda actually means “knowledge,” and
knowledge cannot be an exclusive possession of a single culture. In this
sense Swami Prabhupåda said on numerous occasions that even scriptures
that are nominally not Vedic, i.e., the Bible and the Koran, can be accepted
as “Vedic” revelations.
The idea is this: the Vedas as sound (Ωabda) transmit knowledge of God,
and in that sense they are not human creations. Even more, Ûrîmad-Bhåga
vatam says that the Vedas are God himself, his own emanation, fully identi-
cal with him.54 For the benefit of the souls misidentifying with matter, he
appears either personally (as Vyåsadeva, the literary incarnation of God, to
edit the previously aural scriptural testimony of himself and preserve it in
writing)55 or through “pure souls” active in various cultural environments.
The differences in cultural environments and the volume of the knowledge
revealed through specific pure souls make for much of the differences
between scriptures. These are seeming differences, because the essence of
scripture is to teach us to love God.
Swami Prabhupåda often sounded this theme: “People should not be
kept in darkness; they should be brought into the light. Therefore in every
human society there is a religious institution of some sort. What is the pur-
pose of Hinduism, Mohammedanism, Christianity, or Buddhism? The pur-

pose is to bring people to the light. That is the purpose of religion.”56
“So the purpose of religion is to train people how to love God. That is the
purpose of all religion. Whether your religion is Christianity or Hinduism
or Mohammedanism, the purpose of your religion is to train you how to
love God, because that is your constitutional position.”57
“It does not matter whether you are a Christian or a Hindu or a
Mohammedan. Just try to develop your love of God. Then your religion is
very nice; otherwise, it is simply a waste of time.”58
“I do not say that Christians should become Hindu. I simply say, ‘Please
obey your commandments.’ I will make you a better Christian. That is my
mission. I do not say, ‘God is not in your tradition; God is only here in
ours.’ I simply say, ‘Obey God.’ I don’t say, ‘You have to accept that God’s
name is Krishna and no other.’ No. I say, ‘Please obey God. Please try to
love God.’”59
The pure self has self-evident knowledge (svata˙-siddha-jñåna). This knowl-
edge requires no evidence. It is Veda. In the empirically cognizable world of
matter this Veda manifests as the four Vedas, the Upanißads, Bhagavad-gîtå,
and in other traditions and cultures as the Bible, Koran, and so on.60
Five Stages of Spiritual Knowledge

Although the Vedic sound is objective and self-evident, it is still sudurbod-
ham,61 very difficult to understand by someone conditioned by matter. We
are deaf and blind, for the knowledge that emanates from the Lord is right
at hand—yet we see it not. The Vedic sound is difficult to comprehend
because the heart (along with the spiritual sense of hearing) is covered by
the false ego. Therefore, there is a need for this sound to become intelligi-
ble to our empirical senses. “Since one cannot visually experience the pres-
ence of the Supersoul, He appears before us as a liberated devotee. Such a
spiritual master is none other than Krishna Himself.”62
God as the Supersoul appears before our visual and auditory perception as
a liberated devotee, a spiritual master, to give us knowledge about himself.
This transmission of spiritual knowledge sometimes goes on in an unbro-
ken chain of teachers (guru-paramparå).63 For the teacher’s testimony to be
åpta-våkya (testimony from a trustworthy source), he has to be qualified by
two conditions:64 namely, he has to be fixed in the Vedas (Ωabda) and in the
Supreme (para). Jîva Gosvåmî’s commentary is illustrative: “Learned in the
Vedas, because of being dedicated to deliberation; fixed on the Supreme,
in his manifestations as Bhagavån and so on, thanks to direct experience

(vision).”65
According to the testimony of Bhaktivedånta Swami Prabhupåda,66 the
Vedic process of knowledge has five stages:67
1) pratyakßa – direct sense perception;

2) parokßa – knowledge received from others;
3) aparokßa – realization;
4) adhokßaja – experienced knowledge gained from the realm that
is unapproachable by the senses;
5) apråk®ta – the highest spiritual knowledge.
The first three stages are common to both empirical and spiritual knowl-
edge and are relative to the three independent methods of knowledge
(sense perception, inference, and testimony). One learns through one’s
senses, or he makes inferences, and he learns from others what is not
directly available. And this is also the case in spiritual knowledge. Because
one cannot see God in one’s own heart and cannot hear or properly under-
stand his words, the knowledge of God incarnates before his visual and
auditory perception (the verse quoted above says såkßåt—direct experience)
in the form of a self-realized guru. Thanks to the direct contact with such
a self-realized teacher, the disciple eventually can testify as to how spiritual
knowledge is practiced.
Then comes the stage of parokßa. If pratyakßa was “before the eyes” or “with
one’s own eyes,” parokßa means “with someone else’s eyes.” Now the disciple
hears about what is not within the range of the senses and literally sees
through someone else’s eyes. A lucid example: “. . . at midnight we might
call a friend living thousands of miles to the west of us and ask if he sees the
sun. Hearing his report, ‘Yes, it is a sunny day here,’ we see the sun through
parokßa vision.”68
After this comes the stage of aparokßa: “not with someone else’s eyes,” i.e.,
“with one’s own eyes.” This does not refer to direct sense perception, but to
realization of what has been heard. On the basis of the training undergone,
a disciple is now capable of understanding the scriptures himself. Or he
understands the Vedic sound (Ωabda) by using methods of reasoning and
inference.
And in this stage we can position the role of philosophy.69 If it is based
on revelation, it serves as a means of realizing revealed truths and ends in
correct apprehension (recall the five conditions of intelligence: doubt, mis-

apprehension, correct apprehension, memory, and sleep). On this level of
knowledge, sense perception also changes. Now it is not just ordinary and
simple sense perception; it becomes learned, educated sense perception,
molded by the word (Ωabda). Thanks to what he has learned from testimo
ny, the disciple can now see reality as it really is—as God sees it. What he
now sees are not objects with independent or mysterious existence, objects
of contemplation or enjoyment, but rather transformations of God’s ener-
gies. He observes the world through the lenses of what he has learned, as
we do in any life condition. This sense perception, based on revelation, is
free from the four defects of conditioned human life (imperfect senses,
mistakes, illusion, and cheating).70
Even if it is unguided by revelation, inference on that which is beyond
ordinary perception can see glimpses of light. For example, while dream-
ing I am in all kinds of conditions and circumstances. Sometimes I am
happy. Sometimes I am scared, perhaps because I am being chased by a
tiger. Nevertheless, what is constant in dreams is the fact that I remain the
same, though constantly changing bodies. A dream ends, and the dream
experiences and adventures also come to an end. In some sense I die, but
I am reborn in the next dream, and everything starts anew. Although while
awake I am aware that the wakeful state has a higher reality, higher than the
dream life, what is the guarantee that this life is not also just one dream in
a chain of dreams I have, while my higher, spiritual nature is asleep? In any
case, philosophical reasoning should shake my conviction that I am matter
and that death has to be the end of everything.
Nice examples of such philosophical reasoning are found in Plato’s Phaedo
and in Descartes’s inference of res cogitans. But if this philosophizing is not
joined with revelation, it cannot provide a transition to the next stage of
knowledge, adhokßaja. Thanks to spiritual practice, a disciple is able to rise
from the stage of intellectual realization of truth to the level of personal
insight. This insight is a personal experience, but not through the material
senses. Now the adept can see reality as it is, thanks to spiritual vision or
the vision of the heart (remember that God is in the heart). To express the
whole idea: he is now emerged in direct contemplation of God.
The fifth stage, apråk®ta, refers to the full development of our spiritual
nature and to the transition from passive awe and reverence and contem-
plation characteristic of the previous stage to our mutual relationship with
God.
Conclusion
Singling out the most significant elements of Gau∂îya epistemology—testi-
mony, the subject of knowledge, and God-realization—let us consider their
possible contribution to epistemology in general.
First, it seems to me that Western philosophy has not paid due analytical
attention to testimony as a method of knowledge—attention which is doubt-
less merited. In our own philosophical conceptions, testimonial knowledge
is either taken for granted or ridiculed. The first approach is unphilosophi-
cal – a theory of knowledge should examine the means by which we acquire
knowledge. We implicitly use testimony as a method of knowledge from our
very birth, but testimonial knowledge is not in vogue with philosophers.
Ridicule, the second approach to testimonial knowledge, is just as uncriti-
cal as the first. We do not have to quote from methodology textbooks,
which say that accepting the method of authority is unscientific—their
authority has already convinced us that authority has no place in scientific
knowledge. However, Thomas Kuhn’s “Structure of Scientific Revolutions”
clearly shows how much scientific knowledge—or any knowledge, for that
matter—depends on authority, testimony, or a paradigm.
Second, I find that the understanding of the subject of knowledge in the
Gau∂îya Vedånta is an original one and deserves serious attention as a pro-
spective solution to the subject-object relation. Indeed, I consider it to be
the most important contribution of this school to general epistemology.
Third, as far as the process of knowledge of God is concerned, I think that
the details revealed in the Gau∂îya Vedånta tradition could also be signifi-
cant for other religious traditions. For if God is one, then the paths leading
to him cannot be all too different in the various traditions. Thus a ray of
light from one tradition could shine in the other traditions, too.
Endnotes
1. The authorship of Vedånta-syamantaka is a matter of dispute. The work
may have been written by Baladeva’s guru, Rådhådåmodara Dåsa. We will
treat it provisionally as Baladeva’s work. In one sense the authorship is
irrelevant, since what is presented in Sarva-saµvådinî (Jîva Gosvåmî’s own
commentary on Tattva-sandarbha), in Baladeva’s commentary on the Tattva-
sandarbha, and in Vedånta-syamantaka is pretty much one and the same. For
practical purposes I have chosen to follow Vedånta-syamantaka.
2. Jånåmîty-anuvyavasåya-gamyaµ jñånam eva lakßa∫am iti bhåva˙. (Tarka-
saµgraha-dîpika 3.16, translation by Swami Virupakshananda.)
3. Tad-vati tat-prakårako ’nubhavo yathårtha˙. Yathå rajate idaµ rajatam iti

jñånam. Saiva pramety ucyate. (Tarka-saµgraha 3.19, translation by Swami
Virupakshananda)
4. Tad-abhåvavati tat-prakårako ’nubhavo ’yathårtha˙. Yathå Ωuktåv idaµ raja-
tam iti jñånam. Saiva apramå ity ucyate. (op. cit., 3.20).
5. A good illustration for this is the question posed by Sanåtana Gosvåmî
to Ûrî Caitanya Mahåprabhu:
‘ke åmi’, ‘kene åmåya jåre tåpa-traya’

ihå nåhi jåni—‘kemane hita haya’
“Who am I? Why do the threefold miseries always give me trouble? If I do

not know this, how can I be benefited?” (Ûrî Caitanya-caritåm®ta, Madhya-lîlå
20.102) In this connection, Bhaktivedånta Swami Prabhupåda would fre-
quently say that these are the questions that make one human—they are our
differentia specifica—not simply asking any questions, including those about a
priori and a posteriori knowledge or the laws of physics and mathematics.
6. The etymology of the word is prati-akßa˙: before, or in front of, the eye.
7. Artha-sannik®ß†am indriyaµ pratyakßam. Gha†am ahaµ cakßußå paΩyåmîty
ådau. (Vedånta-syamantaka 1.3)
8. Cp. Chatterjee and Dhirendramohan Datta, An Introduction to Indian Phi
losophy, University of Calcutta, 1984, pp. 174-5.
9. op. cit., p. 179.
10. Pratyakßaµ tåvan mano-buddhîndriya-pañcaka-janyatayå ßa∂-vidhaµ bhavet.
(Sarva-saµvådinî, 9).
11. The etymology of the word is: after (anu) knowledge (måna)—knowl-
edge following some other knowledge.
12. Anumiti-kara∫am anumånam. Girir vahnimån dhümåd ity ådau. Agny-ådi-
jñånam anumiti˙. Tat-kara∫aµ dhümådi-jñånam. (Vedånta-syamantaka 1.3)
13. Devadatta is the Indian Socrates, a character referred to as a represen-
tative of the human race in propositions (Socrates is mortal, because he is a
man…) Literally Devadatta means God-given.
14. Cp. Satischandra Chatterjee and Dhirendramohan Datta, An Introduc
tion to Indian Philosophy, University of Calcutta, 1984, pp. 191-3.
15. Åpta-våkyaµ Ωabda˙, yathå nadî-tîre pañca-v®kßå˙ santi. Yathå cågniß†omena
svarga-kåmo yajetety ådi. (Vedånta-syamantaka 1.3)
16. Upamiti-kara∫am upamånam. Go-sad®Ωo gavaya ity ådau. Saµjñå-saµjñî-
sambandha-jñånam upamiti˙. Tat-kara∫aµ såd®Ωya-jñånam. (ibid.)
17. The etymology of the word is artha-åpatti—supposition of a fact. Our

translation of artåpatti as postulate is in a Kantian sense: for the possibil-
ity of some state of affairs, it is necessary to postulate some conditio sine qua
non that is effecting this state of affairs and which cannot be deduced from
premises. And we will remember that Kant postulated God’s existence not
as something deduced from ethical premises but as the unique principle
with which it is possible to explain the ethical premises of moral life.
18. Anupapadyamånårtha-darΩanenopapådakårthåntara-kalpanam arthåpat-
ti˙. Pîno devadatto divå na bhuõkte ity ådau. Iha divåbhuñjånasya pînatvam
anupapannaµ tat tasya naktaµ bhojitvaµ gamayati. (Vedånta-syamantaka 1.3)
19. This is an example from a cultural context. Similar (drastic) examples
from the American context would be addressing someone as vanilla face or
midnight.
20. For arthåpatti, compare Satischandra Chatterjee and Dhirendramohan
Datta, An Introduction to Indian Philosophy, University of Calcutta, 1984, pp.
325-327, and G. Prathapa Simha, Arthåpatti: A Critical and Comparative Study
of the Views of Pürva Mîmåµså, Advaita Vedånta and Nyåya-VaiΩeßika Systems, Sri
Venkatesvara University, Tirupatti, 1991.
21. Gha†ådy-anupalabdhyå gha†ådy-abhåvo niΩcito ’nupalabdhis tüpalabdher
abhåva ity abhåvena pramå∫ena gha†ådy-abhåvo g®hyate. (Vedånta-syamantaka
1.3).
22. Ûate daΩakaµ sambhavatîti buddhau sambhåvanaµ sambhava˙. (Ibid.)
23. Ajñåta-vakt®katågata-påramparya-prasiddham aitihyam, yatheha ba†e yakßo
nivasatîty ådau. (Ibid.)
24. Aõguly-uttolanato gha†a-daΩakådi-jñånakarî ceß†åpi kaiΩcana månam ißyate.
(Ibid.)
25. Compare Vedånta-syamantaka 1.2 and G. Prathapa Simha, Arthåpatti: A
Critical and Comparative Study of the Views of Pürva Mîmåµså, Advaita Vedånta
and Nyåya-VaiΩeßika Systems, Sri Venkatesvara University, Tirupatti, 1991, pp.
28-9.
26. Cårvåka tava cårv-aõgî jårato vîkßya garbhi∫îm
pratyakßa-måtra-viΩvåso ghana-Ωvåsaµ kim ujjhasi (Vedånta-syamantaka 1.5)
27. Ya˙ Ωabdo v®ddhair yatrårthe prayujyate so ’sati v®tty-antare tasyåbhidhåyî.
Yathå go-Ωabdo gotvasya. Prayujyate ca go-sad®Ωe gavaya-Ωabda iti tasyaiva so ’bhid-
håyîti jñånam upamånam eva. (op.cit. 1.7)
28. In Sanskrit it is called jåti, and it means genus or species, depending
upon whether its members are individuals or classes.
29. Compare Note 107, pp. 185-7, in Swami Virupakshananda, Tarka
Saµgraha, With the Dîpika of A∫∫ambha††a and Notes, Sri Ramakrishna Math,
Madras, 1994.
30. But it is a conditional conventionality, because, both in Nyåya and
in Gau∂îya Vedånta, words receive their significative force by the mercy of
God. In Gau∂îya Vedånta, all meaningful words are primarily names of God,
and in a secondary sense they are names of the object which they signify by
“convention.”
31. A wooden elephant; the name is used as an instance of a personal
name.
32. Ûrîdhara Svåmî on Bhågavata Purå∫a, 10.87.1.
33. Gaõgåyåµ ghoßa˙.
34. Siµho devadatta.
35. pratyakßaµ cånumånaµ ca Ωåstraµ ca vividhågamam
trayaµ suviditaµ kåryaµ dharma-Ωuddhim abhîpsatå
“Sense perception, inference and the various kinds of revealed scriptures

—these three are to be well understood by him who is desirous of true
knowledge about dharma.” (Manu-saµhita 12.105, cited in Vedånta-syaman-
taka 1.9)
36. Yad uktaµ me mano’nyatra-gataµ mayå na d®ß†am ity ådi. (op. cit. 1.10)
37. A. C. Bhaktivedånta Swami Prabhupåda, Message of Godhead, p. 8,
Bhaktivedanta Book Trust, Los Angeles, 1990.
38. Isn’t this exactly the reason why logicians want to ignore the content
and to deal exclusively with the formal laws of inference?
39. You can watch it on: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9S6tJpUxvOU
40. Yajñadatta is of the same nature as Devadatta—a character used as
representative of mankind in philosophy texts. Devadatta is used by Jîva and
Yajñadatta by Baladeva.
41. V®ß†yå tat-kåle nirvåpita-vahnau ciram adhikoditvara-dhüme parvate vahn-
imån dhümåd ity ådau. (Vedånta-syamantaka 1.11)
42. Yenåntike gîyamånaµ gånaµ na g®hyate. (Commentary to Tattva-san-
darbha 9)
43. Yayå Ωißye svajñåto ’py artho na prakåΩyate (Ibid.)
44. They actually originate with Jîva Gosvåmî, in his Sarva-saµvådinî, but
here we are following Baladeva for practical reasons.
45. Indian culture traditionally ascribes inconceivable power (acintya-Ωakti)
to some precious stones and mantras, and this is often used as an example
in philosophical works. One classical instance is Ûrîdhara Svåmî’s commen-

tary on Viß∫u Purå∫a, 1.3.2. This may sound strange to us, but let us remem-
ber the healing power of suggestion and hypnoses.
46. According to ancient Indian medicine, diseases are caused by an
imbalance or disorder of the three bodily fluids: kapha (phlegm), pitta
(bile), and våta (air).
47. This is not an exclusive possession of Gau∂îya Vedånta; it is a funda-
mental assumption in many schools of Indian philosophy. However, I can-
not recall a singe thinker in the West who shares this conception. Perhaps
the phenomenology of Husserl, Scheler, and other phenomenologists
qualifies as some similarity.
48. Compare Ûrîmad-Bhågavatam 6.1.50.
49. op. cit., 3.26.27.
50. op. cit., 3.26.29-30.
51. Mu∫∂aka, 3.11; ÛvetåΩvatara, 4.6.
52. op.cit., 3.12 and 4.7.
53. Bhaktivedanta VedaBase 2003.1, 731116SB.DEL.
54. This is because God as absolute has no parts and is a single, undivided
substance. Although having different aspects, they are different in a con-
ditional sense. Thus his name, qualities, form etc. share the same absolute
nature and are identical. Therefore the sound emanating from him is also
fully identical with him.
55. And in this sense Vyåsa, the author of the Vedas, is considered to be
God’s incarnation.
56. A. C. Bhaktivedånta Swami Prabhupåda, Journey of Self-Discovery,
Bhaktivedanta Book Trust, Bombay, 1990, 1993, p. 72.
57. op. cit., p. 75.
58. op. cit., p. 76.
59. op. cit., pp. 110-111.
60. Here it is appropriate to mention that for Gau∂îya Vedånta, we find
the most intelligible and the purest manifestation of knowledge of God in
the Ûrîmad-Bhågavatam or Bhågavata Purå∫a. This is extensively elaborated
by Jîva Gosvåmî in his Tattva-sandarbha.
61. Ûrîmad-Bhågavatam, 11.21.36.
62. jîve såkßåt nåhi tåte guru caittya-rüpe
Ûikßå-guru haya k®ß∫a-mahånta-svarüpe, Caitanya-caritåm®ta, Ådi 1.58.
63. Bhagavad-gîtå 4.2 is illustrative of this.
64. Ûrîmad-Bhågavatam, 11.3.21.
65. Ûåbde brahma∫i vede vicåra-tåtparye∫a. Pare brahma∫i bhagavad-ådi-rüpå-

virbhåve ’parokßånubhavena niß∫åtaµ tathaiva niß†håµ pråptam. (Bhakti-san-
darbha 202)
66. Compare Bhaktivedanta VedaBase 2003.1, 680706SB.MON, 710718IN.
DET, 750112SB.BOM, 750610MW.HON i 760610RC.LA.
67. The concept is further elaborated: Suhotra Swami, Substance and Sha
dow, The Vedic Method of Knowledge, Govinda-Verlag, Zurich/Altenburg, 1996,
pp. 163-6.
68. op. cit., str. 164.
69. If by philosophy we mean only speculation—an idea which is, I must
admit, alien to me.
70. This is one more classification of sense perception: simple (avaidußa—
not educated) and learned (vaidußa—educated). It is given by Jîva Gosvåmî
in Sarva-saµvådinî, 9. Tad eva ca puna˙ vaidußam avaidußaµ ceti dvividham.
Tatra vaiduße ca vipratipatti-bhramådi-n®-doßa-råhityåt, Ωabdasyåpi tan-mülatvåc
ca.
Bibliography
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edition of Sri Haridas Sastri).
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Vrindavan, sine anno).
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Indian Philosophy, Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1984.
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1984).
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anno, contains Jîva’s auto-commentary and the commentaries of
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Edition), Singapore: Bhaktivedanta Book Trust, 1989.
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Bombay: Bhaktivedanta Book Trust, 1990, 1993.
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Bhaktivedanta Book Trust, 1990.
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Los Angeles: Bhaktivedanta Book Trust, 1975.
Prabhupåda, A. C. Bhaktivedånta Swami, Ûrî IΩopaniñad, Los Angeles:

Bhaktivedanta Book Trust, 1993,
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Singapore: Bhaktivedanta Book Trust, 1987.
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& Unwin, Ltd., 1953.
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of Pürva Mîmåµså, Advaita Vedånta, and Nyåya-VaiΩeßika Systems,
Tirupatti: Sri Venkatesvara University, 1991.
Swami, Suhotra, Substance and Shadow, The Vedic Method of Knowledge,
Zurich/Altenburg: Govinda-Verlag, 1996.
Virupakshananda, Swami, Tarka Saµgraha, With the Dîpika of A∫∫ambha††a
and Notes, Madras: Sri Ramakrishna Math, 1994.
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Contributors
Joseph T. O’Connell is Professor Emeritus in the Study of Religion at the

University of Toronto, Canada, and Visiting Professor of World Religions in
the University of Dhaka, Bangladesh. His doctorate from Harvard is in the
Comparative Study of the Major World Religions. His primary area of schol-
arship is the history of religion in relation to society in the Bengal region
with special concentration on the Chaitanya Vaishnava tradition and certain
sectors of the Muslim tradition in Bengal. Currently he is encouraging the
development the academic study of religion in Indian and Bangladeshi uni-
versities.
Jason D. Fuller is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Religious

Studies at DePauw University in Greencastle, Indiana. He received his PhD.
from the University of Pennsylvania in 2005 where he specialized in the his-
tory of Bengali Vaishnavism. He is currently working on a book dealing with
the nineteenth-century Vaishnava reformer, Bhaktivinoda Thakura. He is a
frequent contributor to the Journal of Vaishnava Studies.
Aleksandar Uskokov, who hails from Skopje, Macedonia, joined the

International Society for Krishna Consciousness in 1992, and served mainly
in the Bhaktivedanta Book Trust as a translator, editor and production man-
ager for their Serbian and Macedonian literature. He has a BA (Honors) in
Philosophy, University “St. Cyril and Methodius,” and an MA in Philosophy
of Religion. He has published several articles in the scholarly journal,
Philosophia.
187
Kiyokazu Okita is a doctoral candidate at the Faculty of Theology, University

of Oxford. His doctoral research focuses on Baladeva Vidyābhūṣaṇa’s
philosophy and its relation to other Vedāntic schools. He holds a BA in
Religious Studies from International Christian University (Tokyo) and an
MA in the Study of Religion from Oxford University.
Leena A. Taneja is a professor of South Asian religions at Stetson University

in Deland, Florida. Her academic interests include the devotional tra-
ditions of India and postmodern theory. Her most recent publication
includes a new book based on her dissertation, Tracing the Absence of Faith:
Deconstruction, Hermeneutics, and the Gaudiya Vaishnava Tradition (2008).
Satyanarayana Dasa is the founder-director of the Jiva Institute of Vedic

Studies, Vrindavan, U.P., India. He holds B.Tech. and M.Tech. degrees
from IIT Delhi, and a PhD degree in Sanskrit from Dr. B. R. Ambedkar
University, Agra, India. Besides this, he has studied the six systems of
Indian philosophy in the traditional manner through guru parampara.
Satyanarayana specializes in the Achintya-bhedåbheda school of Vedånta.
He is also visiting professor at the State University of New Jersey, Rutgers,
and at Terre du Ciel University, France. His published works include a
commentary on Hitopadesh, Yoga of Dejection, Bhagavata Mahatmya, Nama
Tattva, Spiritual Health, In Vaikuntha Not Even The Leaves Fall. Other forth-
coming works include Vedic Psychology, The Art of Love, and a translation of
Bhagavata Purana to be published by Penguin Books.
Dhanurdhara Swami was initiated into the Gaudiya Vaishnava lineage

by Srila A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada in 1974. In 1982, he
accepted the sannyasa order of life, ordaining him as a swami. He is the
author of three books: Waves of Devotion: A Comprehensive Study of The Nectar
of Devotion; Greetings from Vrindavana, a selected collection of his thoughts
and realizations from 2000-2004; and Japa Meditations: Contemplations on
Entering the Holy Name, a collection of selected personal realizations
on japa meditation by himself and others. He is currently working on
several writing projects including a contemporary book on bhakti and
another on kirtan.
Graham M. Schweig is a scholar of comparative religion who focuses

on the religions of India. He is a specialist in love mysticism and bhakti
Contributors 189
traditions. He did his graduate studies at Harvard University and the

University of Chicago, receiving his doctorate in Comparative Religion
from Harvard. Schweig has taught at Duke University and University of
North Carolina, and was Visiting Associate Professor of Sanskrit at the
University of Virginia. He is currently Associate Professor of Philosophy
and Religious Studies and Director of the Indic Studies Program at
Christopher Newport University, on the Virginia peninsula. He has
contributed numerous pieces to encyclopedia volumes, journals, and
books. His book, Dance of Divine Love: India’s Classic Sacred Love Story
was published by Princeton University Press (2005), and more recently,
Bhagavad Gita: The Beloved Lord’s Secret Love Song, was published by
HarperOne/Harper Collins Publishers (2007).

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Journal of Vaishnava Studies

International Advisory Board

Nirmal Narayan Gupta

Subscriber Information: The Journal of Vaishnava Studies is published two

Publishing Information: Manu­script submissions, ad­ver­tising, books for

Copyright ©2009 A. Deepak Publishing, Inc. The copyright of all printed

Joseph T. O’Connell / “Kirtan O Gramin Krishti” (“Kirtan and 5

Jason D. Fuller/ Bengali Vaishnava Homelands

Aleksandar Uskokov/Bengali Vaishnava Epistemology 53

Kiyokazu Okita/A Bengali Vaishnava Contribution to Vedånta: 87

Leena A. Taneeja/Expecting the Unexpected: The Secret of “the Gift” 101

Dhanurdhara Swami/Ûrila Bhaktisiddhånta and Rågånuga- 125

Graham M. Schweig/Toward A Constructive and Comparative 151

Book Reviews 175

About the Contributors 187

Kånyakubja (Uttar Pradesh, including the modern city of Lucknow),

love of God, as opposed to aiΩvarya, or God’s majesty. Consequently, the

with the amorphous void known as “Supreme” in the various schools of

Prelude to the Methods of Knowledge

arising in a piece of mother-of-pearl. This indeed is called false cognition

simultaneously determine the treatment of the inquiry. No matter how

The Ten Methods of Knowledge

1. Sense perception (pratyakßa6)

nate perception as characterized by the apprehension, This is something. For

- The hill is on fire (or there is a fire on the hill);

or proof. Thus it is no wonder that the structure of inference in Indian

- assertion (pratijñå): Socrates is mortal;

- All knowable objects are namable;

This is actually a universal, affirmative conclusion drawn from universal,

- That which is not different from other elements has no smell;

- All smoky objects are fiery;

- No non-fiery object is smoky;

sacred testimony is certain in all circumstances, while the mundane testi-

5. The postulate (arthåpatti17)

Only appropriate non-perception (yogyånupalabdhi) is the source of our

10. The words of sages or exalted personalities (årΩa)

Examination of the Pramå∫as

In comparison we are supposed to be learning the primary force of words.

- assertion: the word gavaya refers to something similar to a cow;

- assertion: Devadatta eats at night;

Non-perception cannot be accepted as an independent method of knowl-

Critique of Sense Perception and Inference

on the certainty of knowledge from which the conclusion is drawn.38 We

imity.”42 This intentness on something else manifests also on the ontologi-

The Nature of Testimony

The Subject of Knowledge

pure spirit, I consider myself to be matter, or the body I use.

God as the Source of Certain Knowledge

pose of Hinduism, Mohammedanism, Christianity, or Buddhism? The pur-

Five Stages of Spiritual Knowledge

in his manifestations as Bhagavån and so on, thanks to direct experience

1) pratyakßa – direct sense perception;

correct apprehension (recall the five conditions of intelligence: doubt, mis-

3. Tad-vati tat-prakårako ’nubhavo yathårtha˙. Yathå rajate idaµ rajatam iti

‘ke åmi’, ‘kene åmåya jåre tåpa-traya’

“Who am I? Why do the threefold miseries always give me trouble? If I do

17. The etymology of the word is artha-åpatti—supposition of a fact. Our

“Sense perception, inference and the various kinds of revealed scriptures

in philosophical works. One classical instance is Ûrîdhara Svåmî’s commen-

65. Ûåbde brahma∫i vede vicåra-tåtparye∫a. Pare brahma∫i bhagavad-ådi-rüpå-

Prabhupåda, A. C. Bhaktivedånta Swami, Ûrî IΩopaniñad, Los Angeles:

Joseph T. O’Connell is Professor Emeritus in the Study of Religion at the

Jason D. Fuller is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Religious

Publishing Information: Manuscript submissions, advertising, books for