There is not a directly correspondent concept (how could there be one, given how historically loaded ‘right’ is?), but an interesting parallel is adhikāra. How does this work?

Let me look, to begin with, at the discussion in the apaśūdrādhikaraṇa by Rāmānuja. There, he explains that śūdras (humans belonging to the lowest class) do not have the adhikāra to perform worship (upāsana), because they are unable (asamartha), even though they desire the result of the action. Why are they unable? Because the do not have the adhikāra to perform a part of it, namely vedādhyayana.

So, as a preliminary understanding:

adhikāra to do x (e.g., upāsana) presupposes:

1. desire to obtain the result of action x
2. ability to perform action x, which, in turn, presupposes the ability to perform each of its parts
3. [not yet determined, but see below]

The interesting part is that according to “as much as possible” principle, one does not need to perform each part of x in order to perform x, if x is a compulsory action (e.g., if you have the duty to each single day, you might leave out polishing each slide every single time). However, you still need to be “able” (samartha) to perform each part, even the ones you might have left out.

asāmarthya ‘inability’ can be due to physical or economical inability, but could also be the result of the lack of a predecing adhikāra. Thus, adhikāra has a double relation to sāmarthya: a) Lack of sāmarthya precludes the possibility adhikāra (adhikāra presupposes can); b) Lack of adhikāra to do x means that one will not get to do x and will therefore be asamartha with regard to y, if x is a part of y.

This leads to the adhikāra for vedādhyayana. This presupposes:

1. desire to obtain the result of the action
2. ability to perform the action (see PMS, book 6.1 on animals not being able to perform sacrifices)
3. sanction by an authoritative text

Which kind of sanction? In the case of vedādhyayana, it seems to be a positive obligation (or vidhi). What would be the distinction between adhikāra and any other enjoined action, then? That the vidhi which lies at the basis of adhikāra establishes one’s general entitlement to do x, and not just one’s duty to perform x in a given case.

Possible arguments in favour of Their having a body: 

—Yes! They need it to exercise Their will on matter (and, as Kumārila explained, matter does not obey abstract will)

—Yes! They need it so that we can revere Them.

The second argument does not count (it’s part of the God-as-Thou level), but the first seems powerful enough. If God did not have a body, They would have no influence on the world. Do They need a body in order to be omnipresent? And which kind of body? Surely not a limited one (as a deity could have it), since this would limit Their action (They could act only where the body is). Instead, They need to be omnipresent.

Which kind of body could be omnipresent? What would this entail?

In fact, most rational theologians I am aware of speak of God as being omnipresent, in a non-material way, but still as being able to interact with matter at will (so Udayana). Thus, as typical of the God-as-Lord, God is more-than-human, but very close to humans.

However, time and again theologians came to a different solution to God’s body, one which brings them close to the third concept of God, the impersonal Absolute. These theologians think of God’s body as omnipresent and yet material, because it is all that exists.

This all brings me to a more general question: Can there be omnipresence without a (limited) body?

This seems to demand from us a category jump. Because we need to put together presence in space (usually connected with extended bodies) and absence of a body (if conceived as extended in a limited space). 

I can think of at least three solutions:

1. space does not exist for God and is just a category conscious beings superimpose on the word (e.g., Kant, I am not aware of this solution prior to Kant)

2. pantheist version (God is the world) (e.g., Spinoza, Bruno, Rāmānuja)

3. God has something akin to a subtle body, which is omni-pervasive (vibhū) (Nyāya) 

The third case is often said to be a characteristic shared by God and souls (Augustine, Nyāya).

Yet, the souls’ omnipresence seems to be very different from God’s one (possibly because of some additional limitations due to their embodiment, the original sin etc.) 

What else can we say about Their omnipresence? It needs to be complete in each instance. God cannot be present for, e.g., 1/1.000.000.000.000 in the tree in front of my window, since this would entail the risk of Them exercising only a small amount of power on the tree. Moreover, They would be “more” present in bigger objects and less present in small ones! Thus, God needs to be completely present in each atom though being at the same time distributively present in the whole sum of all atoms. This again, calls for a category jump and not just a more-than-human body, since even a subtle matter extending all over the space will not be at the same time completely present in each atom. 

Thoughts and comments are welcome. Please bear with me if I am late in reading comments after the term starts again, on Monday.

• 1. Each prescription needs an independently desirable purpose and it is not clear what could be the purpose here (I discussed this topic in a previous post, here)
• 2. Did you understand the adhyayanavidhi while reading it? If not, you really need to study Mīmāṃsā, but you will not get there, since you will not even start learning by heart the Vedas, given that you never came to know that you should have learnt them. Did you understand the adhyayanavidhi? Great! But this means that you don’t need to study Mīmāṃsā, since you already understand the meaning of Vedic prescriptions, isn’t it?

Prābhākara Mīmāṃsā authors can solve the problem by saying that one does not have an independent duty to learn the Veda, but one does it nonetheless because teachers have the duty to teach and there cannot be teaching without learning. In other words, they can in this way make sense of the fact that at the time you undertake the learning, you are not mature enough to decide rationally on the basis of a means-goals calculation.

Rāmānuja and Veṅkaṭanātha are overtly against Prabhākara for other reasons. Hence, they need to offer a different solution. Accordingly, Rāmānuja suggests that the prescription to learn does indeed reach until the meaning, but that the meaning it reaches is not a fully satisfactory one. It leads one to an āpātapratīti of it. Veṅkaṭanātha elaborates further the implications of this assumption: Through the prescription to learn, one is led up to a first impression of the meaning of the Veda. Then, out of interest, one continues studying Mīmāṃsā in order to solve one’s doubts and achieve proficiency in the Vedic texts.

To my knowledge, Veṅkaṭanātha’s Seśvaramīmāṃsā (henceforth SM) has been commented upon only once in Sanskrit, namely in the 20th c. by Abhinava Deśika Vīrarāghavācārya.
Vīrarāghavācārya continues Veṅkaṭanātha’s agenda in reinterpreting Mīmāṃsā tenets in a Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta way.

On the meaning of dharma and on the polemics between a sādhya and siddha interpretation of the Veda, he writes:

Deities need to be pleased (ārādhya), what needs to be realised is the result.

(ārādhyā devatāḥ, sādhyaṃ phalam, ad SM ad PMS 1.1.1, 1971 edition of the SM, p.10)

Similarly, within the commentary on SM ad PMS 1.1.2, Vīrarāghavācārya interprets a quote by Parāśara Bhaṭṭa according to Maṇḍana’s distinction among various deontic concepts and then adds a further level:

The instruction which has necessarily to be performed is the command. The permission is the instruction which presupposes a desire for the experience of a result which is not forbidden. It has as content something desirable. An instruction having as content a forbidden purpose (as in the case of the Śyena) is a permission which has occurred automatically [but will be later subdued] (āpātānujñā).

The added level is labelled āpātānujñā. This is, as far as I know, a neologism. It indicates the fact that prescriptions about malefic sacrifices are not the Veda’s final words on the topic. They look like prescriptions, but in fact:

1. like all other textual passages presupposing human desires, they are only instructions about how to reach something, they do not state that one should desire it.
2. on top of that will then be sublated insofar as they presuppose a purpose which is prohibited in another part of the Veda.

Point 1 is a standard Mīmāṃsā devise to justify Vedic passages about malefic sacrifices. Vīrarāghavācārya adds point 2 to the landscape, thus highlighting that the textual passages about malefic sacrifices are ultimately sublated insofar as the purpose they presuppose is prohibited.

Vīrarāghavācārya probably formed the term āpātānujñā on the basis of āpātadhī. This is a term introduced by Rāmānuja and discussed at length by Veṅkaṭanātha. It means `automatic understanding’ of the Veda, the one one gathers while learning the Veda by heart without caring for investigating into its meaning. Such an automatic understanding will be later revised while one investigates the meaning of the Veda. Vīrarāghavācārya implicitly suggests that it can even be completely reversed.

Have readers ever encountered the term āpātānujñā?

athāto brahmajijñāsā
Now, after that, there is the desire to know the brahman.

Several topics are discussed in this connection, namely:

• What does “Now” (atha) exactly mean?
• What does “after that” (ataḥ) mean? What does it refer to?
• How should one interpret the compound brahmajijñāsā ‘desire to know the brahman’?
• Why the desiderative in jijñāsā `desire to know’?

As you might imagine, Śaṅkara reads ataḥ as referring only to the study of the Upaniṣads (whereas Rāmānuja reads it as referring to the whole Veda) and denies the role of desire (jijñāsā can in fact also be read as just meaning ‘investigation’).
Veṅkaṭanātha (also known as Vedānta Deśika) decides to start his commentary on the Mīmāṃsāsūtra along the same lines. In fact, UMS 1.1.1 reproduces the style of PMS 1.1.1:

athāto dharmajijñāsā
Now, after that, there is the desire to know dharma

Therefore, he needs to discuss the issue listed above and explains how the study of dharma presupposes the study of the Veda and how desire has a role to play. His discussion of the compound dharmajijñāsā is longer than than the corresponding ones (about brahmajijñāsā) in Śaṅkara and Rāmānuja and displays more familiarity with Pāṇini that I might have hoped for. He explains how the compound must be read as entailing a genitivus objectivus (genitive in the sense of a syntactical object, like when a father speaks of “love of my children” meaning the fact that he loves his children) for several reasons:

dharmasya jijñāsā dharmajijñāsā | karmaṇyevātra ṣaṣṭhī; sambandhasāmānya-
ṣaṣṭhīmaṃgīkṛtya tena tatra karmasāpekṣajijñāsāsāmarthyataḥ karmārthatvaklṛpter viḷambitatvāt | “kartṛkarmaṇoḥ kṛti” iti viśeṣavidhānāt | kartrarthatāyā ihānanvayāt | karmaṇaś cepsitatayā ‘bhyarhitatvāt | anyapare’pi sūtre viṣayaprayojanasūcanopayogāt | ānuṣaṃgikavivakṣāntarasyātrādoṣatvāt | pratipadavidhānaṣaṣṭhīsamāsaniṣedhasya kṛdyogaṣaṣṭhyāṃ pratiprasavena “jño ‘vidarthasya karaṇe” ityādisūtraviṣayatvasthāpanāc ca

The inquiry into dharma is the desire to know dharma. Here the sixth termination denotes the object (genitivus obiectivus), for the following reasons:
1. because, once one has accepted the sixth termination [as meaning] a general connection [“an inquiry related to dharma”], because of that, given that in the [sūtra] an enquiry which [still] requires an object would be impossible, one would be delayed by the fact of [having to] imagine which [referent is implicitly] meant as the object,
2. because of the specific [grammatical] rule “[The sixth case ending is employed after a stem] meaning agent or syntactical object, when [used] along with a kṛt affix” (A 2.3.65), 2.a [and] here (within the sūtra) [the word `dharma’] would not get connected [suitably] as something meaning the agent, 2.b. and because it is proper (abhyarhita“) [that the word `dharma’ denotes the syntactical object], since the object is the most desired [element, as in A 1.4.49],
3. because also in a sūtra dedicated to something else (i.e., to promoting the initiation of the study) it is useful to have an indication (sūcana) of the purpose (prayojana) and of the content (viṣaya) (namely dharma),
4. because there is no fault (doṣa) here of a different intention (vivakṣā) being necessarily implied (ānuṣaṅgika) (i.e., there is no reason to think that the author certainly meant something else),
5. and because it has been established that [the compound dharmajijñāsā interpreted as an objective genitive] is within the range of application of the [group of] sūtras starting with “Of the verb jñā-, when not used in the sense of `to know’, the instrument takes the sixth-case affix” (A 2.3.51) insofar as, in the case of the sixth ending when connected with (yoga) deverbal nouns (kṛt) (such as jijñāsā), the prohibition (niṣedha) of compounds with the sixth ending prescribed for every word* is suspended.

*A 2.2.15 prohibits compounding with nouns ending with the sixth ending if they denote the object (karman). 2.2.16 prohibits compounding with nouns ending with the kṛt suffixes aka and tṛC if they express an agent. 2.2.17 excludes from the prohibition the cases of agents of habitual or professional actions. 2.2.18–22 add further exceptions.

Thus, Veṅkaṭanātha explains that there are good reasons to think that dharmajijñāsa is properly formed as a compound entailing an objective genitive. The reason 5, however, is still puzzling to me. A 2.3.51 regards the usage of jñā– when it does not mean ‘to know’ (but ‘to sacrifice’). Thus, how can it regard compounds such as dharmajijñāsā? However, the sūtras following it all discuss cases of the genitive used in the sense of instrument or object (e.g., of the verbs meaning ‘to remember’). Could Veṅkaṭanātha mean that the group of sūtras starting with A 2.3.51 constitute an exception overruling the prohibition of compounds with the sixth ending, or has 2.3.51 a specific role to play?

On Veṅkaṭanātha’s relation with Śaṅkara’s and Rāmānuja’s models, see my contribution in the book Adaptive Reuse, available here.

To Rāmānuja (traditional dates 1017–1137) are attributed, with more or less certainty, a series of Vedāntic works, namely the Śrī Bhāṣya (henceforth ŚrīBh) commentary on the Brahma Sūtra (henceforth UMS), which is his philosophical opus magnum, both in length and philosophical depth, the Gītabhāṣya on the Bhagavadgītā (henceforth BhG), a compendium of his philosophy, the Vedārthasaṅgraha, and two shorter commentaries on the UMS, namely the Vedāntadīpa and the Vedāntasāra.
Beside these works, the Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta school, at least since the time of Sudarśana Sūri and Veṅkaṭanātha (also called Vedānta Deśika, traditional dates 1269–1370), recognised Rāmānuja as the author of also three extremely short works (about 3–4 pages each), namely the Śaraṇāgatigadya, the Śrīraṅgagadya and the Vaikuṇṭhagadya, and of a manual of daily worship called Nityagrantha.

The terms bhakti `devotional love’ and bhakta `devotee’ are not very frequent in the ŚrīBh, where they are mentioned slightly more than ten times, a portion of which in quotes (some of which from the BhG). By contrast, the Śaraṇāgatigadya mentions bhakti 19 times in its only 23 sentences, and adds further elements to it (such as Nārāyaṇa instead of Kṛṣṇa as the object of devotion, and the role of prapatti ‘self-surrender’, see immediately below). Does this mean that the Śaraṇāgatigadya is not by Rāmānuja and represents a further stage in the theological thought of Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta? Alternatively, one might suggest that Rāmānuja addressed different audiences in his philosophical and in his religious works. In other words, the difference between the position of the ŚrīBh and that of the Śaraṇāgatigadya could be only due to the fact that the first develops a philosophical discourse about God, whereas the latter enacts the author’s relationship with Him.

In the ŚrīBh, bhakti is the (only) way to make sense of the previous obligations taught in the karma- and in the jñānamārga, which it therefore subsumes. For instance, the next two passages show how bhakti leads to the cessation of nescience and results in the attainment of brahman/God.

hṛdayaguhāyām upāsanaprakāram, upāsanasya ca parabhaktirūpatvam, upāsīnasya avidyā-vimokapūrvakaṃ brahmasamaṃ brahmānubhavaphalaṃ ca upadiśya upasaṃhṛtam | (ad 1.2.23)

I have taught and now sum up the modality of contemplation in the cave of one’s heart, the fact that veneration has the form of supreme bhakti, and the result, being the experience of brahman, which is tantamount to the brahman and is caused by the cessation of nescience in the one who venerates.

The word upāsana is even more clearly connected with the jñānamārga, insofar as Rāmānuja shows how the salvific knowledge which can defeat nescience must consist of upāsana, since a sheer cognition would not be enough (see Marlewicz 2010):

atrocyate – yad uktam – avidyānivṛttir eva mokṣaḥ, sā ca brahmavijñānād eva bhavati iti, tad abhyupagamyate. avidyānivṛttaye vedāntavākyair vidhitsitaṃ jñānaṃ kiṃrūpam iti vivecanīyam – kiṃ vākyād vākyārthajñānamātram, uta tanmūlam upāsanātmakaṃ jñānam iti. na tāvat vākyajanyaṃ jñānam […] ato vākyārthajñānād anyad eva dhyānopāsanādiśabdavācyaṃ jñānaṃ vedāntavākyair vidhitsatam (ŚrīBh ad 1.1.1)

In this regard we need to answer [to the Advaitins]: We accept what you said, namely that salvation consists just in the cessation of nescience and that this occurs due to the cognition of the brahman.
It is to be discussed what this knowledge intended to be enjoined by means of the statements of the Upaniṣads for the purpose of ceasing the nescience is like? Is it only the knowledge of the sentence-meaning [arising] from the sentence? Or else the knowledge which has the nature of the devout contemplation (upāsana), based on this (sentence-meaning)? Regarding the first alternative — this knowledge is not originating [merely] from the sentence [\dots] Therefore, the Upaniṣadic sentences enjoin something different than the knowledge of the sentence-meaning, namely a cognition expressed by words such as meditation and devout contemplation.

In the Gītābhāṣya, prapatti is introduced as a preliminary step before bhakti, but so powerful that it can substitute karma- and jñānamārga completely. This move could be due at least also to the second person perspective of the Arjuna-Kṛṣṇa dialogue, which could have oriented Rāmānuja’s understanding of bhakti and prapatti as soteriological means: Arjuna’s desperation makes Kṛṣṇa soothe him by suggesting him an immediate path.

The role of bhakti in the Śaraṇāgatigadya is in harmony with its role in the Gītābhāṣya, namely a preliminary step before undertaking bhaktiyoga. However, the Śaraṇāgatigadya has been traditionally interpreted as a narrative about Rāmānuja’s own act of śaraṇāgati and as enjoining primarily śaraṇāgati. Why?

In fact, the Śaraṇāgatigadya presents an interesting conundrum: It contains most of the themes which will later become standard in the later treatments of bhakti and prapatti, but in a poetic form.
The elements which are deemed to influence for a long time the Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta school, in particular, are:

• The presence of different ways of addressing God, as attested by the endless series of attributes in vv. 1, 5 etc. and explicitly thematised in v. 7 (as against the Northern Indian way to venerate God under one aspect, e.g., as child or as spouse)
• The role of Śrī as mediator: the author does not address directly Nārāyaṇa, but first her and only once her intermediation has taken place does he address Nārāyaṇa.
• The localisation of God, in this case in Śrīraṅga (see v. 19).
• The connection of kaiṅkarya `servitude’ and rati `love’ as opposed to a pure ritualistic servitude or to a differently flavoured love (vātsalya `tender love towards one’s child’, etc.).
• The reuse (non literal in the case of the Śaraṇāgatigadya, literal in later texts) of BhG 18.66 (later known as the caramaśloka `the final verse’) in the context of taking refuge.
• The reuse of other verses of the BhG (see vv. 13–15).
• Prapatti that appears to be performed as a speech act (performed in vv. 1–2 in regard to Śrī and then in v. 5 in regard to Nārāyaṇa) which is not repeatable (v. 6 in fact speaks of it in the past and v. 16 displays what was wished for in v. 1 as already accomplished).
• The author’s feeling the need to ask God to be forgiven for his endless shortcomings (in a way which reminds one of Yāmuna’s Stotraratna and of the Āḻvārs.
• The seeming predominance of prapatti over bhakti (partly against Rāmānuja’s other works, see above and below).
• The fact that nothing is needed to perform prapatti apart from the awareness of not having any other way left. One must feel desperate and derelict, with no other possible way left. In the terminology of the Śaraṇāgatigadya one needs to be ananyaśaraṇa `with no other refuge’.

The last element, namely the awareness of one’s wreckedness, was already present in the Āḻvārs’ poems and, more interestingly, also in Yāmuna’s Stotraratna. This brings one back to the complex relation between Rāmānuja and Yāmuna. The latter is addressed with respect twice (once in the maṅgala) in the former’s Vedārthasaṅgraha, but is not mentioned at all in Rāmānuja’s opus magnum, his ŚrīBh, which seems to focus only on inner-Vedānta issues (more on the “isolation” of the ŚrīBh below).

The most significant element to be discussed in regard to the role of the Śaraṇāgatigadya within Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta is the second to last one. Prapatti is clearly omnipresent in the Śaraṇāgatigadya, but nowhere is it said that it is a different path as bhakti (in fact, the sequence from v. 6 to vv. 13 to 15 appears to imply that bhakti must be accomplished once one has done prapatti). Thus, prapatti remains a preliminary element providing an easy entrance into bhakti, which remains the only salvific path. The later and typically Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta idea of prapatti as an independent path and as the only feasible one, alternative to the unrealistic path of bhakti, appears not to be there yet.

The first person perspective in the Śaraṇāgatigadya
Yāmuna’s Stotraratna is a hymn to God written from the first-person perspective and including the literary persona of its author as a deeply troubled devout, who needs help from God. Probably elaborating on this motif, the Śaraṇāgatigadya presents itself as an invocation to God by a similar kind of believer. The interesting innovation in this case is the fact that the author speaks first to Śrī and then to Nārāyaṇa and, more importantly, that both answer him. Śrī is addressed with many attributes, elaborating on her various aspects (v. 1). The author asks her to let him take refuge (v.2). Śrī accords that with only a few words (vv. 3–4). Next come long invocations (vv. 5–17, especially v. 5) to Nārāyaṇa, containing the request to take refuge in God and then to become a bhakta. In v. 5, God is addressed with a seemingly endless series of attributes, covering approximately 20 lines of Sanskrit, before the crisp request of taking refuge. Similarly, the author describes at length his inadequateness (v. 16). Are all these words just ornamental? Probably not. The long process of uttering God’s attributes and one’s shortcomings might be itself part of the salvific process of becoming aware of His greatness and of one’s inadequacy. In other words, by painfully listing one’s shortcomings the author (and, perhaps, his ideal audience) becomes aware of their all-pervasive nature, and of the fact that they are not emendable. The author says, in fact, that he will continue performing evil acts even in the future (v. 10) and that he therefore absolutely needs God’s help. Nārāyaṇa, unlike Śrī, answers at length (vv. 17–24). The answer is ultimately positive: the author’s desire will be fulfilled (v. 21). He should not doubt it (v. 22–23). Still, Nārāyaṇa comes to this positive result after having Himself enumerated the author’s shortcomings (in a list longer than the author’s one). That is, the wish is ultimately fulfilled, but not automatically and as the result of a compassion that Nārāyaṇa shows to be even more necessary than the author had thought. The narrative and dialogical structure of the text appear, therefore, to have a profound impact on the doctrine propounded, namely, prapatti. Without this structure, the text would occupy only a few lines, stating that once one has obtained prapatti through God’s mercy, one can become a bhakta. Within the structure, however, the same content gets a different connotation, insofar as both the request(s) and the response are delayed enough to show the difficulty of what has just been requested and the wondrous nature of God’s compassion.

Conclusions
Bhakti plays in the ŚrīBh an exclusive role and śaraṇāgati is not even mentioned. Apart from this fundamental difference, many elements in the Śaraṇāgatigadya are altogether absent in the ŚrīBh. These differences have been until now interpreted (see Lester and, for a different and more cautious opinion, Raman) as evidences against Rāmānuja’s authorship of the Śaraṇāgatigadya. At the same time, the Śaraṇāgatigadya is perfectly integrated in the Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta thought, both insofar as it summarises the key elements in its doctrine of prapatti and insofar as it contains several elements already evoked in the Āḻvārs’ hymns and even in Yāmuna’s ones. It is, in this sense, not surprising that Sudarśana Sūri and even more Veṅkaṭanātha saw in the Śaraṇāgatigadya a key text within their tradition (Veṅkaṭanātha’s commentary on the Śaraṇāgatigadya covers 50 pages, whereas the ones on the other gadyas only a few pages each). The case of the Śaraṇāgatigadya, in the sense, rather shows the relative isolation of the ŚrīBh from Śrī Vaiṣṇavism. This text lays the metaphysical foundations of the Viśiṣṭādvaita school, but remained distant from its devotional aspects (for instance, unlike the Gītābhāṣya and the Vedārthasaṅgraha, it does not salute Yāmuna in the initial maṅgala and rather evokes previous Vedānta teachers). Bhakti is discussed within the ŚrīBh as the only way to reach God, but from a detached, third-person perspective. The existential dimension of the difficulties hidden in this ideal picture start coming to the foreground in the Gītabhāṣya (still written from a third person perspective, but incorporating also the second-person perspective of Arjuna’s and Kṛṣṇa’s dialogue) and then more incisively so in the first person perspective of the Śaraṇāgatigadya.

This philosophical-theological concept, it will be immediately evident, crashes against the (Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika) idea of a rigidly divided ontology, with substances being altogether different from qualities. In other words, the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika world if seen from outside is similar to the world of today’s folk ontology, the one influenced by scientism, while its structure resembles the one of Aristotle’s ontology.

It is populated by subject-independent entities which are ontologically solid and persistent through time and to which qualities accrue which need them as their substrate. It goes without saying that this is a reciprocal distinction (substances are not qualities and qualities can never become substances), since it is grounded in an ontological difference (akin to Aristotle’s ουσια). In other words, qualities cannot be further qualified by other qualities, since they cannot be their substrate (this leads to some complications, but I will not focus on the specific Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika answers now).

This scheme can not work if one wants to imagine the world as being constituted by just one reality (the brahman/God) with all the rest being an attribute of Him. In fact, this idea implies that there is one substance (God), which is qualified by further things which, however, cannot be called qualities, such as human beings and other material entities. Veṅkaṭanātha is not afraid of stating explicitly that his school does not use the term guṇa in a technical (pāribhāṣika) sense, like Nyāya did (Nyāyasiddhāñjana 4.4) and that for Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta everything can be considered a quality of something else when it specifies it.* This, however, does not amount to say that qualities and substances are only subjective constructs. The ontological grounding is provided by God’s existence as the world’s foundation. The fact that all human beings are qualifications (viśeṣaṇa) of Him is not a subjective construct, since it is rather a state of affairs which exists independently of all subjective minds apart from God’s one.

This brings us to the next step, namely, the importance of God’s existence to ground the world. Given that Viśiṣṭādvaita authors have given up the subject-independent ontology of Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika, they need another way to ground the objective existence of the world and this cannot be achieved but through God. He is ultimately existent and therefore we can opt for Being and avoid plunging into nihilism. But what tells us that the world as we see it is also subject-independent? The fact that it is conceived by God. It is a content within God’s knowledge. Thus, the main thing to be analysed for Viśiṣṭādvaita becomes the status of God’s knowledge. Knowledge is said, in Nyāyasiddhāñjana 4 and before that in Rāmānuja’s Śrībhāṣya ad 2.2.27, to be a substance. This seems a daring statement in a context which was used to the idea that cognitions are rather qualities of the self. Rāmānuja does not want, in fact, to deny that cognitions are qualities of the self, he only wants to state that they are also substances. They are, therefore, not kevalaguṇas ‘sheer qualities’ but rather dravyātmakaguṇas ‘qualifications being substances’.

UPDATE**:
The terminology used so far presupposes an ontological approach in which things exist outside, i.e., independently of the subject. In the case of Rāmānuja’s thought, the picture is further complicated by the fact that God Himself is in some sense (see Ram Prasad’s Divine Self, Human Self: The Philosophy of Being in Two Gītā Commentaries 2013) beyond (para as in param brahman) being, so that Rāmānuja’s cannot be easily called an ontology, nor, in Ram-Prasad’s terminology, an ontotheology. In other words, Ram-Prasad argues that God is not just an entity, though excellent. If this were the case, Rāmānuja would also be guilty of ontologising the Being, like all European philosophy after Parmenides. Instead, Ram-Prasad shows several passages by Rāmānuja in which he seems or appears to assume that God is beyond being and that He is clearly not just one entity, not even the biggest one encompassing all others within Himself. The Rāmānuja depicted by Ram-Prasad does not explicitly solve the tension between his theological “beyondism” (God is beyond being), with his accent on faith and devotion as ways to access Him, and his seemingly ontological statements about the plurality of selves and of material entities, so that one does not find an explicit solution reconciling both approaches. Hence, like all Europeans after Parmenides who have not fully understood Heidegger, one is left asking further ontological questions, such as whether God ultimately exists or not and whether the world exists within Him, as Him (panentheism), in dependence of Him… As a partial answer, one might note that the relation between God and the other material or conscious beings remains asymmetrical, insofar as they depend on God for their existence, whereas God could be related to other beings than the ones present in this world and might decide so through His free will. Thus, God is “in a different league”. He can decide to be involved in one or the other world and in fact does get involved in our world, which only exists because He wishes it to. And He does get involved by ruling from within ourselves and all other conscious and unconscious beings.

*As a homage to Veṅkaṭanātha I will also not try to render the Viśiṣṭādvaita guṇas with a term different than the one I use for the Nyāya guṇas. Viśiṣṭādvaita authors are not talking about other types of qualifications, they rather claim that what Nyāya authors call qualities are indeed not necessarily a different class from substances.

**I am grateful to Ch. Ram-Prasad for discussing with me the topic of ontotheology in Rāmānuja.

What makes a text a “commentary”? The question is naif enough to allow for a complicated answer. First of all, let me note the obvious: There is not a single word for “commentary” in Sanskrit, where one needs to distinguish between bhāṣyas, vārttikas, ṭippanīs, etc., often bearing poetical names, evoking Moons, mirrors and the like.

Sanskrit authors, thus, had in mind a widely different set of texts which we all bring back to the seemingly single category of “commentary”. Some of them are chiefly line-by-line or word-by-word explanations (an illustrious example is Manorathanandin’s commentary on Dharmakīrti’s PV). Others entail elaborate philosophical disquisitions (such as Vācaspati’s Nyāyakaṇikā on Maṇḍana’s Vidhiviveka). Still others just comment on a few words or sentences every 10 pages or so (such as Cakradhara’s Granthibhaṅga on Jayanta’s Nyāyamañjarī).
Some of them are part of a longer history, that they fully embrace. This is especially true in the case of the philosophical sūtras and of their first Bhāṣya-commentary, which tends to be fused in a single text. This last sentence could also be interpreted as saying that a sūtra-part was only later extracted out of the respective Bhāṣya.
Vācaspati’s commentary of the Nyāyasūtra, for instance, embeds comments also on its Bhāṣya by Vātsyāyana, but typically also on the Vārttika thereon. Others focus only on one text and neglect the successive history. Śrīprapāduka’s commentary on the same Nyāyasūtra, for instance, explicitly focuses only on it.
What is constant in all these cases is that a commentary is in close dialogue with a root text (with or without its commentaries), which remain(s) its main interlocutor(s).
This makes the definition wide enough to encompass texts such as the Nyāyamañjarī itself, which comments extensively on some selected Nyāyasūtras (Graheli 2016 contains an appendix with the sūtra numbers and the impressive amount of pages dedicated to each of them). Similarly, Veṅkaṭanātha’s Seśvaramīmāṃsā comments anew the Mīmāṃsāsūtra, programmatically neglecting the commentary by Śabara.
Thus, we could sum up the relation “A is a commentary of B” as “B is the main interlocutor of A”. **UPDATE: The relation of “being the main interlocutor” can be more loosely understood if A and B belong to the same śāstric tradition, whereas it needs to entail a very close (e.g., page-by-page or line-by-line) dialogue in order to consider A, which is polemical about B, a commentary of it.**
However, the picture may become still more complicated, because a text A apparently commenting on B may have in fact in view most of all B’s other commentary, C, so that C, though never mentioned, is A’s main interlocutor.
Coming back to the example mentioned above, the Seśvaramīmāṃsā comments on the Mīmāṃsāsūtra, but while having constantly in view the Śabara’s Bhāṣya thereon and, more strikingly, Rāmānuja’s Bhāṣya on a different sūtra, namely the Brahmasūtra. One ends up with a net of main interlocutors rather than a single one.

**I thank Amod Lele for the discussion in the comments on the same post at the Indian Philosophy blog.

ātmasvarūpaṃ tu devādidehavilakṣaṇaṃ jñānaikākāram. (VS 246)
By contrast, the nature of the ātman has the form of cognition only, and is different than the body of deities, [human beings, animals and other conscious beings].

This seems too much an opening towards the Advaita Vedānta position. But perhaps the context (explaining the dependence of the self on the Lord) was far enough from Advaita Vedānta to solve any ambiguity.