Sankhya Karika with Dr. H. V. Nagaraj Rao

Introduction
This volume presents a rare and masterful exposition of the Sāṅkhya Kārikā, one of the foundational philosophical texts of ancient India, through the lucid and penetrating teachings of Vidvān Dr. H. V. Nagaraja Rao. As a child prodigy from the heart of the Mysore tradition, Dr. Rao has been immersed in Sanskrit learning from an early age, displaying extraordinary depth, wit, and erudition.
Trained rigorously in both traditional śāstra learning and modern academic methods, Dr. Rao began his scholarly career at the Oriental Research Institute in Mysore, where he published numerous critical editions of Sanskrit texts with English and Kannada translations. His primary expertise lies in Sanskrit grammar (vyākaraṇa) and poetics (alaṅkāra-śāstra), disciplines which require precision, subtlety, and a deep command of language. Yet his true genius lies in making these profound systems accessible and relevant to students from all walks of life.
Dr. Rao has lectured internationally in Thailand, Hong Kong, Israel, England, and the United States, and has served as a visiting professor at the University of Chicago and as a research fellow at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. In 2006, he delivered a keynote address in chaste Sanskrit at the World Sanskrit Conference in Edinburgh, and was honored that same year by the Sāhitya Akademi, India’s highest literary body, for his distinguished contributions to Sanskrit translation. More recently, he was chosen for national recognition by the President of India as one of the country's foremost living Sanskrit scholars. He also serves as honorary editor of Sudharma, the world's only daily newspaper published entirely in Sanskrit.
Even now, in his 80s, Dr. Rao teaches with undiminished energy and clarity. Whether explaining the Yoga Sūtras, Bhagavad Gītā, or Upaniṣads, his lectures inspire not only intellectual understanding but also a deep sense of spiritual reflection. His students often remark how his teachings reveal ancient knowledge as a living, immediate experience.
In this work, Dr. Rao brings the profound insights of the Sāṅkhya Kārikā to life, elucidating its metaphysical vision, psychological clarity, and spiritual depth. Composed in the 5th century CE, the Kārikā is the most authoritative surviving text of the classical Sāṅkhya tradition—a rational, dualistic system that posits two eternal realities: puruṣa (pure consciousness) and prakṛti (primordial nature). Through precise logic and elegant metaphors, Dr. Rao illuminates the Kārikā’s pathway to liberation (kaivalya) by distinguishing the seer from the seen.
This transcription has been carefully structured into ten chapters, preserving Dr. Rao’s unique voice and traditional Indian style while arranging the material for clarity and accessibility. Sanskrit terms are presented in transliteration, and explanatory section headers guide the reader through each stage of the teaching. Where possible, questions from students have been integrated to reflect the interactive nature of the original course.
This is not merely a philosophical text. It is a living guide—a clear and liberating framework for understanding human experience, suffering, and the path to freedom. Whether you are a student of Indian thought, a yoga practitioner, or simply a seeker of clarity, Dr. Rao’s exposition of Sāṅkhya opens the door to deeper insight.

Chapter One: The Sāṅkhya System – Origins, Purpose, and Foundations
Let us now begin our study of the ancient Sāṅkhya system of philosophy—one of the most profound and rational traditions in India’s long intellectual history. To understand its origins, we must travel back approximately 2600 years, to the time of the Buddha. As many of you know, the Buddha was born in the 6th century BCE and began his teachings in the 5th century BCE. Even in the Buddhist canon, the Tripiṭaka, we find references to debates between the Buddha and other philosophers of that time—including those from the Sāṅkhya tradition.
Back then, India was a vibrant philosophical landscape. Some were materialists who believed that the goal of life was simple hedonistic pleasure—"Eat, drink, and be merry"—with no belief in anything beyond this life. Others were firm theists, believing in a creator God and divine order. The Sāṅkhyas, however, occupied a unique middle ground. They were realists. They believed the world was real—not illusory or fleeting—and that both the material world and the observing consciousness were eternal. This view was in direct contrast with the Buddha’s teaching that all things are impermanent (kṣaṇika) and constantly changing.
Sāṅkhya philosophy maintained that the elements which constitute the world are eternal, and the consciousness that perceives them is also eternal. Thus, they rejected the idea that all existence is momentary. Over time, this view formed a robust school of thought—attributed traditionally to the sage Kapila.

Who Was Kapila?
Kapila is regarded as the originator of the Sāṅkhya system. His name appears in many ancient texts, including the Bhagavad Gītā. However, we have no access today to his original writings. He is said to have composed the Sāṅkhya Sūtras, but those have been lost. What we find today under that title are later compositions, likely from the 14th or 15th century, reflecting ideas from other schools that did not exist in Kapila’s time. Hence, scholars do not consider them authentic.
What we do have is the Sāṅkhya Kārikā, a concise and systematic presentation of the Sāṅkhya system written in the 5th century CE by Īśvarakṛṣṇa. It contains 70 primary verses—kārikās—with two concluding stanzas, totaling 72. This is our foundational text for understanding classical Sāṅkhya. Even Śaṅkarācārya, writing in the 8th century, references only the Kārikās—not the lost sūtras.
According to tradition, Īśvarakṛṣṇa inherited the teachings of Kapila via a lineage: Kapila taught Āsuri, Āsuri taught Pañcaśikha, and Pañcaśikha’s works influenced Īśvarakṛṣṇa. Sadly, none of Pañcaśikha’s writings have survived either.

Sāṅkhya and Yoga: Theoretical and Practical Twins
Before we turn to the text, we must understand the essential connection between Sāṅkhya and Yoga. Sāṅkhya provides the metaphysical and epistemological framework—the theory—while Yoga, particularly Patañjali’s system, provides the practice. They are like two sides of the same coin. Patañjali accepts Sāṅkhya’s worldview but adds one element: the concept of Īśvara, a personal God, as an object of meditation. This is the principal difference between the two systems. Otherwise, Yoga and Sāṅkhya are aligned.
Even in the Bhagavad Gītā, Lord Kṛṣṇa declares:
“Sāṅkhya and Yoga are not different. Only children say otherwise. He who sees them as one truly sees.”
(Sanskrit: ekaṁ sāṅkhyaṁ ca yogaṁ ca yaḥ paśyati sa paśyati)
This unity between theoretical knowledge (Sāṅkhya) and practical discipline (Yoga) must be remembered as we study.

Why Is It Called "Sāṅkhya"?
The word Sāṅkhya in Sanskrit means "right knowledge" or "correct understanding." It is also related to the word for number (saṅkhyā), since the system gives precise enumerations—25 tattvas (principles of reality), various classifications of suffering, satisfaction, and so on. Thus, it is both an epistemological term and a methodological one.
Yet despite its profound insights, Sāṅkhya never developed into a popular religion. Unlike the systems of Śaṅkara, Rāmānuja, or Madhva—which gained wide followings and became spiritual movements—Sāṅkhya remains a philosophical school. Its lack of theistic emphasis made it less appealing to the masses, who generally gravitate toward devotional religion. Today, there are no communities who identify as Sāṅkhyas by conviction.

The First Verse of the Sāṅkhya Kārikā

दुःखत्रयद्विष्कृतं साक्षात् आत्मज्ञानाद्राज्यं च |

सङ्ख्यां समाश्रित्य परं निर्वृतिं यान्ति यान्ति ||

duḥkha-traya-dviṣkṛtaṁ sākṣāt ātma-jñānād rājyaṁ ca |

saṅkhyāṁ samāśritya paraṁ nirvṛtiṁ yānti yānti ||

Dialogue and Reflections: Questions and Answers with Dr. Rao
Student: Professor, I had a question about the timeline of Kapila in relation to the Bhagavad Gītā verse that suggests Yoga and Sāṅkhya are one. Is Lord Kṛṣṇa referring to Kapila's Sāṅkhya philosophy?
Dr. Rao: Yes, that Sāṅkhya philosophy is older than the Bhagavad Gītā. Kapila is considered a very ancient figure. His name appears in many texts. Some traditions even place him before the time of the Buddha. So when Kṛṣṇa speaks of Sāṅkhya and Yoga, he is referring to this tradition. Whether all mentions of Kapila in different stories refer to the same person is unclear, but the system itself is certainly ancient.
Student: How did Īśvarakṛṣṇa come to write the Sāṅkhya Kārikā if the earlier scriptures were lost?
Dr. Rao: In the Kārikā, he mentions a lineage of teachers and a prior teaching called the Ṣaṣṭitantra—the sixty doctrines. Though the original texts were lost, the teachings survived through oral tradition. Īśvarakṛṣṇa compiled their essence into 70 verses. It is through him that we know classical Sāṅkhya.
Student: Why didn’t Sāṅkhya evolve into a religion like Vedānta did?
Dr. Rao: Because Sāṅkhya is silent about God. It neither affirms nor denies the existence of a creator. It focuses entirely on Puruṣa and Prakṛti. Without a devotional element, it never gathered popular religious momentum. It remained a school of thought.
Student: In the Yoga Sūtra, there’s a reference to detachment even from what the Vedas promise. Is this also a Sāṅkhya idea?
Dr. Rao: Yes. The word ānuśravika in the Sāṅkhya Kārikā refers to the pleasures and results promised in the Vedas. Sāṅkhya teaches that even these should be renounced. One must develop vairāgya—detachment from all results—to truly gain knowledge.
Student: Do all Indian philosophical schools refer to Sāṅkhya?
Dr. Rao: Yes. The Brahma Sūtras, especially in the second chapter, devote much attention to refuting Sāṅkhya. It was considered the main rival to Vedānta. Even schools like Advaita, Viśiṣṭādvaita, and Dvaita had to respond to it. And many concepts—like the senses, organs of action, and basic cosmology—are shared by all the schools. No one can deny that we have eyes, ears, or hands. These are universal facts, and Sāṅkhya gave a clear framework for them.

Thus ends the first chapter in our exploration of the Sāṅkhya system, guided by Dr. Rao's insightful commentary. With his blend of clarity and depth, he introduces us not only to a system of thought, but to a way of seeing the world—structured, rational, and liberating. in our exploration of the Sāṅkhya system, guided by Dr. Rao's insightful commentary. With his characteristic blend of intellectual sharpness and disarming humility, he introduces us not only to a system of thought, but to a way of seeing the world—clear, structured, and profoundly free.

Chapter Two: The Composition of Reality and the Instruments of Knowledge
In the previous chapter, we discussed the foundational concerns of the Sāṅkhya system—namely, the problem of suffering, its types, and the limitations of common remedies, including those prescribed by the Vedas.
Some may say the imperfection of this world points to the existence of a perfect world above—a heaven, free from sorrow. But even the methods prescribed by scripture to reach that world have their flaws. First, there is impurity. Many Vedic rituals involve animal sacrifice, which, even if sanctioned by the scriptures, involves violence and impurity. Second, the reward of heaven is temporary. One's stay there is determined by the amount of merit one has earned. It is like staying in a luxury hotel—you can enjoy it as long as your money lasts. Third, there is inequality even in heaven. One person may stay for a hundred years, another for ten thousand. Knowing this, how can one be truly happy?
One might wonder whether these criticisms are the influence of Buddhism or Jainism, which reject Vedic authority. In the Sāṅkhya Kārikā, the Vedas are praised, but not used as proof. Everything in Sāṅkhya is based on reason and logical analysis. This contrasts with Vedānta, which bases its claims on the authority of scripture. Sāṅkhya respects the Vedas but does not rely on them for validation.
Philosophies do not arise in isolation. They develop in a vibrant intellectual context, responding to debates and counterarguments. Therefore, it is likely that the Sāṅkhya school, though distinct, was influenced by the rationalistic climate shaped by Jainism and Buddhism. The point is not imitation, but engagement.
So what, then, is the way out of suffering? Sāṅkhya says: "Tad viparītaḥ śreyān." The better path is one that does not rely on worldly remedies or even the rituals prescribed by scripture.unmanifest (avyakta), and the knower (jña).
Realism and Pluralism in Sāṃkhya
First, let us clarify: Sāṃkhya is a realist system. It holds that the external world is not an illusion or a projection of the mind. Some Indian schools, such as certain strains of Vedānta or Buddhism, argue that the world is a mental projection. Sāṃkhya does not. It affirms that the world has its own independent existence. Even after liberation, the world continues to exist.
Second, Sāṃkhya is pluralistic. There are countless individual souls. Liberation is individual. My liberation does not affect yours. Each person must attain it on their own. The soul is free and independent, and so is the path to freedom.

The Three Fundamental Realities
The three fundamental realities are:
vyakta – the manifest world that we experience. This includes all that can be seen, touched, heard, and known through our senses. It is changing and evolving.
avyakta – the unmanifest, the root cause from which all things emerge. Just as a tree comes from a seed hidden beneath the soil, the manifest world comes from this unseen source. In Sāṃkhya, this source is called prakṛti.
jña – the knowing principle, the witness, the conscious observer. This is puruṣa, the soul, distinct from prakṛti.

When these three are rightly understood, prakṛti loses its power to bind. One becomes free.

The Four Categories of Existence
In Sāṃkhya, everything is divided into four categories:
prakṛti – the root cause, uncaused and eternal.
prakṛti-vikṛti – evolutes of prakṛti that also give rise to further evolutes. These are seven: mahat (intellect), ahaṃkāra (ego), and the five tanmātras (subtle elements).
vikṛti – those that are effects only, and do not cause anything further. These are sixteen: the five mahābhūtas (gross elements), the five jñānendriyas (sense organs), the five karmendriyas (organs of action), and the manas (mind), which functions as both.
puruṣa – the soul, which is neither a cause nor an effect. It produces nothing and is not produced by anything. It is pure consciousness.

Means of Right Knowledge (pramāṇa)
No philosophy can stand without a valid theory of knowledge. To know the truth, we must accept valid instruments of knowing, called pramāṇas. If one denies the possibility of correct knowledge, there is no basis for debate or understanding.
Sāṃkhya accepts three pramāṇas:
pratyakṣa (Perception) – Knowledge gained through the senses. This is the most basic form of knowledge. A child first sees, hears, and touches the world. Perception is direct and immediate.
anumāna (Inference) – Knowledge gained through reasoning. From what we see, we infer something else. If we see smoke, we infer fire. If there is a flood, we infer it has rained upstream. Inference allows us to extend knowledge beyond the limits of perception.
āptavacana (Reliable Testimony) – Knowledge gained through the word of a reliable source. Most of what we know in history or science comes from trusted testimony. We have never seen Aśoka, yet we accept he ruled India. We believe scientific findings because they are reported by qualified experts. This is āptavacana.

If one denies perception, inference, or testimony, then philosophy becomes impossible. These three are essential.

Clarifications and Questions
Student: Professor Rao, could you clarify how we translate the word manas as used in this system, compared to citta in the Yoga Sūtras?
Dr. Rao: These are technical terms. We speak of antaḥkaraṇa, the internal instrument. It takes on different names depending on its function. When it deliberates, it is called manas. When it forms decisive knowledge, it is buddhi. When it identifies with "I," it is ahaṃkāra. When it imagines or reflects, it is citta. In English, all are loosely called "mind," but these distinctions help us understand its functions more precisely.
Student: Can you please explain mahat?
Dr. Rao: Mahat is the first evolution of prakṛti. It is the principle of intelligence, often equated with buddhi. From prakṛti, when the three guṇas—sattva, rajas, and tamas—begin to become unbalanced, mahat arises. From it comes ahaṃkāra, the sense of "I," and from that, the rest of the creation.
Student: What are the four categories again?
Dr. Rao: First, we have prakṛti, the root cause. Then come the seven prakṛti-vikṛtis—mahat, ahaṃkāra, and the five subtle elements. Then the sixteen vikṛtis—five gross elements, five sense organs, five organs of action, and the mind. Finally, puruṣa, the soul, which is neither cause nor effect.
Student: If the soul produces nothing and is produced by nothing, what happens when we die? What do we leave behind?
Dr. Rao: The soul returns to its own nature. All suffering arises from contact with prakṛti. The body is a product of prakṛti. Without it, there is no suffering. Liberation is like a bird escaping a net—it simply flies free.

This concludes the second chapter. We now have a clearer view of the building blocks of the Sāṃkhya system and the means by which knowledge is attained. In the chapters to follow, we will deepen this exploration, one concept at a time.

Chapter Three: Inference, the Unseen Causes, and the Theory of Satkārya
In the previous chapter, we discussed the three core realities acknowledged by the Sāṃkhya system: the manifest (vyakta), the unmanifest (avyakta), and the knower (jña or puruṣa). We also learned of the four ontological categories: prakṛti, prakṛti-vikṛti, vikṛti, and puruṣa, and explored the three instruments of right knowledge (pramāṇa): perception, inference, and reliable testimony. In this chapter, we go deeper into these concepts, especially the role of inference in revealing what is beyond our senses.
Sāṃkhya asserts that our knowledge must include both what we perceive and what we cannot. The visible world (vyakta) consists of perceptible objects, but behind every effect there must be a cause. The unmanifest (avyakta) is that subtle cause. Although unseen, its presence is inferred through its effects. Finally, there is the puruṣa, the conscious knower, who perceives and reflects.

Why Inference is Necessary
Not all truths can be perceived directly. Many things, such as prakṛti, mahat, ahaṃkāra, and the tanmātras, are not visible to the senses. Yet they must be posited, because their effects are visible. If we see a tree, we infer there must have been a seed. If we see a pot, we infer a potter. This is anumāna — inference.

Some infer from cause to effect: clouds suggest rain. Others infer from effect to cause: a flood indicates upstream rain. Still others rely on association: seeing a familiar pair (a couple), the presence of one suggests the other. All these modes are considered valid in Indian thought.
Similarly, āptavacana — the word of a trustworthy source — is also essential. Much of what we know in science, history, and even daily life is based on testimony, not direct experience. Thus, all three pramāṇas are indispensable.

Why We Cannot Perceive Certain Realities
But why are prakṛti, mahat, and the rest not directly seen? The text lists several reasons:

Distance (dūra): Objects too far cannot be perceived clearly. We may see the moon as smooth and white, but upon closer inspection (via spacecraft), we see craters and rocks
Proximity (sāmīpya): Something too close to the eye cannot be seen without a mirror. The eye cannot see itself.
Defect in the senses (indriya-ghātāt): Color blindness or weak hearing may limit perception.
Mental distraction (mano-anavasthāna): A distracted mind may not register what is present.
Subtlety (sūkṣmatva): Atoms, molecules, and other minute particles are too subtle to perceive.
Obstruction (vyavadhāna): A wall can block the view of what is behind.
Overpowering presence (abhibhava): The stars are always in the sky, but during the day, the sun's light overpowers them.
Similarity (sāmānya): Among a herd of similar cows, it is hard to identify a specific one.
These factors remind us that non-perception is not evidence of non-existence.

Inference of the Unseen
We accept the presence of electrons, protons, and atomic structures not because we see them, but because we observe their effects. In the same way, we infer the presence of prakṛti, mahat, ahaṃkāra, and tanmātras from the manifest world around us. These subtle principles are the unseen causes behind the visible universe.
Every effect, says Sāṅkhya, implies a cause. If there is a pot, there must be clay. If there is a jewel, there must be a jeweler. This leads us to one of the most central doctrines in Sāṅkhya philosophy: the theory of satkāryavāda.

The Doctrine of Satkāryavāda
According to satkāryavāda, the effect exists within the cause before it is manifested. Nothing truly new is created; everything is a transformation or manifestation of what already exists. The pot exists in the clay before it is shaped. The image exists in the stone before the sculptor reveals it. The oil exists in the sesame seed before it is pressed.
Sāṅkhya gives several arguments to support this view:

asadakaraṇāt: What is truly non-existent cannot be brought into existence. You cannot produce "the horn of a rabbit" or square circles.
upādāna-grāhakatvāt: When someone wants to produce something, they seek a relevant material. To produce cloth, one goes to cotton, not to wood or sand.
sarva-sambhava-abhāvāt: If anything could come from anything, then everything should arise from anything. But we do not see pots coming from milk or butter from sand.
śakti-niyamāt: Only specific causes can produce specific effects. Milk can produce butter; water cannot.
kārya-kāraṇa-bhāva: There is a definite relationship between cause and effect. The pot and clay share properties — color, weight — and differ in shape or function. Thus, the effect reflects the cause.

This theory rejects the idea that things arise from nothing or are created anew. Instead, all transformation is manifestation. The invisible cause becomes the visible effect. This is why we must posit an unmanifest source behind the manifest universe.

The Nature of Vyakta and Avyakta
Vyakta (the manifest world) is described as:

anitya – impermanent
avyāpi – not all-pervading
saviśeṣa – has distinguishing characteristics
aneka – multiple
paratantra – dependent on a cause
sāvayava – composed of parts
liṅga – indicates a cause

Avyakta (unmanifest prakṛti) is the opposite:

nitya – eternal
vyāpi – all-pervading
aviśeṣa – undifferentiated
eka – one
svatantra – independent
niravayava – without parts
aliṅga – does not indicate any prior cause

This description helps us identify prakṛti as the unmanifest source. Everything we see is impermanent and composed of parts. But the cause behind it is eternal, unchanging, and unified.

Clarifications and Questions
Student: Is jña the same as draṣṭā?
Dr. Rao: Yes. The knower, the one who sees, the conscious witness — these are all terms for puruṣa, the seer. Draṣṭā, jña, puruṣa, they refer to the same reality from different angles.

Student: What are the four categories again?
Dr. Rao: First, prakṛti, which is the unproduced cause. Second, prakṛti-vikṛti, which are produced and also produce. These are the seven principles including mahat, ahaṃkāra, and the five tanmātras. Third, vikṛti, which are only products and do not generate anything further. These are the sixteen principles such as the five gross elements, five sense organs, five organs of action, and the mind. Finally, puruṣa, who is neither a cause nor an effect.

Student: Could you explain mahat again?
Dr. Rao: Mahat means the great principle. It is the first evolution from prakṛti. When the three guṇas begin to disturb their equilibrium, mahat arises. It has the capacity to understand and is closely related to buddhi. From mahat comes ahaṃkāra, and then the other evolutes.

Student: In śloka 5, what does liṅga-liṅgī pūrvakam mean?
Dr. Rao: Liṅga is the indicator, and liṅgī is the indicated. For example, if we see smoke, we infer fire. Smoke is liṅga; fire is liṅgī. The same applies when we infer unseen causes from their effects.

This concludes the third chapter. We have examined the philosophical justification for unseen realities, the necessity of inference, and the profound doctrine of satkāryavāda. With this, the Sāṅkhya framework becomes clearer, setting the stage for deeper inquiry into the evolution of the universe and the liberation of the soul.

Chapter Four: The Three Guṇas and the Dynamics of Prakṛti
In the previous chapter, we explored the distinction between vyakta (the manifest), avyakta (the unmanifest), and jña (the conscious knower), laying the groundwork for understanding the structure of reality in the Sāṅkhya system. We examined the four categories of existence, the theory of knowledge, and the principle of satkāryavāda — the view that every effect pre-exists in its material cause. We now turn to the dynamic forces that drive prakṛti into manifestation: the three guṇas.

The Nature and Function of the Three Guṇas
The Sāṅkhya school teaches that all material existence is composed of three fundamental forces or constituents called guṇas: sattva, rajas, and tamas. These are not mere qualities in the moral sense but ontological forces intrinsic to prakṛti itself.

sattva is the force of light, clarity, and harmony. It gives rise to joy, knowledge, and peacefulness. It is laghu (light) and prakāśaka (illuminating). When sattva is predominant, one experiences understanding and contentment.
rajas is the force of activity, restlessness, and desire. It is upasthambhaka — a force that agitates and energizes. It drives us toward action, ambition, and involvement. Rajas disturbs the equilibrium of sattva and tamas.
tamas is the force of inertia, heaviness, and obscuration. It is guru (heavy) and āvaraṇaka (veiling or covering). It clouds perception and obstructs knowledge, leading to confusion, ignorance, and inactivity.
These three guṇas exist in every object and being in varying proportions. No material entity is free of them. Their constant interplay generates the diversity of forms and experiences we encounter.
Mutual Opposition and Cooperation
The guṇas are not static; they are dynamic and in constant interaction. Sometimes one dominates and subdues the others:
When sattva is dominant, it suppresses rajas and tamas.
When rajas dominates, it agitates sattva and tamas.
When tamas dominates, it veils sattva and rajas.
This mutual opposition is called anyonya-abhibhāva. Yet, at times, they cooperate to produce effects—mithunāvṛtti. Dr. Rao compares this to an oil lamp. The oil, wick, and flame are distinct and even opposed in nature, but they work together to produce light. Likewise, the three guṇas, though different, combine to bring forth the manifest world.
Effects Reflect Their Causes
A central Sāṅkhya principle is that the qualities of an effect (kārya) must be present in its material cause (kāraṇa). Just as a red cloth is made from red threads, or a sweet dish is made from sweet ingredients, so too the products of prakṛti reflect its inherent nature.
From this, we infer that prakṛti must contain all three guṇas because the world we experience is filled with diverse sensations: sweet, bitter, neutral; joyful, painful, indifferent. Since these qualities appear in the effects, they must be in the cause. Thus, prakṛti is said to be triguṇātmikā—constituted by the three guṇas.
Why Prakṛti Is Unseen
Prakṛti itself is not directly perceived. We only see its evolutes—bodies, objects, phenomena. Dr. Rao reminds us that non-perception does not imply non-existence. Just as we cannot see protons or electrons yet accept them because of their effects, we must accept prakṛti’s existence based on inference (anumāna). Its presence is inferred from its effects, much like discovering a fire by the warmth of its ashes.
The avyakta (unmanifest) is real, though subtle. We do not perceive it because of its subtlety, our sensory limitations, or external obstructions. But from the observed variety and transformation in the world, we conclude that prakṛti must exist as a single, unseen, and eternal cause.
The Evolution of Prakṛti
Why does prakṛti evolve? Because the three guṇas are in constant interaction. Their disturbance from equilibrium initiates the process of manifestation. This evolution is called pariṇāma—real transformation. Like rainwater falling from the sky and acquiring different tastes based on the soil it lands in, prakṛti transforms based on the predominance of different guṇas.
The diversity we observe—plants, animals, humans, emotions—is due to the varying dominance of sattva, rajas, or tamas in different contexts. Thus, prakṛti appears in countless forms, though its essence remains the same.
Affirming the Existence of the Puruṣa
Dr. Rao concludes this chapter with a fundamental point: the reality of puruṣa, the conscious witness. All that we’ve discussed so far pertains to prakṛti and its evolutes. But the one who observes, experiences, and understands—the draṣṭā—is puruṣa.
Some schools deny the existence of a separate soul, reducing all cognition to the activity of neurons. Others posit that God controls all souls. Sāṅkhya holds a distinct view: puruṣa is eternal, independent, and untouched by prakṛti. It is not produced by prakṛti, nor does it produce anything. It is the knower, distinct from the known.
Our bondage comes from mistaking the body and mind—products of prakṛti—for the self. When this delusion is removed through knowledge, liberation becomes possible.
This sets the stage for the next chapter, which will offer philosophical reasons to affirm the existence of puruṣa, and distinguish it more clearly from the insentient machinery of prakṛti.
Chapter Five: The Soul and Its Liberation
In this chapter, the primary concern of the Sāṅkhya system is clarified further: the existence, nature, and plurality of the soul, known as puruṣa. The exposition begins by affirming the existence of the puruṣa based on Kārikā 17. Several arguments are presented to establish this point: the composite nature of the world implies a purpose beyond itself; the three guṇas (sattva, rajas, and tamas) are absent in the puruṣa; and the presence of a governing witness or enjoyer (bhoktṛ) is necessary. Finally, the striving for kaivalya—complete liberation—observed in some individuals, is itself evidence of the puruṣa’s distinct and independent existence.
The Plurality of Souls
In Kārikā 18, the Sāṅkhya system affirms the plurality (bahutvaṃ) of puruṣas. Were there only one soul, then birth (janma) and death (maraṇa) would happen simultaneously for all beings. Since this is not the case, and because bodily conditions and sensory experiences differ from person to person, it must be concluded that each individual is governed by their own distinct puruṣa. The karaṇas—organs of perception and action—differ, and so do desires, karmas, and inclinations. Liberation is likewise individual: one person’s emancipation does not automatically confer liberation on others.
Puruṣa as Witness
The following Kārikā presents puruṣa as the passive witness (sākṣī) of all prakṛti's activities. While prakṛti evolves and transforms, puruṣa remains unchanged, uninvolved, and neutral (madhyastha). He sees (draṣṭṛtva) without acting (akartṛtva). All suffering arises because of the association (samyoga) between prakṛti and puruṣa, resulting in mistaken identity. The intellect (buddhi), a product of prakṛti, is inert (acetana) but reflects consciousness. Likewise, puruṣa, though pure and inactive, seems to experience the transformations of the buddhi. This mutual superimposition is the cause of bondage.
To explain this illusion, an analogy is offered: just as a crystal appears blue when placed near a blue flower, so too puruṣa appears to undergo the transformations of prakṛti. In reality, the crystal—like the soul—is untouched.
The Purpose of Association
Why, then, does puruṣa come into contact with prakṛti at all? The answer is knowledge (darśana). The association exists only so that the puruṣa may recognize its true nature and attain kaivalya, or absolute freedom. Once realization occurs, the bond dissolves. This is illustrated through the analogy of the blind man and the lame man: the blind man (symbolizing prakṛti) can walk but cannot see, while the lame man (symbolizing puruṣa) can see but cannot walk. By carrying the seer on his shoulders, the blind man enables them both to navigate. In the same way, puruṣa uses prakṛti's instruments—mind and senses—to attain knowledge.
The Process of Evolution
Kārikā 22 outlines the evolution of the manifest world from prakṛti. The sixteen evolutes are listed: five organs of action (karmendriyas), five organs of perception (jñānendriyas), mind (manas), and five subtle elements (tanmātras). From the tanmātras evolve the five gross elements (mahābhūtas): earth, water, fire, air, and ether. This material world, populated with living and non-living entities, emerges from these principles in varied combinations.
Two types of creation are identified: sāttvika and tāmasika. From sattva arises buddhi (intellect), leading to knowledge (jñāna), dispassion (vairāgya), and mastery (aiśvarya). These are regarded as beneficial traits. On the other hand, from tamas arises inertia, ignorance, and material form, which obscure knowledge.

The creation process begins with prakṛti giving rise to mahat (cosmic intellect), which produces ahaṅkāra (ego). From ahaṅkāra—through the influence of the three guṇas—emerge different sets of evolutes. The sāttvika portion gives rise to the eleven faculties: the five organs of perception, the five of action, and the mind. The tāmasika portion yields the five tanmātras, which subsequently become the five mahābhūtas. rajas acts as the activating force, enabling the production of these effects.

The Indriyas and the Role of Mind
The five jñānendriyas are: eyes (cakṣus), ears (śrotra), nose (ghrāṇa), tongue (rasanā), and skin (tvak). The karmendriyas are: speech (vāk), hands (pāṇi), feet (pāda), anus (pāyu), and genitals (upastha). The mind (manas) serves both as an organ of knowledge and of action, acting as the coordinator of the other ten. Without its cooperation, perception and action cannot occur.
For instance, the image of an object may reach the retina, but if the mind is preoccupied, the object is not registered. Similarly, taste or sound may be present, but unless the mind attends to them, there is no experience. Thus, mind is indispensable.

Variations in Perception and Action
The functioning of jñānendriyas involves reception (ālocana)—the intake of impressions without movement. In contrast, karmendriyas involve motion and effort, such as grasping, speaking, or walking. The diversity of experiences arises from variations in the combinations of the guṇas. Just as the same basic materials can produce a fort, a house, or a toy depending on how they’re assembled, so too the same elements can result in diverse beings and experiences.

On Knowledge and Liberation
The chapter closes with reflections on the importance of study. Though some elements may seem distant from practical yoga, they form the philosophical backbone of the Yoga system. Like chemistry students learning formulae that may not always be used, yoga practitioners are encouraged to understand the full philosophical structure to enrich their practice.
Dr. Rao emphasized that Sāṅkhya offers a theoretical path to recognize the distinction between the knower (puruṣa) and the known (prakṛti), and thereby attain liberation. The puruṣa is always free, and realizing this dissolves the illusion of bondage. The system does not attempt to transform the soul, but simply to help it recover its true vision.
As the session closed, questions were asked and answered about the timing of the Kārikā's composition, distinctions between mind and soul, and comparisons with Vedāntic concepts like dharmī-bhūta jñāna and dharma-bhūta jñāna. The lecture concluded with a reaffirmation of the puruṣa's eternality and the importance of direct understanding (darśana) in attaining kaivalya.

Chapter 6: The Instruments of Knowledge and Action
In the previous section, we saw that the mind (manas) is considered both a sense organ (jñānendriya) and an organ of action (karmendriya), because for any perception or action to take place, the mind must be connected. If the eye is to see, the mind must be connected with it. If the ear is to hear, the mind must be connected with it. Even if the hand is to grasp an object, the mind must direct it. Hence, the mind is considered ubhayātmakam, having a dual role. It is both an internal organ and participates in the functioning of both jñānendriyas and karmendriyas.
The variation among the senses and their specific functions arises due to guṇa-pariṇāma-viśeṣāt—the special modifications of the guṇas.

The Five Organs of Knowledge and Action
The 28th kārikā discusses the five sense organs and the five organs of action. The jñānendriyas—eye, ear, nose, tongue, and skin—each interact with their respective objects: form, sound, smell, taste, and touch. Their function is ālocana-mātram—mere observation. For instance, the eye sees a tiger. That visual information is transmitted through the mind to the intellect (buddhi), which recalls past impressions and determines, “This is dangerous.” The intellect then initiates the next step, such as instructing the body to flee.
The jñānendriyas do not act upon the object—they merely observe. It is the karmendriyas—speech (vāk), grasping (pāṇi), locomotion (pāda), excretion (pāyu), and reproduction (upastha)—that perform actions. These are driven into motion after the intellect’s decision has been made.

The Three Internal Instruments and the Five Vital Forces
In the 29th kārikā, the text discusses the traya—the three internal faculties: buddhi (intellect), ahaṅkāra (ego), and manas (mind). Each has a distinct function:

Manas is responsible for saṅkalpa—initial thought, intention, and hesitation.
Ahaṅkāra gives rise to the “I” notion—“I am seeing,” “I am doing.”
Buddhi makes determinations and decisions.

These three work separately and independently—svalakṣaṇa-vṛtti-trayasya—each having its own vṛtti (function). Yet, they work together in sustaining the vital forces (prāṇas): prāṇa, apāna, vyāna, udāna, and samāna.

Prāṇa resides in the heart and drives respiration and heartbeat.
Apāna moves downward and governs excretion.
Udāna resides in the throat and enables speech and upward motion.
Samāna resides in the navel and governs digestion.
Vyāna pervades the body and enables sensation in all limbs.

Together, the three internal instruments initiate and sustain the movement of these five vāyus.

Simultaneous and Sequential Operation of the Mind and Senses
The next kārikā explains how actions occur. The three internal faculties and one of the sense organs work together—sometimes simultaneously (yugapat), sometimes in sequence (kramataḥ). For example, while watching a film, one may see, hear, taste, and feel all at once. This simultaneity is accepted by the Sāṅkhya system. The Nyāya school, on the other hand, maintains that the mind can connect to only one sense at a time, moving rapidly between them. According to them, what appears as simultaneous is really a rapid succession of mental connections.
Sāṅkhya accepts both possibilities. The internal faculties participate in both dṛṣṭa (direct perception) and adṛṣṭa (inference). When one sees smoke and infers fire, the eye perceives the smoke, and the internal instruments process the memory and logic necessary to infer the presence of fire.

The Autonomy of Instruments—No Need for Īśvara
A core teaching of Sāṅkhya is that all the senses and faculties function autonomously for the sake of the puruṣa. No external agent such as a god (Īśvara) is needed to impel them into action. Na kenacid kāryate kāraṇam—none of the instruments are made to act by another. They function mutually—paraspara-hetukam—on account of mutual dependence, for the purpose of serving the puruṣa’s experience (puruṣārthāt). For instance, when a toe is injured, the blood flows to repair it without any external command.
Because of this teaching, the Sāṅkhya of Īśvarakṛṣṇa is known as nirīśvara-sāṅkhya—a system without theistic dependence.

Thirteen Instruments and Their Domains
Kāraṇaṃ trayodaśa-vidham—There are thirteen instruments of action:

Ten external: five jñānendriyas and five karmendriyas
Three internal: buddhi, ahaṅkāra, and manas

These instruments perform three main functions: āharaṇa (intake), dhāraṇa (holding or grasping), and prakāśa (illumination or making something known). For example, the ear illuminates sound; the eye makes visible forms; the hand enables grasping.
Each of the ten external senses has a twofold domain: earthly and divine—pañcaviṣaya and adhidaivika pañcaviṣaya. Therefore, the senses are said to have tenfold objects (daśadhā).
The internal instruments, being antara-karaṇa, function not only in the present (samprati-kāla), but can also reflect on the past and anticipate the future (trikāla). They allow one to recollect, infer, and predict.

Superiority of the Internal Instruments
Though the external organs bring information in, they are only doorways—dvāri—without intrinsic intelligence. The internal faculties are like a person within the house who receives the messages and makes decisions. The external senses are like sophisticated devices, but without the buddhi and mind, they remain inert.
Hence, trividhaṃ kāraṇam dvāri, śeṣavari—the three internal instruments are primary, and the others are only secondary instruments or doorways.

The Lamp Analogy
To illustrate how knowledge arises, the analogy of the lamp (pradīpa-kalpāḥ) is given. A lamp requires three parts: wick, oil, and fire. Though each has distinct qualities and can oppose each other—such as oil extinguishing fire—when arranged properly, they produce light. Similarly, the buddhi, manas, ahaṅkāra, and senses are all different, yet cooperate to produce knowledge and experience for the puruṣa.
They are paraspara-vilakṣaṇāḥ, different from one another, yet they combine and present the experience to the intellect—buddhau pratyakṣam dhīyate—where it is received and retained.

Looking Ahead
This raises the great philosophical question: if all these instruments draw the soul outward toward the world—through sound, sight, taste, pleasure—how does the puruṣa turn inward and attain liberation (kaivalya)? If the senses are designed to bind the soul, how can they also help it become free?

This is the question that will be addressed in the following section.

Chapter 7: The Way Out of the Cycle of Experience
We had earlier understood how the three guṇas—though mutually exclusive and opposed to each other—nevertheless combine and interact in such a way that they generate experience and transmit it to the buddhi. The buddhi, in turn, delivers those experiences to the puruṣa. This process seems to go on endlessly.
If that is so—if the buddhi is continually delivering worldly experiences to the puruṣa, and there is no end to this cycle—then what is the hope for liberation? Is there any chance of escaping from this stream of experience? The nature of buddhi is to grasp and interpret the outer world and serve it to the puruṣa. This activity never stops. If this is the case, what purpose does the Sāṅkhya system serve?
The pleasures we derive through sense experiences are mixed with pain and are ultimately fleeting. The Sāṅkhya śāstra claims that liberation is possible, and that it is the only way to transcend this repetitive cycle. If there were no remedy, there would be no need for this śāstra. But if a remedy exists, we must seek it.
The question arises: if buddhi is the only means of perception and engagement with the world, and if buddhi constantly delivers experience, how can one ever transcend saṃsāra? There is no other equipment apart from our indriyas, manas, ahaṅkāra, and buddhi. So how can anyone gain mokṣa?
The answer lies precisely in buddhi itself.
In Kārikā 37, it is said: “Saiva ca viśinasti punaḥ pradhānapuruṣāntaram.” The very same buddhi that entangles us in worldly experience also has the power to show us the distinction between pradhāna (prakṛti) and puruṣa. Though it is the source of our bondage, it is also the key to our liberation. Properly prepared, buddhi reveals the truth of the puruṣa’s separateness and purity.
But why, then, do so few people attain this knowledge? The answer is: sūkṣmatvāt—because the distinction between prakṛti and puruṣa is extremely subtle. The average person mistakes buddhi, or ahaṅkāra, or even the physical body for the self. Only through sharp, clear, refined understanding—taught by realized beings like Kapila—can this subtle difference be grasped.
The elements we perceive in the world are called viśeṣas—distinct, tangible, nameable things. They are visible and differentiated: trees, rivers, mountains, birds, animals. But these viśeṣas evolve from more subtle entities called tanmātras, which are imperceptible. The tanmātras are called aviśeṣas—not distinctly perceivable, yet they form the substratum from which viśeṣas emerge.
These viśeṣas fall into three broad categories: śānta (peaceful and pleasing), ghora (terrifying and fearsome), and mūḍha (delusive and bewildering). They constitute the world we see, hear, touch, and inhabit.
Every embodied being has two bodies: a sthūla-śarīra (gross body), and a sūkṣma-śarīra (subtle body). The gross body is mātā-pitṛja, born of the union of mother and father. It is visible, tangible, and perishable. But beneath it lies the subtle body, composed of buddhi, ahaṅkāra, manas, and the ten indriyas. This sūkṣma-śarīra is not born of parents, nor does it perish at death. It transmigrates from one gross body to another.
While the gross body is temporary—subject to decay, disease, and dissolution—the subtle body is niyata, fixed and persistent. It was assigned to the puruṣa at the beginning of creation and continues until the puruṣa attains liberation.
The impressions and experiences of each life—whether joy or sorrow, virtue or vice—leave saṃskāras in the sūkṣma-śarīra. These latent impressions are like the lingering fragrance in a cloth bag that once held scented flowers. They influence the future journey of that subtle body, determining its next embodiment.
Just as a chāyā (shadow) cannot exist without a sthāṇu (supporting pole), and a citra (painting) cannot be drawn without a canvas or wall, the subtle body too cannot function without the gross body. It needs a physical form through which to enact its karmas and experience its fruits.
The sūkṣma-śarīra behaves like an actor (naṭavat). Today, it takes the role of a king; tomorrow, a beggar; next, a lion, a bird, a human again. According to its karmic imprint and the provisioning of prakṛti, it assumes various guises, wandering through saṃsāra.

How does this all occur?
Puruṣārtha-hetukam—it happens for the sake of the puruṣa’s twofold aim: bhoga (experience) and apavarga (liberation). Prakṛti, though insentient, serves the puruṣa by offering both. She binds him through pleasurable experiences and simultaneously provides the path to transcend them.
Some of our qualities are sāṃsiddhika (innate)—such as the ability of the eye to see or the ear to hear. Others are vaikṛtika (acquired)—like speech, knowledge of language, driving, or any skill we learn through training. One cannot speak without being exposed to language. Thus, there is both natural endowment and learned behavior.
Dharma, too, has its effect. Dharmeṇa gamanaṃ ūrdhvam, by practicing dharma, one rises upward. Adharmeṇa gamanaṃ adhaḥ, by violating dharma, one falls. Through knowledge (jñāna), one gains mokṣa. Through ignorance (viparyaya), one remains bound.
This, ultimately, is the teaching of Sāṅkhya: Knowledge alone liberates.
Those who fail to discern the truth remain trapped. But those who refine their buddhi—through discrimination, study, and grace—can distinguish prakṛti from puruṣa, recognize the puruṣa’s independence, and attain freedom.

Chapter 8: The Obstacles and Aids to Liberation
Good morning, everybody.
We are reading the Sāṅkhya Kārikā, and we had come up to verse 45. There, we learned that dharma causes movement upward—toward the higher lokas—and its opposite, adharma, causes movement downward. Moreover, correct knowledge—jñāna, the clear knowledge of prakṛti and puruṣa—leads to apavarga, emancipation. By contrast, viparyaya, which is ignorance or false knowledge, leads to bondage. This holds true in both the spiritual and ordinary worlds: knowledge grants freedom, and ignorance binds.
Verse 45 concluded with this profound insight: Vairāgya-prakṛtyālayaḥ, that is, one who has dispassion but no knowledge, dissolves into prakṛti. There are many people who are intelligent and even dispassionate, but because they are entirely absorbed in the outer world—physics, chemistry, law, administration—they never inquire into the self. Such people, though capable and detached in some ways, become prakṛtyālayaḥ: they are absorbed back into prakṛti itself. They never escape saṃsāra.
Those propelled by rāga, attachment, through the force of rajo-guṇa, continue endlessly in the cycle of saṃsāra. They wander through this forest of existence without ever finding the exit. Others, endowed with aiśvarya, power and capacity, experience fewer obstacles. They can move through different states and stages with relative ease—avighātaḥ, without impediment. But those who lack such strength face viparyaya, the opposite condition: their way is blocked at every turn.
All of these movements—upward, downward, stagnant—are the creations of buddhi, and buddhi itself manifests in four forms:
Viparyaya – erroneous knowledge or delusion
Aśakti – incapacity or powerlessness
Tuṣṭi – false contentment or complacency
Siddhi – powers or attainments

These four arise due to the play of the guṇas—sattva, rajas, and tamas—each attempting to dominate the others. From their interaction, these four conditions diversify into fifty types, as explained in the next verse.

Verse 46 tells us how:
Pañca viparyayāḥ – five types of erroneous knowledge
Aṣṭāviṃśaty-aśaktayaḥ – twenty-eight types of incapacity
Tuṣṭiḥ navadhā – nine types of complacency
Siddhiḥ aṣṭadhā – eight types of attainments
Together: 5 + 28 + 9 + 8 = 50.

The Five Forms of Viparyaya (Erroneous Knowledge)
Avidyā – ignorance, mistaking the non-self for the self
Asmitā – egoism, identifying the self with the ahaṅkāra
Rāga – attachment or desire
Dveṣa – aversion or hatred
Abhiniveśa – clinging to life and fear of death

The Twenty-Eight Forms of Aśakti (Incapacity)
These result from karaṇa-vaikalya—impairment of our instruments. We have five jñānendriyas, five karmendriyas, and manas—the mind—as the eleventh. When any of these are damaged or impaired, we experience aśakti, inability. A blind eye, a deaf ear, a numb tongue, or a disoriented mind—each limits perception or action.
Seventeen of the aśaktis relate to buddhi itself. These arise from distortions caused by viparyaya, false contentment, and misdirected siddhis.
Thus: 11 (indriyas + mind) + 17 (buddhi-based incapacities) = 28 forms of aśakti.

The Nine Forms of Tuṣṭi (Complacency)
Unlike in the Yoga Sūtras where santoṣa is praised, here tuṣṭi is negative. It is the complacency that hinders liberation. There are four ādhyātmika (internal) types:
Prakṛti-hetu – belief that nature alone grants liberation
Upādāna-hetu – belief that no liberation is possible because we never see it
Kāla-hetu – belief that time alone causes everything, so no effort is needed
Bhāgya-hetu – belief that everything is due to luck or fate
The remaining five are bhājya—contentment arising from sensory enjoyments: sight, sound, taste, touch, smell.
Thus: 4 internal + 5 external = 9 forms of tuṣṭi.

The Eight Forms of Siddhi (Aid to Knowledge)
Ūha – inference, inner reasoning
Śabda – scriptural authority or teacher’s word
Adhyayana – deep study of the teachings
Duḥkha-vighāta – removal of obstacles and pain
Su-hṛt-prāpti – companionship with wise friends
Dāna – receptivity or the inner ‘gift’ of insight
Sāhitya – association with sacred ideas
Abhyāsa – constant practice

This chapter also discusses a central tension: Why does creation occur at all? If puruṣa is pure consciousness, why does it fall into bondage? Why does prakṛti begin its work? Sāṅkhya answers that only in the mutual presence of puruṣa and prakṛti can experience occur. Their proximity initiates the creation process; when buddhi recognizes the illusion, prakṛti withdraws, leaving puruṣa free.

Chapter 9
In kārikā 46, it was stated that all these obstacles to liberation are creations of the buddhi. They are of four types: viparyaya (misconception), aśakti (inability), tuṣṭi (wrong contentment), and siddhi (distractions due to powers or accomplishments). Because of the interplay of the three guṇas, these four types become subdivided into fifty varieties.
The first is viparyaya—ignorance or misconception—which has five subdivisions. As in the Yoga Sūtras, these are: avidyā, asmitā, rāga, dveṣa, and abhiniveśa. These are also renamed in the Sāṅkhya system: avidyā becomes tamas (darkness), asmitā becomes moha (delusion), rāga becomes mahāmoha (great delusion), dveṣa becomes tāmisra (anger or hostility), and abhiniveśa becomes andhatāmisra (blinding darkness).
Each of these has internal divisions. For example, tamas has eight subdivisions because of the various ways one misidentifies the ātman with prakṛti, mahat, ahaṅkāra, and the five tanmātras. Moha also has eight forms due to delusion toward sensory objects. Mahāmoha, being related to the attraction to the ten indriyas (five jñānendriyas and five karmendriyas), is of ten types. Tāmisra and andhatāmisra are each said to be of eighteen types due to compounded attachments and fears, especially in divine or celestial beings who are afraid of losing their attainments. Altogether, these add up to sixty-two.
Aśakti, or inability, arises due to the breakdown or limitation of the karaṇas (instruments). There are eleven such faculties—five jñānendriyas, five karmendriyas, and manas. Inability can also affect the buddhi itself, bringing the total number of aśaktis to seventeen.
Then there is tuṣṭi, wrong satisfaction, which is of nine types. Four are ādhyātmika, internal contentments:

Prakṛti will automatically give liberation—no need for effort.

Upādāna (material causes) alone are sufficient—spiritual study is irrelevant.

Kāla—only at the right time will emancipation occur.

Bhāgya—it all depends on luck; some get liberation without effort.

The remaining five are based on sensory restraint: not seeing, hearing, tasting, touching, or smelling harmful things is mistakenly thought to guarantee liberation.
Siddhi refers to mystical accomplishments. There are eight classical siddhis—aṇimā, mahimā, laghimā, garimā, prāpti, prākāmya, īśitva, and vaśitva. These too become obstacles when one becomes attached to them. Thus, the nine tuṣṭis and eight siddhis together make up seventeen further obstacles.
So, all these—five viparyayas, seventeen aśaktis, nine tuṣṭis, and eight siddhis—constitute the fifty-fold classification mentioned earlier.

Verse 46 tells us how
Pañca viparyayāḥ – five types of erroneous knowledge
Aṣṭāviṃśaty-aśaktayaḥ – twenty-eight types of incapacity
Tuṣṭiḥ navadhā – nine types of complacency
Siddhiḥ aṣṭadhā – eight types of attainments
Together: 5 + 28 + 9 + 8 = 50.

The Twenty-Eight Forms of Aśakti (Incapacity)
These result from karaṇa-vaikalya—impairment of our instruments. We have five jñānendriyas, five karmendriyas, and manas—the mind—as the eleventh. When any of these are damaged or impaired, we experience aśakti, inability. A blind eye, a deaf ear, a numb tongue, or a disoriented mind—each limits perception or action. Seventeen of the aśaktis relate to buddhi itself. These arise from distortions caused by viparyaya, false contentment, and misdirected siddhis. Thus: 11 (indriyas + mind) + 17 (buddhi-based incapacities) = 28 forms of aśakti.

The Nine Forms of Tuṣṭi (Complacency)
Unlike in the Yoga Sūtras where santoṣa is praised, here tuṣṭi is negative. It is the complacency that hinders liberation. There are four internal types listed above, and five based on sensory pleasures (sight, sound, taste, touch, smell), making nine in total.

The Eight Forms of Siddhi (Aid to Knowledge)
Ūha – inference, inner reasoning
Śabda – scriptural authority or teacher’s word
Adhyayana – personal study and reflection
Duḥkha-vighāta – removal of obstacles and pain
Suḥṛt-prāpti – acquiring a good companion or friend
Dāna – receptivity or the inner “gift” of insight
Sāhitya – association with sacred ideas
Abhyāsa – constant practice

Now, what is the path for overcoming these? Alongside those aids, three restraints—metaphorically called aṅkuśa (the elephant goad)—are required: renunciation of ignorance, incapacity, and wrong contentment; each must be disciplined and transcended.
The text then reflects on a philosophical question: If prakṛti is unconscious, why should it act for the benefit of puruṣa? It is answered through analogy: just as milk appears in the cow for the nourishment of the calf—even though the cow does not consciously will it—so too does prakṛti unfold for the emancipation of puruṣa. Similarly, a stage dancer performs for the audience, and when the show is over, she withdraws. Prakṛti shows her drama to puruṣa, and then recedes once he attains discernment.
But objections arise. In these analogies, both the cow and the dancer are sentient. They have emotions and intentions. If prakṛti is truly insentient, how can she “intend” or “act” for the puruṣa? Other schools of philosophy, like Advaita Vedānta, raise this criticism sharply.
Sāṅkhya responds by saying: even insentient entities like clouds nourish the earth. So too prakṛti—though without awareness—functions as if intelligently designed for puruṣa’s realization. She acts through inherent laws, not conscious choice.
There is mutual dependence. Without puruṣa, there is no experience; without prakṛti, there is nothing to be experienced. Like a teacher requires students to be a teacher, and students require a teacher to be students—so too puruṣa and prakṛti imply each other’s role.
The liṅga-śarīra, or subtle body, continues from life to life. As long as the subtle body exists, duḥkha persists. Only when the liṅga-śarīra is dissolved through right knowledge does one attain liberation.
Finally, prakṛti is described as performing this entire cosmic drama, from mahat down to the bhūtas, only for the sake of puruṣa’s liberation. She receives no benefit—her motive is not selfish. It is as though nature stages a show for free, without charge, for the sole benefit of the soul.
This is where Chapter 9 concludes—with a mix of profound insight, metaphor, and the delicate philosophical tension between conscious purpose and mechanical law.

Chapter 10: Liberation and the End of Illusion
This final chapter of the Sāṅkhya Kārikā presents a conclusive vision of emancipation (kaivalya), in which the entire machinery of evolution, bondage, and even spiritual striving is shown to be a play of prakṛti—serving the silent puruṣa who remains forever untouched.
The asymmetry of their relationship is emphasized. Prakṛti, endowed with the three guṇas, creates the world and orchestrates experience solely for the sake of puruṣa. She evolves the cosmos so that the soul may eventually recognize its true nature. Puruṣa, by contrast, is nirguṇa, beyond attributes, utterly passive. He gains the experience, and ultimately the insight, but gives nothing in return. Prakṛti gains no benefit—she is likened to a devoted wife who continues to serve even though her husband gives her nothing.
A question arises: if both prakṛti and puruṣa are eternal, and their contact causes the world to evolve, why would that evolution ever stop? What brings about final liberation? The Sāṅkhya system responds with a poetic analogy: prakṛti is so delicate (sukumāratara) that once her secrets are known by puruṣa, she retreats and does not reappear. Just as a shy dancer leaves the stage once her performance is over, so too does prakṛti withdraw once her role is complete. For the liberated being, the illusion is broken—he no longer responds to prakṛti’s appearances, and therefore she ceases to present them.
This leads to a profound assertion: puruṣa is never actually bound. There is no real saṃsāra for the puruṣa. It is the buddhi, or higher intellect, that undergoes illusion, bondage, and release. All change happens within prakṛti alone. The self (ātman) merely appears to be bound because of misidentification with the buddhi. Once this misidentification is broken through knowledge (jñāna), liberation is recognized as the natural state that was always present.
The means of liberation is discriminative knowledge. Among the various dharma-related pursuits, only jñāna leads to release. All other paths—even pious action or dispassion—can still bind. The text explains that golden chains are still chains: even dharma binds if it perpetuates identification with the buddhi. Only kevala-jñāna—pure, steady discernment—can free the soul.
The realization is expressed as a triad of insight:
na mama — “This is not mine.”
na me — “This does not belong to me.”
nāham — “I am not this.”
This repeated contemplation (tattvābhyāsa) dissolves the illusion of ownership and ego. When the false identification with the buddhi ends, suffering ceases.
Even after realization, the body continues. Why? The Sāṅkhya gives the analogy of a potter’s wheel: even after the hand is removed, the wheel spins due to momentum. Likewise, the realized sage (jīvanmukta) continues to live in the body for some time due to the lingering force of past actions (saṃskāras). This state of jīvanmukti allows the sage to teach, write, and guide others. The final release (videhamukti) comes when the body falls away. This is called aikāntika mokṣa—total and irrevocable freedom, from which there is no return.
The chapter concludes with a note on authorship and lineage. The teachings were first revealed by the great sage Kapila to his disciple Āsuri, and from Āsuri to Pañcaśikha. After many generations of oral transmission, Īśvarakṛṣṇa distilled the entire doctrine into seventy kārikās, omitting stories and polemics against other schools to focus solely on essential points. His work, Sāṅkhya Kārikā, stands as the most authoritative and succinct summary of classical Sāṅkhya thought.
Ultimately, the goal of this teaching is not belief but direct recognition. When the mirror-like puruṣa ceases to mistake the dance of prakṛti for his own identity, he abides in his true nature—as the eternal witness, free from suffering, change, and illusion.

Closing Statement
At the heart of these teachings lies a rare gift: the opportunity to learn from a master who embodies the depth, precision, and humility of India's great philosophical tradition. Dr. H. V. Nagaraja Rao bridges ancient and modern worlds with remarkable ease, offering insights that resonate across cultures and generations. His razor-sharp intellect, grounded in the Mysore tradition and polished through decades of global scholarship, brings the Sāṅkhya Kārikā to life—not as a relic of the past, but as a living, breathing path to self-understanding and liberation.
It is with deep respect and heartfelt gratitude that we acknowledge Dr. Rao's generosity in sharing this knowledge. His brilliance, humor, and dedication have made this work possible. His teaching reminds us that true wisdom is not merely learned, but lived—and that the journey from confusion to clarity, from bondage to freedom, is one we can all undertake with the right guidance.
May these teachings continue to inspire seekers for generations to come.
—Andrew Eppler