For ten phases this build wrote the same sentence in different words: the ritual material states counts and materials and never states who may do it, what goes wrong, or when to stop.
The sentence was wrong.
All three exist. The eligibility gate is "do not undertake tantric mantras simply by reading them out of a book." The contraindication is celibacy for the duration, with cases "visible even now" of illness and displeasure. The stopping criterion is that the practitioners who are actually going somewhere send the siddhis back.
They are in the last chapter of the narrative section, in a book whose ritual material is filed two hundred pages away, and no ritual essay refers to them.
Now hold that against the modern corpus, which has the same three things — a clinical precondition, four warning signs, an observable stopping rule — stated before any practice, in the one document that carries them. And a sibling document, by the same author, for the same practitioner, prescribing 90–180 minutes daily at crisis intensity, naming no clinician.
Two corpora, fifty years and one lineage apart, with no contact between them. Both produced adequate safety doctrine. Both filed it where the practitioner will not be standing.
That is not a coincidence and it is not a defect of either author.
Safety material gets written by whoever happens to be thinking about safety, and it gets filed with the rest of their writing. The 1975 volume convenes contributors and prints them adjacently; a biographer thinking about the end of a career writes the cautions into his last chapter. The modern corpus responds to prompts one document at a time; a document about psychological risk carries the risk doctrine and the next document does not inherit it.
Neither structure has any mechanism by which a constraint stated in one place becomes binding in another.
The adhikāra problem is editorial, not doctrinal.
A tradition does not fail to know its own limits. It fails to attach them — and the attachment failure is a property of how the corpus was assembled, not of what its authors understood.
Which yields a measurement: a safety element's value is a function of its distance, in pages, from the instruction it governs. Both corpora score badly on it. Both would be repaired by moving text rather than by discovering anything.
If the five manuals the Carit names — Anuṣṭhāna-Prakāśa, Mantra-Mahodadhi, Mantra-Mahārṇava, Mantra-Saṅgraha, Hanumat-Upāsanā-Kalpadruma — carry their own adhikāra material at the point of use, then the doctrine was attached in the source and the Aṅka's ritual essays stripped it in transmission.
That is a much worse finding than the one above, and it is checkable. The titles are specific.
The book's hardest-looking obligation was supplying safety doctrine to a tradition that seemed not to have developed any. It turns out to have developed it twice, independently, and mislaid it twice.
So the deliverable is not a new framework. It is a placement rule, applied to material that already exists: every practice chapter carries its own gate, its own contraindication and its own stopping criterion, on the page, and none of them lives in a closing section.
⚑ And the corpus's own constitutional overlay — one document binding the others — was reaching for exactly this and applied it to writing instead of to safety.