He Gave Up Power. And Got Presence.
✨ He Gave Up Power. And Got Presence.
In the courts of kings, power is measured by the weight of one’s command—the ability to decide who eats, who starves, who rises, who falls. But in the story of Bhagavan Manikkavachakar, power met its match in Presence.
He began as a minister of high rank, trusted with royal affairs. His authority was vast: words he spoke could alter destinies. Yet, in that ocean of influence, he discovered an unbearable thirst. No throne, no treasure, no crown could quench the hunger that burned in his chest.
And so came the surrender: he gave up power. He released the gold of kings to chase the gold of the soul. But what he received was something infinitely greater than power—it was Presence.
Presence is not authority. It cannot be measured by armies, decrees, or jewels. Presence is the radiance that flows when the Divine fills a person so completely that the world itself pauses to notice. Presence is the quiet thunder that makes a room turn toward someone, not because of title, but because of truth.
Bhagavan Manikkavachakar’s verses carry this Presence. When he sings, the language itself trembles with immediacy. He is not reporting about God, not theorizing, not speculating. He is standing in the fire of the moment, burning in the reality of communion, and through his hymns we feel it—not as a story, but as Presence brushing against us.
This is why his life is radical even today. We live in an age obsessed with power: political, social, financial, technological. We measure worth by reach, titles, and networks. Yet Bhagavan Manikkavachakar’s path shows a different economy of value. You can hold the world and feel empty, or you can let it go and be filled with the vastness of the Eternal.
Presence is not passive—it is magnetic. The sages of India have always been living testaments to this paradox: when you abandon the chase for influence, your influence multiplies. Power forces obedience. Presence inspires surrender. Power fades when your role ends. Presence lingers for centuries.
This is why his hymns still breathe today, over a thousand years later. The king who once employed him is forgotten; the minister’s name, Manikkavachakar, shines brighter than ever. He gave up power. And in doing so, he received what power can never buy—the fragrance of timeless Presence.
🔧 Practical Toolkit: Choosing Presence Over Power
Pause Before Action Before sending an email, speaking in a meeting, or making a decision, pause for three breaths. Ask: Am I acting from the need to control, or from the clarity of Presence? This shifts motive from ego to essence.
Daily Presence Practice Spend 10 minutes a day sitting quietly, with no agenda. Notice the sensations, thoughts, and breath without interference. This strengthens your capacity to “be” rather than to “do.”
Power Audit Each week, list three ways you sought control or validation. Then list one moment where you simply showed up authentically. Reflect on which felt lighter, truer, more expansive.
Manikkavachakar’s Question Ask yourself: If I gave up this little crown I cling to—this title, this victory, this recognition—what Presence might replace it? Journal the answers, even if uncomfortable.
🌟 Closing Thought
Bhagavan Manikkavachakar teaches that the universe is not moved by power plays but by Presence. Power dazzles for a moment, but Presence roots eternity in a single human heart. He surrendered influence, and in return, he became an instrument of the Infinite. For us, too, the choice waits: cling to power—or awaken to Presence.
