108 Saranam: Ayyappan 108 Saranam
Some words carry more weight than we realize. 108 saranam is one of them. It’s not just a chant or a list of names. For many, it’s an anchor—a daily call to the divine. The ayyappan 108 saranam, often heard echoing through temples and homes, is a series of humble surrenders. It doesn’t ask for power or praise. It simply says, “I take refuge in you.”
This chant may seem repetitive on the surface. But inside those lines is something deeply spiritual—something that speaks to the truth of being human. What does it really mean to surrender? And why is surrender so central to spiritual life?
The Truth About Surrender We Often Miss
We talk about devotion often. But surrender? That’s a harder topic. In a world full of messages about self-love, confidence, and building our identity, the idea of letting go feels out of place. We’re taught to value self-worth, to stand tall, to never bow to anything. But if we’re always holding on to our own importance, how can we truly surrender?
Surrender doesn’t mean giving up. It means seeing clearly. It begins when we notice how limited we really are. Think about it. We are physical beings—our body ends somewhere. There’s a boundary. Without boundaries, physicality can’t exist. That’s how the world works.
But because of that boundary, something else happens. We start to feel a kind of emptiness. A sense that something is missing. That’s why people chase self-respect, success, praise. Not because they’re wrong to do so, but because they’re trying to fill a quiet space inside. (Read: Bed rotting, depression and spirituality)
Here’s the shift: the moment we admit our limitations—not as defeat, but as fact—that’s when surrender begins. Not because someone told us to surrender, not because we read it in a book. But because we see the truth.
That we are not all-powerful. That we don’t know everything. And in that quiet knowing, the need to control everything starts to fall away.
That’s when we start to lean into something bigger than ourselves. Something without limits. That’s when we begin to surrender—not by force, but by grace.
Ayyappan 108 Saranam – A Practice of Letting Go
When a devotee chants the ayyappan 108 saranam, it’s not about performance. It’s about returning to the core of what we are. Each line in the 108 saranam is a soft reminder: “I surrender at your feet.”
Some lines might call Ayyappan by different names. Some mention his roles, qualities, or divine attributes. But each of the 108 names leads to the same feeling—a moment of surrender.
During the Sabarimala pilgrimage, this chant is a lifeline. It keeps the mind steady, the heart open, and the ego in check. But this practice isn’t just for pilgrimage. People chant it while walking, sitting, working, or resting. Why? Because it works. Because it brings peace.
Let’s take a moment to feel what these words do:
- “Swamiye Saranam Ayyappa”
- “Harihara Putra Saranam Ayyappa”
- “Dharma Shastha Saranam Ayyappa”
Each line gently brings us back to surrender. We are not begging. We’re not demanding. We’re simply saying, “I am limited. You are not. I surrender.”
As this practice deepens, something changes inside. The need to prove ourselves starts to fade. The tension in the mind softens. And the chant becomes less about words—and more about presence.
The beauty of ayyappan 108 saranam is not in its complexity. It’s in its simplicity. It reminds us that we don’t need to be more—we just need to see clearly. That’s all.
And in that seeing, the illusion of separateness begins to dissolve.
Conclusion
The journey of chanting 108 saranam isn’t about achieving anything. It’s about releasing. About seeing that we are inside a boundary, and that boundary makes us feel separate, incomplete. But instead of running from that feeling, we sit with it. And in doing so, we let it go. (Read: Absurdism and finding meaning in life)
Ayyappan 108 saranam offers more than just tradition. It offers a doorway. A way to gently step out of the identity we wear every day and return to something timeless.
Every time we chant 108 saranam, we are not just speaking—we are letting go. Of fear. Of ego. Of control. And in that moment of letting go, something opens.
We may not become saints overnight. But we begin to feel a quiet shift. A softening. A stillness. That is the heart of spiritual life.
And that’s the power of surrender.
