Why Hanuman Never Asked Rama For Moksha
Riya Kumari | Nov 05, 2025, 23:57 IST
Hanumanji
( Image credit : AI )
Most devotees ask God for something, peace, healing, protection, even moksha. But Hanuman stands alone. Sitting humbly at Lord Rama’s feet, he never once asked for liberation from life, death, or suffering. Not because he didn’t deserve it, but because he didn’t need it. For Hanuman, being in service to Rama was not a path towards liberation, it was liberation itself. He didn’t seek freedom from life; he found freedom within life.
In the vast ocean of the soul’s journey, most devotees reach a point where the ultimate ask rises: liberation (mokṣa). Yet we find in the story of Hanuman a striking exception. Though he is the perfect devotee of Rama, though he is endowed with superhuman power, though his heart radiates surrender, he does not ask Rama for moksha. Why? What can that teach us about purpose, service, identity, and the deeper currents beneath our everyday strivings?
Hanuman’s life is defined by his allegiance, his action, his bhakti (devotion) to Rama. The very nature of his being is to act, to serve, to remain undivided in purpose. When a soul becomes utterly aligned with the Divine will, the question “What will I get?” drops away. Hanuman’s ask is not “free me” but “let me serve.” This resonates with countless human stories: at work, in family, in relationships we often ask for recognition, relief, escape.
But the highest form of fulfilment sometimes lies in abandoning the “ask” altogether, and finding identity in the action. In that sense, Hanuman shows us: moksha isn’t always the endpoint of a transaction, for some it is the way of living.
In many traditions, moksha means the breaking of the cycle of birth-and-death, the final release. But Hanuman, as tradition holds, is a chiranjeevi: one whose life continues, whose mission continues. If his purpose is to remain a living embodiment of devotion, of service, then asking for an endpoint would contradict his own lived identity.
Ask yourself, if your purpose is framed only as “when this is over, I’ll be free,” you may miss the depth of what you’re doing now. Hanuman teaches us to be in the process, not just aim for the finish line.
Dharma (righteous duty) isn’t simply a path to a reward, it is the reward. Hanuman showed that when duty, devotion, strength, purpose merge, liberation and life are not opposed: they become integrated. People are often torn between “doing what I’m supposed to” and “doing what releases me.”
Hanuman shows that the two needn’t be exclusive. The act of devoted service becomes the release. It flips the paradigm: instead of “I’ll serve so I can be free,” it becomes “I serve because in that I am already free.”
What Hanuman never asked, moksha, becomes the very space in which he lives. And that is the radical teaching for us. In our lives we ask for relief from stress, escape from duty, freedom from expectations. But when the “asking” becomes our constant script, we lose the depth of our present engagement. Hanuman invites us to consider:
What would it mean if I stopped asking for “what I get” and focused on “what I am doing”?
What if liberation isn’t the prize at the end but the quality at each moment of honest service?
In relationships, jobs, family, could it be that the highest freedom is to step out of asking and into giving?
If you feel trapped by always seeking an outcome (promotion, freedom, recognition), ask: What if the outcome isn’t the goal, the doing is? In our inner dialogue we often say: “When I complete this, I’ll feel free.” Imagine instead: “While I am completing this, I am free.”
Hanuman’s example shows us that true devotion means consistency, humility, alignment, not transaction. Could you redeploy your energy from “What will I get?” to “What can I serve?” And when you finally get what you asked for, the risk is you’ll ask again (and again). Hanuman’s path points to a way beyond the cycle of ask-and-get: a life rooted in devotion, purpose, service.
Hanuman never asked for moksha because he lived it in each moment of his devotion, in each leap over the ocean, in each act of courage, in each bow at the feet of Rama. His freedom was not a future promise, but his present posture.
In our own lives, perhaps the biggest liberation is this: to let our service be our freedom, our purpose our peace, our doing our being. To stop asking Most devotees ask God for something, peace, healing, protection, even moksha. But Hanuman stands alone. Sitting humbly at Lord Rama’s feet, he never once asked for liberation from life, death, or suffering. Not because he didn’t deserve it, but because he didn’t need it.
Hanuman’s identity is in the service, not the reward
Lord Hanuman
( Image credit : Pixabay )
Hanuman’s life is defined by his allegiance, his action, his bhakti (devotion) to Rama. The very nature of his being is to act, to serve, to remain undivided in purpose. When a soul becomes utterly aligned with the Divine will, the question “What will I get?” drops away. Hanuman’s ask is not “free me” but “let me serve.” This resonates with countless human stories: at work, in family, in relationships we often ask for recognition, relief, escape.
Moksha implies an endpoint; Hanuman lives the endless
Hanuman
( Image credit : Pixabay )
In many traditions, moksha means the breaking of the cycle of birth-and-death, the final release. But Hanuman, as tradition holds, is a chiranjeevi: one whose life continues, whose mission continues. If his purpose is to remain a living embodiment of devotion, of service, then asking for an endpoint would contradict his own lived identity.
Ask yourself, if your purpose is framed only as “when this is over, I’ll be free,” you may miss the depth of what you’re doing now. Hanuman teaches us to be in the process, not just aim for the finish line.
By not asking for moksha, Hanuman models eternal dharma in action
Shree Hanuman
( Image credit : Pixabay )
Dharma (righteous duty) isn’t simply a path to a reward, it is the reward. Hanuman showed that when duty, devotion, strength, purpose merge, liberation and life are not opposed: they become integrated. People are often torn between “doing what I’m supposed to” and “doing what releases me.”
Hanuman shows that the two needn’t be exclusive. The act of devoted service becomes the release. It flips the paradigm: instead of “I’ll serve so I can be free,” it becomes “I serve because in that I am already free.”
When asking stops, living deepens
Bajrangbali
( Image credit : Pixabay )
What Hanuman never asked, moksha, becomes the very space in which he lives. And that is the radical teaching for us. In our lives we ask for relief from stress, escape from duty, freedom from expectations. But when the “asking” becomes our constant script, we lose the depth of our present engagement. Hanuman invites us to consider:
What would it mean if I stopped asking for “what I get” and focused on “what I am doing”?
What if liberation isn’t the prize at the end but the quality at each moment of honest service?
In relationships, jobs, family, could it be that the highest freedom is to step out of asking and into giving?
If you feel trapped by always seeking an outcome (promotion, freedom, recognition), ask: What if the outcome isn’t the goal, the doing is? In our inner dialogue we often say: “When I complete this, I’ll feel free.” Imagine instead: “While I am completing this, I am free.”
Hanuman’s example shows us that true devotion means consistency, humility, alignment, not transaction. Could you redeploy your energy from “What will I get?” to “What can I serve?” And when you finally get what you asked for, the risk is you’ll ask again (and again). Hanuman’s path points to a way beyond the cycle of ask-and-get: a life rooted in devotion, purpose, service.
Closing thought
In our own lives, perhaps the biggest liberation is this: to let our service be our freedom, our purpose our peace, our doing our being. To stop asking Most devotees ask God for something, peace, healing, protection, even moksha. But Hanuman stands alone. Sitting humbly at Lord Rama’s feet, he never once asked for liberation from life, death, or suffering. Not because he didn’t deserve it, but because he didn’t need it.