I'm burned out and completely drained — I have nothing left to give
When the load is too much, place it on Hari's head and let the tiredness go.
You know this feeling: the tank is empty, the day still demands more, and somewhere underneath it all is a quiet panic that there's nothing left to pull from. You've been striving, supplying, holding things together — and the striving itself has become the weight. It isn't that you've failed. It's that you're exhausted of the excess, the endless more-than-needed, and you don't know where the next bit of energy is supposed to come from.
Tukaram meets this not with a pep talk but with permission — permission to stop carrying. Again and again he does the same plain thing: he arrives at Viṭhṭhal's feet bahukṣīda-kṣīṇa (much-hungered, much-tired), having walked the long forest-road, and asks for one thing only — visāvā, rest. He places the whole load on the deity's head and lets it go. And he names a truth our productivity culture hides: the resourceful position is the surrendered one. The store you've been trying to refill by udyoga (striving, procurement) is finite; the one you reach by setting the burden down is not.
So the answer here is not "try harder" or even "push through." It is the opposite. Set down what you've been forcing. Hand the load over. Trust that what comes by grace and relationship — the sāra (essence) that simply sticks to you — is enough. The tiredness you feel is honest and dignified, and it is exactly the doorway Tukaram walks through.
Abhang 215 — Tired of the excess
अधिकाचा मज कांटाळा । तुम्हां गोपाळां संगति ॥१॥ उद्योगाचा नेघें भार । लागल्या सार पुरतें ॥२॥
Tukaram names burnout precisely: not weariness of scarcity but kāmṭāḷā (wearied-ness) of adhika, the excess, the more-than-needed. That naming is itself relief — being drained by over-supply is a real, dignified state, not a failure. His remedy is to refuse the burden of udyoga (striving) and trust that the sāra (essence) that simply comes into your hands suffices. When you have nothing left to give, stop chasing the surplus; take what sticks, and let that be enough.
Abhang 1264 — Just let me rest at your feet
बहुक्षीदक्षीण । आलों सोसुनियां वन ॥१॥ विठोबा विसांवया विसांवया । पडों देई पायां ॥ध्रु.॥
This is the cry of someone who has nothing left — bahukṣīda-kṣīṇa, much-hungered and much-tired, having borne the whole forest-road of life, and having begged at other doors only to be met with phajitī (mockery). He asks for one thing, twice over: visāvā, visāvā — rest, rest. When you are this drained, you do not have to arrive with strength or a plan. You can arrive empty, fall at the feet, and ask only to rest. That alone is allowed, and it is enough.
Abhang 1289 — Place the load on Hari's head
देवाचिये माथां घालुनियां भार । सांडीं किळवर ओंवाळूनि ॥१ ॥ तुका म्हणे सांडीं लटिक्याचा संग । आनंद तो मग प्रगटेल ॥३॥
Here is the most direct instruction for an overloaded person: Devāciyē māthām ghālūniyām bhāra — put the load down on the deity's head. Stop holding it yourself. Tukaram even tells you to wave the burdened self aside the way you'd wave the āratī flame in offering — a gesture of release, not effort. And he promises that ānanda (joy) reappears only after you abandon the laṭika-sanga (clinging to the false). The relief you're starving for is on the far side of letting go, not more gripping.
Abhang 2462 — The exhaustion is gone
भाग सीण गेला । माझा सकळ विठ्ठला ॥१॥ राहिली तळमळ । तई पासोनी सकळ ॥२॥
This abhang is what the other side of surrender feels like: bhāga-sīṇa gēlā — the exhaustion-fatigue is gone, all of it, the moment "Viṭhṭhal is mine." By lowering his hope to uchchhiṣṭāchī āsa — hoping only for the leftovers — the endless taḷamaḷa (agitation) finally stops, and Tuka says the stomach is at last full. When you stop demanding the whole feast and accept what is given, the inner churning that drains you ceases, and you find you are satisfied.
Abhang 44 — Surrender is access, not defeat
कामधेनूचिया क्षीरा पार नाहीं । इच्छेचिये वाही वरुषावे ॥२॥ तुका म्हणे बहु लाटे हें भोजन । नाहीं रिता कोण राहत राहों ॥५॥
Burnout comes from trying to extract supply from finite sources — career, savings, your own willpower. Tukaram names a different economy entirely: the kāmadhenu (the wish-fulfilling cow) has milk without limit, and nāhīm ritā koṇa — no one stays empty. The surrendered position isn't weakness; it is the access point to an inexhaustible store. When you're convinced there's nothing left to give, this abhang insists the emptiness is only because you're drawing from the wrong well.
Abhang 1732 — Stop trying to measure
मागतियाचे दोनि च कर । अमित भांडार दातियाचें ॥१॥ तुका म्हणे आतां आहे तेथें असो । अंखुनियां बैसों पायांपाशीं ॥३॥
The asker has only two hands; the giver's treasury is amita — unmeasured. The limit, Tukaram realizes, was never the supply — it was his own small capacity, and his exhausting effort to measure it all. His tongue is bhāgalī, worn out from measuring. So he simply stops: āhē tēthē asō — let it be where it is — and sits down at the feet. When you're drained from trying to account for everything and keep it all filled, the rest is in stopping the measuring and just sitting still.
In one breath
Your exhaustion is honest, and Tukaram's answer is not to push harder but to set the load down — onto Hari's head — and ask only for visāvā, rest. Stop drawing from the finite well of your own striving; the surrendered position is the one with access to the inexhaustible store, where no one stays empty. Stop measuring, fall at the feet, and let the tiredness go.