The Puppet Kings: How Maya Rules the Rulers

They sit on thrones of gold, command armies with a word, and reshape borders like lines in sand. They broadcast strength. They issue decrees. Their names are etched into monuments, movements, and fears. The world sees them as powerful — as kings, presidents, billionaires, gods.

But look closer.

Behind the pageantry, behind the page views and palace walls, invisible strings move their hands. Strings of fear. Strings of ambition. Strings of past trauma and future dread. Strings woven by maya — the primordial power that veils truth and projects illusion.

And so these so-called kings — Trump, Putin, the moguls and manipulators of the modern world — are not the authors of history, but its most tragic characters: puppets who think they pull the strings.

Their power is a performance.

Their dominance is bondage.

And the more they seek to master the world, the more enslaved they become to its unreality.

In this essay, we’ll explore how maya — that ancient force named by the sages — rules not only the masses, but the rulers themselves. We’ll see how even the cleverest, wealthiest, and most ruthless are caught in the dream they think they control. And we’ll contrast their false power with the silent sovereignty of the truly free — the sages, the seers, the jivanmuktas who dwell beyond illusion.

Because in the end, the greatest prison is not made of stone or steel.

It is made of identity. Of belief. Of the false certainty that says: I am in control.

And that — that lie — is the essence of maya.

What Is Maya? The Power Behind the Curtain

In Vedanta, maya is not simply illusion in the theatrical sense — it is the cosmic architect of misperception. It projects a world of separation, conflict, and becoming, all while concealing the underlying unity of existence. It is not falsehood per se, but the mistaken overlay upon what is real. Maya makes the rope look like a snake, the Self look like the body, and the puppet king look like a god.

The sages describe maya as having two primary powers:

• avarana-shakti, the power of concealment, which hides the truth of one’s real nature.

• vikshepa-shakti, the power of projection, which superimposes names, forms, and identities upon that truth.

These two forces work together in every act of misidentification. They are what cause a man to believe he is a nation, a brand, a savior, or a conqueror. And they are why those most entangled in the pursuit of worldly power are often furthest from reality.

Maya is also anadi — beginningless. No one “started” it. It is the very condition of conditioned experience. The moment one is born into form, one is born into the domain of maya. But liberation is possible, say the sages, through right knowledge (jñāna), discrimination (viveka), and detachment (vairagya). Until then, all beings — rulers included — are actors in a grand dream they mistake for permanence.

And here lies the great paradox:

Those who believe they’ve mastered the world are often its most skillful dreamers — and its most deeply asleep.

Case Study: Trump, Putin, and the Architecture of Illusion

They strike the pose of kings: decisive, untouchable, larger than life. Their voices fill arenas. Their shadows stretch across borders. Their supporters chant their names as if invoking gods. But behind the bravado, something ancient plays out — the same drama that has always ensnared men drunk on the illusion of control.

Donald Trump is not a strategist. He is not even truly a leader. He is a projection — a reactive bundle of compulsions animated by ego and grievance. His obsession with appearance, domination, and eternal relevance betrays a man terrified of being forgotten. His rallies are not expressions of power, but rituals to stave off the void. He does not shape the mob; the mob shapes him. He feeds on it, depends on it. Without it, he dissolves.

Vladimir Putin embodies the cold, calculated face of power — former intelligence operative turned nationalist strongman. And yet his actions betray the same fragility. His paranoia. His rewriting of history. His need to crush dissent, rewrite maps, and control narrative at all costs. Beneath the steel exterior is a man driven by trauma, mythology, and karmic obsession — a prisoner of a script he believes he is writing.

Both men are avatars of modern maya: each animated by the illusion of greatness, each caught in their own fabricated mythology. They build walls, armies, empires — and yet are ruled by what they cannot name: insecurity, impermanence, and fear of non-being.

They are not sovereigns. They are not even villains in the truest sense.

They are entangled. Bound.

Not kings, but puppets — dancing to the unseen rhythms of their conditioning.

And so are their followers, their enemies, their courts and parliaments. The show is dazzling, tragic, full of sound and fury. But the only truth worth noticing is this:

They are not free.

Why Cleverness Is Not Wisdom

In an age where manipulation is mistaken for genius and confidence for clarity, it becomes difficult to tell the difference between a cunning mind and a wise one. But Vedanta draws a sharp line.

Cleverness operates within the dream. It calculates, strategizes, adapts. It builds empires, harvests attention, and bends others to its will. It is the domain of political operatives, billionaires, strongmen, and influencers — all dancing with incredible precision inside the illusion.

Wisdom, by contrast, sees through the illusion. It recognizes the dream as dream and the dreamer as free. It neither clings nor resists. It knows that what appears to be power is merely motion within a larger field — governed by karma, time, and the inscrutable play of maya.

This is why even the most intelligent rulers, the master tacticians and high-functioning sociopaths, are not truly powerful. They are caught in horizontal movement — always seeking more: more control, more wealth, more legacy, more image management. But true power is vertical: it pierces the plane of becoming and arrives at Being.

Cleverness can build palaces, yes. But only wisdom knows they are made of sand.

“He who knows others is wise; he who knows himself is enlightened.” – Lao Tzu

“What is night for all beings, the wise see as day.” – Bhagavad Gita 2.69

Real Power vs. False Power

There is a kind of power that fills stadiums, topples governments, crashes markets, and dominates headlines. It is loud, immediate, and intoxicating. It demands to be seen.

And then there is a power that leaves no trace.

It does not accumulate. It does not dominate.

It rests.

The first kind of power — the one worshipped in this age — is what Vedanta calls mithya: provisionally real, but ultimately ungrounded. It’s built on conditions: popularity, fear, image, and control. Because it is conditional, it is unstable — always defended, always threatened. The powerful man cannot sleep. He cannot let go. He cannot be still.

The more he appears to rule the world, the less he rules himself.

The second kind of power is what the Gita calls sthita-prajna — steady wisdom.

It belongs to one who no longer seeks identity through action, who no longer defines reality by circumstance. This person does not wield power — they are power, because they no longer derive their sense of self from anything that can be taken away.

The world never sees such a one coming.

Because they do not come — they remain.

They move through the world like wind through leaves: present, but ungraspable.

They have nothing to prove, and therefore cannot be manipulated.

In truth, the sage possesses what the puppet king can only imitate:

• Presence without performance.

• Command without control.

• Freedom without followers.

The king may wear a crown of gold.

The sage wears nothing — and is not burdened by even that.

The Great Irony: The Manipulator Is Also the Manipulated

The strongman believes he is the one pulling the strings.

He thinks history bends at his command, that nations move because he wills it.

But he does not see the deeper machinery.

He does not see the compulsions that push him.

The unconscious fears that shape every speech.

The generational trauma behind every policy.

The karmic entanglements that have drawn him, inexorably, to the role of ruler.

He believes himself a master. But the role plays him.

This is maya at her most exquisite:

To convince the manipulator that he is free, even as he dances within her web.

Even the greatest liars cannot escape this — because they, too, have been lied to.

They have mistaken their identity for truth.

They have mistaken movement for progress, influence for insight, victory for vision.

And what’s worse: they have convinced the world to do the same.

This is why the world suffers not merely under tyrants, but under illusion. Not only from oppression, but from misperception. The real chains are not made of law or steel, but of story — the unexamined narratives that say:

• You must win to be worthy.

• You must be seen to be real.

• You must dominate or be erased.

In this, the rulers are not the villains of the dream — they are its most devout believers.

And maya, ever impartial, lets them believe what they must.

“As if in a dream, the fool sees himself as king. But upon waking, the dream vanishes — and only the Self remains.” – Ashtavakra Gita

A Call to Inner Sovereignty

The world will continue to parade its puppet kings — bold, brash, and empty.

They will gesture toward greatness, command armies, flood airwaves, and promise salvation.

And the world, entranced by surfaces, will follow. It always has.

But the wise do not chase power.

They do not run toward the fire of ambition, nor away from the shadow of obscurity.

They remain centered.

Unmoved.

Free.

True sovereignty is not dominance over others — it is freedom from compulsion.

It is not the ability to bend others to your will, but the clarity to no longer be bent by your own conditioning.

It is not to be seen, but to see.

And so the question is not: Who rules the world?

The question is: Who has stepped outside the illusion of ruling and being ruled?

Who has slipped the noose of identity?

Who has turned from the glittering mask to the quiet mirror?

Who, when everything collapses — reputation, empire, body — still knows: I am that.

That is the one who is free.

“The king and the beggar are equal in the dream. Only the dreamer is real.” — Vedantic aphorism

Let the puppet kings have their stage.

Let maya dance her dazzling dance.

The one who sees clearly does not flinch —

for he knows he was never in the dream to begin with.