By the dawn of the Common Era, Ajivika’s unyielding doctrine of niyati—absolute cosmic determinism—began to feel like a leaky umbrella in a monsoon. While Buddhism and Jainism offered moral agency through karma and deliberate ethical choices, Ajivikas held that every action, joy or sorrow, was pre-scripted by fate. Such radical fatalism tended to sap personal motivation, making its ethical appeal flicker out.

Organizationally, Ajivika monks never forged a tight-knit missionary network. Buddhism surged ahead on the wings of Ashoka’s imperial support, sending emissaries as far as Sri Lanka and Central Asia. Jain communities, too, cultivated merchant clans across India, weaving their rituals into daily life. Ajivikas, by contrast, lacked both state patronage and the lay infrastructure to keep their monasteries humming. Without royal endowments or commercial backers, many of their sites simply ran out of steam.

Survival of a faith often hinges on its literature. Buddhists and Jains compiled voluminous texts, stashed away in monasteries and copied by generations of scribes. Ajivika writings, if any existed, vanished—perhaps never fully committed to durable palm-leaf manuscripts, or simply neglected by later librarians. By the seventh century, travelers like Xuanzang still spotted Ajivika enclaves in southern India, but scant textual remains meant those enclaves were little more than historical footnotes.

Fast-forward to today: debates over free will versus determinism continue in philosophy departments, yet few flock to a creed that robs them of any say in life’s script. As societies evolve, beliefs that give people a sense of purpose and empowerment tend to stick. Without that spark, Ajivika doctrine quietly fell by the wayside, its once-ardent followers absorbed into the more pragmatic folds of Buddhism, Jainism—or simply swept along by changing times.