In March 2019, I attended a Vipassana course. Here’s what happened.

Preamble

I came across the concept of Vipassana while reading Sarah Macdonald’s, Holy Cow: An Indian Adventure, where she detailed her fascinating experience at a meditation centre in Northern India, right from Day 0 to Day 10, mentioning both the mundane and the downright enthralling.

Having always been drawn to spirituality which wasn’t concerned with any religious undertones or mysticisms, and instead dealing with the here and now, the idea of Vipassana intrigued me. At the time of reading the book and the concomitant intrigue, I was in my final semester of engineering and was busy with projects and an ongoing internship and consequently let the thought of Vipassana fade away.

However unbeknownst to me at the time, a seed had been planted into the fertile depths of the spiritual nature of my being and it was steadily growing silently and unconsciously until I found myself thinking about this form of meditation on a sporadic basis. The carriage of inquisitiveness took charge of my thoughts, and rode the horse of decisive action into the fascinating realm of research. In other words, I Youtube-d, Googled, read other books, and listened to discourses on Vipassana meditation.

Registration

Realizing I simply had to experience it and more than that, I truly needed it, I enrolled for a course commencing in the beginning of January. Some events came to pass which made it impossible for me to attend so I had to postpone it. Although I didn’t admit it to anyone and outwardly maintained an air of disappointment at not being able to make it, I was secretly relieved; I guess I simply wasn’t prepared yet!

So the next available date for me which I was able to register for was from the 13^th of March to the 24^th. The centre I booked my slot for is located on the outskirts of Bangalore and is called Dhamma Paphulla (meaning Cheerfulness of Truth). The application process and the accompanying emails sent to me were of an organized and methodical nature (a harbinger of the coming days) and being an inbound marketer, I simply couldn’t help but be impressed by their prompt email and SMS flow!

Having booked my slot about two and a half months before, I was extremely relaxed and even cheerful about the course. “Oh, it’s going to an amazing experience and I simply can’t wait for it…I feel prepared already” is what I told my friends and peers (and myself). Curiously enough, the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon struck with full flow as well. In the intervals between my signing up for the course and actually attending, I met three people who’d done the course at the same centre and who spoke glowingly of their experiences. But with these optimistic reviews, there was also a clear indication of the difficulty of the course. But these, I brushed aside lightly, casually, airily, breezily, condescendingly: “Ah I am strong and balanced enough to manage peacefully. I’m certain I’m going to enjoy each and every moment. I’ll probably even miss it once I’m done! I got this shit.”

But once the days started passing by with great rapidity (as is the great rather annoying nature of time‑ why you gotta move so damn fast?), I found myself becoming more and more anxious, tense, full of doubt…”Hold up, have I actually got this shit?”

What are the Rules you must Follow?

An interjection— for those of you who don’t know what a Vipassana course looks like, in a nutshell, you need to spend 10 days at a centre where you’re not allowed to talk or gesture to co-meditators and can only speak with your teacher for advice relating to the technique or the volunteers for any management issues. You’re required to meditate for about 10 hours every day, with the first session commencing at 4.30 am (that’s right!) with lights out by 9.30 pm. Apart from this you aren’t allowed to do any physical activity or carry any reading or writing material. Oh, and you’re supposed to deposit your valuables and your mobile phone which will only be returned to you on the tenth day.

…you probably understand now why my nervousness increased as D-day approached.

Taking the Plunge

But I had made a decision after all and I certainly intended to stick to it come hell or high water. So on the 13^th of March, after having made a somewhat dramatic style farewell to my family, I boarded an Ola cab and arrived at the foreboding entrance (it only seemed foreboding that day) of Dhamma Paphulla. Nervousness had become my first, middle, and last name during my brief journey from home to centre, and as I walked through the gates there were 2 thoughts running through my mind:

1. Would I actually be able to last the course?
2. If I did last the ordeal, would my sanity be intact? Would it be a pyrrhic victory?

Only one way to find out, eh?

Day Zero (the beginning of the end?)

Trundling my suitcase behind me, I had a quick and surprisingly delicious lunch at the canteen where a guide informed me that I had to clean my own plate; I was a little surprised by this but nonetheless heeded his instruction. At the registration counter, which was basically three tables in a room adjacent to the cafeteria, I surveyed the roomful of people who would be my mute and contemplative companions for the next 9 days. In my head, I was expecting a bunch of eccentric or guru-type folk who’d be attending the course— you know, people giving off that hippie vibe with its associated trappings of long hair, religious beads, trippy tattoos, bushy beards…you get what I’m talking about, right?

So imagine my surprise when I saw that the room was filled with…ordinary people. Or rather normal everyday looking people. These folks looked like they worked in different businesses and lived metropolitan lives and had families with whom they went on regular outings during their children’s summer vacations. Not as if they’d just walked all the way from the Himalayas with nothing but a bindle. I immediately relaxed a little; in fact I even made a friend whose wavelength matched with mine. He too was doing this course because he currently had free time on his hands, and wanted to experience a modicum of peace in an increasingly frazzled world (both internal and external).

Behind each of the three registration counters were situated three old men who seemed of a very kind and understanding temperament. We were required to “check-in” at all the three tables, and while they were there for different reasons, each of the three men asked one common question: “Are you sure that you can finish the course?” While this was asked in a friendly manner, I still found myself panicking each time the question was asked. “…yes, I um, hope so.” I answered sheepishly each time.

The man sitting behind the last counter was there to allocate room numbers. He asked if I’d be comfortable staying in a dorm with other meditators. This was something I was hoping to avoid so I said I’d prefer a room (the centre had one dorm which housed about 10 people. The other “lucky” ones had separate rooms to themselves). He looked at me with a penetrating gaze and said that a dorm would suit me just fine, since it would help me overcome my ingrained “prejudices” and “preferences”, and that I would “learn to find peace even in the midst of other people.”

Hmm, okay, I guess?

We then had to meet our course teacher who repeated the five precepts that we were required to follow, made sure we knew what we were getting into, and answered any questions that we had.

I then entered my dorm. It actually seemed like a cosy place which was divided into cubicles of sorts for its residents. I promptly reached my bed (numbered 26), plonked my luggage on the plank opposite it, set up my alarm clock near the window sill, clothed the naked mattress with my bedsheet and then quickly commenced a brief nap.

After about half an hour, at roughly 5 pm, I surveyed the grounds with my newly made friend. The silence of the place was already becoming apparent, and it seemed that only the two of us were talking; the rest had already assumed a countenance of seriousness and had wasted absolutely no time in entering “meditation” mode. We walked along a pathway flanking a huge field which was somewhat barren in nature, with only a few trees here and there, and muddy dryness all around. We then decided to explore another area of the centre which lay beyond the registration area and led to another part of the same field. We entered the area and started exploring it, only to be stopped by a female volunteer who told us this part was out of bounds for males and could only be entered by women. Quickly we hurried back to “our territory”.

Wow, barely been here for a couple of hours and I’ve already broken a rule!

At 6 pm we had a brief dinner and were addressed by a senior volunteer who informed us of our schedule and the rules we were to follow; a video too was shown to us. After this, we were made to stand in a line right outside the Dhamma Hall (or the main meditation centre) for a roll call. Night had fallen by then and our vow of Noble Silence had already commenced. The moon was shining over our heads and there was a slight chill in the air. As we lined up one after the other, I couldn’t help but bleakly feel that this scene seemed rather reminiscent of a concentration camp. In fact I was positive I had witnessed something of this sort in a movie about the World War…(of course, having an overactive imagination and a dramatic mind makes unlikely and unrelated comparisons seem much more plausible in my head!).

The Dhamma Hall is where all our meditations took place over the next ten days. It was a big hall, filled with blue square cushions assigned to every meditator. My cushion was located right near the entrance (or exit). The two course teachers sat at the head of the hall just below a big screen.

Once everyone had taken up their positions, a chanting started playing over the speakers. The voice, I must say, was not melodic in nature AT ALL, and had a strange tendency to drone unceasingly at the end of every couplet. This was the voice of S.N. Goenka, a former businessman from Burma who was of an Indian descent and had brought the teaching of Vipassana meditation to India in the early 70’s. He addressed us (via an audio tape) and gave a brief introduction to the course and bade us to meditate by concentrating on our breaths. We meditated for about half an hour, and I instantly felt relaxed and calm…for the first time that day!

We then headed back to our dorm/room to sleep and experience the calm before the storm (again, to my dramatic mind this sentiment seemed very apt at the time). I’m a very light sleeper so imagine my dismay to discover that there was a heavy snorer in our dorm. Being ridiculously tired from the day’s events, I simply wanted to crash but couldn’t because of these bombastic missiles being unleashed from someone’s nostrils (or is it their mouth?). I found myself waking up several times throughout the night, possibly in anticipation (yes, anticipation!) of the day to come.

Day 1

At 4 am, a loud gong snatched me out of my sleep. Disoriented, I fumbled about in the dark trying to catch my bearings. At 4.20, there was another reminder gong for the first session which was set to commence in another ten minutes.

For an hour-and-a-half I meditated trying to focus on my breath and ignore the random burps, sneezes, and coughs from my fellow co-meditators (I’ll shamelessly confess, as the days progressed I became somewhat of a serial burper myself owing to the healthy and nutritious food that I was devouring in such great quantities!). At about 5.50 am, the chanting tapes started again and continued playing throughout the centre through a central speaker right till the end of breakfast. It was only later that I understood that the chanting was in the Pali language, the vernacular of the common masses in India during the days of the Buddha 25 centuries back.

Throughout the day we had several group meditation sessions in the main hall, with only a few moments of free time to ourselves mainly after lunch (which we used to partake at 11… yes 11 am!) and after the evening snacks (which was at 5 pm).

Oh and there was no dinner.

Throughout the day, people kept walking languorously to and fro along the pathway near the field. Without communicating with each other and pretending others didn’t exist.

Which led me to make an interesting observation: the centre was almost like a haven for a bunch of folks diagnosed with the most extreme case of introversion. And here one didn’t even have to cook up an excuse to avoid greeting someone or chit chatting with them; it was the rule here, dammit! As a somewhat introverted individual who finds small talk painful and superfluous to human social interactions, this aspect of the camp greatly appealed to my soul. After a day of concentrating hard on my breath, and failing miserably, mind you, this realization was somewhat of a balm to me.

At 7 pm, us tired meditators walked into the hall (the first day always exhausts one) to watch a discourse by S.N. Goenka. Quick fact: Every Goenka speech begins with a: the X(st/nd/rd/th) day is over; you now have (10-X) days left to work.

In the discourse, he touched upon everything from the day’s experience and the theory behind why we were doing what we were doing, to what we could hope to expect the next day. He spoke about the common challenges which students faced initially and urged us to “give a fair trial to the technique”. Initially, he came across as a stern teacher, but as the discourse progressed he displayed so much warmth and geniality that one could not help but feel comforted by him. He kept peppering his talks with funny incidents and anecdotes which balanced the light with the heavy, and most importantly gave us hope for the next day.

An astonishing nature about these discourses was how accurately he was able to pinpoint the difficulties one faced while meditating; at times it almost felt like he was talking to me in person! It didn’t take me long to realize that these talks would be the highlight of my coming days.

Days 2 and 3

Over the first three days, we were taught the technique of Anapana, which is the focusing of one’s attention on one’s breath, and then narrowing one’s attention to the triangular area around the nose and upper lip, before finally focusing on the sensations experienced in this area. This was taught in different stages over these three days, and every time there was a subtle change in technique, the teacher would call us in batches to reiterate the technique, answer questions, and transfer some goodwill to us through a process called Metta (more on this later).

The theory behind concentrating on the breath as explained by Goenka is rather simple: the mind as we all know is a wild animal constantly running off into the past or future, almost never staying in the present. By observing your breath, you’re focusing on what’s happening right now at this very moment; you’re bringing the mind back into the now. And what’s the one thing that’s happening right now? That’s right, you’re literally breathing, inhaling and exhaling constantly. As expected, my garrulous and untamed mind dragged me into past sorrows and perceived wrongdoings, future salvations…and just random unconnected thoughts with no context whatsoever! But the technique required me not to get morose by this, so each time my mind wandered, I calmly brought it (or at least tried to) bring it back to my breath.

It was mentioned that a lot of negativities would rise up to surface during the initial days at least, as repressed thoughts and feelings would find their way to the top, and sure enough I experienced a lot of these depressing thoughts. But as the days slowly progressed, the intensity and the frequency with which they arose lessened and I started experiencing more calmness in my meditation.

I also had some strange experiences, noticeably in the morning sessions, wherein I felt extremely light, and my arms and torso seemed to have elongated in their dimensions…whether this was a result of the meditation, my extreme sleepiness, or the fact that I was away from constant noise, frenzied movement, and most apparent of all, TECHNOLOGY, I guess I’ll never know. Either way it was a nice experience. I also started experiencing sensations of sporadic itchiness on the space between my nostrils and my upper lip— this was expected as well; as you limit the field of your concentration, the mind is bound to get sharper (after a while, though, so you know, you gotta hold your horses), and then you’re able to start experiencing subtler sensations.

The first three days continued in a fixed manner and a routine was established which more or less continued throughout the course. Waking up at 4 am, attending the morning sessions, eating a healthy breakfast of non-fried vegetarian food coupled with a surprisingly delicious concoction of piping hot ragi (millet) malt. Just like in the main hall, here too, each of us were assigned specific seats. Mine was numbered 50, which was right in front of the window, so every morning as I sipped my malt and worked on my idli or poha, I was able to witness the sun rising from behind the trees. A fairly poetic sight.

After brekkie, I’d go for a walk, trying to get some movement into my still sore limbs, while filling my lungs with the fresh oxygen of a new day. After a bath of steaming water, I use to feel completely reinvigorated after which I’d go perch upon a rock and simply take in the morning sunlight and build up my storehouse of vit D. Since the centre didn’t really have any chairs or benches anywhere, this rock which was situated under a tree right near the perimeter of the field became a haven of sorts for me where I’d park my rear every time there was a break between meditation sessions (and just whenever it happened to be unoccupied in general; being the only somewhat comfortable seat in the exteriors of the centre, the resting rock was, as you can imaginem in high demand.)

I then attended the group sittings in the hall from 8 am to 11 pm where we had 5 minute breaks every hour or so. During these sittings the voice of Goenka guided us in his patient and understanding voice, repeating the same instructions over and over again so that we were able to memorize them down to a T.

Then, lunch from 11 am to 11.45— again, a healthy and nutritious meal replete with chappatis, rice, a couple of vegetable curries (one dry and one with a watery gravy), a salad, and some exceptionally delicious chaas or buttermilk. Needless to say I used to fill my belly (despite Goenka’s insistence on keeping a third of one’s belly free to facilitate meditation). After lunch I used to nap for about about 45 minutes, before the next sittings which commenced from 1 pm to 5 pm with the designated breaks in between.

I found it most difficult to concentrate during the afternoon sessions and grappling with my mind became an almost impossible task. For every half minute that I stayed “present” I spent 5 minutes constructing deep and vaguely impossible or surreal fantasies in my head. But react I could not so each time, however tough it seemed, I calmly tried to bring my mind to the present. The somewhat irking aspect of the whole situation was that there was no consistency in the perceived “satisfaction levels” of each sitting. While one sitting left me experiencing a deep sense of calm and peace, the next one would make me feel jittery or anxious. I realized that while meditating, one doesn’t necessarily experience a linear path of progress, at least during the incipient stages. One merely has to plod on without worrying too much about the results with a certain amount of faith in oneself and the process.

During the initial days, while a power struggle ensued between me and my mind, my other senses seemed to have heightened. I began observing things that I previously simply took for granted. The sight of sunshine from behind the clouds filled me with awe. An aeroplane flying overhead had me gazing at it until it flew out of sight, contrails and all. The sound of birds chirping somehow seemed more melodic than before while the cacophony of a chairs moving or a glass falling onto the floor was magnified tenfold and had me shuddering in shock. I even started noticing the smell of flowers with their accompanying pleasantness and comfort.

And the people. Initially, everyone struck me as being zombies, stuck in a trance, in their own world where entry was prohibited with big and bold letters saying KEEP OUT. However as I warmed up to the place and settled into the routine it demanded (and surprisingly quite comfortably and quickly), I started paying keen interest to my co-conspirators who were  voluntarily serving a ten day sentence of complete silence and total meditation. Being naturally interested in the quirks of people I categorized everyone into these segments:

1. The Pacers: These folks walked. And walked. And walked. And wal- well you get the idea! During their free time, during the breaks between meditation sessions, before brekkie, after brekkie, before lunch, after lunch, before lights out…these people just walked. Hands behind their backs, or swinging casually by their sides these people seemed to have taken the concept of “walking on the path towards liberation” a tad too literally! But jokes aside, walking gave us all something to do, and I suspect, helped keep us a little sane as well (we weren’t supposed to exercise either so this was understandable).
   
   
2. The Gazers: If you scanned the grounds, taking a 360 degree turn around the whole place, you were likely to rest your eyes on someone gazing deep into the horizon. Or at a plant. Or at the clouds. Aha! Gazer alert! These people seemed as though they were present physically while mentally their minds had carried them off to some distant galaxy. Perhaps they were quietly ruminating over past deeds or misdeeds, or maybe they were contemplating their future and how they’d go about building that start-up which was surely guaranteed to be an instant success. Either way, with their philosophical and serious expressions, being a lover of human mannerisms at the superficial level, I’d find myself gazing at these people while trying unsuccessfully to glean their innermost thoughts. I guess I need to include a sub category here: a gazer gazing at other gazers, where I’d be its solitary occupant.
   
   
3. The Sitters and Sleepers: Meditating, let me firmly attest, does take its toll (at least for beginners), leaving one mentally and physically fatigued. This was apparent in the case of the sitters/sleepers who’d pepper the grounds by sitting/sleeping wherever space was available. You’d find these folk relaxing by the water dispensing machine, on the footsteps outside the mini-Dhamma rooms, on the bricks lining the pathway and so on.
   

Needless to say, these categories weren’t watertight at all. A gazer could quite easily become a pacer while a pacer could just as fluidly become a sitter. I was a combination of all three segments…

Days 4 to 6

From day 4 to day 6 we were taught the technique of Vipassana. Here, one is required to focus on one’s bodily sensations in a non-reactionary or judgemental manner. We were taught to “scan” our bodies from top to bottom and then bottom to top (and if we were bored of that, we could scan sideways). The practice stemmed from the fact that the mind and body are linked: a thought or feeling you have immediately generates a sensation (gross or subtle) in the body and then our mind reacts to this very sensation by generating more thoughts which follow their kind which in turn produce more sensations. And thus the cycle repeats itself constantly. (This is actual science and has been proved several times; for instance, when you feel angry, your breath automatically becomes faster and your heart rate increases and you start feeling warm right? )

So what Vipassana teaches us is to observe these sensations carefully and not react to them and by doing so, one basically witnesses a fundamental law of nature manifesting itself (anicca). The law that nothing is permanent, everything that arises will at some point in time come to pass. By watching these sensations with this knowledge in mind, one is able to see how quickly the feeling passes away. The teaching aims to instil this teaching within meditators to merely observe without reacting. So if you experience a pleasurable feeling you are taught not to react to it with craving. Likewise, if you experience pain, you’re not supposed to react to it with aversion. By doing this continuously, one is gradually able to reprogram one’s thought patterns and (at hopefully at some point in their life) step out of the cycle of misery and suffering.

To further hit this point, there were 3 one-hour long sittings throughout the day; one in the morning, afternoon, and evening, called Adithanna or the Sittings of Strong Determination. Sounds rather foreboding doesn’t it? Here we were supposed to sit in one fixed position without moving our legs and hands or opening our eyes.

And the pain. The pain was of such intensity that I simply could not focus on anything else. “Observe it neutrally, this too will pass” versus “There’s no way this pain is going to pass! I need to change my position or I’m going to risk facing surgery!” these were the only two patterns of thoughts running through my mind. I had no idea that sitting still could cause so much agony! Sneakily peeking through one eye, I could see others shifting and writhing and rocking back-and-forth in apparent agony too so at least I knew I wasn’t the only one. There is a truly strange comfort one derives from knowing that others are suffering just as you are. Immediately brings a sense of community to the whole thing…

The pain continued throughout the remaining days, but Days 5 and 6 were truly something, because there were times when I felt that my feet were on fire, and I literally had to touch them to see that they hadn’t burnt to crisps. But the positive I experienced was that my pain tolerance seemed to have shot up so although I was still experiencing severe discomfort and was engaging in a fair bit of rocking back and forth, I was able to handle it. My mind even started focusing better and I was able to disconnect from the pain to a certain extent. While I had previously been looking at the old men (who were allowed to sit in chairs) adjacent to me in envy, I now looked upon them in a cheerful manner. “Well at least someone is comfortable here…”

Quick fact: Different people react to Vipassana in different ways. It is said that if you’ve buried a lot of hatred or ill-will or any deep negativities within you, or have harmed someone, either directly or indirectly, this is likely to rise to the surface as a bodily reaction. There was an American in my course who, as soon as we were taught Vipassana, began experiencing shuddering convulsions in his body which pretty much continued till the last day. While it may seem alarming, it was a good thing for him as all his deep-rooted negativities were getting cleared away one by one, leaving him healthier than before…

During the Vipassana sittings, some deep truths about myself and just life in general started hitting home. I realized I had, for the past few years at least, been running away from even the slightest pain, the slightest discomfort. I had been looking to change the situation around me and getting frustrated when things weren’t as I wanted them to be. Not realizing that true peace lay within and at all moments. If I simply learned the art of not reacting to situations good or bad with a feeling craving or aversion, then I could act on the situation with the realization that the tide will eventually turn. This would bring me so much peace! I understood that we as humans bring suffering upon ourselves and that no person, situation, or object is truly responsible for one’s misery.

The moments when I came upon these conclusions I felt calm and was able to meditate better.

Having said this, this definitely wasn’t my permanent state of mind (in clear accordance with the law!). During the breaks, I still found myself looking for something to distract myself with. (Observing nature was relaxing and all, but after a while, it did become, you know, boring.)

Day 7

On the 7^th day distraction did come, albeit in an unusual form— a tractor and an excavator! We were on one of our mid-morning sessions, when we first heard the mechanical sounds of manmade machinery working nearby. Rushing out during the break, we saw that these machines were operating on the dry and dusty grounds. The excavator would dig into the earth and deposit the debris into the tractor and the latter would amble away to a further part of the field and dump the mud over there. This process started in the morning and would end once the sun started setting, and continued for the next three days. (It was only later that I learned that a pagoda was going to be constructed on the cleared field in the near future.)

While the sight of land clearing seems like a dull sight (and normally is), we were all fascinated by the process as it unfolded before our eyes. Meditators would keenly observe the spectacle while drinking water or relaxing, watching how land was cleared away in a circular fashion. This was our (reality) television, and we noticed every moment of it when we could. The sound did bother me initially while meditating but I used it as an opportunity, and attempted to hone my ability to concentrate in the midst of disturbance.

As the days progressed I experienced intermittent moments of peace and chaos. My mind seemed to have found a new way to distract itself: by playing and replaying old Bollywood songs like an audiotape stuck on endless loop in my head. The ironic part was…I don’t even particularly like or enjoy listening to Bollywood songs! And these songs weren’t ones I had even heard multiple times for my mind to latch on to! One session would have me “listening” to these songs for an hour straight while another would be filled with calm and relaxing silence…

Realizing that ten days wouldn’t be enough to understand the lunatic asylum that is my mind, I made my peace with it and tried to focus on my sensations as best as I could.

Days 8 and 9

By the 8^th day, my motivation had somewhat dipped, and I felt extremely homesick. I started fantasizing about what leaving right then would feel like, and I found my legs dragging me towards the exit gates. Another slice of irony: the gates to the “material world” literally lay within a stone’s throw from the meditation hall. So one could, by just walking a little in the forbidden direction, quite easily witness the world as it went about its usual everyday madness. I could see and listen to little children as they went home singing and dancing, elated to be unshackled from school for the day. Noisy vehicles passing by too were very visible. But my thoughts of escape were rather mild in nature, just a habitual fantasizing that my mind was used to and I snapped out of it easily enough.

Another testimony to my newfound change in attitude: being a regular and pampered city dweller accustomed to noise and pollution but not to rodents and insects, I am (or at least was) deathly afraid of spiders. I have had several nightmares over the years where I dreamt my room was filled with giant tarantulas, waking up in a cold sweat only to find out that well, you know, it was just a bad dream. Anyway, on the 9^th day, during our evening session from 6 to 7 pm just as I was getting comfy on my blue cushion I noticed a large spider amble by me in a freakishly fast manner. Now while this was no tarantula, it was still a huge spider. A cold fear laid its icy drapes over my being and I was almost paralysed before I pulled myself together and told myself: “This is just a tiny spider which can’t do you any harm. Be compassionate towards it and focus on your meditation!”

I didn’t expect my mental bolstering to have much effect…but it did! I thought about it keenly for fifteen minutes or so but it seemed to have lost its power over me and the rest of the session went by in a peaceful manner. To add a cherry on the top, I didn’t even have a nightmare that night so double victory!

Day 10

The next morning on the 10^th day after our 8 to 9 am session, we were introduced to the concept of Metta meditation or meditation of loving-kindness. Here, Goenka spoke about the importance of transferring positive vibrations and thoughts of goodwill to all beings, or in common parlance, to create good vibes around oneself. By doing this for five minutes after one’s meditation, one would be able to create a good atmosphere in their daily life helping oneself and others. He droned a few affirmations in his inimitably peculiar yet comfortingly familiar manner and I instantly felt a shower of peace flowing within my body and mind.

We were released from Noble Silence at 10.15 am.

I casually walked out of the hall to sit on my rock, silently, not realizing (or perhaps believing) that the silence had indeed been uplifted. When my friend from Day 0 came over to speak to me, I was in mild shock and annoyance. Why is he speaking to me, doesn’t he know that we aren’t supposed to interact? Thinking about it later, I realized he’d spoken in a normal tone but his voice then had seemed so loud and booming that I was temporarily in a confused state. Only a few moments later did it strike me that Hey I can actually speak again! I’d dearly love to say that my voice sounded strange and foreign and that I simply couldn’t recognize it, but then I’d be lying. My voice sounded just like me, a little rusty and softer, but undeniably mine.

The change that took over on that final day was so heart warming to witness. People slowly emerged out of their silent and serious and brooding moulds and started communicating with everyone around them. Stern and melancholy expressions had melted away to give rise to sunny and relieved smiles. Even though the course hadn’t technically ended and we still had half a day (and night) to go, everyone’s face shone with the understanding that Yes we’ve done it!

I remember speaking to so many people that day and introducing myself and being introduced to so many old yet new faces and sharing names and experiences and above all, smiles. The silent meditation centre had, as S.N. Goenka previously put it, become a “chattering meditation centre”.

My initial suspicion, that I was in the midst of regular and everyday working people, was confirmed. I spoke to chemical and mechanical engineers, programmers, entrepreneurs and businessmen, and people studying law. Everyone seemed to have developed a newfound sense of equanimity and were grounded in their interactions.

In the afternoon we were required to clean our dorm and this simple action became a source of simple joy for my dorm mates and I, dusting and mopping with vigour, all while chattering away the unspoken chatter of the previous nine days.

In the evening, our phones were returned to us, and holding the little rectangular piece of plastic in my hand, I almost wanted to give it back, wistfully noting that not once during the course had I missed my distracting device.

Our discussions carried on throughout the day, and it almost felt like our conversations were being interrupted by the meditation sessions, instead of the other way round! We spoke about books, television shows and movies, new-fangled and radical theories about reality and the world and the universe, the difficulty of keeping up this practice once we’d returned to our daily routine, and clichéd plans to stay in touch. Numbers were exchanged and a WhatsApp group was created where a promise, like an oath was taken, to not spam it with superfluous and well, you know, spammy content.

We spoke well into the night (10.45 pm at the Dhamma Centre did feel like “well into the night” so!) until exhausted I returned to bed.

Next morning was a tad strange since it was the first time in 10 days that I actually greeted my fellow brushing-their-teeth-at-4-am-in-the-morning mates. There was a fair bit of emotion running in the group since this was our last meditation session.

At 7 am, after having said my goodbyes, I left the centre in the car of a newly made friend. I was slightly exhausted but also eager to get back home and catch up on my routine…

Final Verdict?

Vipassana was a great experience, one that I’d definitely recommend to anyone who has the time and the slightest inclination to learn more about their mind and body and is looking to experience more stability and peace in their lives. I’ve started experiencing more discipline and focus in my life, something I was sorely lacking before so that’s definitely a big plus. I’ve also noticed this change where I try not reacting to displeasing situations, preferring instead, to take stock of the situation at hand, and then acting in prudent manner.

But having said all of this, if you’re planning to attend a course, don’t go with the expectation that you’ll come out a perfect and “enlightened” being…as the teachers and Goenka himself constantly mention, you still have a lot of work to do! Practising what you’ve learnt at the course in your daily life is the key to keep progressing and seeing more and more benefits in your life and is exactly what I’m currently striving to do (and hope to continue doing so in the future). After all, everyone has different experiences, so the best way to see how it changes your life is to attend a course yourself!

(Oh, and needless to say, my sanity is still fully intact, thank you very much!)