I was waiting to log off from yet another meeting. My head was pounding, the voices felt unbearable, and the bright laptop screen seemed to flicker mockingly at me. As soon as I finished work, I would crash on the bed – skipping dinner, avoiding phone calls or messages. My father would quietly come and switch off the lights.
These headaches, unlike anything I had experienced before, kept returning in varied proportions over the last few years.
I kept looking for triggers - too much screen time, stress, caffeine, dehydration, the monthly friend’s arrival. The family doctor, with calm assurance, would say: “This is normal… just reduce screen time, learn to de-stress.” But it wasn’t normal for me.
I didn’t want to depend on medicines to suppress this pain. Beyond the physical throbbing, migraines made me unproductive, irritable, and at times, vulnerable.
A Roller Coaster Within
If it wasn’t the migraine, it was my emotions. I found myself tearing up over a video on my phone or choking up with a lump in my throat before delivering a speech or speaking to someone. Happiness, sadness, pride, disappointment — everything was so overwhelming.
The well-meaning advice kept pouring in:
“Breathing and pranayam will help.”
“Start walking, drink more water.”
“Stay away from your phone, go outdoors.”
Of course, I tried. Of course, I listened. Of course, I read and watched. But something still felt amiss. Somewhere inside, I was still searching for solutions.
The Seed of Silence
Vipassana had crossed my mind a couple of years ago. I even downloaded the app once, then deleted it. Not sure of the commitment at that time.
But then came another migraine attack. Once again, it knocked me out on a working day, derailing my plans to make videos and get back to fitness. The cycle was becoming vicious — pain, pause, recovery, repeat. And with each setback, my confidence — both personal and professional — took a hit.
Once again, on a working day, these thoughts kept coming back to my mind. I stopped working and opened the Vipassana website. I read about the courses, studied the schedule, and without overthinking, I blocked the dates. With a silent prayer, I submitted the application form.
The decision wasn’t sudden. I had been mulling over it quietly for months. Having practiced Nichiren Buddhism, I had a faint idea of what could come my way. Once the application was accepted and the word spread, so did the reactions –
“Ten days of silence? You? Are you sure you can manage that?”
“No food after 5 p.m.? Won’t get hungry by night?”
“Are you seriously going for this?”
Not all were shocked though. “Only you can think of doing such things. Better tell me your experience.”
I silently smiled at the questions and apprehensions. In a hyperconnected life where messages, calls, and screens never pause, the idea of not talking, not reading, not writing, not watching anything for ten full days sounded unimaginable.
I felt no hesitation or self-doubt. All I knew was that I wanted to learn meditation. But I didn’t know what silence would reveal.
This was just the beginning. The decision was made, the dates were blocked, and I was ready to step into silence. What followed next was unlike anything I had experienced. I’ll share that in the second part: Vipassana – Stepping Into Silence.
Nurture Winning Thoughts!
