From Fear to Gratitude: My 10-Day Vipassana Experience

After contemplating for two years and talking to numerous people, I finally registered for the Vipassana course—it was scary for sure. Despite receiving plenty of advice against reading reviews, I ended up reading countless blogs and watching numerous YouTube videos. After I applied, I was secretly hoping my application would get rejected. Even a week before the course, I was hoping something would happen so I wouldn't have to show up. I strategically registered at a center in Bangalore so that if I needed to leave midway, I wouldn't have to worry about the commute.

For those who don't know about Vipassana, it is a meditation technique taught in the Buddhist tradition where participants stay at the center for 10 days while observing complete silence. There are no phones, no books to read or write, no talking, and no eye contact with anyone. You can only speak to the teacher and volunteers. The day starts at 4:00 AM and ends at 9:00 PM with small breaks in between.

For someone who is very private, I ended up telling the whole world about attending the Vipassana course, which created more pressure for me to push through and finish it. But honestly, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be—it was definitely not as terrible as some of the reviews I had read.

You see people from all walks of life joining the course. I witnessed people in their early 20s to late 60s participating. Some were experienced practitioners attending for the 10th time, while some students sat like Buddha with straight spines in proper padmasana. I would start in modified padmasana and by the end of each practice session would have stretched my legs out straight. I even saw pregnant women participate. It's truly inspiring to see so many people committed to this practice.

The most difficult part of the entire course is sitting for 10-12 hours—it's physically painful to sit for such long durations. Every morning I would think I was loving this experience and should tell everyone about it, but by noon I would be wondering why I even came. Some days are good, and some days are hard—really, really hard. Every night I would spray Volini on my entire legs and try to sleep.

The first two days were manageable. I had pain in my neck and shoulder, and then went crying to my teacher asking if she would let me use a chair. She said a chair might not help with shoulder pain and asked me to give it some time. Magically, by evening the pain vanished. The following days flew by with slight discomforts in my legs, but as the 7th and 8th days approached, I became very agitated and extremely impatient. I was told that a lot of repressed and suppressed emotions would flare up during meditation, but I wasn't even meditating properly—my thoughts were bombarding me. I was just waiting to get back home.

In the evening, we would have discourses, which we all eagerly waited for. It was like movie time. Every time I felt like quitting and going back home, during the discourse, Goenka ji would say that only weak-minded people leave, and I would push through another day.

On the 9th night, the pain in my leg was intense. I barely slept, and my glutes, hamstrings, and knee were extremely painful. I would imagine the worst scenarios—sometimes thinking what if I would need knee surgery after I returned. This made me realize how pessimistic I am and how much I'm attached to my physical workouts. The next morning, however, I was fine. I was able to sit through one hour without moving much. To my surprise, I had a firsthand experience of impermanence. Nothing lasts forever—we hear these statements from gurus, life coaches, family, and everyone around us, but until you experience it yourself, you won't truly understand. Throughout the entire duration of the course, the emphasis is on not having too much raga (attachment) and dvesha (aversion) as nothing is permanent. Also, when you're in isolation, even the slightest discomfort is magnified 100 times. I think the mind plays all sorts of games to try to get you out of unfamiliar situations.

I would say it was a beautiful experience. Whether one wishes to continue practicing or not, everyone should give it a try for its healing benefits. There are many aspects of the teachings you might not relate to or resonate with, but you can set the theory aside and focus on the practical aspects of it. The fact that Vipassana is being taught in Tihar jail in Delhi as a reform program for numerous inmates speaks to the power of this technique. What makes this practice even more remarkable is that it's completely free—they don't charge anything, it's not commercialized, and it runs purely on donations. They have maintained the sanctity of the practice, and the entire program is carefully planned and properly structured to maximize benefits.

If I have to mention my biggest learning from the entire course, it's the power of breath and the importance of having patience in life—not being in a hurry all the time.

Lastly, I want to thank two of my very good friends, Megha and Asha, who sat me down and calmed my nerves when I was so unsure of how I would survive. I remember Megha telling me, "Don't worry, Shwetha, you will do it. On days it gets really hard, remember how far you have come." And what do I even say about Asha? She was more excited about me going than I was myself. I was freaking out and asking her questions like "kashta aadre yen maadodu" (what to do if it gets difficult), and she, with her straight face, would tell me "kashta aadre kashta pattu iru" (if it's difficult, then bear the difficulty). I remembered them and my other friends on some of the most difficult days and pushed through.

The Vipassana experience taught me that sometimes the most challenging journeys lead to the most profound discoveries about ourselves.