Just Like That | The power of silence: Embracing maun vrat for inner peace

The practice of resolving to abstain from speech, maun, is an ancient one in India

How many of you, dear readers, have kept a conscious period of silence? The practice of resolving to abstain from speech, maun, is an ancient one in India, and also practised elsewhere, especially in some monasteries and Sufi sects. What are the reasons behind this vrat — maun vrat — where people by choice take a vow to go into short or extended periods of complete silence?

By remaining maun, through your sheer opting out of the continuous cacophony of the world, you feel — even for a short duration — a serenity that is uplifting and soothing.(Pixabay)

There can be no convincing answer to this question unless you personally undergo a period of maun. I have myself found it exceptionally therapeutic. Most of our speech is unnecessary. Speech engages us even where silence could have been a better option. We talk as a habit, compulsively. The Chinese thinker Lao Tzu summed it up: “Those who know do not speak. Those who speak do not know.” When we learn to be silent — for any period of time — several miracles simultaneously occur.

Firstly, your powers of observation increase. In conversation, you are a participant, thinking of what to say next. When you are silent, and don’t need to respond, you become a transcendental observer, listening attentively or not at all. Secondly, silence allows you time with yourself. It enables you to better observe your thoughts, and weed out those that are forever prolific but of little consequence. The mind is an incorrigible thought generator. When you become silent, the mind also gradually silences itself, leading you to the chitta or Self, the perennially present but often overwhelmed silent observer, the Atman, within yourself. As Rumi said: “The quieter you become, the more you are able to hear”.

This process leads to the third consequence: an increasing sense of inner calm and peace. By remaining maun, through your sheer opting out of the continuous cacophony of the world, you feel — even for a short duration — a serenity that is uplifting and soothing. In this mood of tranquillity, lies the fourth dividend: the ability of greater concentration. Speech is the umbilical cord that connects you to external distractions. Eschew speech temporarily, and you find your productivity and creativity exponentially expand. Albert Einstein has recorded that “the monotony and solitude of a quiet life stimulates creativity”, and no doubt all great thinkers, innovators, writers and artists, would have had similar experiences. New research shows that remaining silent and sitting still creates new brain cells, and decreases cerebral decay. Fifthly, periods of silence increase fortitude and patience. They slow down impulsive or angry reactions and allow the mind to better process the appropriate reaction to loss or provocation. In other words, silence makes you a stronger person, giving greater clarity and determination on how to face challenges.

And finally, maun vrat greatly enhances your levels of energy. This is something I can personally vouch for. Most people don’t realise how much energy is lost in speaking, even when there is no need to do so. Vocal articulation requires effort, and effort leads to energy loss. This becomes immediately apparent after you have kept even a few hours of silence. You feel refreshed, energised, and rejuvenated, and imbued with a feeling of calm, which you are almost hesitant to lose by speaking again. The American Heart Association has said that silence reduces stress levels, improves sleep quality, lowers blood pressure, and decreases the risk of heart disease.

Mahatma Gandhi, for many years, kept a maun vrat on every Monday. This did not require him to become an inaccessible recluse but to respond to queries or requests for instructions by writing short answers on the back of used envelopes. He first realised the benefits of silence when he visited a Trappist monastery in South Africa. “A beautiful place it was. Most of its inmates were under a vow of silence. I inquired of the Father about the motive for it and he said the motive was apparent: “We are all frail human beings. We do not know very often what we say. If we want to listen to the still small voice always speaking within us, it will not be heard if we continually speak”. He also said “The divine radio is always singing if we could learn to tune, but it is impossible to listen without total silence”.’

I know many readers would be thinking that all of the above is easy to preach but impossible to practice in the real world, when the mobile is your constant companion, and work requires you to communicate. Yes, this is partially true, but not an absolute obstacle. If Gandhi ji, in the tumultuous days of the freedom movement could do it, why can’t we? Once Gandhi had to respond to the urgent summons of Viceroy Lord Louis Mountbatten. Mountbatten has recorded that incident. “Judge of my astonished delight on my finding him enter my study with his finger to his lips to indicate that this was his day of silence. So, I did all the talking. He scribbled a few friendly notes on the backs of used envelopes.”

As one gets used to maun and silence, one develops an aversion to excessive noise. Noise is bad for our health and mental calm. Schopenhauer, the German philosopher, put it with bluntness: “The amount of noise we can bear is inversely proportionate to our intelligence.”

Pavan K Varma is author, diplomat, and former Member of Parliament (Rajya Sabha). Just Like That is a weekly column where Varma shares nuggets from the world of history, culture, literature, and personal reminiscences. The views expressed are personal