Choices are tough over here.

And is it ok for a Buddhist monk to own, or even use, a Burberry sunbrella (counterfeit at that, well, i assume)?

They have them here too.

Vipassana - don't try this at home (you'll never succeed)

Some of the ensuing words went round and round in my head for the entire ten days of silence. I'm not sure I should admit that one of my predominant, but unexpected preoccupations whilst undergoing a “massive surgical operation of the mind” was this bloody blog. It does feel strange, and perhaps very mildly exhilarating, to post mildly personal and detailed information on the internet, for anyone to see (by anyone I mean nearly no one). I guess any sort of publishing is similar though. There may be figures, approximations, predictions, but there is little live audience participation.

So, Vipassana... It was like prison, with a bit less freedom. We didn't exactly have bars on our cell window, but it was covered in an insect layer- I certainly couldn't escape that way. It was a third-world prison – we found four scorpions in the room as well as countless muscular, hairy spiders. Having solemnly agreed to kill no beings whilst incarcerated, stamping was clearly inadmissible.

This prison was also self-imposed. There were no big fences around the perimeter, just colourfully-decorated pieces of flint placed underneath the washing-line delimitation, saying “Course Boundary”. The multitude of signs advising on lavatory etiquette and the like all ended with a jolly emoticon and the simple reminder to “be happy”. Men and women were entirely segregated – the only time I saw a man up close was through the blue curtain separating our respective canteens.

The guards were baboons, definitely with third-world prison mentalities: no qualms about violence, stealing from inmates and generally instilling a high level of fear. On the walk up to the centre, I had already feared for my life, on sight of what I termed the Himalayan Silverback, huge grey and black monkeys, swinging and running through the forest. They look as big as gorillas when you are lost, alone on a mountain- the shortcut given to me by a lone passing motorcyclist had not quite worked. Within the prison, the baboons only chased me once, hissing and squealing with bared teeth. I managed to sprint faster than them long enough to gain refuge inside the scorpion nest. I suddenly felt very grateful for that insect layer over the windows, since the monkeys were still trying to attack me from outside. The adrenaline was not particularly helpful to that afternoon’s seven hours of sitting still. Prior to that, I had naively found them adorable. One even gave birth in our bathroom. That wasn’t quite so cute. You might be able to imagine a post-labour baboon from behind? I won’t elaborate further.

One thing I could not complain about was the standard of the food (though only two real meals a day). Sprouted mung beans for breakfast, YUM (and I mean it), the occasional chocolate ball and tropical fruit, etc...

I had felt very optimistic. On the day of registration, when we were still allowed to talk and drink chai and eat cookies, I thought, yes, I’ll definitely set time aside each year to leave the world for ten days, suspend all attachments, find satisfaction in my own mind. The envisaged manageable yet enlightening epiphanies did not materialize. Overwhelming waves of anger arrived first, following the first fifteen hours of meditation, after which I enjoyed two days of respite from my brain, but on day seven, well, then deep insanity erupted, a natural disaster of the mind, unstoppable, and probably unavoidable. There was no controlling those thoughts anymore, no peace, no escape, no sitting still. The physical pain from sitting on a cushion on the floor for twelve hours a day became inconsequential, it was the mind which was impatient, controlling, rebellious, competitive, jealous, wild.

I am a sloucher with a manic mind. My experience, though difficult in many ways, was really equally rewarding, even if I don’t know exactly how yet. Ok, so I didn’t turn out exactly how I would have liked, the revelations were not correctly punctuated, but everything that surfaced was already there somewhere. And as with all challenges, completion brought an immense sense of pleasure, and maybe a tinge of relief.

There are many, many Vipassana centres around the world, all offering free residential courses to anybody willing to commit. It is not a cult, nor is it in any way dogmatic, in fact Goenkaji himself deems blind devotion one of our biggest enemies. Intellectually I found it very interesting. This is not the point of course, but I think all amateur quantum physicists out there should attend a course. The technique is actually scientific in its nature, but designed to be used at the experiential physical level, which is really the only way for us to truly open our minds. This was the meditation employed by Gotama Buddha, 2500 years ago. He started at age five or six, became enlightened at thirty-five, and then dedicated his life to the eradication of misery in the population of India. My misery has not quite been eradicated, yet, but, errr, watch this space.

Today: keepin' it simple














Mangoes for breakfast














Momos for lunch


"The taste for the spontaneous, natural, lifelike snapshot kills spontaneity, drives away the present. Photographed reality immediately takes on a nostalgic character, of joy fled on the wings of time, a commemorative character, even if the picture was taken the day before yesterday. And the life that you live in order to photograph it is already, at the outset, a commemoration of itself." Italo Calvino

Aforementioned nutter (directly to the left of aforementioned chicken legs)

Aforementioned Indian men