The Quiet Joy of Fasting

Ah, the joys of corporal mortification... some Opus Dei members do it with their cilices, and some Muslim devotees with their self-flagellation. And me? I fast for around 34 hours every fifteen days. Which means if my last meal for today is at around 9pm, my next meal would at around 6am the day-after-tomorrow morning. And what's taken in between these meals? Just some water. Nowadays I have been experimenting with limiting my water intake during fasts to almost nothing. And oh yes, I confess to popping in a mint or two when absolutely necessary.

How does it feel? I cannot immediately describe the serene and elated feeling inside. Let me try. First of all, there's a sense of control. All the chaotic thought traffic running wild in the mind quietens down. Sometimes I become an observer of myself - like sitting on a riverbank and watching the river flow gently by. And then, there's the greater awareness of the senses, especially the sense of smell. The mind is quick to recognize various aromas wafting in the air... coffee, samosas, fries, spices and so on. Sometimes there is a twinge of attraction for an instant, almost like a reflex reaction - but self-awareness immediately takes over and switches on the observer state. When this happens, there's a quiet sense of triumph. This sense of triumph results from what Bertrand Russell describes (in his inspiring essay 'A Free Man's Worship') as the strength that enables man to forgo even the joys that are possible. This gentle power over the olfactory sense extends over to governing impulses from all the other senses. There's this beautiful feeling when all the senses are reined in... a sense of power, without arrogance. A state of mind no longer reactive, but responsive. This is a state of meditation in motion, where, like in Tai-chi, the approach to everything is focussed, yet relaxed. This is the state of mind that gets induced when listening to the andante sections of some of Mozart's piano concertos.

The fast ends early in the morning, usually in a temple which organizes a special prayer ritual and follows up with serving a hot meal to the gathered devotees. I should mention that these fasting days in the Hindu tradition occur on a 'Ekadashi' - the eleventh day after a full or new moon. The ancients who decided to fast on an Ekadashi day probably had a very good reason for doing so - but their knowledge has not been preserved. The first food to be eaten on a Dwadashi - the twelfth day, is boiled rice, just a few grains to begin with. This is when the full taste and aroma of a single grain of rice is experienced... aah it is so blissful. This is when you realize how precious food is to those who cannot have enough of it.

Fasting is a process with scope for continuous improvement. Perhaps the ultimate goal is to make the meditative state permanent... where day after day, fasting or not, the mind remains peaceful, content and with a quiet sense of joy. It takes practice and perseverance to learn to control hunger, and manage its physical manifestations and side-effects. But it's these little sacrifices that leads one to greater heights. Heights you've gotto experience to believe in their existence. As Krishna says in the Bhagavad Gita (4:31): This world is not for the man who does not sacrifice, how then the other world, O Arjuna?