My Ten Days of Silence: An Experience in Vipasana Meditation

By Bhagyashree Vasant Deo

RICHMOND, TX: My journey into the world of pranayama was so powerful that it inspired me to go deeper. This is the story of that ten-day journey into the art of meditation and the practice of silence at the Vipasāna meditation center in the quiet, remote town of Kaufman near Dallas. The campus is spacious and pleasant, filled with beautiful, eye-catching roses, both white and orange-red, that beautify the large pots scattered around.

This art of meditation was first brought to India by Gautam Buddha 2,500 years ago, but its practice faded over time. It was revived when Satyanarayan Goenkaji learned it in Burma from Sayaji U Ba Khin and brought it back to India in 1969, eventually spreading it worldwide.

Upon arriving, I joined a diverse group—American, Chinese, Tibetan, and Indian—all there to learn. I was assigned to a simple, clean dorm room for my ten-day stay, which included a bed, a small rack for clothes, and a few closets. The core of the experience was immediately made clear: every student must observe “Noble Silence” for the first nine days. We could not speak to or communicate with any fellow members. All necessary instructions were posted on the walls, and for the first nine days, one can only speak with the teachers. It is very, very difficult to be completely silent, and I learned that many people, especially from an Indian background, have a hard time with this and may not even attempt the course.

Our days were structured around meditation in a separate, large hall, with curtains drawn to ensure focus. The day’s activities were announced by the ringing of a “Gong,” a thin, round metal bell that called us to wake up, eat, and meditate. Each evening, we would watch a video lecture from Goenkaji. He explained that the mind is wild and that our job is to tame and soften it. When the mind complains, “Oh! I cannot meditate at all,” we must be the ones to console it and guide it back to a happy state.

Goenkaji’s teachings were filled with powerful examples to help us understand life’s deepest truths. He taught us about impermanence, explaining that our lives are like waves in an ocean—constantly forming and disappearing. He compared our actions, or Karma, to drawing lines: a line drawn on water vanishes instantly, a line on sand lasts for a day, but a line carved in rock with a chisel remains for many years. Our mental impressions, or Sanskar, are the same.

He told beautiful stories to illustrate his points. One was about a blind boy who had a fever. His friend begged for him that day and was given kheer (a rice pudding). When he told his blind friend the kheer was “white,” the friend didn’t understand. The other boy tried to explain by showing him a white bird, but when the blind boy touched its crooked body, he declared, “Your kheer is very crooked! I don’t want it!”. From this, a muhavare (idiom) is born, showing how words can have different meanings when experienced differently.

Another story was about a poor man who won the lottery and bought a large mansion. He saw his friends’ well-furnished homes and felt a “thirst” for more. He bought a washing machine, a refrigerator, a TV, and a car. This thirst of shopping, Goenkaji explained, is never-ending.

Life at the center was simple and disciplined. The food was wholesome, with breakfast served after 6 am, featuring cereals, oatmeal, fruit, and tea. For lunch, we had hot soup, boiled vegetables, basmati rice, and fresh salad. In moments of rest, I would sit on the cement benches placed around the campus and watch the sunrise and sunset. The beauty was divine, filled with the sweet chirping of birds.

On the last day, the “Holy Friendship Day,” the rule of silence was lifted, and an atmosphere of joy and fun filled the center. When I returned, my husband, Vasant was away for work in South Carolina, but he had left a beautiful letter and a vase of white and yellow roses for me on the dining table. I was so content and happy.

After facing the small hardships of the course, I learned a profound lesson, one that Goenkaji repeated on our final day as he wished “Bhavatu Sabba Mangal” (May all beings be happy) upon us. The lesson was simple but transformative: “Look at life from a positive point of view”.

Dhamma Siri Vipassana Meditation Center is located in Kaufman County, Texas, 972-962-8858