It might be time to look to a less-fashionable idea from our cultural past: silence. Mauna, the Hindu day of silence, isn’t just about the absence of sound, but the presence of reflection. Practised on certain days by ascetics and householders, it’s a deliberate pause to observe speech, mind, and self with a kind of inner detachment. No tweets. No bluster. Just time to think.
It’s ironic that a country with a concept like mauna at its spiritual heart is also among the loudest in the world. From weddings to political rallies to religious processions, we celebrate through sound. On flights and metros, people on phones either are shouting into them – to ironically be heard over the sound – or are playing videos and songs with earplugs thrown to the wind. And the incessant and mindless use of horns on the roads adds another thick patina of sonic mayhem all around.
Even our protests – especially our protests – are often more spectacle than statement, all sound and fury signifying nothing discernible. And this isn’t just about volume. The noise extends to how we consume information, argue on social media, and navigate daily life.
Contrast this with a country like Japan, where quietness is woven into the cultural fabric. In public spaces, conversations are hushed, phones are silent, and even trains are tranquil. It’s not that they don’t have disagreements or debates. They’ve just mastered the art of saying less but meaning more. Their quietness isn’t about passivity, but a collective respect for space, focus, and thought.Will one more shouting from the chair in Parliament for ‘ruckus’ solve our problems of chaotic noise? Or does it just add to the confusion? What would it take for India to reclaim its own culture of silence – not just spiritually but socially? Could mauna, reframed as a secular practice, be positioned as an antidote to this age of perpetual noise? Much like yoga’s ascension to a universal practice beyond spirituality to overall well-being, silence, too, could travel across borders and cultures. It would be the answer to partisan rants and X wars, and the echo chambers we inhabit without pause.
Could we imagine a day of national silence – a ‘Mauna Vrat Day’- mandated not by law, but by suggestion? A day to speak less and listen more. A day to reset. It would remind us that democracy needs conversation, not noise. Reflection, not reaction.
For those ready to dismiss this as impractical or naive, a reminder: silence doesn’t cost anything, doesn’t divide anyone, and doesn’t require anything but a moment’s resolve. And yet, it teaches us the value of thoughtful speech.
We already have a history of political silence – sitting in dharnas to demand change. But, perhaps, it’s time to be silent not for protest or for remembrance alone, but be silent for silence’s sake, truer to the original purpose of mauna.
In an increasingly noisy world, it’s time we reintroduce ourselves – and others – to keeping mum. Perhaps, it’s not loud rallies or sweeping reforms that will heal us or bring us collective clarity, but something quieter: the unassuming stillness of a day spent in mauna. Silence as self-care, as civic duty, as survival. Let’s start there with a hush.