White noise

Through a DIY silent detox, SIYA BHAMBWANI discovers a cultural inheritance once taken for granted and the power of turning down the world's cacophony.

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THERE'S A CERTAIN volume to life in an Indian city. Mornings sound like the hiss of pressure cookers, cars groaning under your balcony and alarms reminding you to join one Zoom call after another. On the day I decided to commit to a silent detox, the city was undeniably loud, but my mind was louder. What was supposed to be my inner voice had morphed into an impossible-to-mute group chat.

My daily screen time was clocking double digits and I couldn't remember the last time I sat still without tapping my feet. It had reached a point where I found myself unable to recall a single sentence exchanged over lunch with friends. I was emotionally checked out of every conversation. And it couldn't go on like that.

So I committed to 24 hours of silence. No talking and no doomscrolling—just a brisk walk at dawn, then diving into a pile of books I'd been meaning to read. I told my friends I was going to be AWOL and cleared my calendar. As someone uneasy with spending too much time alone with her thoughts, this was not easy. By midday, the restlessness hit. The impulse to check, to respond, to act. The refrigerator hummed too loud. My phone stared back at me. I realised that you don't really notice the noise until you step away from it.

After years of constant digital connectedness and overstimulation, silence isn’t abstinence or escape. It has become essential maintenance for the modern nervous system. According to a 2023 paper on wellness tourism published in the Research Journal of Management Sciences