The Fast I Never Kept — and the Discipline I Did
I grew up in a home where fasting was never imposed. Not because devotion was absent, but because my mother believed something quieter and firmer: a meal deserved respect.
She never allowed us to miss food. Her instruction was simple and unwavering:
“Eat less, but eat.”
Food, to her, was not merely nourishment for the body; it was a trust, a grace, something not to be dishonoured by neglect or excess. At the time, it felt ordinary. Only much later did I realise how deeply dhārmic that teaching was.
The Question That Returns
As years passed, I saw many around me observe fasts — some weekly, some seasonal, some elaborate and ritual-bound. Inevitably, a question arose within me:
Did I miss something?
I can easily keep off food if needed. But I do not know how to fast in the traditional sense. The body does not rebel; the mind does not sanctify the act either. There is no inherited rhythm of denial, no childhood memory of hunger offered as prayer.
Yet, there is no sense of lack — only difference.
What My Practice Became
Without ever naming it, a discipline formed on its own.
After six in the evening, I avoid fried and masala foods. When hunger comes, I respond gently — a single chapati, or a small bowl of oats porridge. Nothing heavy. Nothing indulgent. Nothing forced.
Most importantly, I eat only when hungry.
There is no heroism in it. No announcement. No calendar date. Just a quiet agreement with the body.
Rethinking Fasting
We often equate fasting with spiritual seriousness. But in our tradition, the original meaning of upavāsa is not starvation — it is dwelling near.
Near to what?
Awareness
Restraint
Gratitude
Food-denial is only one doorway. Moderation is another.
The Bhagavad Gītā gently cautions against extremes — too much eating and too little. Balance, not punishment, is upheld as the ground of inner steadiness. In that light, my mother’s teaching begins to glow with quiet authority.
Annā–Saṃskāra: The Culture of Food
There is a verse from the Upaniṣads that says: Do not insult food.
To skip meals casually, to treat hunger as a virtue in itself, or to turn the body into a battlefield — these can also become forms of disrespect.
What I inherited instead was annā–saṃskāra — reverence for food.
Eat simply
Eat mindfully
Waste nothing
Take only what is needed
Many spend years unlearning guilt and anxiety around food. I was spared that struggle.
The Discipline I Did Keep
I never kept a fast. But I did keep:
moderation
listening to hunger rather than silencing it
restraint without strain
simplicity without austerity
This discipline has endured because it is humane. It does not depend on willpower alone; it rests on understanding.
A Mother’s Legacy
Looking back, I see that my mother did not deny us spirituality — she grounded it.
She taught us that the body is not an obstacle to devotion but its companion. That food is not a temptation to be conquered but a blessing to be honoured. That discipline need not be harsh to be real.
Her lesson lives on, quietly, every evening, in a simple meal taken without excess and without guilt.
For Those Who Feel They “Cannot Fast”
If you have ever felt inadequate because you do not observe traditional fasts, pause and look again.
Ask instead:
Do I eat with awareness?
Do I know when to stop?
Do I respect food and the body that receives it?
If the answer is yes, then some form of discipline is already alive in you.
It may not have a name. But it has truth.
I never kept the fast I was told was important. But I kept the discipline that stayed.
And that, too, is a form of devotion.
yuktāhāra-vihārasya yogo bhavati duḥkha-hā
For one who is moderate in food and habits, yoga becomes the destroyer of sorrow.
