120 Hours of Fasting: My Journey

On the morning of Wednesday, May 24th, at 7:00 AM, my coach and I embarked on a profound journey of self-discipline and reflection. We knew this path would demand utmost temperance and unwavering willpower. Guided by my experienced coach, who had fasted numerous times before, we braced ourselves for the arduous and treacherous road ahead, filled with cravings, temptations, and the relentless voices in our heads trying to lead us astray.

Before I delve into my experience, I want to clarify that, unfortunately, weight loss has become synonymous with health, nutrition, and fasting in our society. However, throughout my years of seeking harmony with my body, nurturing it, and assisting countless individuals along the way, I've always believed that weight loss should be our least concern when it comes to true health. When we are in tune with our bodies and minds, with our habits and behaviors under control, and armed with a profound understanding of our thought patterns, weight loss becomes a secondary consideration. For me, this fasting journey was merely an experiment—a challenge to push my limits.

Unlike Coach Abhishek, I had only dabbled in longer fasts in the past, completing a 44-hour water fast once and a 72-hour water fast more recently. Therefore, the prospect of a 120-hour (5-day) fast, with the first 48 hours (2 days) being a dry fast, followed by another 72 hours (3 days), seemed like an extraordinary challenge.

People often ask me why I willingly subject myself to such "stupid" and "extreme" trials. At the age of 15, I learned that to develop resilience, stoicism, and unwavering confidence to confront any challenges life throws at you, one must constantly embrace discomfort and actively seek it out. After having my fair share of discomfort between the ages of 15 and 25, my focus shifted toward sustainability and balance, making me somewhat complacent. Thus, my main motivation for embarking on this fasting journey was to once again place myself in an uncomfortable position and, of course, to experiment.

I've always been intrigued by experimenting with various diets, nutritional philosophies, training styles, and techniques. My approach has been rooted in learning, understanding, and gaining knowledge, but most importantly, applying that knowledge to my own life to make sense of it through personal experience. Have an experience of one. This is a principle I often try to impart to my clients. After all, no one in this world can truly feel what you feel, and vice versa.

And so, at 7:00 AM on Wednesday morning, weighing in at 84.7 kilograms, we embarked on Stage I: two days of dry fasting.

To enhance my stoicism, I not only abstained from food and water but also completely cut off social media, Reddit, food delivery apps, dating apps, and any unnecessary information platforms. Additionally, I refrained from any form of self-pleasure or gratification.

The initial couple of hours were not overly challenging, although my mind and hands instinctively reached for water—a constraint I had never truly experienced, even during the toughest of my previous adventures. Slowly, a growing sense of thirst began to envelop me, and the notion of not being able to drink water felt foreign and unfamiliar.

During these initial hours, I had a profound realization: we are incredibly privileged to have an abundance of food and water readily available to us, while there are countless individuals who lack access to these basic necessities. Food and water, two essential elements for our survival, along with the air we breathe, are often taken for granted without a moment's acknowledgment. When you think about it, obesity is truly a problem of the privileged.

The second realization came as I discovered our discomfort with idleness and introspection. We are constantly seeking external distractions to numb ourselves from our thoughts and emotions. While I used to believe that I was comfortable being alone, thanks to my daily practices and meditations, within the first seven hours, I found myself reaching for my phone (despite maintaining good boundaries with phone and social media usage), water, or even food in short intervals to distract myself. It felt uncomfortable. I mindlessly scrolled through random websites, window-shopping for things I never truly desired, and reverted to biting my nails—a habit I had gained control over in recent years. It was clear that I was in a vulnerable state. All this happened within the initial seven hours, during which I was also listening to music constantly.

At that moment, I recognized the need for intervention. I turned off the music, took a deep breath, and began slowly pacing around the house, engaging in deep reflection.

I realized that I possessed an intense focus and an unprecedented clarity of thought. With an abundance of time and nothing else to do, I embarked on some of the most productive periods of work I have ever experienced.

I felt present. I felt light. My senses were heightened. It seemed as if my mind and body were operating at an elevated level, a level I had never truly encountered before. My thoughts flowed freely, and my mind became a wellspring of ideas and creative inspiration.

During this phase, a quote from the Bhagavad Gita, which I read last year, resonated deeply within me: "5.22: The pleasures that arise from contact with the sense objects, though appearing as enjoyable to worldly-minded people, are verily a source of misery. O son of Kunti, such pleasures have a beginning and an end, so the wise do not delight in them." This quote is often on my mind when people question my choice to abstain from alcohol, indulge in vices, or lead a disciplined life. Over time, I realized that these sources of instant gratification spill over into our lives, affecting our mental, physical, and emotional well-being in ways we often fail to comprehend. They serve as distractions, crutches we use to numb our thoughts and emotions.

Our bodies keep score, as emphasized by Bessel van der Kolk in his book of the same name. This concept became a reality for me even before I stumbled upon Van der Kolk's work this year. The idea is that our mental and emotional traumas manifest physically in our bodies, leading to diseases, sickness, and injuries, as our bodies continuously grapple with the stress. Stress, or rather its management, forms the foundation of great health. As I confronted my own inner struggles over the past year, I felt the knots inside me begin to untangle. Even with ample mobility and movement, my shoulders and hips were consistently tight, but during the fast, they automatically loosened up.

I experienced a similar sensation during the fast—my body felt relaxed and weightless. By the end of the second day, I started experiencing slight discomfort in my jaw and throat, and a mild headache, but overall, I was doing well. On Friday morning, I reintroduced water into my routine and began consuming electrolytes in the form of salt, lemon and my daily black coffee.

The next three days were more of a mental battle than a physical one. Although I was never physically hungry throughout the fast, the constant bombardment of highly palatable foods, laden with sugar and saturated fats, bombarded my thoughts. Brownies, cookies, and pizzas seemed to linger in my mind, a testament to the pervasive marketing and environmental influences we face daily.

During these five days, I remained active, engaging in my regular activities such as stretching sessions, long walks, and a challenging climbing session. I even led a movement-based session over the weekend. I never felt a lack of energy, except during activities that required significant strength, like climbing, where I did experience some weakness, which was understandable. In fact, I felt more energetic and focused, as mentioned earlier. My mood remained consistent, and I slept decently most nights, albeit with a slight sense of distraction. I did experience vivid dreams on the first night, where twice in my dream, I broke my fast and panicked—quite amusing. Apart from that, sleep was not a problem.

When I finally broke my fast, I consumed some seafood broth, coconut water, and a smoked chicken salad. Even while eating, it felt as if my body didn't truly need the food, but my mind craved the act of eating as a marker of completion. Emotional eating and stress eating are nothing more than using food as a crutch to block our emotions, worries, and thoughts while seeking temporary comfort. This is a topic I often work on with my clients. I also emphasize how nourishment profoundly impacts hormones, moods, energy levels, and mentality—an experience I had firsthand during these five days.

In the end, I lost 6 kilograms (13 pounds), defying the primary concern of most people when they learned about my experiment. They questioned whether the body could survive without food and water for that long and if such a practice was even healthy.

To those who share similar concerns and questions, I would suggest experiencing it firsthand. Have an experience of one.