Part 1: The Unseen Chains
In the small coastal town of Murudeshwar, nestled between the Arabian Sea and the towering Shiva statue that seemed to watch over its people, there lived a young man named Aditya. His life, much like the rhythm of the waves that lapped against the shores, had always been simple and predictable. Aditya was a school teacher, well-respected and liked by the students and the townsfolk. His days were filled with lessons, grading papers, and helping the children with their studies.
Yet, beneath the calm surface of his life, there was a growing storm—one that he had not even realized was brewing. Aditya, like so many others in the modern world, had become a prisoner of his phone. The device, which was supposed to be a tool for convenience, had slowly and silently taken over his life.
It started innocuously enough. Aditya got his first smartphone when he moved to Murudeshwar from Bhatkal, where he had attended college. At first, it was just a way to stay connected with his friends and family, to check the news, and occasionally browse social media. But over time, the phone became more than just a device—it became a constant companion, always by his side, always demanding his attention.
Mornings that were once filled with the peaceful sound of birds chirping outside his window were now interrupted by the shrill beep of notifications. His quiet afternoons, where he would once sit on his veranda with a book or take a walk along the beach, were now spent scrolling through endless feeds, clicking on articles, and watching videos. Even his evenings, a time he used to dedicate to preparing lessons or visiting his elderly parents, were now consumed by the glowing screen that held him captive.
Aditya began to notice the effects of his phone addiction, though he would never have called it that at the time. He felt restless, distracted, and anxious. His once sharp focus began to wane, and he found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on his work. Even the children in his class noticed the change in him. “Sir, are you okay?” one of his students, little Rohan, had asked one day after Aditya had snapped at him for no reason.
That question stayed with Aditya long after the school day had ended. Was he okay? He didn’t feel okay. He felt tired all the time, yet he couldn’t sleep. His mind was always buzzing, filled with information, images, and sounds, yet he couldn’t seem to think clearly. He had lost the joy in the simple things that once made him happy—the sound of the waves, the sight of the sun setting over the sea, the laughter of the children in his classroom.
Aditya knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know what to do about it. He felt trapped, stuck in a cycle that he couldn’t break. His phone had become both his comfort and his curse, and he couldn’t imagine life without it.
And then, one day, everything changed.
Part 2: The Unlikely Guru
It was a rainy evening in July when Aditya first met the man who would change his life. The monsoon had arrived in Murudeshwar, and the town was shrouded in a thick mist, the sea raging against the rocks as if it were angry at the world. Aditya had stayed late at school that day, grading papers while the rain pounded against the windows. By the time he left, the town was deserted, everyone having taken shelter from the storm.
As Aditya made his way home, his phone buzzed in his pocket—a notification from a social media app. He pulled it out, his thumb already hovering over the screen, ready to swipe and scroll through whatever new posts awaited him. But before he could unlock the screen, a voice called out to him from the darkness.
“Why do you let that thing control you?”
Aditya looked up, startled. Standing under a streetlamp, his face partially obscured by the hood of his raincoat, was an old man. Aditya had seen him around town before, usually sitting by the beach or wandering through the market, but he didn’t know his name. The old man was something of an enigma—always alone, always watching, but never engaging with anyone. The townsfolk called him ‘Baba’ out of respect, but few knew anything about him.
“Excuse me?” Aditya replied, unsure if the old man was talking to him.
“Your phone,” Baba said, nodding towards the device in Aditya’s hand. “You’re always on it. Do you ever stop to think about what it’s doing to you?”
Aditya was taken aback. No one had ever confronted him about his phone use before, least of all a stranger. He felt a mix of embarrassment and defensiveness. “It’s just a phone,” he said, slipping it back into his pocket. “Everyone uses them.”
Baba smiled, a knowing, almost sad smile. “That’s what they all say,” he replied. “But it’s not just a phone, is it? It’s become a part of you, hasn’t it? You can’t go anywhere without it. You can’t sit still without checking it. You’ve forgotten how to be alone with your thoughts, how to enjoy the world around you without needing to share it with others.”
Aditya opened his mouth to protest, but the words caught in his throat. He wanted to argue, to tell Baba that he was wrong, that he was being overdramatic. But deep down, Aditya knew that the old man was right. His phone had become an extension of himself, something he couldn’t live without, even though he wasn’t sure why.
Baba seemed to sense his inner turmoil. “I wasn’t always like this, you know,” he said, gesturing to his rain-soaked clothes, his unkempt beard, his weathered face. “I used to be just like you—always busy, always connected, always in a hurry. I had a job, a family, responsibilities. But somewhere along the way, I lost myself. I became so consumed by the noise of the world that I forgot how to listen to my own heart.”
He paused, his eyes distant as if he were seeing something far away. “It wasn’t until I lost everything that I realized how much of my life I had wasted, how much of it I had given away to things that didn’t matter. That’s when I decided to let go, to break free from the chains that had bound me for so long.”
Aditya was silent, unsure of what to say. He didn’t know this man, yet his words resonated with him in a way that nothing else had in a long time.
“How did you do it?” Aditya asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
Baba looked at him, his eyes softening. “It wasn’t easy,” he admitted. “But I found a way—a technique that helped me reclaim my life, my mind, my peace. It’s simple, but it requires discipline, and most importantly, it requires you to be honest with yourself.”
Aditya’s curiosity was piqued. “What is it?” he asked, eager to learn.
Baba smiled again, this time with a hint of mischief. “Come back tomorrow,” he said, turning to leave. “I’ll show you.”
And with that, he disappeared into the rain, leaving Aditya standing alone under the streetlamp, his mind racing with questions.
Part 3: The Technique Revealed
The next day, Aditya couldn’t stop thinking about his encounter with Baba. The old man’s words had stirred something deep within him, something that he hadn’t felt in a long time—a desire for change, for freedom from the invisible chains that had bound him to his phone.
After school, Aditya made his way to the beach, where he had often seen Baba sitting on a rock, staring out at the sea. Sure enough, there he was, his back to the town, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
Aditya approached him hesitantly. “Baba,” he called out.
The old man turned and smiled, as if he had been expecting him. “Ah, Aditya. I’m glad you came.”
Aditya sat down on the rock beside him, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filling the silence between them. For a moment, they both just sat there, watching the sea, the sky, the distant fishing boats bobbing on the water.
Finally, Baba spoke. “Do you know what the biggest problem with these devices is?” he asked, gesturing towards Aditya’s phone, which was tucked away in his pocket.
Aditya shook his head.
“They steal your attention,” Baba said. “They take you away from the present moment, from the world around you, from the people who matter. They fill your mind with noise—constant, unrelenting noise—until you can’t hear anything else. You lose touch with yourself, with your own thoughts, your own feelings. You become a slave to the demands of others, always responding, always reacting, never truly living.”
Aditya felt a pang of guilt as he listened to Baba’s words. He knew that what the old man was saying was true. He had felt it himself—the constant pull of his phone, the way it distracted him from everything else, the way it consumed his time and attention.
“But what can I do?” Aditya asked, his voice tinged with desperation. “I can’t just get rid of my phone. It’s how I stay connected, how I keep up with the world. I need it.”
Baba nodded. “I’m not asking you to get rid of it,” he said. “But you need to take back control. You need to learn how to use your phone without letting it use you. And for that, you need to create boundaries.”
“Boundaries?” Aditya echoed, intrigued.
“Yes,” Baba replied. “You need to set limits for yourself—times when you use your phone and times when you don’t. You need to be mindful of how much time you spend on it, and what you’re using it for. And most importantly, you need to practice being present, truly present, in the moment.”
Aditya listened intently as Baba explained the technique that had helped him break free from his own phone addiction. It was simple, yet profound.
“Start by creating phone-free zones,” Baba said. “Places where you don’t take your phone with you—like the dining table, the bedroom, the bathroom. These are sacred spaces where you should be fully present, whether you’re eating, sleeping, or just being. When you’re in these spaces, leave your phone in another room, out of sight, out of mind.”
Aditya nodded, making a mental note of Baba’s advice.
“Next,” Baba continued, “set specific times during the day when you allow yourself to check your phone—maybe once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and once in the evening. Outside of those times, put your phone on silent, and resist the urge to check it. Focus on what you’re doing in the moment, whether it’s work, spending time with loved ones, or just relaxing. You’ll be surprised at how much more peaceful and fulfilling your life becomes when you’re not constantly distracted by your phone.”
Aditya felt a sense of relief wash over him as he listened to Baba’s words. It seemed so simple, yet he could already imagine how much of a difference it would make in his life.
“And finally,” Baba said, his tone serious, “learn to be comfortable with silence. When you’re not using your phone, don’t immediately fill the void with other distractions—like TV, music, or social media. Allow yourself to sit in silence, to listen to your own thoughts, to be alone with yourself. It will be uncomfortable at first, but in time, you’ll come to appreciate the peace and clarity that comes from being truly present.”
Aditya nodded, feeling a renewed sense of hope. He had been searching for a way to break free from the grip of his phone, and now he had found it. Baba’s technique was simple, practical, and most importantly, it resonated with him on a deep level.
“Thank you, Baba,” Aditya said, his voice filled with gratitude. “I’ll start today.”
Baba smiled, a warm, knowing smile. “Good,” he said. “But remember, this is just the beginning. It will take time and effort, but if you stick with it, you’ll find that your life will change in ways you never imagined.”
Part 4: The Journey of Transformation
The next few weeks were challenging for Aditya. He was used to having his phone with him at all times, and the thought of being without it—even for a few minutes—made him anxious. But he was determined to follow Baba’s advice, to take back control of his life.
He started by creating phone-free zones in his home. He left his phone in the living room while he ate dinner, choosing instead to focus on the taste of his food, the sound of the rain outside, and the warmth of the candlelight on the table. At night, he left his phone in the kitchen, far away from his bed, and found that he slept more peacefully, no longer tempted to check his phone in the middle of the night.
During the day, Aditya set specific times to check his phone—once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and once in the evening. He resisted the urge to check it outside of those times, even when he heard it buzz with notifications. At first, it was difficult. He felt a constant pull towards the device, a nagging curiosity about what he might be missing. But with each passing day, it became easier.
Aditya also practiced being present in the moment, especially when he was with his students. Instead of checking his phone during breaks, he spent time talking to the children, listening to their stories, and playing games with them. He noticed how much more engaged and focused he was, how much more he enjoyed his work when he wasn’t constantly distracted by his phone.
And then there were the moments of silence—the moments that Baba had told him about. At first, Aditya found it uncomfortable to sit in silence, without any distractions. His mind would race, his thoughts would swirl, and he would feel the urge to reach for his phone. But he resisted, allowing himself to sit with the discomfort, to listen to his own thoughts, to be alone with himself.
Over time, Aditya began to appreciate these moments of silence. He found that they brought him a sense of clarity and peace that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He began to notice the small details of life that he had once overlooked—the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the feel of the cool breeze on his face. He felt more connected to the world around him, more grounded, more present.
As the weeks turned into months, Aditya noticed a profound change in himself. He was no longer restless, anxious, or distracted. He felt more focused, more peaceful, and more in control of his life. His relationships with his students, his family, and his friends improved, as he was able to give them his full attention, without the constant interruption of his phone. He found joy in the simple things again—the sound of the waves, the taste of a home-cooked meal, the laughter of the children in his class.
Aditya also found that he had more time—time to do the things he loved, time to explore new hobbies, time to simply be. He started painting again, a hobby he had long abandoned, and found that it brought him a sense of fulfillment and creativity that he had been missing. He took long walks along the beach, enjoying the feel of the sand between his toes, the sight of the sun setting over the sea. He spent more time with his family, visiting his parents in Bhatkal, and reconnecting with his roots.
Most importantly, Aditya felt a sense of freedom—a freedom from the constant demands of his phone, a freedom from the noise of the world, a freedom to live his life on his own terms. He had broken free from the invisible chains that had bound him for so long, and he had discovered a life that was richer, more fulfilling, and more meaningful.
Part 5: Sharing the Wisdom
As Aditya’s life transformed, he couldn’t help but notice how many others around him were still trapped in the same cycle he had once been in. His friends, his colleagues, even his students’ parents—they were all glued to their phones, missing out on the beauty and joy of life.
He decided to share Baba’s technique with others, hoping that it might help them as it had helped him. He started small, talking to his friends and family about the changes he had made, the benefits he had experienced. Some were skeptical at first, but others were intrigued, curious to see if it could work for them too.
Aditya also incorporated the technique into his teaching. He noticed that many of his students were already becoming addicted to their phones, even at a young age. They would constantly check their devices during breaks, distracted by games, social media, and messages. Aditya decided to create phone-free zones in his classroom, encouraging his students to put their phones away during lessons and breaks.
He also taught them the importance of being present, of focusing on their studies, their friendships, and their own thoughts. He noticed a significant improvement in their concentration, their engagement, and their overall well-being. The students became more attentive, more creative, and more connected to each other.
Word of Aditya’s approach spread through the town, and soon, more people began to adopt the technique. Parents started creating phone-free zones at home, setting specific times for phone use, and encouraging their children to be present in the moment. Friends started spending more quality time together, without the constant interruption of their phones. The town began to change, becoming more connected, more mindful, more alive.
Aditya’s journey had come full circle. The technique that Baba had shared with him had not only transformed his own life but had also brought about a positive change in the lives of those around him. He felt a deep sense of gratitude towards Baba, who had shown him the way, and towards the technique itself, which had given him back his life.
Conclusion: The Power of Presence
As Aditya stood on the beach, watching the sun set over the sea, he felt a profound sense of peace. He had come a long way from the restless, distracted person he had once been. He had learned the power of presence, the importance of setting boundaries, and the value of silence. He had discovered a life that was richer, more meaningful, and more fulfilling than he had ever imagined.
His phone was no longer his enemy. It was just a tool—a tool that he used when necessary, but one that no longer controlled him. He had taken back control of his life, his mind, and his peace.
And as he watched the sun dip below the horizon, Aditya smiled to himself, knowing that he had found something truly life-changing—a technique that had not only transformed his own life but had also brought about a positive change in the lives of those around him.
In a world that was constantly buzzing with noise, Aditya had found his own quiet corner, a place where he could be present, mindful, and at peace. And in that quiet corner, he had discovered the true meaning of freedom.