Vaageluppu - The Beautiful Malayalam Word for Mental Turbulence You Need to Know by Isaac Cherian
- Consciousness Studio
- Oct 24
- 5 min read
Updated: Nov 6
Isaac Cherian, Registered Psychologist
There's a Malayalam word that perfectly captures something we've all felt but struggle to name: vaageluppu. It describes those twists and turns of the mind, that restless entanglement of thoughts that leaves you feeling scattered, anxious, and unable to settle. You know the feeling. Your mind is all over the place. There's a panicky energy without any particular reason. You can't sit still. Everything feels urgent even when nothing actually is. That's vaageluppu—and it's exhausting.
When Your Heart Knows But Your Mind Resists
Here's what happened to me today. I woke up knowing I needed to meditate, but my mind absolutely refused. It didn't want to close my eyes. It wanted to play, to move, to do anything but be still. My heart said: "You need to sit. Your mind is all over the place." My mind said: "No. Not today. Let's do something else." Sound familiar? This is the trap of vaageluppu. The very state that most needs stillness is the one that resists it most fiercely. The turbulence doesn't want to settle because settling feels like losing something—that buzzing, twisted energy that masquerades as productivity or engagement with life. But here's the truth: that energy isn't real vitality. It's just the mind spinning in circles.
The Decision to Sit Anyway
I chose to listen to my heart instead of my mind's resistance. Twenty minutes, I told myself. Just twenty minutes with my eyes closed. Before I sat, I did something else. I have a picture of my teacher, Sri Ramana Maharshi, in my room. I looked at his feet and asked for his blessings. Not out of ritual, but out of genuine need. I was asking for help to settle what I couldn't settle on my own. Then I closed my eyes.
What Happens When Vaageluppu Begins to Settle
The first thing I noticed was drowsiness. My head kept falling forward. This is incredibly common when the nervous system finally starts to release its grip. It's like an exhale after holding your breath for too long. I was aware even in the drowsiness—I knew my head was falling, I could feel myself drifting into brief dreams toward the end. But I stayed with it. Twenty minutes became thirty. Once I settled in, my system knew it needed more time. And then, slowly, something shifted.
The Peace Underneath
When I opened my eyes, I felt it immediately. I had come out of the vaageluppu. The twisting, panicky energy was gone. At first, it felt like less energy—quieter, calmer, almost subdued compared to the buzzing turbulence. But as time passed, I realized: this wasn't less energy. This was my natural state. This was pure calmness. The vaageluppu had been covering it all along. The longer I sat with this calmness, the more it deepened. Like muddy water becoming transparent, the peace continued to clarify even after meditation ended.
Grace Is Real
Something else happened that I need to tell you about, even though it's hard to put into words. When I reflected on what had shifted, I thought about Bhagavan—about looking at his feet before sitting, about asking for his blessings. And suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of joy washed over me. Tears gathered in my eyes without falling. My heart became heavy with a gentle, beautiful heaviness. This is what devotion feels like. This is what grace feels like. It wasn't sadness. It was the heart recognizing something true and sacred. The heart being moved beyond words. These moments come and go—you can't manufacture them or cling to them—but when they arise, they show you that your connection to the divine, to your teacher, to truth itself, is alive and real. The teaching isn't just intellectual. The guru's presence isn't just a concept. Grace actually works.
The Lesson: Your Heart Knows
Here's what I learned today, and what I want you to remember: When your mind is caught invaageluppu, that's exactly when you need to sit.* The resistance itself is just the scattered energy refusing to settle. Your heart will know. Your heart will tell you: "I need stillness." And your mind will argue back with a thousand reasons why not now, not today. Listen to your heart. You don't need to force it harshly. But gently offer yourself the option. Sometimes, even just ten or twenty or thirty minutes is enough. Give your nervous system space to release what it's been holding.
How to Work With Vaageluppu
When you notice you're in vaageluppu—when your mind is twisted up, restless, panicky without reason—try this:
Acknowledge what's happening. Name it: "This is vaageluppu. My mind is entangled right now."
Ask yourself what you really need. Not what your mind wants (distraction, movement, stimulation) but what your deeper being needs. Usually, it's stillness.
If you have a practice, a teacher, a connection to something sacred—turn to it. Ask for help. Surrender the turbulence to something greater than your individual effort.
Sit anyway. Even through resistance. Even if it's just twenty minutes. Close your eyes and let whatever happens happen.
Trust the settling. It might take time. You might get drowsy. Your mind might stay busy at first. That's okay. The peace is underneath, waiting.
Stay a little longer if you can. Sometimes we need more time than we initially think. Let your system tell you when it's ready.
The Gift of This Word
Vaageluppu is a gift because it names something real. When you can name what's happening—"I'm caught in the mind's twists and turns right now"—you create a little space around it. You're no longer completely identified with the turbulence. And when you know that this state has a name, has been felt by others, has a remedy, you also know: this will pass. Peace is possible. The calmness is always there underneath, just waiting for you to stop and let the mud settle. Your natural state isn't turbulence. Your natural state is that pure calmness I'm feeling now, hours after sitting. The vaageluppu is what happens when we get caught up in the mind's movements. But we can always come back home. Just thirty minutes of closing your eyes. Just a willingness to listen to your heart instead of your mind's resistance. Just a small act of surrender to grace. That's all it takes to find your way out of vaageluppu and back to peace.
May you recognize the twists and turns when they come. May you trust your heart when it calls you to stillness. May you receive the grace that is always flowing, waiting only for you to open.
Love, Isaac
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