Who’s in Charge — You or Your Brain?

It was 4:07 PM.

A dangerous time in my universe.

I was supposed to be fasting. My last solid bite had been lunch, and I had declared—loudly, boldly, and with unnecessary drama—that I wouldn’t touch a single crumb until the next day. No tea. No snacks. No exceptions.

Not even thoughts about snacks.

But there I was—not thinking, just doing—sitting cross-legged like a monk with a half-eaten murukku in my hand and the other half in my mouth, looking down at a crime scene of salty crumbs spread across the table like shattered promises.

And then I heard myself whisper, softly but with full conviction:

“Who did this?”

I was genuinely baffled.

Because honestly, it didn’t feel like me. Not the version of me who meditates every morning, reads Daniel Kahneman before bed, and writes motivational blogs on mastering the mind. Not the version of me that people assume is this disciplined, willpower-powered being who breathes mindfulness and eats boiled vegetables by choice.

No. That murukku-eating creature wasn’t me.

It was someone else. Someone ancient. Someone deeply obsessed with fried things. Possibly someone who once hunted dinosaurs with a stick.

That’s when the quiet truth slapped me across the face harder than the chilli in that murukku:

There’s not just one “me” in my head. There’s a tug-of-war happening. Every. Single. Day.

This isn’t some philosophical musing I picked up from a Himalayan ashram or a motivational reel voiced over with piano music. This is neuroscience. Raw and real. And personal.

Because no matter how many books I write, how many talks I give, how many times I say “I’m in control of my mind”—I still find myself ambushed by murukkus, moods, and midweek madness.

Here’s what I’ve come to accept as a mind trainer, and also, as a human being who occasionally eats his own promises:

There are two of me.

One is a wise, calm, reflective being. Let’s call him the monk. The other is impulsive, erratic, and constantly hungry. Let's call him the caveman.

☕ Let me rewind a bit…

The monk in me wakes up early. He stretches, smiles, and says, “Let’s fast today. Let’s observe ourselves. Let’s be better.”

And the caveman?

He hides quietly in some dark corner of my brain. Pretending to agree. Smiling with that “You do you” face.

Until exactly 4:07 PM. When he comes crashing out like a toddler who found sugar.

The monk is still there, of course. He’s watching. Eyes closed. Breathing deeply. Whispering, “Let go of the craving.”

But the caveman?

He’s already at the snack shelf, screaming, “Let go of the biscuit tin!”

🧠 Science Break (because I know you’re curious)

Here’s what neuroscientists say:

Your brain isn’t one single, peaceful decision-maker. It’s a boardroom with prehistoric bosses and futuristic interns shouting over each other.

At the bottom of this hierarchy sits the brainstem—your survival center. The original brain. The one that helped your ancestors run from tigers, hunt wild boars, and avoid eating poisonous berries (but said yes to anything crunchy, fried, or sweet).

And then, sitting in the metaphorical corner with glasses and a laptop, is the prefrontal cortex—your modern brain. Logical. Rational. Spiritual. The one that meditates, plans goals, and schedules fasts without asking for permission.

Problem is: The brainstem reacts in 0.07 seconds. The prefrontal cortex? It takes almost 0.5 to 2 seconds to even wake up.

In neural speed terms, your caveman brain is Usain Bolt on Red Bull. Your monk brain is a librarian just finishing her second sip of tea.

🧪 Real-Life Observation from My Own Lab (also known as ‘my kitchen’):

The moment I told myself “I’m not eating anything until tomorrow, "my brainstem quietly started planning a heist.

By the time I reached 4 PM, my blood sugar had dropped, my willpower reserves were low (because yes, willpower is like a battery, it drains), and boom—the caveman attacked.

And he didn’t just eat the murukku.

He celebrated it.

He chewed with pride. Licked his fingers with reverence. And told the monk to keep his peace, literally.

And this isn’t just a murukku thing.

It happens every time I say:

• “I’ll check Instagram for just 5 minutes.”

• “I’ll go to bed by 10:30 today.”

• “I’ll meditate instead of scrolling.”

• “I’ll avoid sugar for one week.”

  
  

And then something switches. Quietly. Invisibly. Like handing the steering wheel of your brain to someone who last drove a bullock cart.

The war inside our heads isn’t about good vs. evil. It’s about old vs. new. Impulse vs. intention. Caveman vs. monk.

And the funny (and slightly terrifying) thing is… both of them are you.

🧠 🧠 The Two Brains in One Skull

Welcome to your head. A place of mystery, power, and, occasionally, poor decisions involving fried snacks.

Inside this 1.4-kilogram noodle of neurons lies not just one mind—but two powerful players, pulling at your decisions like rival kabaddi teams. Only, the match is silent, the stakes are high, and you're both the player and the playground.

Let me introduce you to the stars of this never-ending internal drama:

🦍 1. The Brainstem – Your Ancient Survival Machine

Ah, the brainstem. The OG. The fossil brain.

It evolved around 500 million years ago, back when our ancestors were deciding whether to run from a snake or eat it. (Sometimes both.)

And you know what? It hasn’t really updated its software since then.

Here’s what the brainstem still believes:

• Every rustling sound could be a predator.

• Every silence could be death.

• Every edible thing must be eaten now, just in case there’s famine tomorrow.

• Every raised eyebrow is a tribal threat.

  
  

To put it simply: your brainstem still thinks you live in a cave. It doesn’t understand Google Calendar, keto diets, or emotional intelligence.

It’s impulsive. It’s hungry. It’s loud.

Motto:

“If it moves, eat it. If it doesn’t, poke it and see if it moves. Then eat it anyway.”

Let me confess something personal: Every time I skip a meal in the name of intermittent fasting, the brainstem sends out a search party to find samosas, parottas, or anything that can be deep-fried and regretted.

And if it can't find food, it craves attention, revenge, or dopamine. Because the brainstem doesn’t discriminate—it just wants more.

👨‍🏫 2. The Prefrontal Cortex – The Rational Grown-Up

Now let’s meet the silent hero of this tale: the prefrontal cortex.

It’s located right behind your forehead, and it's the most evolved, most sophisticated part of your brain. This is the region that makes you you. The part that thinks about tomorrow, about consequences, about bigger pictures and long-term goals.

The prefrontal cortex is the reason you:

• Set alarms even when you hate them.

• Make vision boards and buy planners you'll never use.

• Read blogs like this one.

• Regret what the brainstem did yesterday.

  
  

While the brainstem is all about “NOW!”, the prefrontal is about “Wait… should we?”

It’s the one that whispers:

• “Let’s not react to that WhatsApp message immediately.”

• “Let’s drink water instead of Coke.”

• “Let’s not scream back at the auto driver just because he overcharged us by ₹30.”

• “Let’s go to the gym… eventually.”

  
  

Motto:

“Let’s breathe. Let’s think. Let’s not get fired.”

🧬 The Inner Drama is Not Metaphor—It’s Biology

This battle isn’t a metaphor I cooked up during a meditation retreat. It’s real. It’s backed by neuroscience. It’s happening in your head every single second.

Here's the deal:

Your brainstem is fast. Lightning fast. It acts in a fraction of a second because its job is to keep you alive. Not thriving, just alive. Your prefrontal cortex, on the other hand, is slow. Thoughtful. A bit philosophical even. It likes to think before acting—unfortunately, by the time it finishes thinking, the brainstem has already ordered biryani.

🧠 Real-Life Application: Why You Yelled at the Pizza Guy

Ever lost your cool at a delivery guy, and 3 minutes later felt like a villain in a morality play?

That’s the brainstem talking first. It sensed a delay = threat. The prefrontal cortex came in after the shouting… with a glass of guilt and a TED Talk about kindness.

Same brain. Two voices. One lives in the past (survival).One dreams of a Nobel Prize and salad bowls.

“Human beings are works in progress that mistakenly think they’re finished.”— Daniel Gilbert

I couldn’t agree more. Because even as a mind trainer—even after reading brain research and practicing meditation—I still wake up some mornings and wrestle with my own impulses like a WWE match staged inside my skull.

And sometimes, the monk wins. But sometimes… the caveman orders extra chutney.

🧬 The Science of the Scuffle

Let’s break down the biology behind your inner chaos.

Have you ever found yourself staring at your phone, thumb hovering above the “Order Now” button, while a tiny voice inside whispers, “Don’t do it… you just had lunch”—and yet, you click anyway?

That, my friend, is not weak willpower. It’s neurobiology on fire.

Here’s what actually happens inside your head when you feel conflicted:

🧠 The Four-Step Drama:

1️⃣ The Stimulus Appears

This could be anything: A murukku on the table. A rude driver on the road. A Swiggy notification that pops up precisely when your self-control is at its weakest.

Basically, anything that activates your primitive alert system.

2️⃣ Amygdala Goes “Ding-Ding!”

Your amygdala, the brain's emotional alarm bell, reacts within milliseconds. It doesn’t wait for facts. It doesn’t check context. It just sounds the RED ALERT.

3️⃣ Brainstem Takes Over Like a Bollywood Hero

The brainstem charges in like Salman Khan in a climax scene. No questions asked. No thinking. Just raw, ancient energy.

It screams:

“Danger! Craving! Attack! FIGHT! FLEE! FRY IT AND EAT IT!”

This is your impulse center, still acting like your next meal depends on catching a goat with your bare hands.

4️⃣ Meanwhile, the Prefrontal Cortex… sighs.

While all this drama unfolds, your prefrontal cortex—the logical, patient, planner part of your brain—slowly peeks out of the fog.

It rubs its metaphorical temples. It checks the data. It tries to whisper some sense into your life like a therapist in a nightclub.

🧠 Neural Speeds, Explained Casually:

• The brainstem reacts in 0.07 seconds.

• The prefrontal cortex? It takes anywhere between 0.5 to 2 seconds to even sit up and log in.

In internet terms: Your caveman brain is on 5G.Your wise brain is still spinning at 2G, looking for Wi-Fi.

This isn’t even a fair fight. It’s like pitting a sprinter against a monk who first wants to meditate before running.

🔄 Everyday Examples of the Tug-of-War

Let’s leave the theory aside and step into your daily life. Here’s where the scuffle gets spicy.

🍟 1. The Diet Disaster

You’ve eaten healthy all day. Oats in the morning. Greens for lunch. A post-lunch walk.

Then someone near you opens a pack of hot, crunchy, masala-dusted chips.

Brainstem: “SALT. CRUNCH. LIFESAVER. ”Prefrontal Cortex: “You’re not dying. You just want drama.”

You know who wins. You’re found later, licking your fingers, with that awkward guilt-silence that follows all bad decisions.

I’ve been there too. More than once. More than I care to admit. Let’s move on.

🏏 2. The Deadline Doomscroll

It’s 4:30 PM. You’ve got a deadline at 5. You open your laptop, full of intent.

But somehow…Somehow…You end up watching “Top 10 Dhoni Helicopter Shots with Commentary.”

Brainstem: “This is joy. This is legacy. This is dopamine, bro. ”Prefrontal Cortex: “You’ll regret this at 4:59. Trust me.”

And you will. You always do. But the pull of cricket nostalgia is no joke. Not when the caveman is at the wheel.

😠 3. The Angry Outburst

Your colleague casually takes credit for your idea in a meeting. You feel the heat rise in your cheeks. Your jaw tightens. Your hands clench.

Brainstem: “RAISE YOUR VOICE. SMASH YOUR WATER BOTTLE. CLAIM DOMINANCE.”

Prefrontal Cortex: “Let’s use words. Like adults. Maybe write a polite email.”

The final outcome? Usually depends on how much sleep you got last night—and whether the chai break kicked in.

🧘 The Viktor Frankl Pause

Now here’s the magical truth that changed my life—and the lives of everyone I’ve shared it with.

“Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space lies our power and our freedom.”— Viktor Frankl

Let that sink in.

Because that space is what we never learned to use.

It’s not some fluffy philosophical idea—it’s a literal delay in the brain where your prefrontal cortex can intercept the madness of your amygdala and brainstem.

That space is the secret.

That’s where you get to pause. That’s where the mind trainer, the calm parent, the focused leader, the evolved human—you—can show up.

But here’s the catch: Most people don’t even know that space exists, let alone how to stretch it. We live in full reaction mode, like hyperactive squirrels in traffic, darting from impulse to impulse.

And let me be honest with you—some days, even I forget to pause.

I still get hijacked. By food. By emotion. By Swiggy’s push notifications that are clearly designed to test my monkhood.

But now, I know that I have a choice. A space. And on the days I enter that space—even for 5 seconds—something shifts.

The caveman quiets down. The monk smiles. And I come back to the driver’s seat of my own mind.

🧰 The Mind Trainer’s Toolkit: Win the War, One Pause at a Time

Let’s get real for a moment.

You can’t wrestle the caveman to the ground using brute force. You can’t out-shout your brainstem. You can’t scream “discipline!” into a bag of chips and expect it to behave.

But you can train the monk.

You can gently, consistently teach your modern brain to show up a few seconds earlier each day… until one day, it arrives before the murukku disappears.

Here are three science-backed tools I use—not just in my sessions, but in my own daily battles with cravings, rage, and the irresistible pull of IPL trivia.

⏸️ 1. The 10-Second Pause

Let’s call this your emergency brake. Your inner fire extinguisher.

Whenever you feel the heat—an urge to eat, yell, scroll, binge-watch, or send a long emotional message to someone who doesn’t deserve it—pause.

Here’s how:

• Step 1: Count backward, slowly, from 10 to 1.

• Step 2: Breathe deeply with each count, like you’re fogging a mirror on a cold morning.

  
  

Why this works: It hijacks the amygdala's auto-response and gives the prefrontal cortex a few extra seconds to come online and say, “Hey, do we really need to ruin our progress for this?”

It’s like pressing “snooze” on your impulse.

I’ve done this mid-argument, mid-bite, and once even while staring at an online shopping cart full of things I didn’t need but felt emotionally connected to.

📓 2. Impulse Journaling

This one changed my life.

I started keeping a tiny log—just a few lines per day. It wasn’t fancy. Sometimes it was just an old receipt in my wallet. Sometimes a Google Keep note titled “The Monkey Strikes Again.”

Here’s what I record:

• Time of the urge

• Trigger (what caused it?)

• Feeling before and after

• Did I pause, or did the caveman win?

  
  

Why it works: The brainstem, like any wild animal, follows patterns. And once you start noticing those patterns, the spell begins to break.

You realize you get snack urges every day between 4 and 4:20 PM, not because you’re weak

—but because your body’s running a program it downloaded in childhood from watching your dad eat bajji with tea.

You see that your anger spikes only when your sleep dips below 6 hours. You start catching the code.

And the moment you can name the pattern—you’re no longer inside it.

⏳ 3. Say “Not Now” Instead of “No”

This is a Jedi-level trick. Tiny shift, massive power.

You see, your brainstem hates being rejected. It doesn’t like “no.”

“No” sounds like starvation. Like abandonment. Like someone snatched your dosa mid-bite.

But “Not now”? That’s gentle. It’s kind. It’s non-confrontational.

Instead of saying:

“No, I won’t eat the chocolate.”

Try:

“Not now. I’ll decide in 15 minutes.”

Why it works: Most cravings fade after 10 to 20 minutes. By giving yourself a delay, you buy your monk some time to walk in, roll up its sleeves, and bring in logic, love, and long-term thinking.

You're not depriving yourself. You're just postponing the reaction until reason catches up.

I’ve personally dodged desserts, disasters, and a few dangerously unnecessary Amazon orders just by saying “Not now.”

Sometimes, that’s all you need.

🧘‍♂️ One Win at a Time

Let me take you back to yesterday.

It was exactly 4:00 PM. The most dangerous time in my daily rhythm.

The tea was hot. The snacks were ready. The smell of fried temptation filled the room like a villain’s entry music in a Tamil film.

The brainstem had already rolled up its veshti. The monk was still tying its spiritual shawl.

But this time—I paused. I stared at the tea. I looked at the murukku, lying there like it had rights over my free will.

And I said, out loud:

“Not now.”

I took one deep breath. Then another. And I walked away.

The brainstem howled. The monk? It smiled. Silently. Proudly. Like a teacher whose student finally chose to think before reacting.

That was one small battle. But it felt like I had won the war.

“Success is nothing more than a few simple disciplines, practiced every day.”— Jim Rohn

And that’s all this is. One pause. One pattern journaled. One delayed decision.

Train the monk. Befriend the caveman. Let them talk to each other. But you, my friend—you stay in the driver’s seat.

Next Monday: Get ready to have your mind flipped! We’ll explore a mind-bending truth: The colors you see, the sounds you hear, even the smells you sense... none of them are real. They’re all illusions — crafted inside your brain.

Is reality just a story your mind tells you? Let’s find out.