Self-Inquiry, as laid out by Ramana Maharshi, isn’t a practice confined to monastery walls or silent retreats. It flickers into life the moment the question “Who am I?” is put to use—even while chopping vegetables, replying to emails, or waiting for a coffee order. Each time a thought bubbles up, that single question becomes a gentle prod, guiding attention back to the source of “I.”

Imagine typing away on a laptop during the latest work-from-home marathon. A sudden mental hiccup—anxiety about deadlines—serves as a cue. Instead of chasing the story, quietly ask: “To whom does this worry arise?” The mind, like a toddler caught in mischief, has nowhere to dart but back into its own cradle of awareness. That little pivot—attention turning inward—anchors presence in the here and now.

Everyday hustle offers countless invitations. While riding the subway, the mind’s soundtrack might replay news headlines or social-media alerts. Slip in a quick Self-Inquiry: “Who’s listening to these thoughts?” This instant questioning becomes a kind of mental Swiss Army knife—lightweight, always in the pocket, ready for action. It’s possible to kill two birds with one stone: the train reaches its destination, and a shift toward inner stillness unfolds.

In a world obsessed with apps promising calm through guided visuals or breath counts, Self-Inquiry stands out for its raw simplicity. No downloads needed—just sincerity. Even when binging the latest series on streaming platforms, that soft nudge back to “Who am I?” offers moments of unexpected clarity. Gradually, daily activities become fertile ground for peeling away layers of identification, revealing the unshakeable sense of self that Ramana Maharshi described as ever-present and silent.