Are united with me through the private language of women
Of secrets of healing from childbirth
Of the fragrance of sambrani,
calmly coiling around neglected hair.
Of safety pins around a taali,
covered by a demure sari.
Of how pleats should gracefully
Contour the softened edges of my newly maternal frame.
Most of my practice is accessible now. I miss taking yoga photos everywhere I go and am consciously trying to do it again. It used to be fun.
It was Ratha Saptami today, the day when yoga students and teachers honor the Sun god with (usually) 108 repetitions of the Surya Namaskar. Lately my days have been a balancing act between motherhood duties (in the absence of a permanent nanny), work and a workout (perhaps a workin is in order). However, I managed to put together a program to pay homage to the Sun God in the hopes that he continues to shine his benevolent light on us.
After the session, I was scheduled to attend my regular RIMYI class. The Tuesday morning class was the only one that fit into my schedule. TBH, I’m not too thrilled about it. I’ve attended the teacher’s classes before, and have never been able to connect with her. But I didn’t really have much of a choice so every Tuesday I find myself using every ounce of discipline I’ve cultivated over the years just to make it to savasana. Today it was different though, today that boring yoga class was one I didn’t know I needed.
We look very happy here, but just a minute ago we were wondering about the salt in the tea.
Last weekend was our first weekend getaway for 2021. Our friends were celebrating their 13th wedding anniversary and we decided to make a trip out of it. As city dwellers we’re always looking for some time out in the great outdoors, sipping some great coffee to the song of early morning birds, and telling stories under the stars around a bonfire. Although Thenkani Organic Farm Retreat advertises itself as a perfect relaxed weekend away from home, it was anything but that.
Attending Sunday Soul Sante in December.
December 2024 went by in a whirlwind. The days were short and nights long and cold. All I felt like doing was reading late into the night with a hot drink and practicing some cozy yoga. But I ensconced myself in some warm clothes through the wintry days, made sure Kalindi stayed warm and healthy, chalked out some quality time with Animesh and even did some goal-setting for 2025.
TBH my initial list had about 10 resolutions that didn’t inspire me even a teeny tiny bit. I crossed off all but these two, which genuinely excite, and even motivate me.
vande gurūnām caranāravinde….
I got the news of Sharath’s passing early morning on a Tuesday. In this age of AI and fake news I thought it was fake news. But as the truth settled in, so did an unexpected and profound sense of loss. Even though I had only met Sharath in passing (during my brief brush with Ashtanga Yoga in Mysore), I feel strangely bereft, as though the loss was personal.
I’ve followed the Ashtanga lineage closely and have drawn inspiration from countless teachers within it. I have many friends who are devoted to the Ashtanga yoga practice. As practitioners we never think of teachers as human, bound by the same mortality that binds us all. The passing of legends is a vivid reminder of life’s impermanence. As history shifts and the ground beneath our feet starts to shake – I find myself asking how I want to step into the future.
Our recent holiday to Mysore had a hint of colonial charm and was peppered with interesting flavors of gelato…
I believe there’s a difference between traveling and holidaying, and both are mutually exclusive. When I travel I see, observe, learn and do. When I holiday I assimilate. On our recent visit to Mysore, I found myself appreciating its tranquil charm in a way I hadn’t before. The broad, tree-lined avenues, the elegant colonial architecture, and the notable absence of towering buildings and construction sites transported me to a bygone era. I could almost picture a white Ambassador “speeding” importantly down the road…
I love this picture of St. Mark’s Cathedral from Cubbon Park, it really gives a sense of how large the park was once upon a time.
Kalindi’s arrival has brought many good things into our lives, including dear friends who had lost touch over the years. I guess the arrival of new life is about hope and optimism, something that everyone can relate to.
I’m in touch with some of my earliest yoga students. Recently Louise and her daughters visited us in Bangalore. I used to teach Louise in Wellington, and reading this blog that she wrote about my classes back then made me nostalgic. It’s been about 12 years since we last met!
What do you do with friends who’re coming to Bangalore for the first time? I mean there’s only so much coffee you can drink as you marvel at the great weather. I’ve lived in Bangalore since 2005, and pride myself in knowing a bit more about the city than the average resident. So I took it on as a challenge and asked myself how I can showcase my city beyond MG Road.
So we had one of those slow weekends, the kind where you can slow down and fall in love with Bangalore all over again. This is how you can make the most of 2 days in Bangalore…
Kalindi and me on her first Independence Day – India’s 78th.
While I was pregnant my husband got me a notebook that has writing prompts for letters to our unborn child. A time capsule of sorts, to be given to the child on their 18th birthday. The other day the prompt was “My wishes for you are…”.
As a woman living in one of the fastest developing nation, I straddle the delicate balance between the haves and the have nots. I often wonder about independence. For most women in India today, to be independent is to be financially independent. But over the years I’ve noticed that making your own money is worth nothing if you don’t have the freedom to spend it. Thus, independence for a privileged woman in a developing nation, is a nuanced concept. Privilege itself is a nuanced concept.
I’m five months postpartum and this past week I fit into my old low-waisted skinny jeans. I’ve written about honouring the first forty days and the importance of postpartum repletion. I believe that’s something every woman who has given birth should do, regardless of c-sec or normal delivery.
After those forty days I was eager to quickly get back into my ‘usual’ routine. I was being inundated with old wives’ tales about exercising after a cesarean – such as not walking too fast or bending forward for an entire year, and even the myth about the chronic pain after an epidural. So, as usual, I did some research.
I believe the following four guidelines optimised my recovery.
I’ve taken this picture so many times at Bellur, and never thought one day I’d be posing with my daughter.
I spent the past weekend in yoga workshop with Murlidhar sir, a yoga teacher who played an instrumental role in my pregnancy journey, from conception to postpartum. This blog was supposed to be about taking a 3.5 month old to a yoga retreat. But as I wrote it, it became a game of connect the dots. It turned into a blog about how I attended a weekend yoga retreat in 2019 and met an impressive but little known yoga teacher who would one day have a profound impact on my life.
My journey has been nothing but magical or, as my gynaecologist would say, ‘a miracle’.