We’re living in unprecedented times right now. None of us actually thought we would end up in a situation where the roads in our overcrowded cities would be painfully empty again. In March 2020 I looked out at the busy junction outside my apartment and tried to digest the surrealness of it all. A year later I live in an apartment that doesn’t face a loud busy road but wonderful neem and bougainvillea trees. If I crane my neck just so I get a peek at Ulsoor Road. These days I find myself craning my neck a bit too often, incredulous that today things are so much worse than a year ago.
At this moment my work gives me lots of solace, and I am grateful for that. I realize few people can claim that, and that makes me more grateful for the choices and decisions I’ve made.
My first online class during the pandemic was in March last year. It was a forty minute call because Zoom only allows forty minutes for free users. It was a mix of my private and group students. I am grateful I had an old MacBook that I could use because my Lenovo has a malfunctioning camera (I am looking to replace said Lenovo). I am grateful that my living room at the time was rectangular and clean, which made it easy to position the laptop at an optimum angle for teaching. I am grateful to those students who gave it a go. That support has kept me going financially, emotionally, intellectually and also spiritually. At a time when many yoga teachers were turning up their noses at teaching online, I was able to jump on the bandwagon fairly quickly because of the acceptance and encouragement I received. None of us knew this would become a way of life, and in retrospect most of us are thankful that we went online sooner than later.
I’m thankful also to all those teachers who collaborated with me, bridged boundaries to connect, learn and grow virtually. Our sangha or community has grown in ways we never thought possible.
We are in the middle of one of the greatest challenges we have faced as a country, and I can only hope that things get back to normal soon. But until then, we must keep doing what we can, with the song of gratitude in our hearts.
From two years ago at Rainbow falls in Nagaland. Happy, carefree and amidst nature.