1
The Turbaned Superman
Let us not, however, turn away from the yogi with contemp-
tuous indifference on account of his preposterous pretensions,
for naked, emaciated, and covered with ashes though he be, he
represents, albeit in an unhealthy form, an important idea.
In the groveling world of polytheistic India, he stands forth a
bold and ever- present asserter of man’s inherent dignity and
exalted position in the universe. Before the multitude cowering
in abject terror at the altars of hideous and terrible idols, he
appears as an embodiment of the belief that man, even though
he be degraded and trammeled by his fleshly garment, can by
his own exertions raise himself to divine heights of knowledge
and power.
— John Campbell Oman, Indian Life: Religious and SocialWhere one begins a history of the Yogi naturally depends on what— or
whom— one recognizes as falling into this semantic domain. In turn- of- the-
century America, the figure of the Yogi predictably becomes a canvas onto
which Western fantasies and fears are imposed with occasionally caricatured
effect. Of course, these emotions along with their accompanying representa-
tions have a history, both foreign and domestic. While early Western impres-
sions of Yogis found in travelers’ and missionary accounts are inevitably murky
visions drawn up by outsiders attempting to make sense of an often impen-
etrable social order, even a funhouse mirror offers some semblance of the
original. As the voices of actual flesh- and- blood Yogis enter the conversation,
they overwhelmingly do so along the lines of an already established script that
reflects the assumptions and expectations of their audiences. Yogi figures ideal-
ized as ascetics, magicians, and eventually mystics form the patterns for these
interpretations.
Indian Yogis have historically been a diverse group, not only because prac-
titioners have disagreed over what constitutes “proper” yoga but also because
popular understandings of who Yogis are and what they do have refracted these