112 YOGA JOURNAL
When I moved to Los Angeles 17 years ago, a friend invited me to
a Krishna Das concert. I didn’t know anything about him, so I was
expecting perhaps an Indian classical singer with a sitar. Instead, I
walked into a room of about 200 Western yogis—mostly Caucasian—
sitting on the fl oor in front of a low-rise stage that held Krishna Das
and about nine other musicians and singers. I took a seat in a sea of
Caucasians singing and chanting Sanskrit mantras—with more than
a few mispronunciations of the language. I remember feeling really
confused and thinking, “What is happening? Where am I?” It felt very
strange to be in this environment, as the only time I had experienced
musicians sitting on the ground with a harmonium (an Indian
keyboard instrument) and a tabla (an Indian drum) was at Gurdwara
(Sikh temple) on Sundays.
Although I was born in Toronto, Canada, my parents are both
from Punjab, India, and they kept our traditions alive and strong.
Back then I thought we were weird because of the way we dressed,
did our hair, wore bindis, and sang our prayers. Growing up,
I wanted to fi t in so badly that I even wished to be white, blond, and
blue-eyed during a teenage moment in which I refused to answer
unless my family called me “Jenny.” Today, I feel sad for that girl who
yearned to be someone other than her beautiful, unique self.
I never would have believed it back then if you told me that
Western culture would want to be... well, us.
Here I was being led in kirtan (devotional chant) by a Jewish man
(by birth) who was teaching and sharing the names of the Vedic
deities. At fi rst all I could focus on was the way people around me
were mispronouncing the words. Then I closed my eyes and let go
into the vibe of the music. My heart opened wide and tears rolled
down my face, dripping off my jawline to my kurta (long shirt). The
judgmental thoughts of “this is right” or “this is wrong” dropped.
I allowed myself to receive what was here for me, for us all: the high
vibrations of the music. I realized that bhakti (devotion) comes in
all shapes, sizes, colors, and lineages. I felt there was truth to what
Krishna Das was sharing with his heart that can benefi t us all.
Now the Western world has drunk the delicious mango lassi
Kool-Aid and thousands, if not millions, of people want to pursue
the path of being a yoga instructor, guru, and kirtan walla (a devoted
singer who travels temple to temple—or, in the modern Western
equivalent now, from festival to yoga studio to retreat).
But this rise in popularity of yoga in the West isn’t alwayssomething to celebrate. I didn’t even know
what cultural appropriation meant until
a couple of years ago, when a few of the
more traditional yogis (those steeped in the
Raja Yoga path) brought me into
a conversation about the Western
“conscious event” organizers choosing
to exclude Indians who have a lineage of
teachers or singers in their families. Instead,
they were inviting Westerners with big
Instagram followings who had just learned
yogasana a few years ago. It’s become
a business, and as with any business, the
goal is to bring in more income and serve
more people, so if those people happen to
be teaching “yoga”—in a form that mostly
focuses on postures—should we accept
that it isn’t fully representing the lifestyle of
being a yogi?
My teacher of yoga philosophy is Jeff rey
Armstrong, a Vedic scholar who happens to
be white-skinned and is deeply immersed in
the traditions of yoga. I don’t have a problem
with Westerners teaching yoga, but what
I do fi nd daunting is when teachers lead you
through poses for an hour and call it yoga.
Call this asana, call this exercise, but don’t
call it yoga—that’s not what it is. Yoga is
a whole system that includes breathwork,
sound vibration, devotion, and meditation.
I believe there needs to be a balance
of honoring tradition and allowing for
modernization. We can greatly benefi t
from celebrating and learning from
Indian singers and Vedic teachers who
are beautifully steeped in tradition. We
also benefi t by making room for modern
approaches to the yogic and devotional
path. Let's chant, share, and grow together
to raise the vibration of the planet.RAISING THE
VIBRATION
A yoga movement and dance teacher
examines her experiences with kirtan—from
Sikh temple on Sundays with her family
to concerts and festivals with hundreds of
people in the crowd.
BY HEMALAYAA BEHLHEMALAYAA
BEHL is a leader,
mentor, and author
of the Embody
Oracle Card Deck.
She empowers
women through
movement with her
Bollywood Dance
Fitness videos
and live-streaming
of dance parties.
Learn more at
Hemalayaa.com.