three sutras, the whole system of pranayama is summarised by Patanjali. The
second sutra is: bāhya ābhyantara stambha vṛttiḥ deśa kāla saṁkhyābhiḥ paridṛṣṭaḥ dīrgha
sūkṣmaḥ (II.50); and the third is: bāhya ābhyantara viṣaya ākṣepī caturthaḥ (II.51).
These are very short sutras, but are very difficult to understand because they contain
everything concerning pranayama in a single aphorism. Śvāsa praśvāsayoḥ
gativicchedaḥ (II.49) was what was told in the first sutra. The normal movement of
the prana is restrained and diverted in a different fashion altogether in the process of
pranayama. That diverting of the process of the prana in a different fashion is called
gativicchedah, or svasa prasvasayoh; or it may also mean the restraining, the
inhibiting, the setting, the positing, and the stopping of the flow. The ultimate aim of
pranayama is to stop the breathing. Alternate breathing is not the end, or aim; it is
only a beginning.
As I mentioned, in the earliest of stages there should be only deep inhalation and
deep exhalation. The next higher stage is where we breathe alternately, and
simultaneously try to hold the breath until a point of suffocation is reached, and do
not go beyond that. But, the main or central purpose is to stop the breath in
kumbhaka. Why we should stop the breath may be a query that the mind raises.
What is the intention behind stopping this breath? What do we gain out of it? This is
a very great subject which is not only biological and psychological, but also
philosophical.
The breathing process is a great obstacle to concentration of mind. The svasa and
prasvasa processes, what we call respiration—inhalation and exhalation—are
constant goads that keep the mind restless. Suppose you want to sit quietly in one
place, and I come there and push you; you will feel disturbed. “I am sitting quietly
and am being disturbed by this man.” Then, I come from the front and push you
again, and then I come from behind and push you for a third time. I push you from
the front as well as the rear, constantly. I will not allow you to keep quiet. What sort
of quietness can there be?
The mind is trying to keep quiet and focus itself in what is called meditation, the aim
of yoga. But these pranas push it from behind as well as from the front. They are like
two brothers. One pushes from the front, the other from behind; one pulls from the
top, another pulls from below. They are the prana and apana, as they are called.
They cannot allow the mind to keep quiet. We cannot concentrate. No meditation is
possible—no focusing, no attention, nothing of the kind—as long as this breathing
process continues, because the constant pushing of the pranas hampers our attempt
at concentration. That the retention of the breath is simultaneous with focusing, or
concentration of mind, can be seen in daily practice where we are sometimes able to
stop the breath spontaneously, without knowing it, when we are gazing at an object
intently. Suppose there is a snake charmer, and he brings a snake with its hood
raised. We stare at it and our breath stops—not because we are deliberately stopping
the breath but because our mind is so much concentrated on what is happening
there.
Or, walking along a narrow bridge: suppose there is only one plank along
Lakshmanjhula bridge—a small, sleeper-like thing which is long enough to cover the
entire length of the bridge. We know the plank is only one foot in width and the
length is of the entire length of the bridge, and we have to walk on it. How will we
walk? Just see. A little carelessness means down we go into the water. We know that