CREDICALLING
ART DIRECTION : ANUJA BAGADEI’m a writer by profession and lately I’ve been
reading what is every storyteller’s bible for
structure and character development: Joseph
Campbell’s The Hero With A Thousand Faces.
The narrative is universal, and a monomyth
that is found in all the great epics from The
Ramayana and The Mahabharata to The Iliad
and The Odyssey. There is a protagonist,
and through a series of trials and obstacles
that often involves encountering tricksters,
shadows, demons, guardians and mentors,
this individual ultimately comes face to face
with true self and life’s purpose. In that sense,
the hero or heroine’s trajectory is synonymous
with the experience of the Yogi, who starts
a practice and begins that unavoidable inner
journey towards self-discovery, taking in all the
freedom and discomfort that it has to offer.Rewind to autumn of 2012. I was in my late
thirties, burnt out from a hectic career of
writing films and TV shows in Mumbai,
exhausted from chasing unreliable producers
for paychecks and cynical from too many
‘conditional’ industry friendships. I wasn’t
in great health, physically or mentally. I also
needed a personal time-out from the long
relationship I’d been in with my partner. I
desperately craved a sabbatical to think about
the future, and a change in not only my
lifestyle, but also my world view.Writer Selina Sheth
chronicles her
ongoing journey
of yoga and shares
how her practice
continues to help
her reach for her
true self.
BY SELINA SHETH
While visiting my parents in New Delhi, I
stumbled (quite literally) upon a fitness chain
that offered power yoga classes all over the
country. I signed up, and found myself at a
dynamic flow class one morning. I was an
addict soon, doing classes thrice a day, and
needless to say, within months I found myself
fitter, stronger and more flexible than I’d been
at 20.But this blissful phase came to a crashing
end a couple of years later, when my trusted
trainer and friend became emotionally abusive
towards me. Just when I thought I had entered
a purist sanctuary of wellness and positivity
—very different from the level of toxicity I had
seen in the real world—I found myself shaken,
betrayed and deceived.For the next few months, I was lost and
depressed. I had achieved a level of physical
fitness, yes, but that I could have gained
even with other exercises, such as running or
swimming. What yoga had given me was a
high like never before, but now I suddenly felt
like I had learnt nothing of real or lasting value.
What I saw around me was an urban yogic
industry that rode on monetary gains, with
childishly vain ‘instructors’ vying for clients
by floating pseudo-spiritual memes promising
love, light, peace and inner transformation.I was disillusioned, but I still loved yoga and
didn’t want to give it up. I felt the need for the
values that come with learning a traditional
practice and the discipline, knowledge base
and ethical foundation that the path of yoga
promises. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long.My Phase 2 began when I started my learning
of the ashtanga primary series at the Ashtanga
Nilaya shala in New Delhi in the summer
of 2015. For the first time, I was under the
guidance of mature and dedicated teachers.
I was very nervous because I knew nothing
about the ashtanga method except what I had
heard from others—that it was “very, very
hard”.With that, I signed up for the biggest challenge
of my life—a challenge that hasn’t eased in
these past two and a half years!The practice is relentless, and some of the
poses still seem impossible to me, an athletic
woman of 45. But I believe sincerely in
“practice, practice, practice...all is coming”. Iam inspired by the discipline and the sheer
courage that a daily, committed yoga practice
requires. Early mornings at the shala are
about intense practice in silence (aside from
the sounds of varied breathing patterns in the
room). It is a test of stamina as well as an ego
check as I collapse a countless times before
savasana. Sometimes, just as a particular
forward bend feels like it’s getting easier,
along comes a back-bending maneuver that
I know will take me months of hard work
merely to figure out.Until recently, I was making the familiar
mistake of seeing yoga practice as an escape
from life, as a kind of alternate universe, as
an ideology of perfection that my type—A
personality aspired for. If I ‘failed’ at an asana,
I would feel useless. If I smoked a cigarette
during a break at work, I’d feel guilty. If I
felt mistreated by someone, I would feel the
hypocritical pressure to smile and forgive. For
me, this proved self-defeating and unrealistic,
like a forced separation of yoga from real living
when the two are one and the same thing. I
am slowly coming to understand that while
yoga is an empowering practice, it isn’t an
instant ‘miracle cure’ for feelings of depression
or anger or sadness.When I look back at the last couple of years, I
see how I have gone through many different
emotions and phases through my practice.
There is always the buzz of elation, but it
comes mixed with fear, anxiety, pain and
resistance, depending on the kind of day
I’m having. But even so, I’m learning to
relax more now, to go with the flow. Some
days I need the grit and detoxifying sweat
of a full practice; on other days, I prefer the
calmness that comes from stretching and light
pranayama.This year, while on a one-month yoga practice
trip at the K. Pattabhi Jois Ashtanga Yoga
Institute in Mysore, I read a book by Yogani
called The Eight Limbs of Yoga, based on
Patanjali’s yoga sutras. The book ends on a
simple note: The Guru Is In You. Your journey
is unique, your standards are your own, your
battles are your own. You are the protagonist
of your story, and only you can write it and
live it.I remind myself that yoga has come into
my life for a reason and that it has changed
everything for me. I now know that any
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december 2017 / january 2018yogajournal.com.sg