a brutally capitalist practice and especially so in big
cities? It’s extreme, everything is clean, presentable,
scented, there’s special music. Why isn’t anyone inthe yoga ‘industry’ — for that’s what it is now —
acknowledging it?”There is more disappointment for Gilani, who is
of Pakistani Muslim heritage. White yoga-studioowners “bandwagon jump about the lack of diver-
sity, acting like they’d always thought like this. Thefact is I don’t feel represented by anything I see.
Western yoga is, literally, a joke.”Gilani is indifferent to the cynical commercial
imperative of Gwyneth Paltrow’s wellbeing brand,Goop, but pays due respect in the book to Paltrow
and her husband at the time, Chris Martin, becausein late-Noughties London they too went to those
hardcore classes in crappy community centres withsmelly carpets. She’s also not averse to a bit of Lulu-
lemon herself, or the must-have Liforme mat.Gilani still loves yoga, she still teaches and has her
own daily practice of 45-90 minutes. But overriding itall is sadness. “Yoga has become so watered down, the
philosophical part has been discarded. It’s all quick-fixcures. This bubble will have to burst. Yoga isn’t a
miracle cure, it’s meant to be a lifelong, in my mindsecular practice attached to a spiritual framework.”
The Yoga Manifesto covers a lot. For instance the“good vibes only” slogans written across studio walls
are harmful, she says, and psychologists would agreethat it is ridiculous to expect people to be happy all
the time. She also criticises pseudo-spiritual babble,like “Love and light ...”, uttered by sexy white
women dressed in white robes wearing bindis, andthe ubiquitous application of Om symbols, Hindu
gods and Sanskrit words. Her extra-special bugbearis the use of the Sanskrit word namaste as a kind of
mandatory, faux-pious farewell; the word, she says,has no place in the language of yoga or silly appropri-
ations for, say, nightwear (“Namastay in bed”). Thereis also the reduction of mindfulness, let alone medi-
tation, into “something you can only do on an app”.Gilani is by no means alone. The online soap
Namaste, Bitches takes aim at judgmental, coke-snorting yoga teachers in LA. There is a global move-
ment among yoga teachers to change the name ofthe practice to “mindful stretching”
to honour the fact that real yogademands many things aside from
the postures. Yoga is more thanbeing able to do a headstand. And
the American-based BangladeshiMuslim writer Fariha Roisin asks
many of the same questions of thewider wellness economy in her own
book W ho Is Wellness For?.The gentrification of spirituality
generally is of rising concern, aseverything we take from ancient
indigenous traditions, from animismto psychedelic medicines, becomes
fair game for wellness capitalism.Erik-Davis of the Chacruna Institute of Psychedelic
Plant Medicines, which seeks to preserve theauthentic cultures behind psychedelic use, says:
“Today’s spiritual landscape has been largelyabsorbed into a multibillion-dollar wellness industry
that, while bringing some healing tools and tech-niques to the market, has also banalised — ‘gentrified’
— spirituality. Rather than helping people transcendor expand the self, the wellness industry pampers and
indulges instead.”By the time Gilani wrote The Yoga Manifesto she
says the pain and the anger had turned into a calmfocus. “I think the anger was good,
it was right, but I needed to turn itinto something useful. I have made
strong points. I don’t worry abouthurting [yoga teachers’] egos. They
can be angry or defensive or maybethey can take a look at themselves.”
The practice of svadhyaya, or self-study, is, after all, an essential part
of practising yoga. The ancienttexts don’t mention looking hot in
tiny shorts while executing a diffi-cult posture. ■
The Yoga Manifesto by Nadia Gilani is
published by Pan Macmillan at £16.99‘I don’t worry
about hurting
[yoga teachers’]
egos. They can
be angry or
defensive or
maybe they can
take a look at
themselves’
Ashtanga teacher
and writer NadiaGilani is exposing the
darker side of yogaJared Rice/Unsplash, Jen Armstrong
The Sunday Times Style • 33