Dani's Yoga Update 1

Once we were settled into our house we took the 8 minute walk down to the Shala (yoga school) to register. Guruji (our yoga guru, Sri K. Pattabhi Jois) was not there; he has been ill this year and is currently not teaching. His daughter, Saraswati, and his grandson, Sharath, were there, teaching their afternoon class of Indian students. They met us at the door and said we should come to class the next morning and register afterwards.
We were given a civilized time (7:30am) to start practice and the next morning we settled the boys on the steps with their journals, strict instructions on expected behaviour and some money for the coconut man.
We registered with Sharath in the office and then found some mat space in the room, which was filled with the sound of ujjayi breathing and the slow, controlled movement of sweaty limbs. The space felt charged with energy, and the practice suddenly made perfect sense, as if the body had an affinity for it quite separate from mind or will. Poses we’d been struggling with were suddenly easy – I was able to get into a nice tight Supta Kurmasana by myself, which is a rare thing.

Our second practice was a led class, as is usual here on Fridays and Sundays (the first and last days of the practice week). Sharath split our times, mindful of the fact that we have the boys here (‘I don’t know how you can manage with three boys’, he said). This meant that I got up at 4.20, had a wash from the bucket, got dressed and arrived at the shala at 4.50. The room was already full, but people quietly got up and moved their mats to make space for me and a few other stragglers. Sharath talked us through a measured, regular Primary Series, with the usual extra-long hold of Uthpluthi at the end (sitting in lotus and pushing up with the hands). Just as I thought I might flake out and take a little break (6 of his counts, 17 of my breaths), he walked over and parked himself directly in front of me. Although I suspect that he was surveying the room from there, I didn’t feel like risking it, so I stayed up, arms trembling, bum only just hovering off the ground. Hand-washing the rest of our traveling clothes was especially difficult that day!!
Peter came down with the boys and they had a coconut ready for me when I came out. While he took his turn on the mat, we slowly ambled back up the street to make porridge.

On our second afternoon, we arrived at the shala to look for Murthy, and were met at the door by Sharath again. This time he said: ‘Do you want to see Guruji? Two minutes only’. It was a wonderful treat to be allowed this opportunity to take the whole family in to see him. He was sitting at his desk in the office, and as we filed in he looked up with bright eyes and asked: “Where from?” It was a short conversation, as we were conscious of the time limit Sharath had given us, but despite his thinner frame, Guruji’s presence still extends beyond the need for many words.