Just one of the aunties

Photo by Jaydeep Yargop

 

Today as I walked to morning class through Chittaranjan Vatika, the beautiful park near the Institute, I was remembering how Geetaji, later in life, presumably at the advice of a doctor, started taking exercise walks in the park. We recall how Geetaji experienced a number of health and bodily concerns that impacted her mobility and well-being in her 60s and 70s, and sometimes impeded her capacity to teach.

My heart warms to picture Geetaji walking in the park with her attendants, in tennis shoes and maybe those green sweatpants she wore in colder climates. Other than her yoga uniform (white polo shirt, kelly green bloomers) or her Brahmachari white sari, we never saw her in any other attire. In fact, as far as I could tell, she didn't leave the RIMYI compound very often. She had family and staff running errands for her, and she was, after all, our Queen Mother.

To picture dear Geetaji as so human--among her neighbors and the children playing, walking the loop at the park, amidst the trees and vines, perhaps huffing and puffing just a little, breaking a bit of a sweat--moves me deeply. She had the destiny of being her father's daughter, the eldest, and for years, his primary torchbearer.

Not only did she continue his teachings, but she evolved the teachings and the culture in so many ways, most notably systematizing the methodology through Preliminary Course and Intermediate Course, and customizing the practice for women's bodies and life cycles.

The last time I came to study at RIMYI was 2017, almost exactly a year before Geetaji's transition to the spiritual realm. On her birthday, she invited all of us into the Iyengar family home, to impart her wisdom directly to us, huddled on the floor and crowding the doorway. I've written about it here. This year, Geetaji's palpable absence has created space for so much new activity, and the next stage of RIMYI's evolution, here on the 50th anniversary of the Institute.

I recognized only a few of the teachers from online classes, and almost none of the students. The typical slew of Senior Teachers from around the world seemed to be absent. Maybe some have decided their Pune days are over? Too expensive, too cumbersome, too much health risk, better to stay online.... who knows? When Abhi invited us to sign up to say a few words of appreciation at Prashantji's birthday celebration, I thought folks would line up, but I was the only foreigner. Strangely, I have found myself to be one of the elders in the room.

I celebrate the changes at RIMYI, and I hope other Iyengar Yoga centers will follow the lead. The Senior Teachers of my generation and earlier only teach 1 class/week, with the exception of Prashantji. Otherwise the hall is filled with "youngsters," which I now define as below 50! Raya recently announced that he is 46 now--shocking, since I remember him as a "kid" with long wavy hair, getting ready to take a motorcycle trip to Goa. I also remember Abhi as a university student, practicing alongside her grandfather. Now they comprise the main leadership and mentoring for the up and coming teachers.

"I don't care who you are in your home country," Geetaji famously declared, "When you come here you are NOBODY." She said this because she had had enough of bold, brazen, arrogant Senior Teachers from Western countries coming to India to extract, and build up their own empires. Even though I'm a Senior Teacher back at home, I'm not extroverted nor assertive enough to be recognized as such here. I feel the youngsters simply regard me as an aunty. That's ok. This is their time to shine. I am here in full modesty and humility to learn, because the ocean of Yog is bottomless.

May we all bow when we hear the call to step aside. May we willingly and joyfully make space for generations to come. May we share abundantly without fear of depletion. Namaskar.