Pranayama in Pune

Long, long ago, back when Prashant Iyengar had already begun performing asanas better than his father — that is, before his accident (something one could witness every Friday at the Institute, when the two of them practiced balancing poses side by side while spectators watched from the gallery or from beneath the windows) — the era of yoga mats began.

Young yogis today may not fully realize that those first yoga mats, very similar to the standard ones we use now, were extremely fragile (and expensive). The first yoga mats were light gray-green in color and thin. They appeared somewhere “out in the world” (probably first in the USA), then in Western Europe, and naturally they eventually reached the Institute in Pune. After two or three years of intensive use, they looked dreadful: filthy, with the rubber completely worn away where the feet were placed.

I could see it with my own eyes. That first purchase of mats must have been quite a costly investment for the Iyengar Institute. And Pandu, who had “always” managed the Institute’s technical and organizational matters, hesitated for a long time before deciding on any radical solution to the problem of the worn-out mats.

Polish Contribution to the Institute's History

At that very time, Heniek Liśkiewicz was importing new mats into Poland. Similar to the old ones, though slightly lighter in color and much more durable. They were a bit more slippery, but practically indestructible. By some miracle I had just received another term for General Class at the Institute, and I decided to do a good deed. I bought two rolls from Heniek. One I kept for my own school, and the other I decided to take to Pune.

It must be said that this was a crazy idea, especially in those days: dragging that enormous roll through countless border and airport inspections, hauling it on my back during transfers to airports and during connections within India itself. And then in Pune, carrying it from the apartment to the Institute — it was no easy task. I sold the roll to Pandu (I even cut it myself), almost at cost price. He was very pleased, and I continued to see “my” mats at the Institute for many years afterward. It is precisely because of this that I have a somewhat unofficial “open door” to the Institute whenever I want — although I do not abuse it.

Pranayama Class and the Encounter with Geeta

I do not abuse it, but I do make use of it in various small situations. Despite not holding any high certificates (I have my own opinion on that matter, very similar to — though independent from — Prashant’s), whenever I visit the Institute I always “squeeze myself into” the Pranayama Class. In principle, this practice is intended for the more distinguished teachers of the Iyengar school (if only because of the limited space), and the authority responsible for assessing who qualifies is Mr. Panduranga Rao himself. The class takes place once a week (I believe on Tuesdays) and is always taught by Geeta.

During one such practice, an interesting event occurred that significantly influenced the direction of my personal development. I attach great importance, in my overall life orientation, to events — to causal streams. The Bible says: „By their fruits you shall know them…” except that I also include myself in the category of „their.”

So, after going through certain regular elements of the Pranayama Class program (a long relaxation on a special long bolster, chanting to Patanjali), we sat cross-legged and Geeta announced the topic of the class: nasal breathing. After a fairly brief instruction on the use of the fingers, she asked us to perform several personal cycles of Nadi Shodhana. Then she turned to the participants with a question:

„What happens during this kind of breathing with the fingers on the nose? What makes it worthwhile to trouble ourselves by involving the hands in the breathing process?”

There were at least several very high-ranking VIPs present — among the top teachers of the global Iyengar school. Gabriella Giubilaro was not in India at the time, and I will spare the other VIPs by not mentioning their names.

Various answers began to appear, first from the non-VIP circles. Geeta clearly wanted to move quickly through this preliminary part of the planned lesson. Since none of the answers satisfied her, the VIPs started joining in. Unfortunately, without satisfying Geeta either. She kept repeating the question she had asked at the beginning of class, with increasing irritation in her voice.

Anyone who has been to the Institute even once knows that Geeta reacted in a rather “particular way” in such situations. I experienced it personally during my last stay in Pune, when I nearly got thrown out of General Class (perhaps on another occasion I will describe the circumstances of that adventure).

At that pranayama lesson, the atmosphere was becoming more dramatic with every passing quarter-hour. We had been sitting cross-legged for over an hour, time was passing, and Geeta was beginning to lose her temper. The VIPs had completely stopped speaking, probably out of fear of further embarrassment — which, in fact, had already happened. You could have hung an axe in the air.

The Breakthrough Moment

As it happened, two or three years earlier I had finally begun sitting regularly for pranayama in my personal practice, after many teenage years of merely approaching the idea. Thanks to regular contact with Gabriella Giubilaro, I had been working intensively with the foundational breathing techniques — the most basic ones: Ujjayi, Viloma I, and Nadi Shodhana. My teenage preparation had not been entirely worthless, so those two or three years of regular practice allowed me to look more deeply into the phenomena occurring when using the fingers on the nose during Nadi Shodhana.

So I gathered my courage and said aloud:

„Under the fingers on the nose, a sound appears — a kind of whispering noise — and it can become our guide…”

Geeta lit up and exclaimed:

„Exactly!”

She instructed us to perform several breaths of Nadi Shodhana with attention to that sound, and then ended the class with relaxation, because time had run out.

After the class, many participants congratulated me, because I had genuinely contributed to the lesson being able to conclude in a relatively normal way. The VIPs did not congratulate me — and from that moment on, I permanently changed my opinion about “external” teachers…