Bend it like…er..Hitler!

With our publicity hungry Prime Minister, Narendra Modi, going all out to promote Yoga with his high-decibel International Yoga Day, my friendly neighbourhood club, decided to do its bit by starting free yoga classes for its members. 

Full of enthusiasm, several members like yours sincerely signed up, hoping to intake some fresh oxygen, amidst light banter and gentle stretching of limbs, in the mild morning light.

The intention was noble, the outcome, fearful. Like the proverbial man proposing & God disposing, the club got an instructor, a mere five foot-er, who laughed like a hyena, spoke a strange version of English Vinglish and inspired terror with a capital T.

Our days on the mat started at dawn with sun salutations (Surya namaskar) in tandem with instructions booming out of the pint-sized yoga monster.

“DO YOGA POSES WITH GRACES!!” she bellowed at the lovely morning, with murderous rage. The sun shrunk and any grace that we might have had, was replaced with dread. 

She commanded, we obeyed. And the poses followed.

“COBRA!” she hissed in anger. We recoiled in fear.

“LOWER DOG!” she growled next, sounding like she was about to give chase to a pack of wolves. We became lower dogs, hanging our heads in shame.

“UPPER DOG!” she barked at us impatiently. Like a flock of sheep that had turned slow-witted with fear, we complied.

“REVERSE DOG!” At this, I lay on my back, hands and feet in the air hopeful of being tickled like dogs do, when they are in the said pose. Instead, she yanked my leg up rudely and accompanied it with a volley of colourful language.

“TABLE TOP!” the devil howled through the wind next, and we turned ourselves inanimate to stop feeling the pain that Cruella De Vil inflicted.

“RISE ABOVE…STRETCH...AND RELIEVE YOURSELF!” commanded she. 
I think she may have meant RELEASE, but a fellow member started slipping away quietly to relieve himself. 

“BACK!” the terror boomed. Some birds that had just woken up and were chirping among themselves flew away and the fellow member was returned to the concentration camp, full-bladdered.

  

Her terror was such that during the 5-minute window for meditation, as I tried to focus between my eyebrows, I saw no one but her. In my third eye’s vision, I could see her standing in a pair of crisp bermudas, the iconic Hitleresque moustache stiff over her pink lips, as she swished a hunting crop that cut sharply through the air, and reprimanded me for my lack of graces.

In reality, the unending one-hour class was continuing and the Yoga-Nazi was shooting stranger instructions. (In red were my thought crimes).

“PALM OF HAND ON HEART!” 
(Heart? Do we have one, commander?)

“NOW, PALM OF FEET ON BUM!” 
(And what on earth would that be?) 

As I lay pondering what this meant, the brute of my early morning poked me and yelled: 

“YOU!!! NOT UNDERSTANDING??” “DISGRACEFUL..” and muttered few other expletives that I couldn’t catch as I lay paralyzed with fear.

“BECOME...THE MOUNTAIN!” she roared next. 
(I didn’t know which mountain exactly I was to become, but I raised my backside up saluting the sky, resembling more like a clumsy heap than a graceful mountain.)

“STARE AT YOUR NAVEL!” was the next commandment. 
(She may have meant ‘look at your navel’ but it was all the same. I stared despondently at my ruined morning.)

“WALK YOUR HANDS!” 
(I had definitely walked my wits far, far away to bring this upon myself, I thought mournfully, walking my hands.)

“SAY 'OM' FROM THE NAVEL” 
(My navel usually does not say things, but if thou insist, it shall honour thy wish!)

“TOUCH YOUR BRAIN TO THE GROUND. EVERYTHING ELSE UP!” 
(With the skull or without?)

“TOUCH YOUR NOSE TO THE KNEES” 
(With just one nose in possession, touching both knees together may present a technical problem.)

But this was not the time to question any logic. The sun was trying to rise again and with that my spirits lifted. It looked like the end was somewhere near.

It was Dhanurasana time. The devil coiled herself into a neat bun, to demonstrate what she wanted.

I contorted myself into an unappetizing, few-days-old pretzel and tried to jog my memory on the dreadful crimes I had committed in my past lives to deserve this.

The hour was finally up. The imaginary whip lashed through the air one last time. 
This time the hyena laughed and said menacingly,

“LAUGH AND BE THANKFUL FOR WHAT YOU GOT!”

She must have meant 'smile' but no effort could stretch my facial muscles to get the desired impact. But I sent up my thanks for surviving the ordeal in one piece and cursed Modiji with the choicest words I have known in my 36 years.