It all started with a little chat I had with Indian Ambassador Vishnu Prakash, my dear friend.In passing, I told him of my anecdotal experience with yoga — learning from a beautiful young female instructor at a neighborhood gym. Perhaps I accidentally overemphasized the appearance of the instructor. The Indian ambassador listened intently for a while before he talked about his private yoga instructor, and suggested I take a lesson or two. He didn’t suggest I had said anything wrong, nor did he show any sign of taking offense. He told me that he does 30-minute yoga sessions and they help him a lot. In hindsight, I suspect the ambassador may have felt a need to set the record straight about yoga. Irrespective of his intention, I have only benefitted by accepting his suggestion.
First, I have come to appreciate yoga as a source of my mental and physical “rejuvenation.” That is a big word that I admit I don’t really have a right to use as a yoga student who has only taken a weekly class for less than three months, with three no-shows to boot. But I have to use it because I don’t have any alternative word.
In addition, I have found friendship and respect in my yoga instructor, Harshvardhan Singh.I didn’t ask him his age, because I want to be a proper student who, according to old Asian traditions, should respect a teacher with the same reverence as a king, by even avoiding stepping on his shadow. But he is young, considering he got married in 2012 and has a baby daughter. I asked him some personal questions for this interview — the first being the meaning of his name.
I was happy to find my journalistic instincts were on target when he explained what his name means. He broke his name into two, and told me “harsh” means happiness and “vardhan” enhancement. Namaste to that!
I call him “Harsh” as he suggested. It feels like an irony given that the English meaning of the word is quite the opposite of its true Indian meaning. Here are some other pieces of interesting information. Since his arrival in Korea in March 2012, he has taught over 500 students ranging in age from 26 to 83, with most being, guess what, women.
He is from Rishikesh, close to the Himalayas — which is known as the yoga capital of the world — and was a student himself at the Kaivalyadhama Yoga Institute after practicing anatomical and therapeutic yoga since childhood. Then, I asked him why he told me not to read yoga books.
“In yoga books, they mention the final pose of yoga and its benefits, but that is only for healthy practitioners. So, if you read the book and start practicing without getting into the proper body and mental condition, it will have an adverse effect on you instead of benefiting you.”
As a sign of my respect, I don’t want to judge my “master.”
I want to tell you that my 40-minute practices end with me uttering three long “ooms” drawn from deep inside the abdomen, in a sitting position with legs crossed and eyes closed. That is the moment when I feel part of the universe and ready to set aside my mundane concerns for awhile. Of course, those worries usually return to me soon after I step outside the gym at the Indian Culture Centre in Hannam-dong, Yongsan.
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