Between 2018 and 2022, health challenges forced me to confront myself and my lifestyle. As a part of this process, I came to understand both how deeply connected my body and mind were—and how disconnected they had become. I felt a lack of engagement with myself, and living life felt mechanical.

Yogasana was already a part of my life, yet my practice itself was largely mechanical. I moved through poses, coordinated breath when instructed, but my mind was elsewhere—worrying about work issues, family concerns, unresolved conversations. My body was present; my attention was not.

In 2023, during a visit to Chennai, I met Ganesh—my guru—for the first time. Our conversation shifted something fundamental. When he asked how I was practicing my asanas, I realized I did not really know. That question stayed with me. It led me to Yagnyashala and its emphasis on engagement rather than performance. It marked the beginning of a different relationship with practice.

The initial phase was not smooth. One-on-one sessions revealed how difficult it was for me to find rhythm between breath, movement, and instruction. Flexibility was a challenge, but more than that, sustaining attention was. I often questioned whether I could keep up with the sadhana at all. Progress came slowly, through repetition—alone and with the group.

What gradually emerged was the practice of pausing and reflecting. This simple act exposed how mechanical I had been—not just on the mat, but in life. Earlier, anger and frustration used to surface everywhere: at work, with family, with people closest to me. At that time, those reactions felt justified. Now they began to slow down just enough for questions to arise: Why did I react this way? What was I protecting? What voice is speaking now?

Regression still happens. There are moments when the voice of judgment or the victim takes over and overwhelms my emotional state. The difference today is not that this voice has disappeared, but that I recognize it sooner. I am able to observe the regression, understand it, and recalibrate—sometimes clumsily and sometimes with clarity.

Individual practice continues to test my discipline. Motivation is not guaranteed each day. This is where group practice and svādhyāya matter deeply. Showing up together—sometimes beyond scheduled classes—reminds me that struggle is shared. Listening to others articulate their challenges breaks the isolation of self-pity and restores perspective.

Every group practice now feels sacred to me. It is a space where I engage, falter, reflect, and return. My pursuit from here is simple but demanding: to stay engaged, to resist slipping back into mechanical living, and to let this practice continue revealing me to myself—without shortcuts and without certainty.

Hari Om.