Karma Yoga

Perhaps I have a romantic view of yoga in India. One of wise guru's patiently handing down knowledge from centuries past. Of incredible mentors possessing healing energies and keys of enlightened practise, and uncorrupted by modern day materialism and monetary gain.

I am sitting at the World Yoga Society (WOYOSO) 'chamber' in Golpa Park in Kolkata, it feels as if I am in a doctors waiting room; and a private exclusive one at that. The waiting room is tiny and full of plastic chairs, all of which are occupied. Here 'yoga' takes on a different meaning to the 'asana' based practises of western yoga studies. But I am careful not to say 'more commercialised' yoga studios, as here in Kolkata, WOYOSO has branded its own medicines and is doing a soaring trade in the homeopathic remedies. The remedies include rilopain "for aching muscles" (perhaps useful after too many or too few yoga asanas), vigotine "for strengthening vital energy and nervous ability'", diofem "to prevent all kinds of female diseases". And sneezocold "against all kinds of maladies!"

The patients are waiting to be cured; to be given a diagnosis, a prescription and most likely repeat appointments. I am curious about both the treatments, success and the root of its popularity. Perhaps homeopathy is so successful as it appeals to the elements of traditional Ayurvedic knowledge that many local people still practice? But the 'yoga' connection is also interesting – is it a marketing ploy to appeal to people's ideas of healthy body and healthy mind, or is it a genuine medical treatment? My cause of doubt is confusing as the 'yogis' and 'yoginis' in front of me do not exactly fit into any preconceived (Western) stereotype. They are clearly from the wealthier social class and in what seems to be a mark of prosperity, they are all a little over weight. Some are elderly and all are very well dressed suggesting that they are indeed not here for asana practice; one is even wearing a neck brace.

The waiting room houses a small book case of dusty fabric covered record books which look hundreds of years old. But founded by Dr Das in 1970 perhaps the aged look is more to do with dust then with authenticity. It is the founder who I am waiting to see and whose enlarged framed photograph draws the patients eyes; or at least mine. The photo looks (from the once stylish pudding bowl haircuts) to have been taken in the seventies, but the ancient appearance of the timelessly old figure of Mother Teresa makes the date difficult to verify. Mother Teresa stands between Dr Das and Dr Das (Dr Das's 'older' brother). She is receiving a certificate from the WOYOSO. This pricks my curiosity as to the nature of the award; pure publicity or was Mother a closet yogi?

I first met Dr Das a couple of months ago. I was walking back from Sealdah dispensary when I noticed a huge banner advertising a 'World Yoga Competition'. After a few seconds of lingering curiosity I was invited inside and given front row seats next to the chairman himself. The competition was brilliant. It was held over the duration of three days and although it might not have been as universal as the title had suggested, it was certainly national. Children and young women and men from all over the country were there to compete. I witnessed asanas I had never seen, or even read about in books before. The participants effortlessly bent themselves backwards and forwards and inside out, with feet next to ears and ribs inflated to counter pose triple jointed hips. Flexibility was the central theme, and I suddenly felt very self-conscious of teaching my weekend yoga classes to kids around the city, when they might all embody this incredible potential.

On the third day of the competition Dr Das invited me to the award ceremony held at the Science City auditorium, and feeling privileged to be the receipatant of such an offer I went. The auditorium was huge with a stage full of cups and medals. The winners from the junior boy and girls and senior men and women were presented not once or twice but with a continuous stream of awards – all donated by different people, and after nearly two hours of awards it began to feel as if the ceremony was more of a name dropping social event than a celebration of yoga. As always the unexpected happened, and I was ushered out of the audience and to the backstage. Before I had a chance to protest I was donned with a mortar board and university gown and joined a line of equally random 'yogis and yoginis'. We were marched on stage and I was presented with a huge certificate and accompanying cup for 'best foreign practitioner'. The chairman tipped his hat to me in recognition, as I smiled at the irony of receiving an award for doing nothing but being one the only foreign yoga practitioner in the audience. At the yoga competition he had presented me with six or seven of his name cards at different intervals, insisting that I come to visit him and learn more about the many yoga and holistic healing courses of WOYOSO.

A young boy living with down syndrome is ushered out of the doctor's room. He sits on a chair next to me and wraps his legs underneath him. He looks up and grins at me. Then he laughs; I beam back and feel a sense of gratitude for the wealth and dedication of his family. My parallel thoughts take me to Peter – the little boy with down syndrome who used to live in Sishu Bahavan before he was prematurely moved to another of the Missionaries of Charities homes for disabled men. Memories of Peter link back my thoughts to the therapeutic effects of yoga for physically challenged kids; those who sit in the same room day after day. But I am not here to ask Dr Das to renew his affiliation with the Missionaries of Charities, but rather to ask if he has any eager students who would be interested in gaining some experience by taking over my weekly yoga classes at Tala Park School. After seeing his organisations commitment to spreading yoga through the younger generations, while being the leading school in educating new teachers, I had been growing excited about the idea of WOYOSO sharing their knowledge and expertise with the budding yogi's and yoginis at Tala Park.

After the waiting room had emptied of all of its patients, including those who arrived several hours after me, I was finally ushered into Dr Das's office. The blank look on his face triggered a warning signal, but after quickly reminding him of my new status of 'best foreign practitioner' he warmed and shone his trademark smile. Dr Das told me he had been eagerly awaiting my visit and I happily shared my idea of a karma yoga weekend class, whereby his student teachers might be able to extend their experience while at the same time provide the slum kids from Tala Park school with a totally novel and otherwise inaccessible class. I told him of the irony I felt of teaching a yoga class to Indian kids as well as the obvious language barrier. I told him how the school was run totally on donations, while simultaneously supporting medical clinics, leprosy centres and a women's training centre. He replied by saying the fee would be 100 rupees per 45 minute class. This is the price of two weeks worth of lunch for a child. Then without wasting any more time Dr Das began to bombard me with details of the many yoga teacher training courses he offered. He enthusiastically explained that for 10,000 rupees (the price of five months of formal mainstream schooling for one of the Tala Park kids) I could walk away with an authentic certificate after only one week, guaranteeing my abilities as a yoga practitioner and foreign teacher.

I walked away after buying a children's yoga book and poster which I intended to give to the teachers at Tala Park school. It will be a small gesture in the hope they may be inspired to try their hand at a little informal karma yoga. As I said, perhaps I have naive belief in the philosophy behind the business of yoga.