centre of attraction?

I started practicing yoga, I mean my own version of yoga - which does not follow any school of training and in which the extent to which I can flex my body and limbs determine the positions – nearly forty years ago. By nature, my body was quite flexible and I could easily manage to bend this way and that way. A casual onlooker might have felt that I have been wrestling with myself, or have been searching for a foot hold in the space, but a person who had some knowledge of yogic positions and had seen some, could find a resemblance, though distant, between my positions and some in the book. One of my cousins, who once saw me torturing myself, decided to help me torture myself in a systematic way and presented me with a book on yoga. It did not make me perform better, but I learnt all the names and could call my positions by some name or the other in the book. I could impress few of my uninitiated friends and relatives with my expertise in yoga.

Our house had a roof which of course every house has, but no facility to climb on to it. Climbing on to the roof was by itself a challenge and I had mastered the art of jumping on to the compound wall, then on to the ‘chajja’ or the sun shade ( a projection of a concrete slab from the top of the window as a barrier from sun and rain- I do not know the English equivalent for the word) and from there on to the roof. This, I performed many times a day just out of amusement and sometimes out of compulsion. There was no way that my younger brother, whose wrong emotions I sometimes kindled, connect his stick to my body once I jumped on to the roof. In due course, his limbs grew and he learnt to climb on to the roof and was as good as myself in the art. When I realized this the first time, I was stuck on the roof. The only way out for me was to jump down from that height, which I did and still managed to keep my limbs attached to my body. In due course I mastered the art of jumping down also and could impress or shock people by the display of my skills.

As I grew, I mean bodily - many of those who know me insist that I have never grown mentally – I learnt to work out, on the parallel bars, horizontal bars and slings in the nearby park. I could swing with my arms skillfully on the parallel bars, do dozens of pull ups on the horizontal bars, hang by my legs etc and used to get exclamations of appreciation from the group of youth who were around trying out similar acts.

These are all old stories, and now, even though I try to fool myself that I can still manage to do some of the antics, my body does not agree. There is an ongoing fight between me and my limbs. I coax them to act as they once used to and they protest. If forced, they damage themselves and oppose my efforts. And my profession is very helpful in damaging the back and neck. As a result, at least one of my limbs or a part of my back and neck, is always strained and sore, limiting my gymnastic and yogic adventures.

Right now, I am on a holiday and am in Chennai. My sister resides close to the beach and very early in the morning yesterday, I went for a walk on the beach road. There were hundreds of people, most of them as old as or older than me, goading their limbs to move, trying to match the pace of ‘Vishnu sahasranama’ or the ‘suprabhata’ on their MP3 players, and I joined the crowd. I walked along the road for some time and then even managed to jog the length of the road twice. I was happy to note that my limbs were not protesting. Then I noticed that some parallel bars and horizontal bars were installed on the beach and next to them some facilities to do weight lifting and associated exercises.
There were a group of young people who were trying out these facilities. I could see that though they were doing weight lifting and associated exercises quite well, they were not able to bend and stretch to the full or work the bars. On an impulse I decided to exhibit my expertise in the field and establish an aura of awe around my grey head. I walked over to the arena, did some good stretching and bending followed by some yoga exercises. I was expecting at least one or two to stop their work and look. No body cared about the old man with white hair, trying to look young with the help of matching white shoes, and contrast black shorts and T shirt. Then I decided to do some pull ups which many of them were attempting with out success. I was sure to get the appreciation my decades of practice deserved. When I went near the horizontal bar, those who were close by made way for me, wondering what this old man was up to. I stood below the bar, did some stretching and swung my arms wide ready to jump and hold the bar. Now many pairs of eyes were on me. I jumped, had just caught the bar, but my fingers slipped and I fell on my back on to the sand with a thud. It must have been a very good show. People all round had stopped their exercises and walks and were looking at me with amusement. One or two boys came running to assist me get up. Those who had missed the action were curious to know what the fuss was about and the witnesses to the spectacle were eager to explain, pointing at me. I did get the attention I was hoping to get and was reminded of the Sanskrit verse, which – if I am right- goes
“Ghatam bindyaat, patam chindyaat kuryaat raasabharohaNam
EnakEnaprakaarEna prasiddha purushObhava.”

Break the pot, tear the cloth and (if necessary) ride on a donkey. Somehow or the other, Be famous.

PS: my understanding of Sanskrit is as good as my performance of yoga. If you do not know Sanskrit, I insist that the verse and my translation are correct.