I had done yoga from books, searched “everywhere,” and followed different teachers for a while. I had acquired some firm beliefs and was pretty dogmatic about them. I believe that I was in a frame of mind and with similar training as many others who are about to experience the shock of meeting B.K.S. Iyengar. In these notes, I mention things that I would not say today, but they contain such freshness, such faith, such joy, that it would be a pity to correct them. I prefer to offer them as they are, with all their imperfections.
JULY 1, 1959: Phew, I am off. Papa was willing to lend me what I still needed, and just as he came to drive me to the airport, Colonel Fromji called to say that Iyengar has accepted me as his student. It looks like it is all coming together. After so many struggles, this feels good.
JULY 7: Bombay. The place buzzes with the sound of voices. Trees rustle in the light evening breeze. Pleasant town, crowded with a mass of people dressed in shades of white and color. Some are very dark-skinned. I am going to swim in the shower, after swimming in the monsoon, and after that I fear I will be swimming in my bed, it is that hot and humid!
JULY 11: As arranged, I waited for the weekend to meet Iyengar and watched him teach his class today. His students are much brighter than the ones I have seen in Europe. He does not give the impression of going easy. Although kind, he does not tolerate the halfway manner of teaching we have in Europe. Everything has to be done right, into the smallest details: yoga, then bhoga (pleasure). They teach me this word after class at the home of a student where we gather for a picnic. Very pleasant atmosphere.
JULY 13: Pune. Departure at 8:15 a.m. by fast train, which takes four hours to do 100 km and stops everywhere, even between stations. Breakfast on the train served on small trays. Arrival in Pune: Porters dressed in red hang from the windows even before the train comes to a standstill. There are at least two coolies per person! Mrs. Homji awaits me at one end of the quay, Mr. Iyengar at the other. How kind he is! He was afraid that I would feel completely lost, and since no one in his family speaks English, he came to meet me himself. When he was sure that Mrs. Homji was there to take care of me, he left, after a time was arranged for my first lesson the next morning.
JULY 14: First lesson with Iyengar. I am dead but very interested. If I last, I will get extremely healthy and exchange all my cellulite for muscle.
JULY 15: I am as dead today as yesterday; this girl is bushed.
JULY 16: More and more worn out.
JULY 17: On my way to Iyengar’s house in the bus, I got off a stop too early. Somebody took me to Iyengar. The next day he sent his son to the stop to wait for me.
JULY 18: No class, phew. Iyengar is in Bombay.
JULY 20: I take advantage of the opportunity to write my parents. “Iyengar is marvelous: he was kind enough to meet me at the station. He is also a fantastic teacher, but his style of teaching is very hard at first. Exactly the opposite of everything I have been able to do in Paris and in Switzerland. We improve a pose for a long time, with all muscles in extension. Believe me, he sees all and lets you know that you just relaxed a tiny little muscle in the big toe of the left foot while he was adjusting your right knee. No relaxation between asanas. I have told myself: this kills me or it will revive me—there is no middle ground. This morning after two days off and still feeling exhausted, I had the pleasant surprise to realize that all was well and that I was gaining strength. In five lessons, he already made me improve like crazy. He is aware that he is asking too much of me, but since I told him that I already teach yoga, he trains me to teach—and that in two months! He truly tries to give me the best of himself in concentrated form, to “help all the French” indirectly through me, as he says so kindly. So far I have found in all this just a marvelous kind of gymnastics that leaves nothing untouched, because one must arrive at an interior unity. He is truly the most passionate teacher I have met till now, exactly what I need. He is going to have me change hotels so that I get better food. He says: “Careful with your health. You have come here to study, not to get sick.”
JULY 20: From my notebook. Finally back to class. We had a great conversation. I told someone, who repeated it to Iyengar, that I was looking for a spiritual yoga. He explained that this does not exist because yoga is unity and that I cannot do anything with a weak body. And that attention means concentration. And that meditation is the moment when, after complete concentration to get a perfect pose, you hold it. That is to say, you work it. There is a moment of such intense focus that you lose the awareness of “I.” For him, each pose is a meditation, an experience of unity without sense of time, gender, or nationality. You forget everything not because you want to but because that kind of concentration forces you to.
I am back to normal, I am stronger, and in five lessons he has made me improve enormously. He has a lot of expectations for my two months. He watches everything and lets nothing escape his attention. Today we worked one hour and fifteen minutes without fatigue.
I attended his class for children (ten to sixteen years old): he leaves not a moment of respite and instead of resting assigns them (so-called) restorative poses. He links together different poses and asks such muscular effort! But the children don’t seem tired; he leads them on for a long time. He has such strength, it becomes acrobatic.
JULY 22: Iyengar is quite satisfied; he finds that I work hard. I make a lot of progress, and my muscles hurt less. When I do Headstand, it begins to feel light.
JULY 23: Iyengar insists on the fact that with your students you should never go at the speed he goes with me or tire them as much, or you will lose them, for they are not courageous enough. Little by little, I realize how well he knows his art. He shows me all the preparatory steps for the most difficult asana in each group. He points out each muscle that must work, where to place my weight, where to relax, or turn, and which goal is to be reached. He is firm like a whip and beaming and affectionate when you give it your all. He helps and supports and lets go just at the moment when you cry uncle. You feel that he knows exactly how far you can go today and prepares gently for tomorrow. Today I have done Sirsasana by myself, legs firm. Strength begins to come; it is less punishing.
IYENGAR AND HIS FAMILY GREET KRISHNAMACHARYA, PUNE, 1961
He remains in an affectionate relationship with his Guru, Krishnamacharya and writes him everything about his work.
With the book of Yesudian in mind, I ask him if it is true that certain people can have a conversation from afar. He is somewhat skeptical and says: “How can you be sure that it is a message from the Guru?” But he does add that his letters cross with the answers of his Guru.
I really have the impression that I am in the right gear with my work, and if I meet his expectations I think he will not abandon me. He seems to know just how far he can take me and explains that it is not important if I don’t know the names of muscles, because I will have a practical knowledge of them.
JULY 24: Two hours of class! I am dead but less and less stiff. He is so happy that it gives me pleasure and makes up for all the suffering I endure. Our friendship deepens: I begin to discover his simple soul, so deep. His wisdom is very human, full of experience of life and suffering. He says, “You must invite suffering so that you become friends with others who suffer.” He also says that by working carefully, your intuition will develop, but that you should not seek it.
Iyengar is more and more awe-inspiring. He has something of the old sages of the past, who wait to see who you are and then give you their all. At first he made me do a lot of physical work, without going in depth. Now, our friendship deepens gradually, and with great joy I realize that I was already on his path. He is a simple man, absolutely sure of the direction in which he leads you, who has suffered the worst torments from other yogis and doctors but wordlessly survived it all due to the conviction of his work and the depth of his wisdom, which is not at all bookish, oh no!—full of life, good sense, and affection. He could be in the U.S. or at least in Bombay and earn a fortune (in the U.S. he was offered a bridge of gold). No, he prefers to stay here, to lead the simple life he has always led, surrounded by his wife and six children, who are adorable and simple like he is.
JULY 25: He is in Bombay and I work alone. God, it is difficult. I don’t feel the energy running through my bloodstream yet. I read his articles, which he left me before taking off. He is truly possessed with his art; it is his great love.
JULY 31: In a letter. With the money I saved, I now go to Bombay every weekend to get two more classes and put a little spice in my life. This will allow me to visit other yoga schools, now that Iyengar has given me permission to do so.
AUGUST 5: It’s still not going well. I don’t have the strength to work, even though Iyengar is satisfied with the results and a little worried about me: “Don’t get sick, we have too much work to do!” He has me taken care of with lemon juice in ice cold water, no sugar, and with sparkling lemonade. It is a purge: a mix of citric acid, poison, perfume, saccharin, but I think that due to this explosive mix I am a bit better.
AUGUST 10: In a letter. Last weekend in Bombay, I saw another yoga teacher trained by the same master as Iyengar and even at the same time. No comparison—as if the same seed sown in two different plots can yield one extraordinary man from every point of view and a mediocre one from every point of view, except for the same friendliness that is characteristic of all southerners. I also visited the National Yoga Institute on Marine Drive with Parsee friends who speak French. There, men and women are separate. Of course I was not able to see the men at work. The husband of my friend has gone there and came out heartbroken after seeing all those men throwing up trying to learn to cleanse their stomachs of all the good digestive juices that nature puts there. They do it with the aid of a strip of cotton that they try to swallow.
I saw four women: three in long skirts and one in a sari. That must be practical when you put your feet up in the air. The teacher was in a sari as well. Tradition preserved without intelligence is really something idiotic.
AUGUST 10: Our friendship deepens. He explains a bunch of things, beautiful and profound but in English. Between that and my fatigue, I can’t remember. He told me that his Guru had planted the seed of yoga in him but that all the work was his. His Guru wanted him to get married, so he married. He shows me his photos, and I tell him: “Your wife must be proud of you!” “No. Why? Not for that.”
I return to watch him teach his class to the children. He shows me all the little things to correct, adjusting the little ones very gently, the big ones firmly. To all of them, he makes it clear that they must lengthen and they must relax. He tells me: “Now you understand the philosophy? People speak of philosophy because they have read books. Philosophy is a way of life, not a study! I plant a seed in these boys, and afterwards they can either develop it or let it dry up. I don’t impose my personality on them. If I did, where would be their originality? I give them a means to create themselves. When they have understood, I let the yoga do its work in them. When we work together, there is no duality. We work; each one forgets who he is, completely into his work. If one makes a mistake, it is my mistake. If he makes progress, it is my progress as well. We share the same effort and the same joy: unity is created.”
AUGUST 11: He has given me a special pranayama assignment that is very stimulating: I was not able to sleep during my siesta, nor in the evening before midnight. This must be given to people who are sluggish, not the active ones.
Tomorrow morning I must be at his place at 8:45 a.m. One student can’t come, so he invited me to come and watch him do his exercises. Our friendship intensifies; I am truly his favorite because he notices my zeal and that I don’t hide my troubles. When I am tired I tell him: give me a moment, after that I try again. Or I ask bus (enough), and if he answers “One more minute,” I stay, even if it is very hard, asking him the time every ten seconds!
AUGUST 12: Iyengar works forty minutes nonstop in front of me. It is admirable, not a false movement, all is precision. He does the most difficult things, not without work, but superbly, without balking at the effort. He explains that it is better to treat your body like a slave, like Maya, rather than the common way of renouncing so-called everything and remaining a slave and stunted. He reads me excerpts of the Yoga Sutra of Patanjali, where the great sage says that you arrive at self-realization through long and arduous work, without allowing a day of rest, without wearying of it, without getting discouraged despite illness, troubles, etc. He urges himself “to keep going ahead.” You really get the impression that in everything he does, he tries his best to go a little farther today. He is happy with the least amount of progress because he does not seek Perfection, but the small perfections of every day. This man really radiates joie de vivre despite his poverty.
We speak of powers. He answers that when you realize you received a power, you must be glad about your progress but certainly not serve yourself by it. If you seek to develop this way, you become proud and get sidetracked: goodbye spiritual improvement. Then he adds: “The very great yogis can use them, because they know what is good and bad. They are sure about not using them for the worse, but this is not possible for people like you and me.” What humility!
He will not accept the title of yogi. He says, “I am on the path. How can you say that you have arrived?”
Afterwards we talk about books written about yoga. He says: “Don’t read, experiment. I read only when something new happens. Then I look at what Patanjali has to say about it.”
I ask him if the powers that people talk about are real or symbolic. He answers that it is reality.
During Corpse Pose, I had a fright. I had the impression that life left me. I called him; I felt that he was not watching over me. He said that it was a pity to have cut it off, that it was a new experience to be faced, that what is new is frightening, but that it takes courage. We talked about an out-of-body experience. He tells me that it is very dangerous, bad for peacefulness and mental balance and counter to yoga. That it is not what will happen to me, but that I was beginning to feel the void, and that the void and solitude are always scary in the beginning. It was a very little step towards the Self.
AUGUST 16: I ask him what he thinks of all the stomach cleansing we witnessed on Marine Drive and other interior cleansing with or without a rag. He answers that it is very bad. Patanjali permits it only in rare cases. He adds that if others do it, they will invite illness. He adds that the people I saw yesterday (at another yoga school that was not great) were sickly for that reason. They teach it there to all students.
AUGUST 17: We talk about praying. He explains that he says a mantra when holding an energetic pose for a long time, but that most of the time his prayer is to serve his Lord through serving others. And truly, he serves with all his heart!
This morning I told him laughingly, “I am crazy to come from Paris to work with you!” “And I am crazy to teach you the way I am doing.” “My Maman told me that only the crazy ones and the passionate ones accomplish anything in life.” “I agree,” he says, but adds that in his twenty-five years of teaching he only worked like this for two people: Yehudi Menuhin and me. It is because Menuhin serves the whole world with his violin. And I serve my brothers and sisters in Europe through yoga.
AUGUST 17: In a letter to Maman. You wonder about my teacher? I am more and more content with him. I now spend three hours with him every day: poses, breathing, philosophy, life. We talk about everything, except about nothing, and I marvel that all my prior evolution has led me to his path. Just like the Indian saying: “When the student is ready, the teacher shall appear.” He is not there if you don’t search for him, but he is put in your path. I would like to stay a long time, to pump all this wisdom that is so simple, so human and so divine at the same time. There is no telling, you don’t just find God in life; I mean, God is not what the theologians say he is. He is much more profound and simple.
IYENGAR AND YEHUDI MENUHIN WATCH JEREMY MENUHIN MOW THE LAWN, 1954
The more I learn, the more I like St. John: “He who has seen has borne witness,” and St. Paul:” I know a man who was overjoyed . . . but what he has seen and understood cannot be expressed in words.” Such great men can speak of God without saying nonsense. But theologians take hold of the experiences and words of the sages and argue with their heads instead of speaking from a mystical experience, which they lack. And so religion degenerates. Here I am around a sage who does not know that he is a sage, who has a wife he loves as much as a Hindu can love, meaning ten times more than us, and who has six children. They live in two rooms, in a working class neighborhood and no one, seeing him, would guess that he has already traveled to Europe twice and also to the U.S., which is extraordinary for a poor Indian.
I do wonderful things and discover, as Iyengar says, that “God has blessed me” in sending me this master, because my observations of various yoga institutes in Bombay are disappointing. He comes from a long line of Gurus. You could say that they pass on the know-how by word of mouth, which allows us to benefit from the experience of generations of yogis.
AUGUST 18: Iyengar reads me again and again passages from Patanjali, as well as from the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, which is a little later, where he insists on the fact that there is only one yoga. “There is no Raja Yoga without Hatha Yoga, and there is no Hatha Yoga without Raja Yoga.” One yoga encompasses morals, poses, breathing, concentration, contemplation, integration. It is wrong to speak of physical and spiritual yoga; this is a modern distinction. Elsewhere Patanjali says: “I am going to show you summarily some poses,” which means, according to Iyengar, that there are many and that he does not explain all the details, because in olden times they were passed on by the Gurus. The ancient books were written only for them.
Iyengar explains with several examples that these books are written in verse, like long poems, and that you cannot take them literally but must study them with common sense without believing in fantasy. What makes it difficult for us Westerners is that the only English translation in existence (in 1959) does not conform to the Sanskrit, and sometimes entire verses of explanatory passages are left out.
He tells me that in certain poses you lose the sense of duality, you feel a peace, an incredible, indescribable joy, and that even if you have to struggle a whole life for one second of that joy, it is worth it.
His good sense leaves you flabbergasted: he tells me that Swami X says that consciously holding the breath, with lungs either full or empty, is not essential, but unconscious retention is. He adds: how can you withhold your breath unconsciously? When you are stunned by a beautiful sunset, all thought stops, and you lose the notion of duality. But how can you go looking for such moments? If you look for them, they escape you.
We speak about how to concentrate according to different methods. He explains that if you concentrate on the forehead, or the tip of the nose, or the chest, it makes no difference. He prefers to concentrate on his chest because it is the seat of the Self. For that reason, you usually do the Namaste at chest level. This gesture of worship, palms open and touching, is a complex symbol as long as you have not understood the unity of everything. It means: my soul and the Universal Soul are one, or my soul and your soul are one—it is all the same thing.
Regarding physical and spiritual yoga, he says: “When you realize that without breath there is no life, you feel gratitude towards God, who gives life through breath. When you give up your life to God during the exhale and receive your life from God during the inhale, where is the physical yoga? All during pranayama, you give yourself to this meditation.”
Regarding the rules of morality in various communities, he says that you have to do your best. Keep in mind that you cannot advance spiritually without some framework, whatever it is. He is so solid and radiates peace and joy!
AUGUST 19: He never accepts what you achieved as definitive: if you can do that, then try to go a little bit further. And so you always suffer, because you always go further, but must realize that you are making incredible progress very quickly. This morning he was excited about my improvement: I am really happy, he said in English. “Fully happy. That is my way of teaching!”
AUGUST 20: I collapse in tears doing Kurmasana (Tortoise), I suffer that much. He consoles me and caresses my cheek: “Why did you not tell me? Why are you worried? You are making progress!” I answer that I am not worried, that I simply hurt a lot, and I put him at ease: “Don’t worry about my tears, I think that my nerves are giving up, but continue, I am very happy.”
It is rare to find a man so firm and so tender at the same time. He is truly in the service of the God in you. He is always there when you need something, always ready to help if you weaken, always ready to help as long as you make an effort, even if your strength fails you. Love is truly and plainly incarnate in him and an intelligent love.
AUGUST 24: I return again to watch him teach the boys. He is great, full of action and youth. On the way out, he explains that if you are diligent, your conscience dictates that you “try to go further,” even when everyone thinks it is perfect. You have to go from the gross to the subtle, from skin to bone, always further. The whole nervous system must work, and that can only happen in a total extension (without tension), all through the flesh. That is creative work, and there you have the spiritual work: through the nerves, you touch the subtle body.
You have to admit that being able to do what I do while my digestion is in such a mess shows that yoga must invigorate me: my teeth are whiter, and the whites of my nails look bigger.
AUGUST 26: Still no period. The red patch on my belly has disappeared, and the one on my arm is getting smaller. This morning I have swollen glands in my left groin and by evening another painful but smaller one on the right.
AUGUST 27: Fantastic lesson. The dose is increased to a level of red alert, and it works, phew, finally. In fact, I am not tired. He is happy and tells me that I exceeded his expectations. I just slept half an hour before lunch and woke up ready to begin again. I have aches that won’t quit, in my back, ribs—and let’s not even talk about my legs.
He told me: “Don’t hesitate to write when you have the least bit of doubt about your students, good or bad, and I will answer.”
AUGUST 27: In a letter to my family. Goodness gracious, what a way to work! Yesterday and today I did two hours of asana at a stretch. I am beginning to hold up! But the Monday after coming back from Bombay, I couldn’t do a thing. I let him turn me in all directions, just saying bus (enough) when I feel that he exaggerates. This does not keep him from continuing when he thinks I am soft, but generally he stops when it is really too much. He has an incredible flair for knowing.
The medications you sent did me good and let me have three great sessions. He praised me more than ever and told me that I exceeded his highest expectations, how about that? You grumble about my belly, but that’s nothing my dears. Remember that the liver and a headache go together for me? You can imagine what it was like when the smallest effort felt like a hammer blow to my temples and my head felt squeezed in a vise the rest of the time. But that’s not all: I don’t have a single muscle, a single joint, rib, or vertebra that does not hurt. That is the ransom for my progress. Fortunately he informs me that “Tomorrow it will be worse, and after that it will begin to ease up.” So I trust him and don’t worry.
When his oldest daughter, Geeta, saw that a woman from overseas had come to work with her father, Geeta brought her blanket and really began to work. This morning he had me work with her. She is like rubber—ah, youth! He does not push her so that she does not turn against the work—ah, Indian astuteness. Besides, that would risk hindering her growth; she is only fourteen. It is a matter of getting her interest piqued and preserving her flexibility; when she becomes stronger, it will be perfect.
AUGUST 31: Always make an effort with the lungs empty to prevent palpitations and stress on the heart.
SEPTEMBER 1: Today I am very tired. A very good class because he does everything. He shows me that in the Hatha Yoga Pradipika it says that Raja Yoga and samadhi are the same thing. Raja Yoga is not a means but an end, just about. It is not an approach but the goal you want to reach: the mystical union. He tells me that in every pose you have to discover yoga as Patanjali defined it.
Here is a man who truly understands that God is One and that as long as you divide and subdivide, the Goal eludes you. In all his seeking his focus is on Unity, not union but Unity. He is full of zeal in his quest for this Goal. “The moral, physical and mental all must work together; then no duality remains and the Spirit is there. When the spirit no longer obstructs, the Spirit or Supreme Soul is free and Is.” You move from the known to the Unknown, from the spirit to the Spirit.
He tells me that he suffered for four years as I do, but that now he savors the fruit. However, one day when “the body refused,” as he said, I saw him play a record for fifteen minutes to allow him to hold a pose while getting some distraction from the pain. When he got up, he was sweating. He does not seem to get the fruit every day! But he can work an hour or two and do the most difficult things without getting tired. His body is now truly his friend. Once he told the boys: “The strength of will is in the buttocks. If you can squeeze those muscles, if they are strong, you have the force of will.”
This man radiates peace, purity, stability, even though he lives from day to day, without money in reserve. He is solid as a rock. You could apply to him the verse of the psalm “the zeal of Thy House devours me” or “You are a rock and upon that rock shall I build my church.”
Today I was tired, and he scolded me. “You don’t work for yourself; you have taken on a heavy responsibility. You work for others. I know that from now on you will be a first-class teacher, with all I have taught you. But that is not enough, I want more. Be strong, get up, let’s go.” How can you resist such drive?
One day I told him that I thought that Ha-tha could also mean the union of the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system, with one working during the day and the other at night. He said: “Yes, also—it could be a lot of things.”
SEPTEMBER 2: I have a stomach full of air! Even so, we make progress in every way. He is overjoyed. “Imagine how it could be if you were feeling well?” To encourage me, he says that I did Kurmasana (Tortoise Pose) just like him. Yes, sure, but he forgets that he does it alone, while I am helped quite a bit.
In a letter to Papa: Some days I measure 3 to 4 centimeters extra around my waist, that’s how much air I have in my stomach. Despite everything, we work like madmen. He is excited about my courage and my capacity for work, and I about everything that comes from him. He did not think he could get me this far, push me this much. Only a short month of work left. If I could have eaten better, I would have had more resistance, and I would have been able to go farther. I will have to come back another time with mom, so she can feed “her baby” properly. My vacation has been fantastic, despite all my health problems. There are wonderful people in the world, and it is a joy to become their friend, even at the expense of taking it easy!
In a letter to my sister: I am going to skip the end of my trip when I had planned to visit some interesting places. I prefer to come back. I have so much to learn from him. But I will go to Bombay every weekend. Last weekend in September, I will leave for home directly from Bombay. It is less expensive and less tiring and will give me a few extra days with you to teach you all I can of what I have learned here.
I don’t need any more medications, thanks. I have enough until I leave. What I have serves its purpose, and when things get too bad Mother Nature does her job and redelivers everything the same way it entered. After that I feel better. Despite that, everything is okay. The asana and breathing have their effect. I have enough energy to work, and when I am mush he does the work for me. Don’t worry, I don’t look bad. He and his wife look after me with maternal tenderness.
It is really amazing to see the detachment and generosity of this man. The more I work, the more I advance, and the happier he is. I believe that if I would pass him by one day, he would be overjoyed, but thank God, he will always be a hundred leagues ahead to pull me along! He is a true Guru, like you dream of meeting one day but rarely do. I have an unforgettable opportunity. He is a man who has understood life. He does his job as best he can, no excuses, aware of his weaknesses and trying to correct them, knowing that it takes time and being very simple and submitting to the Lord. Never totally satisfied, he ever tries to do better and tells me about his discoveries with childlike pleasure. He does not act the perfect and irreproachable teacher. This way he is near to us, he is one of us and can take us in his wake. He is the Lord incarnate.
SEPTEMBER 6: In Bombay. I got a sprain in the left thoracic area, under my shoulder blade. It hurts something awful, even lying down, but what is marvelous and unforgettable is the attitude of Iyengar. It started with a little grating noise next to the spine in Sarvangasana. Since it did not hurt, I continued with Halasana and then began to feel some pain. By chance he was next to me, and I told him, as I often did, that I had a pain and exactly where. He said: “Quick, stop.” It seemed strange to be gentle with me; normally he would say “I know, I know, go on.” We retry the pose, impossible. He touches my back and says, “It must be there, and that is a sprain.” It was exactly the right spot. We try standing poses, impossible. Then he lets me relax and continues his class, but it was terrible, and I could not breathe. I was close to giving up and thought, “This is all I need.”
IYENGAR WITH NOËLLE IN PARSVA SARVANGASANA
After a moment he came close and said, “Standing poses.” I thought, “This is crazy,” but I got up and tried. I couldn’t even lift my left arm to a straight angle. But he came, pushed against my back, pulled here, pushed there, and it went better. Second pose, same thing, and after that he took the initiative: this pose, not that one but the other. Then he said, “Now twists.” Again I thought he is crazy, if only he would leave me alone and let me rest. And we did simple twists, then the others. Next we did the forward bends and he told me, “Now the Wheel.” “Oh, no!” “Why not?” Because it went better all the time and he had been right about all the other things, I tried the Wheel at first from a standing position, and he helped a lot. Next we did the ones beginning from a lying down position, but it was very hard. After that, Pigeon, and finally he said, “Bus.” But I could have gone on; it was much better. Afterwards my friends came to pick me up, and I was able to last the whole afternoon without saying anything and without them noticing.
SEPTEMBER 7: My sprain is better, but I am tired. I did not sleep well.
SEPTEMBER 8: The sprain is almost forgotten, but Iyengar is very attentive, and it is a good pretext to make a little less effort. During the afternoon, we study the photos that he had made for me and the descriptions that go with them. It is clear, well written, all in good order, and nothing missing. What precision for an Indian, even for a French person.
SEPTEMBER 9: A very good class. The sprain seems better except when I go deep into Sarvangasana. Iyengar tells me that he had me do it again right away, but that you should not do that with anyone; rather let it rest for five or six days. But we have no time to lose to let me rest. If this happens with other students, it is better to do only standing poses.
Again about physical and spiritual yoga: eyes open symbolizes consciousness in Eastern stories. (The eyes of statues are opened symbolically at the time of a ceremony when God is asked to take possession of this new body.) It seems to me that the Apocalypse also contains a story of open eyes symbolizing consciousness. He tells me the story of two men who are in a forest. The first one, who has eyes but no limbs, says to the other, who has limbs but is blind, “There is a fire in the forest, and it is getting closer. It is going to destroy both of us. Carry me on your back, and I will show you the way. Please carry me so we can both save our lives.” Iyengar continues: “How can you say that the one yoga is inferior to the other? Both are necessary.”
He also tells me a story from the Upanishads, about two birds. One sits motionless in the top of a tree, and the other tastes any fruit he can find on his way up to meet the first bird. Of these fruits, some are bitter, some good, but he tries everything and goes from experience to experience without stopping. He reaches the top of the tree and then forgets everything and stays there. “How can you say that one way is better than the other if both reached the same point?”
SEPTEMBER 10: He asks if I have done my breathing practice this morning. I tell him no. He is sad and insists: “Please do it,” but does not scold me. I don’t want to deceive him, but I can’t be bothered, and one is forever disturbed in this darned country where privacy is nonexistent.
He walks me home, holding his bike—remarkable! He asks if I know what the Trinity is. I know what I learned at Catholic school and from theology classes, but in case he has something else to teach me I feign ignorance. He begins an unforgettable explanation of three in one and one in three, in all its forms and details, with examples from everyone’s daily life. Because he has thought about it so much, everything seems simple when it passes through his soul! Body, mind, and spirit—action, intelligence, and love. He also talks about the joy of patience—to me who is always impatient, pressed for time.
We arrive, and he stays for a visit. We chat for two unforgettable hours. He tells me about his life, his experiences, that he cannot do without his exercises and that to him it is no longer work but a passion. I assure him that for me it is still a chore. He tells me not to worry, it will come. He talks about prayer in pranayama. I tell him that it is a big effort for me and that I cannot really concentrate enough for it to become a prayer. He says, “You will need several years.”
He is deeply religious. “Everything is sent me by my Lord,” he says. “I give myself to Him, worship Him, and give Him all I can, gratefully.” He continues: “People say that peace of mind is an end. No, it is a beginning. I have arrived at that point and can explain everything up to there. Now I struggle to discover what comes after. But this peace of mind is not an end in itself; it is a beginning as well as a means, an instrument.”
He goes on: “You should never criticize a colleague. When a student comes from another teacher, he must create his own experience: Try it this way; what do you feel? Is it better? No more pain? Personal experience is the only real approach.” He tells me the story of the donkey taken to market by a father and son. The son is disturbed by criticism, but the father continues on his way. “Don’t let anyone bother you. You must find your own way. You must arrive at a level of maturity that makes you sure of yourself in the midst of everyone’s criticism.”
SEPTEMBER 11: In photo session. Yesterday we took it easier, trying to be less achy for today. Iyengar is charming and the photographer very slow. We killed ourselves holding a pose until he deigned to push the clicker. Iyengar helps me as much as possible. He takes my place while the photographer measures the light, and he avoids any unnecessary effort. I do what I can, but my muscles are not warmed up. It’s okay but not the best. I hoped that he would always stay by my side for the poses, because I see the difference clearly and realize the progress I must make. But he prefers me alone so that I can show the pictures to my students.
SEPTEMBER 15: Letter to Maman. My departure is set; I will arrive September 28. Don’t worry, I am still whole and I walk with my head held high, because my teacher is maybe the only Indian around who has his feet on the ground in the sense of philosophy. I say that of course because we have more or less the same ideas, which I discovered with incredible pleasure. Spiritually he could be my father, and he is a little bit, because all alone I had gone as far as I could. But physically he is not at all like my father: my joints are in too bad a shape to assume that honor.
SEPTEMBER 15: Letter to Papa. This morning I had my lesson at the same time as the oldest daughter of Iyengar, who works very well. She has progressed tremendously since July and begins to want to teach, to the great joy of her father. My visit will at the least have this as a result. The whole family has adopted me, one being nicer than the other.
SEPTEMBER 20: Got up at 6 a.m., took two buses, class at 8:15 a.m.! Very good class, despite feeling tired and lacking sleep. When I cannot get the Headstand, Iyengar tells everyone: “Isn’t this surprising. She has not slept enough.” Me: “How do you know?” “Her eyes are red.” It is extraordinary how he pays attention to everything. He sees right away that my friend from Bombay, Kaushi, gave me some new toe-rings.
SEPTEMBER 21: In the boys’ class. Iyengar wants me to teach it so he can correct me, but I don’t accept. I don’t know their language or the Sanskrit name of all the asanas, and I cannot be as energetic as he is with them, which is important with boys. If he had not come, I would have felt ready to face it, but him being there . . .
Afterwards he accompanies me to Main Street. He tells me lots of things, such as: perfect women do not reincarnate into men, but are canonized in his religion as well.
He tells me that Krishna says in the Gita: “The eyes of mortals cannot see me. I am going to give you special eyes.” (This brings to mind St. Paul, speaking in Damascus!) Arjuna becomes blind and then asks for his mortal eyes back because he cannot tolerate that special vision. Iyengar continues: Shankaracharya says that Self-realization is granted only a very small number of people. The others must visualize God as their Lord. In India a feminine personification of God exists as well. The same Shankaracharya has composed long verses to her that are still read in the temples today. Cows can only visualize the Lord as a Cow, and man can only visualize him as a Man. This is an indispensable steppingstone, which you cannot reject on the basis of philosophy.
Then—all the while walking along in the street—he points out that I am not Noëlle but that Noëlle is a label. I am something that they call here the Self, with a capital S, which you could translate probably with the word Soul, provided that you don’t differentiate between the universal Soul, the unborn Soul, and what the Christians call the soul with a small s. But I am not what I believe I am, which is all that is implied with the pronouns I, me, myself. Here those names are designated for the self with a small s. The task is to realize that you are not the small but the large S and to pass from the one to the other, detaching from the first and merging into Unity.
Just as we cannot know who our parents are if we are not told, we cannot know who God is. We have to create an image of him that becomes clearer with time and that enables us to reach Him in steps, as if climbing a ladder.
SEPTEMBER 23: I will be leaving soon. Iyengar has found me a reasonable translation of the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, which he gives me with a kind dedication.
IYENGAR ADJUSTS YEHUDI MENUHIN IN SARVANGASANA, GSTAAD, 1956
SEPTEMBER 24: I was so sore that to help me relax at the end of class he put on some records. The first is one of his conferences, which I could not understand at all. I no longer want to make the effort, and English is still difficult for me. Next are songs by J. Douai to make me feel “at home.” And finally a concert for violin and orchestra by Beethoven played by Yehudi Menuhin, who seems to caress or embrace his violin.
At a reception at Iyengar’s home in honor of my leaving, Iyengar gives me a small bottle of sandalwood oil and, for protection of my ears on the Vespa (an Italian scooter), a very pretty, “typically Indian” scarf, handmade in the villages. All the girls gather around me to do my hair like theirs. Geeta has a hard time with my hair, which is not oiled and so fine that it slips away each time she wants to do something. Her hands touch so gently that I hardly feel them. Then they drape me in a black sari belonging to their maman. When Iyengar returns and sees me, he is very happy. “How small you look in a sari,” he says. Geeta and her mother prepare lunch while I play with the little ones, who have taken me into their new upstairs room, where I see a portrait of their father and family photo albums.
For each person, there is a slightly raised board serving as a seat, and in front of it is a large plate with two small cups. Next to the plate, a tumbler of water: the table is set. I am given the place of honor, opposite Iyengar. His wife does not sit down; she serves the whole time and will eat at the end, when everyone is finished. Then Geeta will serve her, and she can eat in peace. It is the same ritual as we have on the farms in the French countryside. It seems to me more relaxing for the hostess, so that she does not have to get up all the time.
They have put a mix of rice on my plate with peas plus other things I don’t recognize. Next to that are milk curds with cucumber, green beans with rice, sweet rice mixed with a bunch of tasty things, a chapatti and two small apple fritters, and I don’t know what else. You eat in the order you want and ask for more of what you like, and whenever there is room on the plate, they put something different. In one of the small cups is a sweet liquid, delicious and warm, but what is it? No idea!
You eat with your fingers, very neatly (except for me, but Iyengar comes to my aid and asks for a spoon). This way of eating seems to me quite hygienic. After all, if my hand is poorly washed it is just my own perspiration and not saliva left by others, as could be the case when you eat with a fork, as we do. At any rate, they have us wash our hands before the meal and also after, and you eat with just three fingers of the right hand: thumb, index finger, and middle finger. These customs are characteristic of different communities.
NOËLLE WITH B.K.S. IYENGAR AND HIS FAMILY, PUNE, 1959
I have begun to sit in tailor fashion (Svastikasana), like Iyengar. Later during the meal, he mentions that I am the only woman sitting like that. The women always keep one knee up to hide their face when a man enters the room. The right knee is on the floor, the left one in the air, with the left hand placed on the left foot. He tells me the significance of all these details with such patience.
While Mrs. Iyengar is changing, the girls take me to the sun-bathed terrace to show me the view. I cannot stay put because the cement floor burns my feet, which naturally are bare; they don’t wear sandals here except for going out, and even then not always. All these little feet already have thick skin underneath; mine seem so silly next to theirs.
After that, the whole group goes to the zoo. The weather seems more or less improved after yesterday’s big storm. We look at quite a few animals and suddenly, like a flash, the storm is back. That gives cause for lots of laughter, fun, and games, like moving your ears or your nose, making different sounds with your mouth, etc. We take pictures and hope they will come out.
SEPTEMBER 25: Very good class despite all the soreness from yesterday. He makes me link together an incredible number of Wheel Poses, arching back from standing while he supports me. The first ones were so difficult with all my aches that I could not even let my arms drop. After that it got better. Poor Iyengar was dead from having to carry a weight like mine. He said laughingly: “This is the first time I perspire doing the Wheel Pose!”
SEPTEMBER 27: Class in Bombay. Iyengar brings the photos from Thursday, taken with the whole family. It is our last class. We take him back to the station. He jokes the whole way, not wanting to become emotional. The train takes off, and from the door opening he calls: “Tell your mother that I send you back whole, not in pieces.” Burst of laughter, big arm movements, and he is gone. What unforgettable joy, what an extraordinary stay, but how happy I am to go home. I was afraid not to last till the end; I am at the end of my rope. He felt it and did all he could to help me not to fail.
