I've recently started doing Yoga on a regular basis. I've always enjoyed it. I love to stretch my muscles till they're taut; then let go and feel the relaxation come flooding back. I love pushing myself to see if I can go that little bit further than last time. But this isn't about me or Yoga. It's about my Yoga instructor- Monoj.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Warning: My life story has not been written by Meg Cabot. Therefore Monoj Kaku (yes, Kaku!) is not hot. Neither am I a will-o'-the-wisp whose postures need to be adjusted by the firm male grip. If you're still interested, you can continue reading.
Monoj Kaku leaves the house at approximately 5 am. He returns at approximately 11 pm. Therefore he has no time for excercise himself. Therefore, he is getting a wee bit stiff.
He's unmarried, and has to cook his own meals each day. Which is a pain. So he falls back on good old 'sheddo bhath.' ('Boiled rice' just sounds horribly wrong.) Sheddo bhath, in its pure and original form is rather unapproachable- as most things in their pure and original form are. Touch it up with the right things, and it's DIVINE. The right things include oil. OR butter. OR ghee. And definitely aloo.
Therefore Monoj Kaku is not only getting stiff, he is developing a paunch.
Meanwhile, his students are getting into shape. Growing fitter.
Monoj Kaku remainds unchangeable.
His life consists of " '1, 2, 3, .... 10'. Ok- second set." Even his 'very good's and 'remember the breathing?'s are fascinatingly regular. I call it fascinating, but if I were him, I'd SCREAM out of sheer boredom.
What if one of the rooms in which he has to teach, is plastered with morbid wallpaper? What if one his students offers him nauseating tea everyday, with an enthusiasm that makes it hard to refuse? What if one of his female students is a little too attractive for comfort?
I wonder who are more interesting to him- those who master their routine within days, or those who require constant monitoring........
In the former case, there's the satisfaction of watching perfection. In the latter, at least HE'S involved.
Before he taught yoga this regularly, he was a cashier at the Penguin stall during the bookfair. Brrr.
But then again, I don't really have any right to feel sorry for him. It's perfectly possible that he's happy. I've noticed this- he's one of the most serene people I've come across. He never looks ruffled, and he's always got friendly inquiries and random little anecdotes to make. (Speaking of anecdotes, one of his nephews got dragged down by a crocodile and left in the shallows to be eaten for later. The boy regained consciousness and swam away!)
Anyway, Me, with all my I-don't-believe-in-regimentation... I'm much more irritable and moody. The best part is, I like me exactly as I am. And I think he likes himself the way he is.
[Discovery Channel- The World is Awesome]
Posted by Anushka at 12:01 AM