The Power of Yoga

This is a story about the power of yoga. It may sound like a silly tale, but believe me, what I describe here actually happened. OK lets start, drum roll and fog please!

We need to go back thirty years. Picture a younger version of me, working for the government in a remote village deep within the Himalayan mountain ranges. My job was to administer this isolated area, but with a staff of five who rarely showed up, my responsibilities mostly involved reading newspapers, novels, and watching the occasional TV show. Yes, they paid me for that.

At twenty-four, I had no idea how to cook. The few times my staff gathered were centered around cooking. The staff did the cooking, while I hovered around, offering help when needed. This was also when we would chat and gossip, bonding over the meals we prepared together.

Washing dishes and sweeping the office and residence were considered specialized jobs according to the government manual. For these tasks, I had an office helpera man who is the hero of this story. He was a Tibetan refugee, a former army soldier who had once been a middleweight boxer. His career ended abruptly when he was dishonorably discharged for beating up a superior officer. He lived next door with his wife and six children.

In everyday life, this man was soft-spoken and gentle. But after a few drinks, he transformed into a completely different person. Once a week, after downing a bottle of the local brew, he would stand in the middle of the road and hurl insults at anyone who passed by. His tirades would clear the streets. Then he would turn his attention to me and the other staff members. The villagers, starved for entertainment, would gather to enjoy the spectacle. But being the target of his outbursts wasn’t exactly amusing.

The next morning, he’d return to his duties as if nothing had happened. He had a great singing voice and would wash dishes while singing old Hindi movie songs, filling the air with melody. This cycle of drunken rants followed by musical mornings continued for weeks. I didn’t think there was much I could do about ituntil one day, things changed.

I practiced a lot of yoga back then. Every morning, I’d be in my office room, sitting on a yoga mat in the lotus posture. Inhale, hold, exhalemy daily routine. One morning, as I sat in meditation, I heard footsteps outside the door. It was my helper, starting his day by sweeping the front veranda. I noticed him peeking through the window. The sun had just risen behind the mountains, and through a crack in the ceiling, its rays streamed in, illuminating my face.

Now imagine this: a devout Buddhist, peering through the glass, sees me seated in the lotus pose, bathed in the golden light of the morning sun. The sight must have seemed otherworldly. I heard him gasp and jump back in shock. But I didn’t flinch. I remained still, focused on my breathing, maintaining the pose.

That vision had a profound impact on him. No, he didn’t give up drinking. But after that day, whenever he drank, instead of causing a scene in the village, he would disappear into the nearby forest. He’d stay there until he sobered up, shouting and yelling at the trees. Passersby would tell stories of hearing someone shouting in the woods, but no one dared to investigate.

From then on, my office was peaceful. The power of yoga had given the man a new ritualand in doing so, it gave me the tranquility I hadn’t thought possible in that remote corner of the world.