Yoga is not about touching your toes, it's about what you learn on the way down.

  • Karma Yoga

    Path of Action
    Karma Yoga’s philosophy constitutes the foundation for right living.

    Activity Is the Insignia of Life
    Life itself expresses through constant activity. As long as we are alive, we must act.

    The outcome of any action depends partly on your own effort and partly on external factors beyond your control- like timing, circumstances, and other people.

    Karma Yoga teaches that our duty is to act in the present, with full sincerity and focus, without becoming attached to the results.

    “‘What’ you meet in life is destiny, and ‘how’ you meet it, is self-effort.” ~ Swami Chinmayananda

  • Jñāna Yoga

    Path of Knowledge
    Jñāna Yoga is the spiritual path of inner self-inquiry. It invites us to reflect deeply, question boldly, and meditate sincerely, all with the goal of discovering our true nature.

    It gives us the tools to live life with clarity, purpose, and inner freedom.

    Through this knowledge, we learn to differentiate the transient from the eternal, uncovering our true Self beneath the layers of identity, emotion, and thought.

    This path doesn’t demand belief, but encourages inquiry, honest, fearless exploration of who we are, what the world is, and what lies beyond appearances.

  • Bhakti Yoga

    Path of Devotion

    Bhakti Yoga is the path of love and devotion, channeling our emotions and desires towards a deep connection with the Divine.

    By cultivating qualities like compassion, humility, and faith we can calm the restless mind and experience inner peace.

    Through Bhakti, we learn to accept life's impermanence and surrender to a higher purpose, transforming emotional turbulence into spiritual strength.

    “God is simple. Everything else is complex. Do not seek absolute values in the relative world of nature.”
    ~ Paramhansa Yogananda

In India, yoga is more than just an activity, it’s a way of life and mindset. It’s practiced by everyone, from daily waged labourers to entrepreneurs and teachers. Whether through Bhakti Yoga, focused on devotion, or through the physical asana practice, learn how yoga shapes daily living in India in diverse ways.

With love, from India

Surrendering Through Shirshasana: A Journey from Student to Teacher

I was looking for escape.

It was December 2020, the world was weary, and so was I. Fatigued by the pandemic, emotionally frayed, I booked a solo trip to Goa for an Ashtanga yoga workshop, half hoping it might ground me, half doubting I’d even go. But I did.

When I arrived, only one other student had shown up. It felt awkward, almost absurd. A week-long workshop, two students, one teacher. But something in me softened. I stayed. I surrendered.

On the first morning of the new year, January 1st, 2021, at 8 a.m, I found myself upside down in my first Shirshasana. The world, broken as it was, looked strangely whole from that angle.

It wasn’t a physical achievement that struck me, it was a moment of profound stillness. I hadn’t forced the pose. I hadn’t conquered fear. I had released it. For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t gripping for control. I simply trusted. My body, the breath, the ground beneath my head.

That’s the thing about Shirshasana. You can’t fake it. You can’t fight your way up. It only happens when you let go. And that’s where the transformation begins, not just in the posture, but in the surrender it demands.

Years later, in 2025, I stood on the other side of the mat, now the teacher. One of my students was preparing for her first headstand. “I’m scared I’ll fall,” she whispered. “Can we try on something softer?”

I understood. Her fear wasn’t just about the surface beneath her, it was about the vulnerability above it. The same fear I’d once felt, and carried for years: of falling, of failing, of not being ready.

I shared my own story. Of Goa. Of that strange New Year’s morning. Of what it felt like to lift into Shirshasana for the first time not with force, but with faith.

And then, she tried.
She rose.
And she stayed.

“Are you okay?” I asked gently.
“I love it here,” she said, still upside down. “I don’t want to come down.”

In that moment, I realised I was the one holding the fear now, fear for her, fear as a teacher. But she reminded me of what I had forgotten: the power of surrender doesn’t diminish when we teach, it deepens.

Shirshasana isn’t just a pose. It’s a portal. It asks you to meet your fear, not fight it. To stop bracing and start trusting. And whether you’re stepping onto the mat as a student or standing beside it as a teacher, the invitation is the same:

Accept, Embrace & Surrender