The yoga instructor was a very tall youthful looking man of 61 years of age. His babyish features and height weren’t the most striking thing about his appearance. That was his dyed bright orange hair. Very similar in color to Iru Bru. I immediately nicknamed him Irn Guru.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from my first Indian yoga class. He seemed quite chilled out, I thought it might be very relaxed. I was wrong
He started off by getting us to raise our right arms above our heads before bringing them back down.
“One!” He barked.
“Repeat!” He hollered.
I put my right arm back up and then took it down.
“Two !” He shouted.
I repeated the action.
“Three!” He screamed.
This continued until he got to ten. I hoped it was over but he said “Now do the left arm”
One! Two! Etc
This militarist countdown continued for every pose except one of the later ones. He made me contract my stomach muscle whilst whooping out air from my mouth. It sounds quite easy but it’s actually quite hard. I looked forward to him reaching ten but he didn’t stop. He kept going pass twenty then thirty then forty before, thankfully, stopping at fifty.
He then shouted, “shivasna” and we all got a rest. It only lasted 30 seconds before he screamed “do it again!”
By this point I was tired, hot and sweaty. He must have noticed as he gave us all a two minutes meditation break. I mediated about how sore my stomach muscles were.
After the class I asked him what type of yoga it was. His reply: “easy yoga.”
If that was easy, I’d hate to see his hard class.