My body lacks the flexibility that is a pre-requirement in doing yoga, or at least doing the poised form of yoga. Other women can contort their bodies into shapes befitting gorgeous creatures, with a saintly smile on their serene faces. While my right leg attempts to stay still, as my outstretched left arm quivers, and my abs (or lack thereof), recall the white chocolate and strawberry muffin that should've been avoided. I stumble. Always the first in class to let go of the pose. Toned, white bodies around me pity my awkward fumbling brown body and perhaps wonder if I am really Indian.
"Why can't you simply sit crossed legs like everyone else in class?" The voice of my 3rd grade PE teacher, steeped in frustration, resounds in my ear. I try again to place my right foot on my left thigh, and then slowly lift my left foot towards my right thigh....oops my right foot has slid of my thigh. A plastic smile stuck on my face I keep glancing at the clock, legs finally crossed, but my knees higher than everyone else. The rest sit in insta-worthy poses, blonde hair tied in perky pony tails, back curved at the right angle, and that tranquil but oh-so-smug expression.
Finally! Savasana. A pose I have more or less mastered. Lying on my back, which is threatening to quit on me, legs spread imagining unspeakable thoughts, arms by the side, palms facing up, praying for class to get over, slow breaths, 1...2...3...My eyes droop as I struggle to stay awake. They crave sleep and defying my instructions, they obstinately stay shut...long after the soft gong has stuck.
Around me the bikini bodies with exposed belly buttons in trendy yoga gear are rolling up their mats. They give me yet another fake smile that seems to suggest "Give it up already."
Maybe I should give up and find a support group of women who feel outcast because of their inability to strike yoga poses. I wonder if they would accept Indians?
