English Literature – Articles ☆ Autobiography of a Yogini ☆ Shri Jagat Singh Bisht ☆

In the Quiet Service of Breath and Being

There are some beginnings that arrive without noise.

They do not announce themselves with drums or declarations. They come like dawn over a sleeping valley—softly, silently, almost unnoticed. When I look back upon the winding path of my life, I can now see that my journey into yoga began in such a way: gently, like a whisper carried by the wind.

In those days, life moved at a different pace. The air itself seemed unhurried. There was quietude in the atmosphere, a serenity in the surroundings, and a rare authenticity in human relationships. People had time—for conversations, for laughter, for evening walks, and for the little leisure pursuits that stitched joy into ordinary days.

It was destiny that took me to a small township nestled close to the sacred origin of the holy river Narmada.

Even now, when I think of that place, I feel as though I am remembering not merely a location, but a state of consciousness.

It was there that the local ladies’ club invited a Swami ji to teach yoga.

In those times, yoga had not yet become fashionable. There were no yoga mats in every home, no social media poses, no designer leggings, and certainly no one speaking of “core strength” with great seriousness. Yoga was still a quiet, sacred discipline, known to a few and practised by fewer.

Out of curiosity, and perhaps guided by something deeper, I joined the classes with a few of my friends.

That was my first tryst with asanas, pranayama, dhyan, and yoga nidra.

Little did I know then that this first encounter would become the axis around which my entire life would revolve.

When the Swami ji left after completing his sessions, something within us had awakened. A small group of us continued practising together. There was sincerity, innocence, and joy in those sessions. We stumbled through postures, forgot breathing sequences, laughed at our clumsiness, and yet kept returning.

Looking back, I believe it was yoga in the tradition of Swami Satyananda Saraswati, though at that time I knew little of its depth.

Life, as it does, carried me from one place to another. New towns, new homes, new responsibilities. Yet yoga remained my quiet companion. Through the changing landscapes of life, it was my unchanging centre.

I must confess, however, that for many years my understanding of yoga remained limited—confined only to what I had learned in those early days.

But somewhere within me, a longing had begun to grow.

I wished to dive deeper.

Not merely into the postures—but into the spirit behind them.

That longing led me to the writings of Swami Satyananda Saraswati. I gathered his books like a thirsty traveller gathers water. Page after page, practice after practice, a larger world began to unfold before me.

Yoga was no longer exercise.

It became inquiry.

It became discipline.

It became devotion.

As my own practice deepened, I began teaching a small group of ladies in a community hall.

It is one of yoga’s quiet miracles that when you teach sincerely, you become a student all over again.

As I taught them, I learned more.

As I guided them, I was guided.

As I corrected their postures, life corrected mine.

The deeper I went, the more I realised how vast yoga truly was—an ocean where one may spend lifetimes and still remain at the shore.

In time, this quest took me to the foothills of the Himalayas, where I studied the tradition of B. K. S. Iyengar.

I found Iyengar Yoga especially beneficial for middle-aged women. The intelligent use of props—bricks, belts, bolsters—made it possible for many to experience the benefits of asanas that their bodies could not otherwise access.

This touched me deeply.

I had long believed that women are the foundational pillar of a family.

A healthy woman sustains the rhythm of the household. Her vitality nourishes generations. And yet, I have seen countless women sacrifice their health in serving everyone else, until their own bodies begin to protest.

When a woman falls ill, the entire family feels the tremor.

This truth settled in me like a vow.

I resolved to serve womankind through yoga.

For I have come to understand that healthy women create healthy families, healthy families create healthy societies, and healthy societies create a healthy nation.

This has become my life’s quiet mission.

To serve better, I knew I must keep learning.

Yoga does not permit stagnation.

It is a path of continuous refinement.

Over the years, I attended sessions with yoga masters of national and international repute, undertaking long and intense programmes of study, deepening both my knowledge and my practice.

Yet some of the most transformative learning did not happen in classrooms.

It happened on the banks of the holy Ganga.

For long periods, I lived there—studying yoga, the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, mantra chanting, Vedic rituals, and meditation.

There is something about the Ganga that cannot be explained.

One must sit beside her to understand.

I travelled along the sacred currents of the Alaknanda River, the Bhagirathi River, and many other Himalayan rivers, seeking—not knowledge alone—but the spirit of the ancient rishis who once meditated there.

In those mountains, silence is not emptiness.

It is presence.

Even today, I rise in the Brahma-muhurta.

In those sacred pre-dawn hours, when the world still sleeps and the sky has not yet chosen its colour, I sit in meditation and prayer—for the welfare of all sentient beings.

This prayer has become the fragrance of my mornings.

For more than two decades now, I have been imparting yoga lessons and helping women lead healthier, happier, and more balanced lives.

To witness a woman reclaim her strength, her peace, her confidence—this is among life’s most beautiful rewards.

And now, my heart turns especially toward young girls.

For yoga can shape them at the very foundation of life.

It strengthens the body, increases flexibility, and builds resilience. It improves stamina, balance, and coordination. It sharpens focus and deepens concentration, helping them in their studies and in the shaping of character.

Yoga supports healthy hormonal development, balancing the endocrine system and nurturing emotional well-being.

It improves circulation and allows energy to flow harmoniously through the body.

And gradually, something even more precious happens.

The mind becomes calmer.

Purer.

More peaceful.

Girls who practise yoga regularly are less likely to be overwhelmed by stress, anxiety, or depression.

Yoga encourages holistic growth.

It cultivates self-discipline, restraint, awareness, and mindfulness.

It builds self-confidence and self-respect.

And above all, it opens the doorway to a balanced, meaningful, and fulfilling life.

I have often reflected that there is perhaps nothing more meaningful than dedicating one’s life to a noble cause.

To serve.

To heal.

To uplift.

If, through yoga, I have been able to bring even a little peace into someone’s life, I consider myself blessed.

I am deeply grateful to every woman who has walked this journey with me over the years.

Each one of them has been my companion, my mirror, my teacher.

I am proud of them all.

My only message to them is simple:

• Keep going.
• Yoga is not merely for the body.
• It is for the mind.
• For the spirit.
• For life itself.

I thank my family and friends who stood beside me in this noble endeavour, offering their love, patience, and unwavering support.

I bow with reverence to all my Gurus, who lit the lamp of yoga within me and made it possible for me to pass that light onward.

And above all, I thank God for this precious gift.

For breath.

For awareness.

For service.

I pray for strength, humility, and inspiration to continue serving humankind till my last breath.

For in the end, this body shall one day return to dust.

But if through these hands some healing has happened,

through this voice some courage has arisen,

through this journey some soul has found peace—

then this life, I feel, has been worth living.

And so I continue—

• one breath,
• one prayer,
• one posture,
• one soul at a time.

   – Yogini