Reflections from India: Finding Inspiration in Sharath Jois’ Legacy
Reflections from India: Finding Inspiration in Sharath Jois’ Legacy
I was super excited planning my trip to India last summer. It was to be my ninth visit to Mysore; after a five-year break due to the pandemic and life's twists and turns, I was eager to reconnect with my teacher and practice under his guidance
Unfortunately, life took an unexpected turn. On 12th November, we received the heartbreaking news that Sharathji had passed away suddenly while teaching in Charlottesville, USA. The news was a profound shock to the entire Ashtanga community and everyone in Gokulam, the Mysore suburb he lived and taught in for most of his life. He leaves behind his family, including his wife, two children, and thousands of students worldwide.
After some uncertainty, I decided to go ahead with my planned trip to pay tribute to Sharathji, honour his legacy, and process my grief. For those who have never visited Mysore or met Sharathji in person, I wanted to share some of my experiences practising with him and the impact that Sharathji has had on me and my teaching.
My first visit to Mysore was back in 2010 when I was 28. At the time, I remember a friend telling me it was my Saturn return — it’s a significant cosmic milestone that occurs when the planet Saturn returns to the position it held at the time of your birth. It’s meant to be a period of growth and transformation, and the timing felt particularly meaningful for me. I'd been practising Ashtanga yoga regularly for four years and had just left my job in Human Resources. After that trip, I returned home and started assisting at Astanga Yoga London, marking the beginning of my journey as a yoga teacher. For the next seven years, I made annual trips back to Mysore, deepening my connection to yoga and its teachings.
That year was also a pivotal time for Sharathji. It was just one year after the passing of his grandfather, and 2010 marked his first year as the director of what was then the KPJ Ashtanga Yoga Institute. I remember him then as humble and still grieving his loss, tentative in his new role but full of knowledge, and always with his characteristic good sense of humour. He would sit on a small chair beside his grandfather's chair, carefully watching us as we practiced. As his popularity grew over the years and more students came, he always made a point of connecting with everyone. We never felt ignored or overlooked. Even with 60 students in the room, I felt his kindness and compassion.
Returning to Mysore this year the town feels comfortingly familiar but also different. There's a lot more traffic these days, more restaurants, and cafés; coffee culture has definitely landed in Gokulam. Yet, amidst the busyness, the sense of community and shared grief was palpable. Everyone, from the rickshaw drivers to restaurant workers, seemed to be mourning the loss of Sharathji as a teacher or as a member of the local community.
Sharathji's new shala is a little outside Gokulam, surrounded by fields and tech industry buildings with the beginnings of some beautiful gardens. When I walked into his shala this time, it was so sad to see his empty chair, holding only a photograph of him, but his energy still seemed to fill the giant space. As I ride my scooter to practice each morning, I find myself hoping to see him come out of his office to start the chant or to catch a glimpse of his feet in front of my mat and hear him share some advice or make a light-hearted. Despite the cold mornings and early starts, which I'm not a fan of, showing up to practice every day feels like a celebration of Sharath's legacy. Each time I step onto my mat, I honour him and the teachings he shared with us. Personally, I don't believe in putting anyone on a pedestal and I don't think Sharathji expected that of us either, we all have our strengths and flaws. Still, I want to honour his legacy by sharing some of the most important lessons I've learned from him over the years.
On Commitment to practice
Sharathji always taught and modelled that experiencing the true benefits of the ashtanga practice requires commitment. By committing to our practice and showing up on our mat regularly—whether it's for ten minutes or two hours—we gain a deeper understanding of ourselves and access the inner wisdom that serves as our true teacher. This emphasis on commitment inspires and motivates me to stay dedicated to my practice, even when it is challenging.
On dedication to his students and sharing the practice
In all my time in Mysore Sharathji never missed a day of teaching. He showed up each morning with energy, love, humour and kindness. There were times when he'd be teaching from 4 am to 12 pm for months at a time, and then when he wasn't in Mysore, he'd travel all around the world to share Ashtanga yoga. He was passionate about bringing the practice to as many people as possible so they could experience its benefits. Sharathji had a unique ability to make everyone in the room feel seen. He welcomed practitioners of all levels and recognised dedication, hard work, and self-reflection over physical abilities. I often think of him when I’m teaching, and I hope to be able to bring some of the same qualities when I’m holding space for others.
On the Purpose of Yoga
With all the gimmicky yoga options available, it can be easy to forget that yoga is a journey of self-discovery that offers a framework for living ethically in the world. Sharathji always taught that yoga continues 24 hours a day and that we should strive to live by the yamas and niyamas. He reminded us that yoga is about steadying our minds to create more harmony within ourselves and in the world around us. This quest for understanding myself has drawn me not only to yoga but also to studying psychotherapy, which is as much about understanding ourselves, our traumas, biases, and blind spots as it is about providing support to others. This practice of self-awareness is, for me, an extension of my yoga practice, and I feel it’s something that being in Mysore at the source of Ashtanga yoga inspires.
On breath
For Sharathji, accessing the link between the body and the mind was through the breath, which he always taught as the foundation of practice. By connecting with our breath, we can calm our minds. Focusing on slow and rhythmic breathing allows us to access the healing properties of the parasympathetic nervous system and develop the focus that comes from a regular commitment to Ashtanga yoga.
For all these lessons, I thank Sharathji
There’s been a lot of conversation about the future of Ashtanga and what Sharathji's passing means for the practice. While we mourn the loss of our teacher, I don't think we need to worry about Ashtanga's future. I believe the practice happens inside each of us every time we step on the mat, and as we do so, we can continue to hold Sharathji and his teaching in our hearts, whether we knew him personally or practice with one of his teachers, his legacy lives on in each of us x
