Waiting to Exhale: Can Indian men handle a yogini on Instagram?
If you are a yogini and on social media, can Indian men handle it? Don’t bet on it. Yoga is sold in clichéd narratives — the “hot sexy bendy” instructor in skimpy clothes, the camera lingering closely on her anatomy for a fairly long screen time.

I am 34, single, Malayali. And a yogini. Six months old in the world of social media, I practise asanas and post pictures on Instagram. Sometimes in yoga pants and a top. Other times, a sports bra and shorts.
For this, I have been questioned, abused, condemned, propositioned. Had my dignity equated to the length of my shorts. Inboxed (extremely unflattering) images of male anatomy. And messaged sexual innuendos that are vulgar and vilifying (not to mention with far too many vowels and no spell-checks). Here’s a sanitised snippet:
“So flexiiiii — are you imagine thinks I could do with yuuuu.”
“You are not habing much culture.”
“Yoga and kamasutra is being same same?”
“I bet your boyfriend is a lucky man.”
Initially, I was appalled and nauseated. I did not know how to react, didn’t understand what could have provoked such lewd and vitriolic responses. Maybe I was naïve. I believed in my journey of self-transformation. I assumed people would be keen to know more about the immense discipline that goes into getting every position right.
As a former creative director in television, I worked in Mumbai for seven years and when the demands of the industry became too much to bear physically and emotionally, I gave it all up to pursue my calling — yoga.
In July 2017, I started an Instagram account with 200-odd followers; it has now grown to nearly 17,000 in a span of six months. So have the messages and comments. Nearly all of these messages were from men. A few were from women but when I engaged in a conversation with them, they seemed to understand. I told them when I was doing Bharatanatyam, I wore a salwar kurta. When I was rock climbing, I wear a well-fitted top and track pants. And, when I do yoga, sometimes, I wear a sports bra and shorts. You can’t rely on the clothes to bind or balance you in a posture and have to use your core strength instead. A fact that’s crucial for advanced positions, and yet, might not be apparent to the uninitiated.
Most men, initially, wrote about yoga, but quickly graduated to asking personal questions about my marital status, phone number and home address. When I politely told them to refrain from such behaviour, they got belligerent. Here’s an excerpt:
InstaStranger: Madam can I ask you one question if you don’t mind?
Me: If it’s not personal, sure.
Him: Where is your home town?
Me: Sorry, I don’t share personal information with strangers.
Him: I am simply asking. I am asking nicely. Why can’t you answer? You can wear such type of clothes on Instagram, show your body but one simple question you can’t answer. What type of woman you are… I know people who can trace your exact location.”
Now, I rarely answer personal messages. And self-censor images before posting. Would people find this “stimulating” and “exciting”? Should I cover myself up? Maybe these shorts are too short? At these times, I am caught between rage and sadness. Why should I have to do this? For an asana picture?
Culturally, to a large extent, yoga has become a one-stop shop on how to be slim and flexible. No yogic literature ascribes these to be the main tenets of what’s a deeply transformative practice. These superficial, physical changes are simply the health benefits on the side of consistent practice. The real goal is to be able to sit steady and undisturbed in a meditative posture like siddhasana or padmasana for long periods of time.
Since, in popular culture, the focus is the external and not the internal, the media leads with what is “saleable”. Which is very often women and their bodies. Yoga becomes a practice which can only be done by a certain body type and is sold in clichéd narratives — the “hot sexy bendy” instructor in skimpy clothes, the camera lingering closely on her anatomy for a fairly long screen time. Yoga as a spiritual practice doesn’t seem to have too many takers.
When a Baba Ramdev is plastered on the cover of a magazine, the reaction doesn’t go beyond light humour. No one calls him sultry or inviting; I shudder to think what would happen if a woman were to replicate that!
In the past few years, the Indian government has bent over backwards to “reclaim” yoga. But, unsurprisingly, that hasn’t stopped India’s patriarchal values from raising its ugly head against yoginis, especially online. My photographs are a visual testament to my evolution — that some of those happen to be in a sports bra or shorts is a side note. Each one tells of a moment in time. A lesson learnt. A phase lived. The journey of a woman, who is learning and unlearning every day. If I could do all of this in a sari or a salwar kurta, I gladly would. But it really does get in the way!
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