Priya Chaphekar

At some point in almost every new student's journey, there is a moment of quiet embarrassment. The teacher offers a block, or suggests a chair, or brings over a belt, and something in the student's face shifts. A small tightening. A reluctant acceptance.

People come to yoga with very specific hopes. A longer hamstring. A flatter stomach. A back that stops complaining every time they get out of a chair. Valid reasons, all of them. But a year in, those are rarely the things anyone is still talking about.

One evening she stayed back. I was rolling up a bolster when she said it, not quite to me, not quite to herself: "I don't know why I keep coming. The poses are fine. But something is supposed to be happening, and it isn't."