Classic vs. modern studios
Sivananda Yoga Vedanta Centre teaches hatha style, shuns music, props
The faces of two swamis smile down from the front of the old Victorian-style brick house. By the front door, a shingle reads: “Health is wealth. Peace of mind is happiness. Yoga shows the way.”
Inside the Sivananda Yoga Vedanta Centre on Harbord St., 15 men and women sit on mats chanting a Sanskrit prayer for guidance. Incense burns.
This upstairs room, Vishnu Hall, has white walls and a large shrine. Statues of Hindu deities rest on the altar with framed pictures of swami Sivananda, an early 20th-century sage who wrote about yoga, and swami Vishnudevananda, a disciple who brought those teachings to the west. The sound of deep, relaxed breathing fills the room. The students, a mix of ages, wearing baggy T-shirts and loose pants, spend half an hour practising pranayama, proper breathing.
“Om,” the teacher and students chant, hands raised over their heads. Then they slowly stand to begin the asanas, the poses.
“What we teach here is classical hatha yoga from the ancient scriptures,” explains manager Prahlada Reddy, 46. “What we do has been practised for 4,000 years.”
The postures and the breathing, done together properly, work on the body and the mind, he explains. The chanting helps calm the mind.
In the back kitchen, a volunteer is preparing lentil soup and cabbage and potato curry for students and teachers. The centre encourages vegetarianism but doesn’t impose any restrictions, says Reddy.
Icons of deities — such as the elephant-headed god Ganesha, who removes obstacles, and the crosslegged Shiva, who is god of the yogis — appear in every room.
“They are symbols of different energies,” explains Saraswati Vukadinovic, 48, also a manager. She points to a Krishna statue as a symbol of divine love. “We create a cer- tain energy by keeping them here. It’s like when you come into a church or temple, there is a certain energy.” A picture of Jesus Christ hangs in one room. A Buddha statue in another. “We are open to all religions,” says Reddy. He’s wearing the teacher’s simple cotton uniform: loose pants that are white to symbolize purity and a Tshirt of bright yellow for energy. In the centre’s sunny yellow front room, yoga books, T-shirts and some CDs are for sale. But no music is played during class and no props, such as blocks, used. “We teach you to take care of your body and calm your mind on your own,” says Vukadinovic.
The two smiling swamis are omnipresent. “They remind us of the lineage, of where the teachings come from,” explains Vukadinovic. She was a young Serbian law student when she first discovered yoga. Both she and her husband, Reddy, who is from India, were disciples of swami Vishnudevananda. He died in 1993.
Their class finished, students file down stairs. Annie Robinson, 23, has done yoga at many studios but likes the spirituality incorporated here. Donald Carr, a former dancer in his late 60s originally from Jamaica, has come here for 13 years. He explains: “This is my soul food.”