A magic carpet ride

Each week Marie-Lais scouts another urban reach, tasting, testing alternative aspects to pique our curiosity about places and people we might have had no idea about. This week she tries being a yogini in the sky.

loating over the city, between the Nelson Mandela and Queen Elizabeth bridges, clouds or clumps of heat haze shift slowly. On my mat, I could be with the birds, almost motionless in this light sky, were it not for the glass between us and the resounding din on the top concrete floor of Shine Studios.

The woman next to me applies scintillation lipstick, lies back on her mat and pouts for her selfie. I lie on my would-be Aladdin mat, eyes shut but Babel sounds as if it may implode.

People dump shoes and bags on my mat. I nudge them off. Yoga mats are not spaces for invasion.

There must be 200 people here. If I extend my arms sideways, as will happen soon, there’s every chance I’ll stick my fingers into other people’s ears or topknots.

Steven Heyman, handsome yoga instructor, raises his voice above the noise: “Take last selfies now,” and two things surprise me: electronic music starts up and my hair clip cracks in two, so that I’m suddenly surrounded by my own hot locks. It’s already 30oC outside and, this side of the glass, probably higher.

I can see the sky but I can’t see Steven though the people swarm. I also can’t hear his instructions because his voice is pitched at the same range as the music. I watch the yogins and yoginis ahead of me, no doubt watching those ahead of them. Today calls for some separation of the senses, I think to an electronic thrumm thrumm.

Many asanas or positions that Steven favours are weighton-arm ones. “The plank” comes up repeatedly: holding plank, thrumm thrumm, lowered plank, thrumm thrumm, raised plank, thrumm thrumm, downward dog, thrumm thrumm, upward dog, thrumm thrumm, more planks. Between thrumms and planks are deep lunges. The clouds look tired and fuzzy.

After 90 minutes, we’re hanging down from our waists and a slight breeze finds its way in. My hair hangs on my mat in a damp clump and then we’re holding the last plank asana thrumm thrumm.

A purple-haired interviewer from SABC TV asks whether I like the venue. I do. I like being in the sky. She says after doing the yoga she feels so calm she won’t need her shrink anymore. I don’t feel calmer but I feel that thrill of having shared something extraordinary as I watch the last sky-wisps slide.

For more information contact Rooftop Yoga on 072-835-2525 or see at