by Peter Pogany

Created on: May 07, 2010

She entered in the rays of the late afternoon sun - mahogany tresses firmly secured by a white headband - carrying a large tape deck, a mat, and a sports bag. We knew instantly that this six-week beginner yoga class was not going to be a humdrum experience.  

The name was ordinary, the black tank top and matching shorts were plain; wedding ring displayed without displaying it - in that certain “don’t even think about it” manner - to no avail. Her glorious spell would make the director of the Louvre put a hole in the Mona Lisa.  

Going around the room we introduced ourselves. Most of the two dozen men and women were in their late twenties, early thirties. I may have been the youngest.   

For a couple of minutes we heard about the Bhagavad-Gita and Maharishi Mahesh, the chakras and the sutras; physical, mental, and spiritual interconnectedness, then her perfectly proportioned, magnificent body went into action.

“Inhale and lift your hip to the skies. Mo-oo-ve it slowly, one side then the other - exhale.”

Furtive glances among men. More of the same when it came to -   

“All fours on the ground, belly to the floor, head and buttocks to the ceiling” and “Wind up sloo-w-ly, one shoulder after another.”      

As an uncontrollable act of nature, the male contingent issued an all-tone rainbow of metaphoric mating dances.    

There was intimation of firmament-shaking physical prowess, virile melancholy, exaggerated confidence, affable simplicity, and unchecked adoration; not even the stupid beaten-dog look and conspicuous indifference were missing.  

Women, of course, noticed the whole thing. Some of them sent her long-wave complicit half smiles, but there were also envious, gamma-ray sharp penetrations in search for the secrets of that master control panel. Nor was an eloquent wish to expedite the mysterious enchantress into the astral realm missing from the feminine auras. A very pretty girl kept staring at the empty wall with an expression that conveyed an almost audible cry: “And me? Can’t you see, you idiot men, I’m here too!”       

These were subtle, elusive phenomena and, though explicable, they amounted to nothing in reality. Not once did I see men hang around her after class for any other reason than to report absence at the next session. She remained off limits even

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