Life in an ashram is more about transformation. Here, you don’t just practice yoga but you become yoga. It seeps into your breath, your actions, your thoughts, and slowly, into your life.
Days begin before the sun rises, in that sacred silence of Brahma Muhurta. This time of the day holds a different kind of energy – still, sattvic, and deeply potent. There’s something about this time of day. The air is clearer, your mind and the world hasn’t yet made its demands. It’s a quiet window, where anything you pour your heart into, whether it’s reading, meditating, or sitting in silence for your sadhana, seems to go deeper, leaving a lasting imprint on your inner journey, and you feel it. Truly.
We begin with Pranayama, breathwork that teaches you how to work with your breath, not just through it. You start to notice how closely your breath is tied to your emotions, your energy, and your very presence. What follows is our asana practice, where you move, stretch, and sometimes struggle, not to perfect a pose, but to understand it. You gain a deeper understanding of yourself through this practice. Classes on anatomy and alignment offer not just textbook knowledge but a deeper awareness of the body that carries you.
Then come the philosophy sessions. This is where yoga opens up in a new light. You start realizing it’s not just about the mat. It’s about how you live, how you think, and how you respond. You begin to question old patterns, and slowly, new ways of being emerge.
We have excursion days. There’s something really nice about those nature walks. No rush, no plan, just walking, noticing the little things. The way the wind brushes past, how the leaves crunch under your feet, or how quiet everything feels. You don’t realise how much you miss all this until you’re actually there.
Then there’s Silence Day. A full day without speaking to anyone, not even during the nature walk. It’s just you with yourself. You start noticing your own thoughts more clearly, the way your body feels, the little things around you. And the silence finally breaks with the sound of kirtan, it touches you deeply.
Even the cleansing techniques are their own kind of adventure. They feel odd at first, you wonder what you’re doing, but then, slowly, they click. And you actually feel lighter, clearer. It’s one of those unexpected experiences that stay with you.
There’s discipline, yes, but not the kind that feels suffocating. It’s the kind that brings freedom. You start waking up before the alarm, eating only what your body really needs, and tuning into subtle signals from within. The lifestyle, once unfamiliar, becomes your new comfort zone.
The food here is sattvic, clean, simple, and nourishing. The food doesn’t just fill you; it holds you. It keeps your energy steady and quietly shows you how much what you eat shapes how you feel and how you think. You sit with people you’ve never met before, but somehow, over meals and stories, you connect with each other. Everyone’s healing in their own way and somewhere in those shared moments, you start seeing bits of yourself, the parts you hadn’t noticed until someone else held up the mirror.
A teacher training here isn’t just about learning to guide others. It’s a deep dive into self-work. It holds space for your breakdowns, your breakthroughs, and everything in between. It’s about showing up for yourself first so you can eventually show up for others with honesty and clarity.
Ashram life is a return, not to an old version of yourself, but to the one that was always waiting beneath the noise. The one that breathes a little slower, lives a little deeper, and smiles from the heart.