For many people, yoga begins with the first asana.

For Lakshmish Bhat, it began long before he ever stepped onto a yoga mat.

Growing up in a traditional South Indian Brahmin family, spirituality was never treated as something separate from daily life. Chanting, prayer, storytelling, discipline, and service were woven into the rhythm of the family, shaping the values that would guide him for the rest of his life.

In this conversation, Lakshmish reflects on his childhood, the path that led him from a small village in South India to Mysore, his years alongside Pattabhi Jois Guruji and Sharath Ji, and why he believes yoga can never be reduced to physical exercise alone.

Rather than speaking in abstract philosophical terms, he shares the experiences that shaped his understanding of yoga—from family life and Sanskrit studies to decades of service within one of the world's best-known yoga lineages.

You grew up in a traditional South Indian Brahmin family. How did your childhood, upbringing, and that environment shape the way you see yoga and spirituality today?

Long before Sanskrit, Mysore, or the Jois family, yoga was simply the way life was lived. Lakshmish's earliest lessons did not come from a yoga shala, but from the home in which he was raised.

LAKSHMISH BHAT

I was born in a very small village in South India called Madageri. I grew up in a traditional Brahmin joint family. My father had seven brothers and two sisters, so altogether almost fifty people lived under one roof. Today that may sound unusual, but for us it was simply everyday life.

Our family revolved around tradition. Every evening, around 6:30 or 6:45, everyone would wash their hands, feet, and face before gathering in front of the puja room. Children, parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts—we all came together.

The eldest member of the family would lead bhajans. Afterwards we practised japa and recited stotras. When the prayers were over, most of the adults would leave, but we children stayed. My elder uncle would tell us stories from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana. They were not just stories. They taught us about life, character, and dharma.

Looking back, I realise that this was my first education.

Today we expect schools to teach children everything. But schools cannot teach this kind of moral education. We learned respect, discipline, gratitude, and responsibility simply by growing up in that environment. People sometimes ask me where I learned about yama and niyama. Honestly, I learned them long before I ever studied the Yoga Sutras.

My parents never gave us lectures about philosophy. They simply lived those values, and we learned by watching them. That is why I believe yoga begins long before we step onto the mat.

In those days, education was not centred on careers or material success. It was about becoming a good human being.

Many of those values have stayed with me throughout my life. We did not drink. We did not smoke. We tried to live according to clear moral principles. I am not saying this to compare one religion or culture with another. I believe these are universal human values. Everything I later learned through Sanskrit, Vedanta, and yoga had already been planted as a seed during my childhood.

You often speak about the importance of traditional values and moral education. Do you feel that something important has been lost between your generation and the younger generations growing up today?

As Lakshmish reflected on his childhood, the conversation naturally turned to the present. The values that shaped his early years were not taught through textbooks, but through everyday life. We wondered how he sees the world today's children are growing up in.

LAKSHMISH BHAT

When I think about my own childhood, I sometimes feel that I have not been able to give even ten percent of the same traditional upbringing to my own son.

Compared with many families, perhaps I have given him more, but in my own heart I still feel it is not enough.

Every generation grows up differently. My grandparents lived differently from my parents. My parents lived differently from me. And now our children are growing up in a world that is changing even faster.

My concern is that children may soon receive neither moral education at home nor moral education at school.

Today’s education is centred on grades, examinations, and professional success. We encourage children to become engineers, doctors, or successful business people. We tell them to earn more money and build successful careers.

There is nothing wrong with education or with success.

But if that becomes our only goal, something essential is lost.

When I was young, we hardly knew what an engineer was. We knew what a doctor was because we visited one when someone became ill. Beyond that, nobody talked about careers. The focus was not on status. It was on becoming a good human being.

That is a very different kind of education.

Today many people learn how to compete. Fewer learn how to live.

For me, spirituality is not separate from everyday life. It begins with honesty, responsibility, gratitude, respect, and self-discipline. Later, yoga describes these same principles through yama and niyama.

Children learn these values by watching their parents.

If they grow up seeing honesty, kindness, and responsibility every day, those values become natural. If they do not see them, it becomes much more difficult.

That is why I believe the family remains our first school.

Schools can educate the mind.

But character is built at home, day by day, by the way we live.

You came from a very humble background. How did your path lead from a small village in South India to studying Sanskrit in Mysore?

Leaving home was not part of a carefully planned journey. It began with a simple conversation between a father and his son—a practical decision that would quietly shape the rest of Lakshmish's life.

LAKSHMISH BHAT

My family was very poor.

When I was around fourteen or fifteen years old, our large joint family eventually became several smaller families. We all began living separately, and life became even more difficult financially. We had only a small piece of land, and my parents simply could not afford an expensive education.

One day my father said something that completely changed the direction of my life.

He said, “Study Sanskrit. It costs less.”

At the time, it was a practical decision.

Looking back, I can see that it became one of the greatest blessings of my life.

Through Sanskrit, an entirely new world opened up to me. I began studying the Vedas, mantras, and Advaita Vedanta more deeply.

What began as a financial necessity gradually became a genuine love for learning.

In 2000, I moved to Mysore to continue my studies at Sanskrit Maharaja College.

Looking back, I find it remarkable how many things seemed to come together.

The apartment where I lived was the same place where Guruji, Sri K. Pattabhi Jois, had once lived and studied. I was also studying Advaita Vedanta, just as he had done years before.

At the time, I never thought much about those connections.

Today, they feel like quiet reminders that life sometimes unfolds in ways we only understand later.

None of this was planned.

I simply kept taking the next step that life placed in front of me.

Only years later did I realise that those small steps had been preparing me for something much greater.

How did you first come into contact with Guruji’s family, and how did your relationship with them develop over the years?

Life is often shaped by meetings that seem ordinary at the time. For Lakshmish, one such meeting took place in 2002, when a fellow student made an introduction that would quietly change the course of his life.

LAKSHMISH BHAT

In 2002, I met an American student named James at Sanskrit Maharaja College. Most people probably would not know him today, but meeting him changed my life.

James introduced me to Guruji’s family. Around that time, I had started teaching a little Sanskrit chanting in Lakshmipuram, and through that connection I gradually came to know everyone.

About a year later, in 2003, Guruji and Sharath Ji invited me to sit down and talk with them.

They told me they were planning to introduce Sanskrit chanting and philosophy classes at the shala, and they asked if I would like to teach.

I did not answer immediately.

I went home and thought about it carefully. I was still a student myself, and I wanted to consider both the opportunity and the responsibility before making such an important decision.

In the end, I accepted.

That was the beginning of my journey at KPJAYI.

Every weekday, from Monday to Friday, I shared lunch with Guruji and Sharath Ji. On weekends and moon days, I would eat with Sharath Ji, Saraswathi Ji, and Guruji.

Those years remain among the happiest memories of my life.

I learned many things during that time—not only through formal teaching, but simply by being with them every day.

They welcomed me into their home.

Sometimes I joke that they treated me like a house boy. I say that with affection, because I never felt like a visitor. I became part of the household. I helped wherever I could, shared meals with the family, performed puja, and witnessed the rhythm of their everyday life.

Without Guruji’s family, I cannot imagine what my life would have become.

Some years later, after Guruji’s passing, Sharath Ji asked me to perform puja for the family. From that day on, serving the family became part of my daily life.

Even today, I continue to perform puja in their home.

Even today, I continue to perform puja in their home.

It is my way of expressing gratitude for everything they have given me over the years.

To me, they are not only my gurus.

They are also my family.

You grew up in a deeply traditional Brahmin family and were immersed in spirituality from a very young age. Even so, what were some of the most important lessons you learned from Pattabhi Jois Guruji and Sharath Ji?

Living with Guruji's family gave Lakshmish something few people ever experience. The lessons he received did not come only through formal teaching, but through years of quietly observing how his teachers lived each day.

LAKSHMISH BHAT

There is no doubt that my family gave me a strong spiritual foundation.

From childhood, I learned chanting, japa, Vedic traditions, and many aspects of spiritual life. Later I studied Sanskrit, Vedanta, and the mantras in much greater depth.

Everything I received from my family became the foundation of my life.

But Guruji and Sharath Ji taught me something different.

They did not simply teach philosophy. They showed me how to live it.

By watching them every day, I learned how to work, how to respond to different situations, and how to remain steady no matter what was happening around me.

One lesson stayed with me more than any other.

Duty comes first. Spirituality comes first.

I heard those words.

But more importantly, I saw them lived.

What impressed me most was not what they said, but how they lived. Their actions, their body language, and the way they carried themselves every day taught me lessons that no classroom ever could.

Many people think spiritual teaching happens only when a guru gives a discourse.

My experience was different.

Some of the deepest lessons came through ordinary moments—working together, eating together, serving together, and simply watching how they responded to life.

When I look back on those years, I realise those quiet moments shaped me just as much as anything I learned from books.

For that, I will always remain grateful.

You grew up in a large traditional family, and throughout the Ashtanga Yoga parampara—from Ramamohana Brahmachari to Krishnamacharya, Pattabhi Jois Guruji, and Sharath Ji—the gurus lived as householders and raised families while maintaining a deep spiritual life. Do you think there is any significance to this within the Ashtanga tradition?

For Lakshmish, family life has never been separate from spiritual life. Looking at the Ashtanga lineage, he sees a tradition in which practice and responsibility have always gone hand in hand.

LAKSHMISH BHAT

According to the tradition of Adi Shankaracharya, life unfolds through four stages.

The first is brahmacharya, the life of a student. The second is grihastha, the life of a householder. The third is vanaprastha, when we gradually withdraw from worldly responsibilities and devote more time to spiritual study. Finally comes sannyasa, the stage of complete renunciation.

These stages are not separate from spiritual life.

They are spiritual life.

Each has its own purpose, and each prepares us for the next.

When our education is complete, we marry, raise a family, and pass our knowledge and values to the next generation. We learn to care for others, to serve our guests, to offer food, and to fulfil our responsibilities.

This is the life of a householder.

Later, when our children are ready to take on those responsibilities, we gradually step back. Together with our partner, we spend more time studying the Upanishads and deepening our spiritual practice.

Eventually, renunciation comes naturally.

It is not something we force.

It comes when the time is right.

Today, I sometimes feel that many people want companionship, but not responsibility.

People say, “Marriage is too much responsibility. Children are too much responsibility.”

I do not see it that way.

Life has its own natural order.

When the time comes for each stage of life, we should embrace it rather than run away from it.

If you look at our own parampara, you can see this very clearly.

Ramamohana Brahmachari had a family.

Krishnamacharya had a family.

Pattabhi Jois Guruji had a family.

Sharath Ji has a family.

None of this has ever been seen as a contradiction to spiritual life.

In fact, family life gives us countless opportunities to practise patience, compassion, selflessness, discipline, and service.

If we approach it in the right way, it becomes part of our sadhana.

Another point that is often misunderstood is brahmacharya, one of the yamas.

Many people think it simply means never marrying.

That is not how I understand it.

For me, brahmacharya means living honestly and responsibly within the life you have chosen.

If you are married, honour that commitment.

Be faithful to your partner.

Live with integrity.

This is also brahmacharya.

Yoga should never take us away from life. It should teach us how to live life well.

Having witnessed the evolution of modern yoga over the last two decades, what concerns you most about the direction yoga is taking today?

As our conversation drew to a close, it naturally returned to the question at the heart of Lakshmish's work. After years of teaching philosophy and observing the growth of modern yoga around the world, what does he hope practitioners will remember?

LAKSHMISH BHAT

In the Bhagavad Gita, Lord Krishna explains that, over time, the true understanding of yoga can gradually be lost.

Sometimes, when I look at the modern world, I feel that this is happening today.

Many people now approach yoga only as physical exercise. Practice becomes centred on the body—burning calories, becoming stronger, becoming more flexible, or improving physical fitness.

If that is all yoga becomes, then I have to ask:

What is the difference between yoga, gymnastics, aerobics, or any other form of exercise?

People arrive with beautiful yoga clothes and beautiful yoga mats. They practise with enthusiasm, they sweat, they burn calories, and then they return to exactly the same way of living.

For me, that is not yet a yogic life.

Yoga is not something we practise for ninety minutes. It is something we live.

That is why I always encourage students to bring yama and niyama into their practice—not only on the mat, but into every part of daily life.

Without them, practice easily becomes nothing more than physical exercise.

According to the Bhagavad Gita, yoga is ultimately a path of self-purification.

Our food, our lifestyle, our relationships, our thoughts, and our actions all become part of the practice.

Everything matters.

Of course, yoga has changed over the last twenty or twenty-five years.

Some change is natural.

But we also have a responsibility.

It is our responsibility to preserve yoga without losing its heart.

This is my humble request to everyone.

Practise yoga as it is.
Practise yoga as it is.
Practise yoga in a spiritual way.
Practise with sincerity.

If you do that, yoga will gradually transform not only your body, but your whole life.

That is what is truly important.

As our conversation came to an end, one thing stood out above everything else.

Lakshmish never spoke about yoga as something separate from life.

He spoke about family before philosophy.

About character before achievement.

About responsibility before recognition.

About practice that begins long before stepping onto a yoga mat.

Throughout our conversation, yoga never appeared as a goal in itself.

It emerged as a way of living.

A way of becoming a more honest, responsible, and compassionate human being.

When Lakshmish speaks about preserving the tradition, he is not speaking only about asana, chanting, or philosophy.

He is speaking about preserving the values that give those practices meaning.

Yoga begins long before the first asana.

Interview edited for clarity and readability while preserving Lakshmish Bhat's original voice, intent, and message.