Keshave Makan is an 85-year-old member of Yogam Yoga who, thanks to his daily yoga practice, is healthy, fit and flexible, and practises his headstand every day. Here is his own story of his journey to yoga and how it has changed his life.
My name is Keshave Makan, and my life has been a tapestry woven from the vibrant threads of culture, tradition, and an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. I was born and raised in Riverside, in Durban, South Africa, where the Umgeni River flows into the Indian Ocean. At the tender age of eight, my world was a delightful blend of childhood adventures, including countless swims at the mouth of the river. This was a happy place for me.
Life in Riverside was not merely about play; it was also about responsibility. Each day, once the school bell had rung, I donned my young entrepreneur cap and hopped onto a sturdy delivery bicycle, pedalling through the streets to deliver laundry to the local homes. The bicycle became my trusted steed, and as I navigated the narrow paths, I absorbed the rhythm of life around me— the bustling markets, the aromatic spices wafting through the air, and the vibrant chatter of people around me. This blend of adventure and responsibility laid the foundation for my future journey, instilling in me a work ethic that would shape my life.
Little did I realise that a monumental chapter of my life was on the horizon. In January of 1971, I was granted a rare opportunity—a long break from our family laundry business. With an open heart and my wife by my side, I embarked on a transformative journey to India. The passage from Durban to Mumbai was not just a voyage; it was a noble odyssey aboard a grand passenger liner that took a leisurely 28 days, stopping at ports across East Africa before venturing across the vast expanse of the Indian Ocean.
At 32 years old, my life had been primarily focused on the grind of daily work. For me, the only semblance of exercise was the pedalling of my bicycle and the invigorating swims in the Indian Ocean. Those simple joys sustained me as I worked tirelessly, often awakening before dawn at 5 AM and labouring until the sun dipped below the horizon, sometimes not retiring until 8 PM.
Upon our arrival in Mumbai, my senses were immediately enthralled by the cacophony of urban life—rickshaws, colours and aromas of spices. We were graciously welcomed by a relative who resided in a six-story building tucked away behind Marine Parade, an area buzzing with energy and life.
In the early mornings, as I acclimated to this new and vibrant city, I witnessed something that would forever alter the course of my life. In the quiet of dawn, my attention was captured by an elderly man, spritely and full of vitality, performing a series of graceful movements on the nearby terrace. Next to him, a young girl struck elegant poses akin to those found in Bharatnatyam dance, her movements fluid and mesmerizing.
I watched in awe, captivated by their dedication and the beauty of their discipline. The elderly man was performing Surya Namaskar, a series of 12 postures designed to awaken the body and spirit, while the young girl gracefully transitioned into mudras, communicating stories through her movements. Curious and inspired, I turned to my host, asking, “What is this?”
“Ah,” he replied with a knowing smile. “This is yoga. It is not merely exercise; it is an awakening— a way to elevate oneself to a higher level of existence.”
This moment marked the beginning of my own yoga journey, a path that would lead me through both the trials and triumphs of life, transforming each breath into a bridge connecting the mundanity of existence to the sacredness of being alive.
I approached the elderly man after witnessing his graceful practice of yoga. “I would like to learn this form of yoga exercise,” I said, my voice filled with eagerness. His eyes sparkled with wisdom as he replied, “You must seek a proper guru; yoga is best imparted through a master, not mere householders like me.”
His words, though simple, resonated deeply within me. They set me on a path that would echo throughout my life, igniting a passion that would lead me to seek this knowledge in India. Soon after, I moved to Surat, Gujarat, my grandparents’ ancestral home. This tranquil city would serve as my launchpad, a place from which I could embark on journeys that spanned the northern heights of the Himalayas to the expansive coasts of the South.
Traveling by third-class rail—an experience itself that infused me with the pulse of everyday Indian life—I would journey for seven to fourteen days, weaving through the vibrant tapestries of regional cultures.
One of the first, sacred stops on my newfound pilgrimage was the revered Sivananda Ashram in Rishikesh. Nestled against the backdrop of the majestic Himalayas and the Ganges, it was a sanctuary of tranquillity. I spent five transformative days there, and it was during this time that I encountered a young Swami radiating with wisdom and spirit. He was conducting discourses on Hatha Yoga asanas, and his knowledge was captivating.
I confided in him about my persistent headaches, which had plagued me for years. The Swami listened attentively and recommended a simple yet profound practice: “Do forward bends and clasp your hands behind your calves, massaging for five minutes daily.” Skeptical but hopeful, I committed to this routine. Miraculously, within twelve days, the headaches that had accompanied me for so long vanished. This experience cemented my faith in the healing power of yoga, igniting an insatiable curiosity for its depths.
I was particularly fascinated by the Surya Namaskar, the Sun Salutation—a sequence that invoked both reverence for the sun and a deep connection to the innate rhythms of life. The Swami suggested I dedicate thirty days to training with him, emphasising the importance of synchronising my body with the flow of the practice; otherwise, it would be easy to grow frustrated and abandon yoga altogether. Those thirty days stretched into a daily commitment, and soon enough, I found myself captivated by the beauty of basic yoga asanas, originally practising diligently for thirty minutes that gradually evolved into an hour.
My travels across India were enriched not only by the landscapes and cultures I encountered but also by the varied teachings I experienced at numerous yoga studios and ashrams. I made it a point to seek out each nearest yoga studio in the larger cities, where I dove into different styles, philosophies, and processing methods. This commitment bore fruit as I developed my practice and broadened my understanding of this ancient art.
Eventually, I mastered the headstand—Sirsasana—a feat that not only brought me joy but served as a metaphor for my own journey of self-discovery. Balancing on my head taught me lessons about perspective; it became a powerful reminder that sometimes, to find equilibrium in our lives, we might need to look at the world from a different angle.
From cheap hostels to ashrams, my travels were remarkably free from the common ailments that beset many Western travellers. My body thrived, unmarred by illness, perhaps thanks to the yoga practices I had woven into the very fabric of my daily existence. The more I explored, the more I realised that yoga was not merely about physical postures; it was an intricate dance of harmony, balance, and connection to the universe.
Each city I visited, each teacher I met, and each practice I embraced added a new layer to my understanding of this ancient discipline of yoga. Little did I know then that this was just the beginning of a lifelong commitment and devotion to an art that would not only heal my own body but also enable me to share this wisdom with others as I continued my adventure through life.
As I stood at the precipice of discovery, preparing to embrace the next chapter of my journey with open arms, I couldn’t help but wonder: what further wisdom and experiences awaited me on this awe-inspiring path of a yogi?
In January 1972, I returned to Durban, buoyed not just by my passion for yoga but also by the burgeoning success of my steam laundry business. The rhythm of the factory blended seamlessly with the echo of my yoga practice—a symphony of industry and introspection. I had firmly established a routine incorporating five fundamental asanas that had become like old friends.
Trikonasana (Triangle Pose), with its grounding energy, provided me with stability amidst the chaos of the factory floor. Virabhadrasana I (Warrior Pose) instilled me with courage and strength, while Utkatasana (Chair Pose) forced me into a stance of resilience, a fitting metaphor for my entrepreneurial journey. I would often find myself pausing to take a few minutes, performing these asanas in a quiet corner, sometimes even twice a day, the warm midday sun streaming through the factory windows. My fellow workers looked on, intrigued and perhaps, just perhaps, considering the same discipline I had embraced.
Recognising the hunger for deeper knowledge within me, I soon joined classes taught by Winnie Young, a trailblazer in the Iyengar Yoga community in South Africa. Winnie wasn’t just a teacher; she was a beacon of light who drew the best from her students. Her classes were infused with the teachings of B.K.S. Iyengar, who was set to grace South Africa with his presence—until, of course, the oppressive Apartheid laws thwarted this dream. Instead, she managed to bring him to Lesotho, serving as a bridge between his teachings and eager students like myself.
However, life, with its inevitable demands, often placed obstacles in my way. The challenge of daily attendance was compounded by the relentless pull of business commitments. Yet, I held onto my practices, using them as anchors in a life that sometimes felt tumultuous. Then, in the years that followed 1982, my world expanded once more with the arrival of Swami Satyanand Saraswati and Uma Devi, a vibrant young sadhu. Sponsored by a local Hindu organisation, she radiated a contagious energy and wisdom that inspired everyone around her. I made it a point to attend all her classes at Bharat Hall, soaking in the essence of her teachings.
My role extended beyond that of a student; I found myself driving her around to various venues for her yoga lectures, an experience that deepened my connection to the practice and gifted me with insights that transcended the physical postures. Unfortunately, after her visit, qualified teachers were a rare sight in Durban, making her departure feel like the extinguishing of a bright flame. She was a crucial source of inspiration during those formative years, illuminating a path I was eager to explore further.
The winds of fortune blew my way once again when my son received a scholarship to study medicine in Pune and Miraj. This development beckoned me to return to the western part of India for not one, but two enlightening trips, both of which served as portals into a deeper understanding of yoga and spirituality. Each visit was reminiscent of my early explorations, but now I approached them with the maturity of experience and the openness of a seeker.
During my classes in Surat, where I first sat cross-legged in Sukasana, an encounter left an indelible mark on my practice and my heart. The Guru, observing me from across the room, uttered a cutting remark: “Eh you, you African Walla—you should not be doing yoga in front of my 60 followers.” The sting of his words was sharp, yet I felt a surge of determination rising within me. In that moment of vulnerability, I pleaded for guidance, yearning to know how I might elevate my practice and transcend the challenges I often faced.
What followed was transformative. Two assistants, future teachers in their own right, dedicated time to correcting my postures. They unfolded the subtleties of alignment and breath, transforming my practice from mere physical exertion into a nuanced dance of body and spirit. Their adjustments were not merely about refining my asanas—they were about fostering a deeper connection to who I was.
Driven by this sense of progress and community, I began to negotiate for one-on-one sessions with the Guru, yearning for the wisdom imparted through more personalised instruction with him. I wanted to learn the intricacies of yoga, to understand its philosophies deeply and intimately, not just as a practiced exercise but as a way of life. He taught me at 5 am daily and I attended his large classes thereafter, and the progress I made was tremendous.
Little did I know that my quest for knowledge and mastery would reach incredible heights, leading me toward experiences that transcended the physical and plunged into the spiritual depths of yoga. This journey illuminated my path and prepared me for the profound revelations that awaited me in the continuous tapestry of my life’s adventure.
The year 2001 delivered a profound jolt to my life when I faced the misfortune of undergoing heart bypass surgery. The experience was more than a mere physical challenge; it was a wake-up call, a moment that compelled me to reassess not just my health but also my relationship with yoga. In the hushed sanctity of the hospital room, I grasped the importance of mindfulness and breath with newfound clarity.
Once recovered, I sought solace and rejuvenation at Breathing Space, which was sanctuary for yoga practitioners in Durban. I eagerly signed up for daily sessions, yet life’s demands often played a tug-of-war with my commitment. My journey was still entwined with the fabric of my laundry business, which required my presence and attention. However, with determination, I made the effort to attend classes as often as I could, each session a balm for my spirit.
It was in 2008, after years of industrious perseverance, that I made a pivotal choice: I sold my laundry business. This decision released me from the shackles of deadlines and pressures, allowing me to embrace a fuller immersion in yoga and well-being. Shortly thereafter, I joined Virgin Active gym, where I found a renewed passion for not just yoga, but also swimming in the warmth of the heated pool. The water offered a sense of freedom and buoyancy that complemented my yoga practice; I was reclaiming my health and spirit, one stroke at a time.
However, as the world transitioned into the crisis of 2019, the pandemic brought an unexpected catastrophe, reshaping the landscapes of well-being and community. The outbreak of COVID-19 shut gyms, including Virgin Active, forcing us all into a state of isolation. Undaunted, I resigned from the gym membership, swiftly shifting my practice to the comfort of my home. Yoga became a lifeline during those uncertain times, my mat transformed into a sacred space where I could ground myself amidst upheaval and uncertainty.
As fate would have it, the winds of change blew in a different direction when I stumbled upon the teachings of a remarkable human: Duncan Rice. I first heard him on Radio Lotus, his voice resonating with knowledge and wisdom that sparked a light within me. Compelled by my interest, I reached out to him and organised a gathering at the Jubilee Hall with four other eager students. This meeting would mark the beginning of a beautiful relationship, one that would evolve into a thriving community, called Yogam Yoga, blossoming daily as we spread the practice throughout the Durban area.
Duncan’s classes quickly gained traction, attracting all walks of life and igniting a shared passion for yoga among the attendees. Before long, his sessions swelled to over 50 participants at The White Boxx in Musgrave. (Yogam Yoga has become a vibrant hub of energy and connection in South Africa, where people came together not just to practice traditional Hatha yoga, but to forge bonds and find healing in their shared experiences.)
In the midst of this blossoming community, my travels to Canada and Europe presented yet another layer to my yoga journey. Each trip became an opportunity for connection, as I sought out yoga classes wherever I went. Some studios graciously offered me the warmth of free sessions simply because I was a visiting guest from another land, while others charged steep fees. Nevertheless, I immersed myself in these experiences, absorbing diverse styles and philosophies that further enriched my understanding of yoga.
These adventures across oceans reminded me that yoga was not just a practice; it was a global dialogue, a dance of cultures intertwined by the common desire for peace, wellness, and connection. Each encounter, each class, added a new thread to the tapestry of my life, weaving a rich narrative filled with lessons and insights.
Looking back, the journey has been both challenging and transformative, marked by trials that honed my resilience and revelations that deepened my understanding of yoga as more than mere posture. As I stand in various yoga studios, both locally and abroad, I am acutely aware of the powerful community we nurture—one that transcends borders, unites hearts, and lifts spirits.
With each twist, turn, and upward stretch of my journey, I remain ever grateful for the teachers who have illuminated my path, for the students who inspire me daily, and for the boundless opportunities to explore the profound depths of yoga in my life.