be done. She described the experience as a great healing of her own sense of fragmentation, as a child of divorce and family rivalry, knowing that her great teacher still loved her even though she had, as one person put it "danced with another and then told him he liked it." I remembered the highly criticized error of placing my hand alongside the foot in triangle (Iyengar style) rather than grasping the big toe in Ashtanga class. Or breathing ujjayi in good Asthanga style, to the complaint of an imperious workshop leader, about "this business of breathing like a horse!" Yoga, like every other human endeavour, shares the human attribute of yawning political divides, insufficiency of otherness. Though I have never met him, I thought of how BKS Iyengar had cast his light and his attitudes into my life, since 1986, through teachers who learned from him directly, or indirectly. Now, thanks to this lucid and powerful book, I feel privileged to know Iyengar more deeply than I ever thought possible. As a practitioner of yoga for about a decade or so, I've learned to separate the life-changing art of practicing yoga from writing ABOUT yoga, the latter of which tends to oscillate between the flaky and the just-plain-stupid. So I have to admit, I was a little skeptical when a yoga-practitioner friend of mine recommended Kadetsky's book. To begin with, I was instantly drawn in by her magnetic prose and lush descriptions of India, but as I read on,