The Economy of Movement
The Economy of Movement

I learnt about the economy of movement in a yoga class at school. It was written in our textbook. It told us that each physical action of ours must be deliberate. I was fascinated by the simplicity of the idea: do not move more than you need to. Not a flick of the wrist, more than necessary. Just the right amount of footsteps while walking. Catch myself playing with my hair, as I often do, and bring my arm to rest. Try to stand with my feet firmly on the floor. Feel my tongue pressed against the top of my mouth, and allow it to drop. I am moving, but there is something that isn’t, and I can feel it. I am still, but in motion. I can also hear it — the economy of movement is like a red light in my brain. There isn’t a traffic jam of thoughts, up there. I can feel my fingers pressed against each other, warm. I can hear the fan whirring above my head, the breeze dances above my skin. My insides are working while my body is still. I inhale, wait, then exhale, and my heart beats like a well oiled metronome, keeping time as I move into the next moment.

Sanaya

Sanaya is a lawyer in Bombay. She currently spends most of her time reading and drafting documents. If she’s not doing that, she’s playing music, writing, or planning what to eat, next.

Ouevre

In Between

Poetry by Sanaya

I live in the space between sound I live where you can’t hear the sound of your heart beat I live in pause and rest I live between the staccato...
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Victory Dance

Poetry by Sanaya

Let me dance my Victory dance around the anarchy that crumbles Inside me. Rubber band arms stretch far out Collision Rejection Dismantle this machinery of misery, let each bolt fall...
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Four Hands

Poetry by Sanaya

Four hands divided by two Sprawl across bass and treble and the space between. Four hands means Twenty fingers moving in tandem and all for One song. Play passing the...
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Anthology

Home is where the heart is

Prose by Birgit Reizevoort

I hold my breath and I look at my laptop screen. Nothing but a blinking cursor on a white background. My words don’t flow. I so desperately want them to...
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Mindful

Prose by Sanaya

I’m trying to be mindful. Imagine a body filled with wide, brown eyes, searching for secrets. Imagine a hand yearning to feel a drop of sunlight on its palm. Now...
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Neither-Nor

Prose by Pariksith Singh

Recently, I was invited to Pondicherry Literary Festival, held August 17-19 last month. This came as a surprise request from a well-known critic and poet, Makarand Paranjape. We had renewed...
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