Balancing Act • by Miel Sahgal • 1

Hamilton Arts & Letters     Grandfather Pitaji and granddaughter Miel, in her family's Bombay home. Half awake, I stumbled out of my bedroom early one summer morning to find my grandfather standing on his head in the middle of the carpeted living room. Pitaji, as he was universally called, was comfortably contorted into a yoga pose while everyone else slept or scurried about their morning routines. This had been his ritual for decades, but my seven-year-old eyes widened as I watched for the first time. On his many subsequent visits to our Bombay home, I knew to tiptoe around when I heard the slow exhalation of pranayama practice, or caught him frozen in meditative silence, his shimmering silver hair oiled and neatly side-parted, thick spectacles by his side. Snail-like, Pitaji retreated into his own private yoga studio whenever he needed to, wherever he was. No dim lights, soft music or fragrant candles necessary. While the youngest among us looked forward to his visits the most, the stories he spun entangled anyone in the vicinity. With a booming voice that belied his medium build, he brought to life tales of Tarzan in the jungle and the adventures of mythological characters, a web of stories he knew and those he’d invent in the moment. But there were some we only heard when we were much older.     [  >>>>>   FORWARD ]   + [Distillate © HA&L + Miel Sahgal {from the Greek bios} -- the course of a life.]