You're reading: From undercover to mass market: the journey of yoga in Ukraine

Yoga practices in Ukraine today enjoy spacious studios with gleaming mirrors, pristine mats, fragrant incense and infinite books on how to strike the right pose. But not so long ago, during the Soviet era, such luxuries could only be dreamed about by yoga followers, who had to practice in secret on blankets and towels instead of yoga mats.

Igor Kozlovskiy, 57, started practicing yoga in Donetsk when the Eastern practice was only beginning to spike people’s interest. A historian with a deep interest in theology, Kozlovskiy first started instructing friends while still in university.

He recalls that in the 60s and 70s the conditions for yoga were spartan: undercover groups gathered in school gyms, dormitory basements and sometimes even squeezed into apartments.

“Yoga was not a community activity in the beginning, because of the introverted nature of the practice. Enthused individuals practiced independently and avidly sought new materials,” shares Kozlovskiy. In the 1970s, Kozlovskiy founded his own school Ayurveda-Yoga-Tantra, which now has its affiliates throughout Ukraine, and even in the U.S. and Germany.

During the yoga boom of the late 80s, Kozlovskiy’s classes gathered 100-150 people in a single massive space.

Using foreign or mystical words like ‘asana, meditation and consciousness’ was dangerous. Lev Teternikov, former president of the USSR Yoga Association.

Some people were drawn to yoga tempted by the miraculous potential of the practice to heal from diseases, while others liked the philosophical concept.

“For me and many others yoga was something of a third culture, a type of a protest against mass and elitist cultures,” Kozlovskiy says. The aura of independence and spirituality irritated the communists.

The yoga’s journey, however, began well before their rule.

Fragmented information about the exercises, breathing and meditation techniques were first introduced to Ukraine in the waning days of the tsarist regime.

A larger following came about in the 1950s, when the USSR embarked on a series of attempts to foster closer relations with many developing countries, including India. The increasing cultural exchange that followed the new friendship spurred a budding interest in yoga in Russia and Ukraine, among other Soviet states.

Yet, curiosity about the East grew and more and more people began to get interested in yoga practice. This did not please the Soviet authorities, especially in Moscow, who viewed with suspicion anything unfamiliar that might potentially lead to independent thinking.

“Using foreign or mystical words like ‘asana, meditation and consciousness’ was dangerous. Instead, the instructors used terms like “breathing gymnastics” and “static exercises” to talk publicly about the elements of yoga,” says Lev Teternikov, 70, from Moscow. He started practicing yoga in 1970 and became the president of the USSR Yoga Association.

“The Soviets didn’t mind the exercise aspects, but the religious, ideological and mystical features of yoga threatened Soviet authority.”

When I first read the word ‘yoga,’ I felt that it was my salvation. Yoga revived me from the dead. – Lev Teternikov

As a result, the Soviet State Sports Committee (Goskomsport) passed a series of decrees in the 70s banning yoga, as well as athletic gymnastics, women’s soccer, karate, and oddly enough, bridge – all as activities harmful to health.

However, the Soviet medics did not present any medical evidence backing the claim of Goskomsport, recall yoga practitioners. Basketball, soccer, hockey and chess were the “right” sports of the time.

Despite the adverse climate for yoga in Moscow some people, including Teternikov, managed to continue practicing and teaching it, often clandestinely in a school gym, he said. For Teternikov, keeping the practice alive was something close to an honor code.

Born with the traumatized spine, he was told that he would die at 40.

“When I first read the word ‘yoga,’ I felt that it was my salvation. Yoga revived me from the dead,” says Teternikov. Today, his 70-year-old lean fit body exudes vitality and health.

A similar story of personal resurrection happened to Andriy Siderskiy, 51. He founded studio Yoga23 in Kyiv, which is symbolic of 23 poses in his methodology. A severe case of scoliosis led Siderskiy to the orthopedic and swimming schools in the capital, which included the elements of yoga.

In Kyiv, further from the Soviet headquarters, the authorities were more lax about enforcing the official ban of the State Sports Committee regarding yoga, he recalls.

“We got lucky in Kyiv compared to Moscow,” says Andriy Siderskiy, 51. “Public lectures were held in the House of Scientists and in the Kyiv Polytechnic University. Yet, it was still illegal and we didn’t walk on the streets declaring that we practiced yoga.”

Even though yoga study materials were scarce, reprinted books and magazines infiltrated the markets. Eager practitioners shared resources, which traveling diplomats brought from abroad. The word was spreading fast among the educated and the curious.

“I had samizdat [publications reproduced by hand] copies of magazines with information about yoga dating back to 1909, when yoga was just spreading in the West. Occasionally, you could find samizdat editions about yoga in English,” said Kozlovskiy from Donetsk.

The pressure from the Party began to lift with Perestroika and yoga began to be practiced more openly. People didn’t have to “whisper” now, but could speak publically about yoga. In late 80’s hundreds of practitioners from other Soviet republics and abroad gathered at yoga seminars and conferences creating friendships and instructing new students.

However, for most people in the USSR, yoga seemed to be primarily a healthy gymnastic with a tint of mysticism.

Even the Soviet Ministry of Health and Sports began to openly encourage yoga practice. With the collapse of the Soviet system, Ukrainian authorities didn’t rush to cancel the ban, as it seemed only a formality by then – yoga was moving into a bright future.

Today, there are dozens of yoga studios in Kyiv, hundreds of instructors and thousands of practitioners. Women especially favor yoga, and men are catching on to the trend.

From self-organized secret groups yoga went to becoming a commercial brand with a tint of glamour sometimes.

Kyiv Post staff writer Mariya Manzhos can be reached at [email protected]