The Evolution of the Yoga Practice: From Sacred Seats to Standing Poses

The small studio was already warm when Priya (not her real name) entered, removing her shoes at the door. The scent of incense lingered faintly in the air. As she took off her purple jacket, as she peeped in the yoga shala and observed the other students—some resting in a seated pose, others stretching. I approached her with a smile.

“I was just thinking about your question on the history of yoga,” I said. “Did you know that most of the poses we do today weren’t practiced until the 20th century?”

Priya looked surprised. “Really? I thought yoga was thousands of years old.”

“The tradition is ancient,” I nodded, “but the practice has transformed dramatically over time. In fact, the yoga we practice today tells a fascinating story of cultural exchange, colonial influence, and national identity.”

Ancient Beginnings: Not What We Imagine

When we think of yoga’s ancient origins, we often picture sages flowing through sun salutations or holding triangle pose. But the historical reality would be almost unrecognizable to modern practitioners.

In the ancient Vedas, composed between 1500-500 BCE, the word “yoga” appears only a handful of times, and not in relation to physical postures at all. Instead, it referred primarily to the yoking of animals, astronomical conjunctions, or metaphorically as spiritual discipline.

Even in later texts like Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras (circa 400 CE), asana—a word we now associate with diverse physical postures—simply meant “seat” or “sitting posture.” Only 3 of Patanjali’s 196 sutras mention asana, defining it as “sthira sukham asanam”—a steady, comfortable seat for meditation.

The earliest hatha yoga texts, like the 15th-century Hatha Yoga Pradipika, describe only about 15 asanas, most of them seated positions designed for prolonged meditation rather than physical exercise.

“So when did the yoga we know today actually begin?” Priya asked, now genuinely curious.

Colonial Encounters and Marginalized Yogins

I gestured for Priya to sit. “To understand modern yoga, we need to look at what happened during colonial rule in India.”

During British colonization, traditional hatha yoga practitioners—particularly wandering ascetics—found themselves increasingly marginalized. One historical account notes that “The (hatha) yogin was the common pariah of colonial India.” They were dissmised and were not wanted in the society, infact they didn’t belong to any caste. These traditional practitioners faced systematic stigmatization from both British colonizers and emerging Indian urban elites.

Colonial authorities viewed yogins as threatening and backward, while Western-educated Indians often distanced themselves from these practitioners to present a “modern” image of Hinduism. Traditional yoga practitioners were associated with militant asceticism, bizarre practices, and superstition in colonial narratives.

This marginalization created a vacuum that allowed for a radical reinterpretation of yoga, one that stripped away many traditional elements and reimagined it as a respectable, scientific discipline aligned with modern physical culture ideals.

The Birth of Standing Poses

“But what about all these standing poses we do?” Priya gestured all those warrior sequences and standing balances, where did they come from?

“Those are largely 20th-century innovations,” I explained. “They developed through several fascinating influences.”

The early 20th century marked a pivotal turning point in yoga’s history. As India struggled against colonial rule, physical culture emerged as a crucial site of resistance. Colonial narratives had long characterized Indians as physically weak and degenerate, making bodily strength politically significant.

Several key factors contributed to the development of standing poses:

First, British military calisthenics and Swedish gymnastics had been introduced to India during colonial rule. The systematic approach to physical movement in these Western exercise systems profoundly influenced how yoga would develop. Second, the international physical culture movement was gaining popularity worldwide. Bodybuilding, gymnastics, and other forms of physical training emphasized strength, flexibility, and bodily aesthetics in ways that would reshape yoga practice. Third, Indian nationalist physical education programs sought to counter colonial stereotypes of weak Indian bodies. Physical strength became a form of political resistance and cultural pride.

“Into the cultural space carved by harmonial bodywork and the various permutations of post-Lingian medical gymnastics came the new model of yoga,” as one historian described it.

Krishnamacharya: The Architect of Modern Yoga

As other students began to gather for class, I continued my story. “If there’s one person we might credit with creating the yoga we practice today, it would be T. Krishnamacharya.”

Krishnamacharya (1888-1989), who taught at the Mysore Palace in the 1930s and 1940s, emerged as the pivotal figure in developing many standing poses. He was described as “a major player in the modern merging of gymnastic-style asana practice and the Patañjali tradition.”

What made Krishnamacharya’s approach revolutionary was how he synthesized diverse influences:

Traditional yoga practices he had learned from his guru

Indian wrestling exercises and martial arts

Western gymnastics movements

The physical training regimen of the Mysore Palace

His teaching was adaptable and innovative. For young boys at the Mysore Palace yoga school, he developed dynamic, strength-building sequences that incorporated jumping movements between poses—what would later become the basis for Ashtanga Vinyasa yoga. For others, he prescribed more therapeutic approaches.

“Many of the world’s most influential yoga teachers—B.K.S. Iyengar, K. Pattabhi Jois, Indra Devi, T.K.V. Desikachar—were Krishnamacharya’s students,” I explained. “Through them, his approach to yoga spread globally, fundamentally reshaping how yoga is practiced.”

The Power of Visual Representation

As I prepared to begin class, I added one more crucial element to the story.

“Photography and visual media played a huge role in transforming yoga,” I said. “As one historian put it: ‘Photography represented the perfect Enlightenment tool, functioning like human sight to offer empirical knowledge mechanically, objectively, without thought or emotion.'”

Early yoga manuals and demonstrations by teachers like Iyengar used photography to popularize the new, more physical approach to yoga.

These images:

Naturalized new yoga postures by presenting them as objectively documented

Created standardized representations of the ideal yoga body

Facilitated global dissemination of new yoga forms

Constructed new aesthetic ideals that continue to shape practice

Photography didn’t merely document yoga but actively participated in constructing its modern understanding and global appeal.

Yoga Today: Global Fitness Phenomenon

The transformation was complete by the late 20th century. Yoga had evolved from a primarily spiritual practice with limited physical postures into a global fitness phenomenon dominated by standing poses, flowing sequences, and aesthetic ideals borrowed from multiple cultural sources.

As one observer noted, “Yoga is entering a new phase, one that foregrounds the same Grecian-inspired ideal of psychosomatic fitness that characterized the creation of the modern Games.”

This globalization occurred through several dynamics:

Commercial standardization of practices for mass marketability

Integration into Western fitness markets and wellness industries

Development of competitive yoga presentations and championships

Continued emphasis on aesthetic and performative aspects

“Does knowing this history change how you feel about practicing yoga?” I asked Priya.

A Living Tradition

Priya thought for a moment as she settled into a comfortable seat on her mat. “Actually, I find it fascinating. It makes yoga feel more like a living tradition rather than something frozen in time.”

I nodded approvingly. “Exactly. This historical perspective challenges simplistic narratives about yoga’s origins and authenticity. As one scholar argued, ‘We should understand postural yoga forms as a continuation, in practical, sociological, and demographic terms, of regimes that were already normalized within (secular as well as esoteric) sections of British and American physical culture.'”

This perspective offers several valuable insights:

It rejects essentialist interpretations that claim a single, unchanging yoga tradition

It recognizes the historical fluidity and adaptability of yoga practices

It appreciates the complex cross-cultural exchanges that have shaped modern yoga

It values innovation and responsiveness over claims to pure traditionalism

“Rather than diminishing yoga’s value,” I concluded, “this understanding invites a more nuanced appreciation of yoga as a continuously evolving, contextually responsive practice—one whose richness lies precisely in its capacity for transformation.”

As I moved to the front of the room to begin class, Priya settled into her seated position with a new awareness. The simple act of sitting cross-legged on her mat—perhaps the oldest authentic yoga posture—connected her to ancient practitioners. And as she would soon rise to her feet for sun salutations and standing poses, she would be participating in yoga’s ongoing evolution—a living tradition still in the process of becoming.

“Now,” I addressed the class, “let’s begin with a comfortable seated position—what the ancient yogis would recognize as the original asana—before we move into our more modern standing sequence.”

And with that, class began—a contemporary practice deeply rooted in a complex, fascinating history of cultural exchange and continuous transformation.

The Essence Beyond the Form

After class had ended and most students had departed, Priya lingered, still processing the historical revelations about yoga’s evolution. She approached me as I was straightening props in the corner of the studio.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier,” Priya began. “If most of what we practice today was developed so recently, does it matter if people just treat yoga as fitness?”

I paused, thoughtfully placing a folded blanket on the shelf before responding.

“It doesn’t bother me if someone calls what we do a ‘fitness class,'” I said with a sheepish smile. “The physical form has indeed been shaped by fitness movements. What bothers me is when the practice is reduced to only that.”

I sat down cross-legged on a bolster and gestured for Priya to join me.

“There’s an important distinction here,” I continued. “If people simply want a fitness class, they can go to a gym—it’s even cheaper there. If they want extreme flexibility, they should join a circus—they’ll turn you into a pretzel in no time.”

Priya laughed at the image.

“But that’s not why most people come to yoga,” I said more seriously. “They’re seeking something deeper, even if they don’t initially recognize it.”

I placed my hands on her knees, taking a moment to find the right words.

“The physical practice—asana—becomes yoga because of your intention, your devotion, and your dedication to the divine in you, the true Self. This is what distinguishes yoga from mere exercise. The postures are vehicles, not destinations.”

I explained how Krishnamacharya, despite innovating so many physical techniques, remained firmly rooted in the spiritual traditions of yoga. For him, the modern poses were simply new pathways to ancient destinations—self-knowledge and spiritual awakening.

“The body changes with time and culture,” I said, “but the ultimate purpose remains. When we practice with awareness, when we move and breathe with intention, when we seek connection with something beyond our limited selves—that’s when physical movement becomes yoga.”

Priya nodded slowly, beginning to understand.

“So the evolution of yoga isn’t about corrupting tradition, but about finding new expressions of timeless principles?”

“Exactly,” I smiled. “Yoga has always been adaptable, responding to human needs across centuries and cultures. What makes our practice valuable isn’t its age or its form, but its capacity to transform us from within.”

As Priya gathered her belongings to leave, she felt a deeper appreciation for both the modern and ancient aspects of yoga. The standing poses she had practiced might be recent innovations influenced by Western exercise systems, but the intention behind them—the seeking of self-knowledge, balance, and connection—linked her to a tradition that stretched back thousands of years.

“See you next week?” I asked.

“Definitely,” Priya replied. “With new eyes, but the same heart.”

As she stepped out into the evening air, Priya realized that yoga’s greatest strength might be precisely its ability to evolve while maintaining its essential spirit—a living tradition that, like its practitioners, continues to grow, adapt, and discover new expressions of ancient wisdom.

Image: Nina Strasser