The 8am Yoga Man
by Lily Murphy
Years ago when
I was a student I had an early morning class
every Thursday morning which I thoroughly feared.
As a party
loving hard drinking university student, I used
to dread the fact of rising extra early on those
Thursday mornings where I had to be in my seat
and bright eyed by 8:30am, but little did I know
that my walk to college served as a great tonic
to shake the sleepy hung over head off me.
Every Thursday
morning, be it under sun or snow, I trudged my
weary body towards campus. The route I took was a
short cut through a batch of old houses where you
could hear nothing more than the sound of
curtains opening and the clatter of milk bottles
on the door steps.
I usually made
my way through this area at around 8am, I timed
it well so as I had at least five minutes to
spare for a cup of coffee before class started at
8:30, but on one of these mornings I didn’t
need coffee to wake me up because my eyes caught
sight of something which suddenly woke me out of
my zombie like morning trance.
There,
standing in his living room and facing the open
window was someone I christened as the 8am yoga
man, and every Thursday morning at that time he
did his yoga there buck naked to the world. The
only thing he was wearing was a thick pair of
glasses on his wizened old face.
Every Thursday
morning I would try to avert my gaze coming upon
the house of the 8am yoga man and this went on
right through the cold winter into the tepid
spring until one morning as I was nearing his
abode on my way into college I heard the ear
shattering screech of a woman.
‘ANDREW!!!!!!!
Put some pants on and get away from that window,
I don’t want people thinking I married you
for your money!!’
So that
morning I learned a lot. I learned the 8am yoga
man had a name: Andrew, I learned that he had a
wife, and I also learned that it was to be the
last time he would do his yoga in the nip again,
at least by the open window in his sitting room
anyway!
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