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Time of India
2 days ago
- Lifestyle
- Time of India
From temple trail to office desk: Unique yoga trends reshaping city's wellness culture
From underwater postures to heritage-themed yoga experiences, here are five unique yoga trends gaining traction in the city: Long known for its deep-rooted connection to spiritual disciplines, Chennai is now seeing a creative transformation in its yoga practices. Blending tradition with innovation, these emerging yoga trends are not only rejuvenating the body but also redefining the wellness culture of the city. From underwater postures to heritage-themed yoga experiences, here are five unique yoga trends gaining traction in the city: Sundown rooftop yoga with Carnatic fusion This type of yoga is set against the city's twilight sky. Rooftop yoga is now paired with live Carnatic music fusions performed by young artistes. These sessions on terrace gardens and coworking rooftops offer a perfect escape from Chennai's traffic chaos, with sound and motion creating a sensory detox. Underwater yoga on ECR Imagine holding your breath in sync with your breathwork – quite literally. A handful of coastal resorts along the East Coast Road (ECR) now offer underwater yoga classes in specially designed pools. This innovative trend combines pranayama and asanas with the calming resistance of water, improving lung capacity and focus. Temple trail yoga This trend invites practitioners on a journey through Chennai's rich spiritual tapestry. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Esse novo alarme com câmera é quase gratuito em Piraquara (consulte o preço) Alarmes Undo Led by heritage yogis, temple trail yoga involves early morning sessions at historical temples like Kapaleeshwarar and Parthasarathy, where the architecture and spiritual ambiance intensify the meditative experience. Office desk yoga for corporate wellness Companies in Chennai's IT hubs like Guindy and OMR are introducing desk yoga during work hours. Instructors conduct 15–20 minute sessions involving neck rolls, wrist stretches, and desk-side breathing techniques. The reason why it's needed is that it reduces stress, eye strain, and physical fatigue among deskbound professionals without interrupting workflow. Eco-yoga in urban forests As part of the urban greening wave, a few NGOs and eco-groups in the city have introduced eco-yoga - community yoga events in reclaimed forest pockets like Semmozhi Poonga and Nageswara Rao Park. These sessions include mud grounding, barefoot walking, and forest breathing, promoting harmony with nature. One step to a healthier you—join Times Health+ Yoga and feel the change
The Hindu
28-05-2025
- The Hindu
Author Prajwal Parajuly on why chutney, not idli, is his go-to dish
To survive the many splendours of Sri City, where I live part of the year, one must get away every so often. Weekending in Chennai is the easiest option. For several of my colleagues, Chennai means concerts. For others, it means stocking up on miso and pesto. For yet others, it means brunch at Pumpkin Tales and cocktails at MadCo. What would Chennai mean to me? I had enjoyed the whimsy of Tulika Books and the gastronomic wonder that was Avartana. I had jumped rope at the Madras Club and had twice eaten the cloud pudding at Kappa Chakka Kandhari. I had also had a bit of a spiritual awakening watching a rooster sashay down a ramp at the Kapaleeshwarar temple. All delightful experiences, no doubt, but mere footnotes to the one thing that would bring me back to Chennai again and again: the humble idli chutney. The array of chutneys at Murugan Idli, to be specific. I didn't know what a preoccupation these chutneys would become when I first made my way to the GN Road outlet at T Nagar. An innocuous idli was plonked on my banana leaf, on top which the waiter ladled out a generous portion of sambhar. There they were in white, green, and two varieties of orange — a quartet of chutneys so flavourful that the idli seemed like an afterthought. There was just the right hint of piquancy, and what was that I tasted? It was sesame, its lavish use genius. I went to Murugan again for dinner and returned for lunch the next day. It is now almost always my first stop when I get into Chennai. What is it about Murugan? It is unassuming. But that can be said for any number of Chennai eateries. The service is indifferent on a good day and infuriating on most days. No one will go to any of the outlets for the ambience either. If I am not going for the vibes or the service, why would I submit myself to a meal — sometimes two meals — a day? It's because I am a chutney addict through and through. Nothing else matters — not the crisp rava dosa nor the sambhar. Neither the fluffy idli nor the inoffensive uttapam. I eat the chutneys — dollops and dollops of them — like they are the main course and the idli, the accompaniment. How I love making snaky rivulets on the banana leaf with my fingers, mixing and matching one, two, three or four chutneys with a smidgen of idli, and guiding the concoction to my mouth as it drips down my elbow, yellowing my shirt, and filling my gluttonous heart with unbridled joy. I'd soon realise that few topics polarise Chennai more than Murugan Idli. For each foodie who unequivocally declares the restaurant as her favourite, there's the one who froths at his mouth recounting its circumspect hygiene. 'Went … a month ago, and it was ghastly,' pronounces my editor, not one to mince words. There are those for whom the lack of consistency jars. 'I'll only go to the one across from the Armenian church,' my colleague Kaveri once declared. My sister points out that in a city brimming with excellent food, Murugan is middling, but she also forks and knifes her dosa, so her opinion doesn't count. Eating Circles any day, some say. There are then the Sangeetha militants. No self-respecting Sangeetha loyalist will out himself as a Murugan fan. Sure, not every Murugan is created equal. I'll set foot in the Besant Nagar location only for takeaway chutneys and nothing else. Not one dosa I have eaten there has come out warm. Plus, in a neighborhood with Native Tiffins and Vishranti — the idli at the former is so well fermented that it renders the chutney useless — a lack-lustre Murugan is just wrath-inducing. I've given the outlet three (three!) chances, and I fully sympathise with those who are unconvinced of Murugan's greatness because it's the one location that can't get anything right. That doesn't mean I will not judge these Murugan haters for dismissing my beloved chain altogether. I shall judge them almost as severely as I do those food writers who describe the idli as a rice cake, the dosa as a crepe and — the biggest horror — the chutney as a kind of pickle. Friends joke that I am responsible for quadrupling Murugan's profits. But they are wrong. Idli is cheap food. I feel awful that the fourth, fifth and sixth free chutney helpings likely cost more than the 23 rupees per idli that I am charged. To circumvent this guilt, I invariably order a rava masala onion dosa, eating which requires … another few ladles of chutney. I return to Sri City with more chutney than blood in my veins. Prajwal Parajuly is the author of The Gurkha's Daughter and Land Where I Flee. He loves idli, loathes naan, and is indifferent to coffee. He teaches Creative Writing at Krea University and oscillates between New York City and Sri City.
