An Interview with Mira Nair

Mira Nair, a filmmaker from India, began her directing career in 1979 with the production of five documentaries.

However, it was not until the release of her 1988 feature film _Salaam Bombay! _that she obtained recognition. Known to be gritty, lush, and incredibly sorrowful, the movie follows the story of street children living in Bombay (now Mumbai).

Nonprofessional actors were casted by Nair and her production crew, who found them on the streets of the city.

The film was presented with the Cam era d’Or and the Prix du Publique at the Cannes Film Festival in 1988 and was also nominated for an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film.

Upon its release in India, a quote from Nair’s mentor Satyajit Ray was featured on the poster, expressing his admiration for the movie by saying, “I cannot recall ever being impressed so much by a first feature.

It is completely unlike any other film ever made in India, and shows complete command over every aspect of the medium.”

Nair, who resides in Kampala, New Delhi, and New York (where she teaches at Columbia University’s graduate school of film studies), has produced films that portray a range of different settings–from a sixteenth-century Indian court in Kama Sutra:

 A Tale of Love (which was banned in India and Pakistan due to its erotic scenes) to working-class New Jersey in Hysterical Blindness (2002) to nineteenth-century England in her adaptation of William Makepeace Thackeray’s Vanity Fair (2004).

Nair is known for her vivid use of color and her tendency to portray raw emotion boldly–which, she explains, “we have not only in Indian cinema but in Indian life of wearing your heart out there–which I don’t confuse with sentiment, because I feel I am fairly ruthlessly unsentimental.”

The renowned Nair is well-known for her hit crossover, Monsoon Wedding (2001). In addition, she has also directed Mississippi Masala (1991), The Perez Family (1995), and My Own Country (1998).

Her documentaries are Jama Masjid Street Journal (1979), So Far from India (1983), India Cabaret (1985), Children of a Desired Sex (1987), and The Laughing Club of India (1999).

Her short movies are 11’09″01–September 11 (2002), The Day the Mercedes Became a Hat (1993), and an upcoming one about AIDS in India.

This spring, Mira Nair released her new adaptation of Jhumpa Lahiri’s novel The Namesake. The film portrays the struggles of living in multiple places at once with a global cast and Kolkata and New York as almost characters themselves.


Nair’s version of the story addresses the disconnect between parents and children, the nuances of marriage, the clash of Indian and American cultures, and dealing with life in New York during the twenties.

On a late December afternoon, I was privileged to have a conversation with Nair in her office not far from Manhattan’s Union Square.

With the illuminated winter sky and water towers in the background, we enjoyed chai and dates which were brought to her from Saudi Arabia by the actor Kal Penn (famous for _Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle, _2004).

She spoke with enthusiasm and animation about her son, her film school Maisha in Kampala, and her garden. She was clearly discontented with the political environment of the United States in recent years, and she openly detailed the winding journey of her career, with all its unexpected turns.

— As stated by Daphne Beal


The Ganges River and the Hudson are two rivers that hold significance to different cultures. The Ganges, which flows through India, is considered sacred by Hindus and an integral part of their religion.

The Hudson, meanwhile, is a major landmark in the United States, serving as an important trade route during the 1700s and 1800s.

Upon revisiting your movies, I noticed the close relationship between the music and the plot. How much of your own involvement is there in that process?

According to Mira Nair, music has a special place in the filmmaking process, as stated in the soundtrack notes for The Namesake. For this particular film, it was the boatmen songs that informed her creative choices prior to the writing process.

BLVR: What is the sound that is heard when someone’s family has come together to spread a departed father’s ashes?

For many years, I have been a fan of the Baul singers, members of a community of wandering minstrels in Bengal.

Through Jhumpa’s bookends, I was able to create a musical track that spanned more than three decades, combining the sounds of the past with the pulse of Manhattan. Ultimately, I wanted to create a film that would give these singers a proper home.

BLVR inquired if Mychael Danna was the one responsible for composing the soundtrack.

I decided to go with a modern British-Asian musician named Nitin Sawhney in London this time around, which I have a lot of admiration for.

I wanted the project to be representative of the South Asian creative power with me, Jhumpa writing, Sooni doing the screenplay, and all the other actors and actresses. We all had different backgrounds, but we were all connected by our roots.

However, Mychael is like my brother and I’ll be back to him soon.

BLVR: Was the decision to make New York the setting instead of Jhumpa’s Boston because this is your place of residence?

MN pointed out that the Boston scenes in the screenplay only take up two or three scenes. These scenes depict life in a Northern European cold-water flat, comparable to a flat in Yonkers.

The script was written with a balance between the parents’ story and Gogol’s story, thus not wanting to focus too much on one specific chapter.

BLVR: What was the pattern you had in your head as you considered the shift between Kolkata and New York, both for the similarities and the contrasts?

I saw a lot of potential in the book for me to explore as a filmmaker and to bridge the gap between the time periods. To do this, I visualized both Kolkata and New York as one place; a mental and emotional state for those of us who live between locations.

I noticed the similarity between the Hudson River and the Ganges, as well as the bridges of both cities. Both cities have a similar energy, as they are both slaves to excellence in terms of politics, art, and graffiti.

Growing up in Kolkata and learning how to see in New York, I realized that the bridges and trees were the major transitions, which became my new secret passion.

I recall conversing with you in 2002 and learning that you were in the midst of planting a large quantity of trees on your land in Uganda. How many were you planting?

Before I started my other gardens, I had a conversation with MN. Over the past two or three years, I have planted four beautiful gardens in East Africa, one of which I created in honor of my mother-in-law, without any sort of plaque or recognition.

This garden is located in a slum, near a mosque in a very impoverished area of Kampala, which was a complete eyesore. However, Kampala is incredibly fertile, transforming the garden from an unpleasant sight to a sweet-smelling, fruit-bearing one.

My own garden is close to being fully grown. I started planting part of it eighteen years ago, while I began the other section after Monsoon Wedding, six years ago.

Ten trees have been purchased, which are a combination of the Ugandan mango and the Alphonso mango from India. I consider this combination to be a representation of my life.

Question: Are there Alphonsos from Uganda?

My husband, who is in Uganda, informed me yesterday that there were nine mangos on the first fruiting tree, which is four years old. We are fortunate enough to have a variety of fruits such as mangos, bananas, passion fruit, papaya, pineapple, pomegranate and loquat.

My hope is that eventually we will be able to become totally self-sufficient with the resources in Kampala.

BLVR: Was it that idea of self-sufficiency which initiated your enthusiasm for these trees?

I don’t really care for decoration; I just prefer to make full use of everything.

Trees, in particular, I am quite fond of. If you have two acres, it is possible to make food off of it. In the area, it is common to have a small piece of land known as a “shamba,” and I don’t see why I can’t make use of the same amount of land.

BLVR: Is a shamba a designated area of land?

MN suggested that it would be impractical to purchase tomatoes when one can cultivate them in their own vegetable plot, which is what a shamba is.

BLVR: What amount of time are you occupying in that place presently?

On the day my son’s school year ends, I traditionally depart on the fifteenth of June and come back the following Labor Day. Additionally, we have a film school located there.

BLVR: That was my next question.

For the past three years, we have had a four-week summer program for screenwriting orientations. To better prepare students who join our institution, we now have three all-year-round classes in this area.

BLVR: What is your secret to managing so many projects while still being so productive?

MN points to her two assistants in the outer office and remarks on their beauty. She outlines why she runs Maisha, which is located in Kampala.

She rejects the label of ‘nonprofit’ because it implies charity, and instead says her goal is to do something beyond her films.

She then explains her motivation for creating Maisha: to demystify the filmmaking process, and to provide an alternative to the stereotypical films churned out by Hollywood.

She has been living in Kampala since 1989 and has found that every moment is full of dignity, power and poetry.

She has also been mentoring filmmakers at Sundance and similar places, and this led her to the idea of teaching right there in Kampala. Finally, she mentions that she has many friends in the business who have come to teach two-week courses.

BLVR:Do they originate from this area or is it from England?

MN: People from England, Nigeria, Hollywood, Bollywood, and New York, like Stephen Frears, are close acquaintances of mine. Vishal Bharadwaj, a talented filmmaker from Bollywood, is coming soon.

The purpose is to bring the same level of educational resources and an extensive audiovisual library to the youth in those countries.

Recently, I read a humorous story by a forty-five year old Ugandan photojournalist who was a jobless business school graduate in Kampala and he mentioned to me that he had just finished reading Shakespeare in Love at the library.


BLVR: Have you begun work on another movie?

MN is currently in the process of creating four twelve-minute Panavision films in collaboration with three other Indian commercial directors. The goal is to raise awareness of HIV and AIDS in India. This project is inspired by the Decalogue and is titled “Wake Up to AIDS”. The concept is to link the short films to big Bollywood blockbusters in order to draw attention to the issue.

MN will soon be traveling to Bombay to shoot a film that explores how the virus can level the playing field between classes.

Is the atmosphere of this location one that is considered to be high-end?

A migrant worker and an affluent housewife are the focus of this real-life narrative, which involves their two different worlds.

BLVR: Is it possible to do it within a span of twelve minutes?

MN is the creator of a movie that follows the story of a “suicide farmer” who chooses to leave his wife behind to search for work outside of a high-rise in Bombay.

There, he meets a neglected housewife who is married to a man managing a Rolls-Royce salon. This man prefers men, so the laborer returns to his wife. Eventually, a baby is born between the four people, leaving the infant as the one who is affected by the situation.

The movie is called “Migration” and MN is also producing a documentary about the Beatles in India. If all goes well, he plans to create a series about AIDS, but the Beatles project may have to wait.

Recently, he accepted a position for Shantaram, starring Johnny Depp, which follows a convict/addict from Australia finding success as a doctor in Bombay and engaging with the city’s underworld.

BLVR: Does your alternating between documentary and feature feel natural? I just watched The Laughing Club of India, which had me laughing a lot.

I also appreciated the way they tell their stories in a subtle manner, as the movie progresses and reveals the tragedies that have led them to the laughing club.

When MN initially set out to make an absurdist film, it ended up being an unexpectedly moving piece. It was through this experience that he realized people who are in search of laughter have gone through hardship in some form.

Oprah asked him to write about an “ah-ha moment” for her magazine and this prompted him to reflect on his own. When he was eleven, he wanted to learn music and had a sitar teacher.

The teacher made him think about his various pursuits, such as painting, theater, and writing, and said he could either be a sitar player or something else, but he couldn’t do everything. This was a major realization for MN.

When he was making Laughing Club, MN was in a low place, having just been through a long legal battle and having returned money for a screenplay he had developed.

He then stumbled upon the laughing club phenomenon and decided to make a documentary with video cameras during the monsoon.

The success of this project led to the creation of Monsoon Wedding and MN realized that if he gave himself fully to whatever project he was working on, there would be connections he never expected. This was his ah-ha moment and the key to his work.

BLVR: Could you tell me what inspired you to create it?

I had been preparing to make two films, Homebody/Kabul, based on Tony [Kushner]’s play, and The Impressionist, based on Hari Kunzru’s novel.

Then, I suffered the loss of my mother-in-law and was in mourning. I was busy finishing Vanity Fair and while on a flight to India, I randomly found a book that provided solace. I contacted the publisher to obtain the rights and within a week, I was ready to begin.

I am thankful for this force of inspiration I experienced and although I no longer look to books for films, I still find my inspiration in the streets.

BLVR: Did you get lost in The Namesake while you were reading it or did you already imagine it as a movie in your head?

I was originally just comforted by the fact that I was not the only one in mourning.

I had never had that experience before. When I came to Jodhpur, I was obligated to do a scene with elephants, but the rest of the movie was already completed, so I felt less frustration. In the evenings I would inform my colleagues that my work was finished and retire to my room to read.

It was only after I had acquired the rights to the work that I began to analyze it and consider how to adapt it. Initially, however, I found it to be a source of solace and a delightful feast for my eyes.

I recall going through the entire movie of The Namesake with tears. Not with an abundance of crying, but enough to make me emotional. It is an exquisite film, with some wonderful cheerful parts, yet the sorrowful tone stays constant.

I have showcased my work in six different cities around the world, each to an audience of around 1,500 people.

The response I have been getting has been remarkable – people are laughing and crying at the same time, and I’m told the reaction is very personal to each audience member. It appears that it is a rare phenomenon, as the majority of films are usually quite predictable.

Additionally, it seems that the movie is resonating with people from all sorts of backgrounds, even though it deals with the topic of loss. It is comforting to know that people are not alone in feeling this way.

Part Three: The Homeowner Stage and the Karma Yogi

The third part of the journey is when an individual moves from the life of an ascetic to the life of a homeowner and takes on the role of a Karma Yogi.

This phase involves the pursuit of material goods and the development of a spiritual practice. The goal of this phase is to live with the understanding that all actions have consequences and to strive to be mindful in all that one does.

This is the final step before one enters the path of enlightenment.

BLVR: Is the idea of family and the experience of loneliness within it something that has always been of interest to you, or is it something I’m bringing to your work?

MN: I believe these films correspond to the stage of life I’m at. Hindu philosophy speaks of life being split into four stages, starting with student or celibacy, then householder, then karma yogi (engaging with the world), and finally, renunciation.

Watching Salaam Bombay! and Mississippi Masala now, I see that they were products of my being out there, gathering stories, and then constructing a screenplay out of them. Crafting the plot took much more time than it did to execute and film it.

BLVR: That’s right.

As I started to build a family, I decided to make a movie during the school holidays in the monsoon. It was a rather intimate flick and I was looking through four hundred potential actors and nonactors for each part. I did not expect much out of the film.

I believe that the conception of Namesake was a product of facing death for the first time.

BLVR: What stage are you currently at?

MN has reached a point in their life where they are essentially between two lifestyles: the householder and the karma yogi. Now that their son is fifteen and their adopted daughter is twenty-three, they have a strong desire to go back to the unfamiliar.

They are ready to embrace the unknown.

Did having a son have an effect on your outlook on The Namesake?

MN: I feel an enormous amount of emotion when I watch scenes from Gogol, especially when the father presents him with a book. It really strikes a chord with me, as it reminds me of my own son.

BLVR: It’s so heart-rending!

My son tends to say “Hullooo?!” in a less abrasive way than Gogol. But sometimes it feels like he’s saying, “Hey, get a move on! Can you finish what you’re saying?” The kind of thing that would make you go, “Let’s get this show on the road!” [Laughs]

BLVR: Does he refer to himself as Ugindian?

MN exclaimed that Zohran had ran for election at his school the past year and was successful, so his voicemail now has a hilarious message.

It reads in a very smooth and American-sounding accent:

“[Name] is not here to take your call, this is the Ugindian President of the United States, otherwise known as the Brownest Man on Earth”. His friends seem to think this is really funny, however MN can not believe that Zohran is talking about himself in the third person.

BLVR: It appears that he is quite content with himself. How about your daughter?

MN: Delia, our beloved daughter, who we’ve known since she was three, is the daughter of our dearest friend who passed away in Kampala a few years ago. Although she has not been legally adopted by us, we care for her as if she was our own.

When I watched Tabu and Irfan Khan’s performances in the movie, I was incredibly captivated. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. Was it already decided that these two would be the protagonists when the casting process started?

I’m sure I was blessed with a guardian angel when it came to casting for Laughing Club. Irfan was the first one chosen, but all the remaining roles were slated for different actors.

I was already familiar with Tabu, having worked on another film with her, and while she is spectacular, I wanted to go with a Bengali cast for this particular production.

BLVR asked the origin of the individual.

I initially didn’t consider Tabu for a Bengali film in Hyderabad because her Bengali fluency was the only thing that linked her to the language. However, the original actress I cast had to back out due to her mother’s directing commitments, so I had to find a replacement quickly for a difficult role. That’s when I thought of Tabu; even though she is an incredibly popular and in-demand actress, she was able to make her schedule work.


BLVR: Many of your films feature weddings as a major scene or point of delight. What is it about weddings that keeps drawing you back to them as a cinematic setting?

When discussing weddings, I commented that they can be quite trying at times. Nonetheless, in India they are considered as very enjoyable and bring people closer together. My niece requested I take a whole month off for her wedding, even though there isn’t one in sight yet.

I jokingly offered her two weeks, but she was determined on her one month plan. So I abided and agreed to it. I actually quite like the whole process, it’s a nice way to get away from the hustle and bustle of life.

BLVR: In a few weeks, we are heading to Bombay for a wedding. My two-year-old is thrilled and can be overheard saying, “I’m off to India!”

MN: At weddings, they have a special fondness for kids, so he’ll surely get spoiled there. That’s great.

BLVR: What place do you consider to be your home?

I believe I have a connection between Kampala and Delhi, yet I have developed a strong attachment to New York City.

It has had a major impact on my life. However, the garden I have built in Kampala has given me a longing to return and I think that in the next 5 to 10 years I can see us living between those two cities permanently.

BLVR: How often do you visit Delhi currently?

I typically spend approximately a month with my family; however, due to the nature of my filmmaking I am away for longer periods. I often come and go during that time.

I was reflecting on the three dad figures from The Namesake, Monsoon Wedding and Mississippi Masala and their tenderness and empathy. Is that merely a coincidence? In the New Yorker profile by John Lahr, your father was depicted as more aloof and unemotional.

I’ve always been fascinated by the concept of older men and the wisdom that comes with age. Growing up, my dad wasn’t really the kind of person that I could get any sort of guidance from. Three men that I worked and lived with, however, stand out in my mind as really remarkable people – Satyajit Ray, Robert Bolt and Henri Cartier-Bresson. I was actually planning on writing a piece for my memoir about them, titled “Meetings with Remarkable Men”.

BLVR asked if the individual had experience collaborating with all three people.

MN: I had various experiences with all three men. Working with Robert Bolt for half a year on Buddha’s screenplay was one of them. I was also acquainted with Satyajit Ray since I had my first movie and I used to meet him every summer from ’83 to ’92 when he passed away.

He was the one who showed Salaam Bombay! to India and I dedicated The Namesake to him and Ritwik Ghatak, two remarkable directors whom I admired. Moreover, I was contacted by Cartier-Bresson one day, out of the blue.

BLVR: What about after Salaam Bombay!?

In 1988 or ’89, I got an invitation from a man to attend his 80th birthday celebration. He was paying for twelve people who he admired to be with him. I was shocked to be asked to come.

During the three days that I was with him, we did photography and then he took me to museums and taught me his technique to look at paintings. He would not let me look at anything else other than what he wanted to show me.

BLVR: How were you aware of Kal Penn’s capability to pull off such distinct portrayals in Harold & Kumar and The Namesake?

I was introduced to the internet and its contents by two fifteen-year-olds I know, my son Zohran and my friend Sam Walker. They kept telling me about this one actor, and I paid little attention.

Then I got a letter from Kal saying he wanted to come see me for three reasons:

He was an actor because he saw Mississippi Masala at the age of fourteen and it made him realize there were people like him on screen and he was thankful for that; he loves The Namesake and gives it to everyone he loves; and his short name is Gogol Ganguli.

BLVR: Was he aware that you were the one creating it?

MN: Yes. I had stated that if someone wanted to fly themselves down, I was simply going to converse with him. When he arrived, his readings astounded me and he had a genuine presence.

I couldn’t get through Harold & Kumar, however the combination of his impressive readings and my son’s constant request to be told it was Kal Penn every night, I knew it had to be him. Primarily, it was his readings while he was here that made me sure.


The context of the matter must now be looked at on a more global scale.


The situation must now be considered from a broader perspective.

BLVR: During our conversation a few years ago, 11’09″01–September 11 had just been released with your short in it and I recall your dissatisfaction that the film was not being received well.

This is what I have here!

BLVR: Everywhere, certainly, the situation was the same. Do you reckon that matters have been altered here?

MN: [Sighs] Do the times seem different to you? With the Democrats coming into power, people have been more vocal about wanting a shift in the status quo. The last three years have felt like a return to McCarthyism.

Even reading a book like The Reluctant Fundamentalist has become a cause for concern; one never knows how it will be perceived in a public setting.

Despite this, it appears that a tiny window of opportunity has opened to allow the truth to come out, though it is still only allowed to be seen in limited, controlled amounts.

My spouse remarked multiple times while viewing Monsoon Wedding that it reminded him of Fellini; I was asked to investigate further.

MN: [Laughs] I don’t think of him frequently, however, in honesty, I took La Dolce Vita with me in Monsoon Wedding as I was working with a crew of rookies, and I wanted to demonstrate to them how to handle extras.

I ended up enjoying the activity, chaos, and intensity again. So that became what I watched for Monsoon Wedding. For The Namesake , I watched a remarkable Bengali film called Meghe Dhaka Tara , which translates to “The Cloud-Capped Star,” by Ritwik Ghatak.

BLVR: Could you provide me with an explanation of it?

MN: This movie is a striking, classical Bengali-style presentation of Indian traditional music. One of the characters is a classical vocalist, and the movie has a quality of allowing the audience to appreciate the music in its entirety. The film has a personal and passionate feel, yet also has a Soviet influence, much like the work of Eisenstein of Bengal. The strength of emotion and the musicality of it is splendid.

In The Namesake, could there be a connection between the stillness onscreen and the effect it has? There were scenes that could have been quite frantic, but the camera chose to remain stationary and give the audience the opportunity to just observe.

I wanted to create a sense of stillness, similar to that of our parents’ generation. Ashoke and Ashima, for example, when they have a cup of tea, it is simply that–a cup of tea.

They do not need to be doing anything else, even though they look into each other’s eyes and express love for one another. I wanted to emphasize the contrast between the courtliness of their lives and the lack of it in young people’s lives today.

Could we agree that this is not only accurate in the United States, but in India as well?

In India, politeness is still held in very high regard, although it is not as common to find these kinds of moments of tranquillity. This is why I was so keen to document it, so that it wasn’t rendered mundane.

BLVR: I recall reading that you attempt to cultivate a peaceful and humble atmosphere on set, which is contrary to the American notion that a genius must be the most arrogant person present.

How do you manage to sustain this? Do you still practice yoga with the cast and crew prior to each day?

MN commented that the cast was often not able to be there in the morning due to hair and makeup, but they did make it during the day. It was also mentioned that yoga was practiced frequently.

Additionally, he mentioned that he believes ego issues are a lot of sound and fury that doesn’t get much work done, and women understand this better than men. Lastly, he stated that he had never had much of it.

Do you find yourself ever becoming frustrated on the set?

For Salaam Bombay! I kept my cool, however the environment was frenetic. Losing my temper would have worn me out and I needed to keep my energy during filming in order to brainstorm solutions.

Thus, any behavior that would have taken me away from that objective was utterly futile.

BLVR: I was hesitant to ask this, but I observed that the only Caucasian individual in the library with Ashima was absent of any silliness. Could it be that there is something fundamentally wrong with our culture?

MN begged not to hear the statement, emphatically stating “No, no, no!”

BLVR: It obviously had a strong effect.

The thing that is so striking, although I’m used to it by now, is the lack of knowledge that many people have on other cultures.

The amount of education, culture, history, and refinement that many individuals possess, whether they be a newsstand worker or a professor, is often overlooked.

This ignorance, which is acceptable in America, combined with a hint of arrogance is a destructive mix, and it is sadly seen very often.

For example, when Gogol was introduced to a woman at a party, she said in an American accent, “My friend returned from India so slim, I was jealous!”.

It is interesting how open Americans are, but I believe that this is due to the fact that they do not have much exposure. Insularity and openness go hand in hand.

Because of your insular attitude, it is possible for you to be that open.

When I came to this place for the first time at seventeen years old, I had an understanding of the Vietnam War and the lyrics of the Beatles.

In comparison to the student from Missouri coming to Cambridge, Massachusetts, I would say I was less overwhelmed by the cultural differences. Certainly, I was more cognizant of my whereabouts than he was.

Was India already part of a more extensive global framework even then?

MN: I have a global perspective because I have been taught the geography of the U.S., Australia, and India. In contrast, many people here don’t have an understanding of the world outside their own borders.

I was once told a story by a filmmaker who had done a documentary on Abu Ghraib. He said the soldiers there avoided knowing the names of the inmates, but they referred to them by nicknames derived from television shows. It was all…

A way to detach is BLVR.

MN states that the prison encapsulates America and that is apparent in all aspects of life within the institution.

Do you identify more strongly with a certain movie-making style over another? Is it the Bengali tradition?

I feel that my approach to making films is a blend of various influences, with the primary being life itself and the street. I am inspired by the cinematography of cinema verite, and I often try to capture the emotion and expression of Indian life, without being overly sentimental.

This is then combined with a more European-style of filmmaking than is typically seen in the US. Ultimately, this creates a style which is neither Bollywood nor Hollywood. As John Lahr said, it is something distinct.

When addressing graduate students at Columbia, what sorts of topics do you make sure to cover?

I’m often reminding people not to use their pursuits as a stepping-stone to something else. It’s essential to undertake a task with no thought of reward. It’s a lesson that everyone should understand.

Despite this, the possibility of becoming famous is ever-present, and it can be tempting and destructive. We frequently want what we can’t have and then, after obtaining it, we want something else. Doing yoga can help with this sense of restlessness and dissatisfaction.

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