There is a reason the Niyamas feel almost inconvenient today. They are not motivational quotes. They are not aesthetic spirituality. They are inner disciplines that question the very way we live, consume, perform, and pretend.
If the Yamas are how I behave with the world, the 5 Niyamas in yoga are how I behave with myself. That sounds private, even harmless. It is not. The relationship you have with yourself quietly becomes the relationship you have with everyone else.
I have seen brilliant people ruin their health while chasing applause. I have seen kind people become bitter because they never learned emotional hygiene. And I have seen spiritual people turn oddly harsh because their practice became a costume.
The Niyamas pull the costume off. They ask for something simple and difficult: integrity when nobody is watching.
Saucha: Cleanliness Is Not About Soap, It Is About the Mind
Saucha is often translated as purity or cleanliness. In practice, I see it as mental hygiene. Not the fake-clean kind where you suppress anger and call it peace. The real kind where you stop letting your mind become a public dustbin.
Today, we live with constant psychological pollution. Doom-scrolling. Rage-bait. Comparison masquerading as inspiration. If you would not eat food that has been handled by strangers all day, why do you feed your mind content that has been handled by everyone’s insecurity?
A story I live by: A client once told me, “I cannot meditate. My mind is disgusting.” He expected me to correct him with something gentle. Instead, I asked, “If your house stank, would you light incense and pray, or would you open the windows?” We did the unglamorous work first. He unfollowed accounts that triggered envy. He stopped reading news before bed. He cleaned up his conversations, too. Within weeks, his meditation was not mystical; it was simply possible.
Saucha is not moral perfection. It is choosing what you allow to enter you. A clean mind is not an empty mind. It is a mind that is not being used as a dumping ground.
Santosha: Contentment Is Not Settling, It Is Sanity
Santosha is contentment. People misunderstand it as passivity, as if yoga is telling you to accept mediocrity. I see it differently. Santosha is emotional adulthood. It is the ability to want more without becoming bitter about what is.
We live in a world that monetises dissatisfaction. If you are content, you buy less. If you are content, you perform less. If you are content, you stop begging for external permission to exist.
A story I remember vividly: I once met a man at a hotel buffet who looked like he had everything. Expensive watch, expensive confidence, expensive restlessness. He filled his plate, tasted two bites, then stared at his phone as if it owed him affection. He said, half-joking, “I do not know how to enjoy anything.” That line stayed with me because it was honest. He had trained ambition, not appreciation.
Santosha is training appreciation without killing ambition. It is saying, “I am grateful now,” and also, “I am growing.” Without Santosha, growth becomes a hunger that is never fed.
Tapas: Discipline Is the New Freedom
Tapas is often translated as austerity, but I prefer disciplined heat. Tapas is the fire that burns excuses. Not because life is meant to be harsh, but because the mind will always negotiate with discomfort.
Modern life is engineered for comfort. Food arrives at the door. Attention arrives in seconds. Entertainment arrives before boredom can teach you anything. Tapas reintroduces friction, not to punish you, but to strengthen you.
A story from my own practice: There was a season when I felt emotionally foggy. Not depressed, but dulled. I kept telling myself I needed inspiration. Then I realised I needed discipline. I chose one small tapas: I would sit for ten minutes every morning, no matter what I felt. Some days it was peaceful. Some days, it was restless. But the real victory was this: I stopped being ruled by mood. When you stop outsourcing your behaviour to your feelings, you recover your power.
Tapas is not obsession. It is devotion. It is the willingness to do the right thing even when the mind offers you twenty clever reasons not to.
Svadhyaya: Self-Study Is the Most Honest Mirror
Svadhyaya is self-study. In psychological terms, it is developing insight. Not the intellectual kind where you can analyse everyone else, but the courageous kind where you face your own patterns.
If you do not study yourself, you will keep living the same year in different costumes. Same triggers. Same arguments. Same sabotage. Different calendar.
A story I often share: A woman once told me, “I always attract emotionally unavailable people.” The word “attract” is a convenient myth. It makes it sound cosmic. I asked her to map her past relationships like data. When did she feel hooked? What did she ignore early on? What felt familiar about distance? She went quiet and then said, “Distance feels like home.” That was Svadhyaya in one sentence. We do not repeat what is good. We repeat what is familiar.
Svadhyaya is not self-criticism. It is self-clarity. And clarity is compassionate because it gives you choices.
Ishvara Pranidhana: Surrender Without Weakness
Ishvara Pranidhana is surrender to something larger than the ego. People either romanticise it or fear it. Romanticising makes it vague. Fearing makes it impossible. I see it as humility with a backbone.
In today’s world, control is worshipped. We plan, optimise, track, brand ourselves, and then act surprised when anxiety spikes. Some control is necessary. But too much control is a trauma response dressed as productivity.
A story that softened me: I once worked with a founder who was burning out, but he called it “drive.” He micromanaged everything, including his own rest. One day, after a minor health scare, he said something simple: “I am tired of holding the whole sky.” We spoke about surrender, not as giving up, but as giving over. He began delegating. He began trusting. He began praying again, not as superstition, but as relief. He did not become passive. He became lighter, and paradoxically, more effective.
Ishvara Pranidhana is recognising that your effort matters, but your ego is not the universe. You do your part. Then you loosen the fist.
Why the 5 Niyamas in Yoga Matter More Than Ever
The Niyamas are not ancient relics. They are a response to modern suffering. Saucha protects your inner space. Santosha protects your joy. Tapas protects your strength. Svadhyaya protects your growth. Ishvara Pranidhana protects your peace.
If you practise them, you will become slightly inconvenient to a world that profits from your confusion. You will buy less validation. You will perform less pain. You will stop outsourcing your self-worth to applause. And you might, quietly, become free.
Not the loud kind of free. The steady kind. The kind that can sit with life as it is, and still choose what is right.
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