Sanskrit in modern yoga: essential, or a barrier to accessibility?

by Celimar Born, GLYS graduate 2025

Picture this: you walk into your first ever yoga class. The teacher smiles and welcomes

you in. Everyone’s already on their mat, stretching or moving. You sit down, trying to observe

and fit in. As the class begins, you focus on your breath until the teacher says, “Inhale, arms up,

look up… Urdhva Hastasana”. You pause for a moment. The word sounds foreign. As the class

continues, so do the unfamiliar terms. You move, breathe and follow, but you can’t help feeling

like you’ve stepped into a secret club with a language you don’t understand.

For many people new to yoga in the West, this is a familiar experience. Modern yoga

classes such as Vinyasa or Ashtanga often leave little time for explanation and Sanskrit can add

another layer of confusion. In this essay, I explore whether the use of Sanskrit in modern yoga is

essential to preserving the integrity of the practice, or whether it can sometimes act as a barrier to

accessibility.

In many ways, Sanskrit is like the Latin of India. It’s one of the oldest recorded languages

and the language of the first texts describing yoga, such as the Bhagavad Gita, the Hatha Yoga

Pradipika, or the Yoga Sutras of Patañjali. Sanskrit carries the philosophy and spiritual context

that form the foundation of yoga. Because it’s no longer a spoken language, it doesn’t belong to2

any one group or nation. Much like Latin became the language of the Catholic Church, Sanskrit

became the language of yoga.

One of the strongest arguments for keeping Sanskrit in modern yoga is its role in

preserving heritage. It’s the red thread that reminds us where yoga comes from; that it’s more

than our asana or pranayama practices on the mat. As yoga spread across the world, it began

being taught in different languages and styles. Whether you attend an Ashtanga, Vinyasa or

Iyengar class, Sanskrit ties them all together. In that sense, it acts like a universal language. A

French practitioner visiting Rio de Janeiro who doesn’t speak Portuguese could take part in a

class full of locals and when the teacher says “Adho Mukha Śvānāsana”, everyone would know

what to do. Sanskrit terms create a shared vocabulary that helps maintain the integrity and clarity

of yoga across cultures. Rather than separating us, it connects us.

Sanskrit words also hold deeper layers of meaning that are difficult to capture in a

translation. For example, Santosha is often translated as “contentment,” but it also carries a sense

of acceptance and gratitude for the present moment. Āsana literally means “seat”, a reminder of

traditional yoga, when it was primarily a meditative practice rather than a physical one. Using

Sanskrit keeps us connected to those traditional roots. It’s a reminder that yoga is not just

exercise, but a philosophical and spiritual path.

Still, as beautiful as Sanskrit is, it can also be intimidating. Many students come to yoga

simply looking for movement, stress relief, or stillness and not necessarily to learn a new

language. In faster-paced classes like Vinyasa or Ashtanga, Sanskrit terms can feel confusing or

alienating if there’s no time for explanation. For newcomers, that might create a sense of not

belonging - the opposite of what yoga aims to cultivate. Ironically, the Indian teachers who

brought modern yoga to the West - Krishnamacharya, Pattabhi Jois, and B.K.S. Iyengar - did so

to make it more accessible. Their goal was to share yoga with the world, not to restrict it to those

who understood Sanskrit. They sought to share the practice beyond the traditional circles where

access had often been limited, opening it up so more people could experience its benefits. So,

while they preserved many traditional aspects, they also adapted yoga to reach a broader

audience, including simplifying how it was taught.

From a practical point of view, clear cueing in class is crucial for safety and inclusion.

Saying “step your right foot forward” or “lift your arms up, look up” communicates instantly

what to do. If a teacher only says Vīrabhadrāsana A and students don’t know what that means,

they risk missing both the physical alignment and the embodied experience. Some teachers may

also avoid Sanskrit because they’re unsure of pronunciation and for students, too many

unfamiliar terms can make the practice feel less welcoming. Even with the best intentions, using

Sanskrit without context can unintentionally exclude rather than invite.

So maybe the real question isn’t whether to use Sanskrit or not, but how to use it. Yoga

after all, is about balance. In most poses, we reach in two directions at once, finding steadiness in

the middle. Perhaps our approach to Sanskrit can be the same. Saying both Downward-Facing

Dog and Adho Mukha Svanasana allows everyone to follow and learn at the same time. Teachers

might even choose class themes that weave Sanskrit in gradually. A class could focus on one

philosophical idea like Santosha, where students learn both the meaning and how it relates to

their own practice. On and off the mat. When taught this way, Sanskrit stops being a barrier and

becomes an invitation to explore yoga more deeply.

Inclusivity should always guide our teaching. If Sanskrit creates more distance than

connection, we can soften it with translations and curiosity rather than authority. Admitting “I’m

still learning how to pronounce this” models humility, which is one of yoga’s core values and

reminds students that we’re all learning together.

Ultimately, using Sanskrit doesn’t define authenticity. Intention does. That’s Sankalpa, a

yogic concept meaning deep intention. As teachers, our intention matters more than linguistic

perfection. The Indian teachers who brought yoga to the West surely intended to share it widely,

not gatekeep it. If our Sankalpa as teachers is to help students feel connected, curious and at ease,

then whether we use Sanskrit or not becomes secondary. Yoga is challenging, and teaching it

even more so. But if we teach with sincerity, clarity, and respect for its roots, we’re already5

honoring its lineage. The heart of yoga lies not in the words spoken, but in the space we create -

for stillness, exploration, and unity. Yoga chitta vritti nirodha. Whether that’s in Sanskrit or any

other language, the essence remains the same.