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Yoga, A Love Story

The Novel

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This is my story in all its nakedness. It is the truth as much as I remember it. I tell you this because it’s been many years since it occurred and sometimes even I don’t believe that it happened. Yet, it did. All of the mystical, magical details are true. I either experienced them directly or witnessed them with my own eyes. They include things I never imagined were possible and are based upon the one true thing I know in my heart is always possible… LOVE


I am a shoot from the blessed tree. The three previous generations of Asanga men, including my father, were born with signs that portended greatness. Times like 7 a.m. on the 7th day of the 7th month.  Devas and other creatures of the heavenly realm flitted and flirted about to celebrate their entrance into this world. Yet, unlike my forefathers, I, John Yogacara Asanga, had an inauspicious birth.

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Chapter 42 The Tiger's Den

Aijeba and I continued down our path as quietly as possible.
As advertised, about a mile in, we came across remnants of her
kills. Chital bones, gaur and boar tusks gleamed in the dusky
shade of the trees; in areas, there were still tufts of fur clinging
to the wet bone. This was no ordinary jungle predator; tigers are
usually solitary hunters and one gaur bull alone would be enough
to satisfy several hungry felines. This creature had ravaged three
rather large animals in a few days at most. The killings were so
recent that the vultures had yet to clean up the mess; or, perhaps,
they too shunned such evil.


The Jungle

Listen, listen to the stories of the trees,
Emanating in voices from their roots to their leaves.
The wind blows magnetic, it too prophetic,
For those with hearts and minds intertwined.


15303 Ventura Boulevard, Suite 900
Sherman Oaks, Ca 91307

310 713-1346

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