Casey Kelbaugh for The New York Times
Ray Cappo performing with Youth of Today.
THE packed crowd celebrating the 25th anniversary of Revelation Records at Irving Plaza in Manhattan on an October night was predominately pierced, tattooed and male. The uniform was black T-shirts for hard-core rock bands like Behemoth (“100% Satanic”), Chain of Strength (“True Till Death”) and accessories like a “Sick of It All” baseball cap.
Ray Cappo, 46, one of the label’s founders, took his place on the stage as the singer for the band Youth of Today, and shouted at the mosh pit, “It’s been 20 years but the message is still the same: Tear down the waaaalllll.”
The assembled responded with pumping one-arm salutes and staccato head jerks. Few questioned in the crowd knew that the heavy metal rocker on stage had left the Lower East Side in the late ’80s, spending six years as a celibate monk, changing his name to Raghunath and becoming famous within the yoga world for classes featuring crazy inversions, variation upon variation of headstands, arm stands, handstands: a playbook of anti-gravity poses.
Raghunath left rock in a search for a personal true north, he said in an interview. “The pleasure of fame at a young age was not what it was supposed to be,” he recalled, quickly adding that the band was not Led Zeppelin. “And it was juxtaposed with the sudden death of my father. Any idea of shelter or safety in a material world was getting dismantled.”
He found comfort in studying ancient yogi texts, meditation, chanting and long stints at an ashram in India. “My passion is how to apply ancient philosophy in the modern world,” he said. “I teach a fun class so people come. A strong acrobatic class is the best way to get New York type-A personalities on the mat, and then the class is peppered with song and chanting and philosophy and ancient sacred texts.”
The classes, playfully dubbed Flight School, developed name recognition among yogis — especially fellow teachers — and they can credit or blame Raghunath’s influence with the grade inflation on the mat these days, where open-level classes integrate a crow pose, or what children call frog, transitioning into handstands.
In early October, Raghunath taught a workshop to 40 students at House of Jai, a serene Upper East Side studio. On the surface, it is a stark contrast to the Irving Plaza gig. But in a way, Raghunath’s metamorphosis is not as stark. The Youth of Today was a loud heavy metal band, but one with a message the lead singer characterizes as one of positivity rather than nihilism. The transition to monk guru makes more sense in that context. “We were unique in trying to have a positive attitude,” Raghunath said. “It was a radical message.”
In the class, Raghunath led devotional chanting in a melodic voice, accompanied by the harmonium. Then he began demonstrating poses in slow, controlled motions: in one acrobatic maneuver, he ended up upside down on one arm with legs spread — no wall. By the end of the sequences, he was simply balancing on his head, arms and hands not touching the floor. Assisting students physically, weaving from mat to mat and laughing about the fleeting “sensual pleasure” of hitting the click button on Amazon, he repeated mantras as sweat poured down the students’ faces.
Raghunath began teaching in Los Angeles in 2002, moving in 2008 to New York, where he had attracted a cultlike following at popular studios like Pure Yoga and Kula Yoga Project. His reputation grew: New York Magazine ran his photo doing a twisted human pretzel pose, and he was one of the select elite teachers christened Lululemon ambassadors by the high-end yoga line.
Over a year ago, Raghunath made another radical move. He and his wife, Bridget, who is known as Brij, decided to leave New York City for an upstate town for the well-being of his four children (ages 15, 13, 7 and 5), he said. Catching a Flight class became a little bit like a unicorn spotting. “Watching the ridiculous asanas that he can do is a humbling experience,” said Mike Patton of New York’s Yoga Vida, where Raghunath has helped train teachers. “There’s no one like him, and then he packed up shop.”
Now that his family is settled, Raghunath is back on the circuit. His yoga career is being helped by YAMA Talent (Yoga Artists Management Agency), which is like the Creative Artists Agency for yoga stars. The concept may be anathema to yoga-world purists, but on deck is an embryonic clothing line starting with T-shirts. Next year, there will be two pilgrimages to India, an upstate retreat and continued training of teachers.
Ava Taylor of the agency explained that it has software to keep track of Raghunath bookings and it has worked on a sorely needed update of his Web site, which made its debut in May. “I’m not the most organized person, so with YAMA it’s like having a personal assistant so I can teach,” Raghunath said.
An online series of live Webcam experiences of Raghunath teaching will be introduced soon, with devotional chanting, lectures on philosophy and nutrition, music tutorials and his calling card, crazy poses.
At the House of Jai workshop, Misa Watanabe, visiting from Tokyo, suggested that the yogi’s appeal is broad. “I cannot believe I took a class with him,” she said, seeming surprised when asked how she knew about him. “YouTube,” she answered. Ms. Watanabe shyly went up to Raghunath and asked for a photo. He flashed a charismatic high-voltage grin, equal parts rock star and guru. Then he dashed to catch his flight to India.
