While the various yoga practices belong to the long tradition of Indian culture, the specific arrangement of these poses can be uniquely organized, and thus potentially owned by an individual — or so it was previously thought.
On June 22, the Copyright Office seemed to reverse itself. Deputy General Counsel Robert Kasunic issued a clarification, declaring that if yoga postures improve health, they cannot be copyrighted. He added that any prior yoga copyrights were "issued in error."
PHOTO BY KEVIN P. CASEY
Greg Gumucio's Yoga to the People studios pose a financial threat to Choudhury.
PHOTO BY SARA KERENS
Tricia Donegan, best known as Lady Gaga's yoga instructor, supports Choudhury.
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The announcement threw the dispute into the air. Now the question isn't just whether Gumucio violated a copyright but whether Choudhury's copyright is valid at all.
This would appear to leave Choudhury on thin ice. The healing of ailments has always been his primary selling point. At least, that's how Gumucio sees it.
"Not only does this get me out of my legal mess but it critically and unequivocally says yoga cannot be copyrighted," he says.
Unfortunately, it's not quite that simple. Nothing to do with the federal government ever is.
While Kasunic admits that Choudhury's copyright likely was issued in error, and that no new copyrights will be issued to yoga, he also says his office has no plans to re-evaluate the ones already issued.
In other words, his is a quintessential government mea culpa: Yes, we probably messed up. But you don't expect us to actually do anything about it, do you?
Instead, Choudhury and Gumucio will have to wait for a judge to settle their war when the case goes to trial in Los Angeles sometime next year.
To most of the country, the yoga war may be nothing more than another mercantile fight between two titans wrestling over the spoils of their industry. Yet back at the banquet hall in Boston, Choudhury frames Gumucio as a villain on par with the all-time greats.
"If you have a sick body, a screw-loose brain, you will only be surviving — that will be a man like Greg, Hitler or Osama bin Laden," he says, between bites of plump scallops.
Choudhury now claims "zero feeling" for his old disciple. He believes the U.S. courts eventually will decide that rectitude is at his side, where it belongs.
"You cannot steal somebody's intellectual property. Law and justice protect," Choudhury says, leaning close to be heard amid the roar of conversation, his small brown eyes red with exhaustion. "Because I'm a sweet, kind guy, everybody thinks I'm an idiot, I'm weak. Now I have to protect my franchising. If I don't, nobody will buy my franchising anymore."
Suddenly, there is the chime of a butter knife clinking against a wine glass for quiet. It comes from one of Choudhury's close friends, who is standing with his arm around the guru's wife, Rajashree.
"Today is Bikram and Rajashree's 23rd wedding anniversary," the man announces proudly as the room erupts in applause.
"Oh, I forgot! Shit!" Choudhury exclaims as a large mango cake is wheeled to the center of the room. "I forgot completely! Shit! Why you didn't remind me? Shit! You keep me too busy!"
The yogis sing "happy anniversary" to the tune of "Happy Birthday." Then Choudhury announces that, far from forgetting the occasion, he has bought his wife one of the world's most expensive cars, an $800,000 Rolls-Royce convertible.
Choudhury seems to inflate with energy as he addresses his followers. "You work hard to make me famous," he says. "Something I did right all over the globe."
"Brainwashing!" someone calls out.
Choudhury laughs. "Nobody in the world ever did this," he continues. "Nobody built a family like this."
A family — with all the usual exclusions and estrangements.
When he returns to the table, Choudhury turns to me. "Greg Gumucio, he's finished," he says. "He's ass in the grass."
