Hot, sweaty and scandalous

"It's ludicrous," says Jimmy Barkan, a former Bikram instructor who has been teaching yoga in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., for 20 years. "[Yoga] can't be regulated." Yet that's exactly what Choudhury wants to do, to standardize his classes so that whether you're in Washington, D.C., or Walla Walla, Wash., your experience will be the same. Until recently, Barkan considered Choudhury "like family." But when Choudhury told him to stop teaching certain classes and Barkan refused -- he had already invested $200,000 in his studio and signed a four-year lease -- he was officially blackballed on Choudhury's Web site. Now Barkan has hired a lawyer and is working on reorganizing his poses so he can't be sued.

Or can he? Choudhury and his team of five lawyers say yes. They insist they can easily prove willful violation, in which case they'll collect $150,000 per infringement. For example, if a studio doesn't go by the name "Bikram's Yoga College of India" and teaches with music, they would be charged $300,000 for two infringements. "If you look closely at the copyright laws, [the protection of Bikram's poses] is precisely what they are meant to cover," says Jacob Reinbolt, Choudhury's attorney who heads up the intellectual property group at Procopio, a San Diego law firm. He adds: "I do the yoga, I try to be as spiritual as possible, but at the same time, it's just as important to protect creativity."

Other lawyers say Choudhury doesn't have a flexible leg to stand on. Choudhury's sequence could be considered in the public domain rather than an original work because his Indian teacher, Bishnu Gosh, taught the poses to him. Copyright lawyer Ken Swezey, from the New York firm Cowan, DeBaets, Abrahams, and Sheppard, says that simply obtaining a copyright doesn't mean that Choudhury's assertions will hold up in court. "Copyright law protects 'expression,' not ideas or processes," says Swezey. "A court would have to be convinced that a sequence of the exercises is original, protectable 'expression' rather than merely collection of factual material."

Choudhury's detractors can take some comfort from a legal precedent involving Pilates, an exercise program that focuses on creating core strength. In the 1980s, a New York-based Pilates studio purchased the name as a trademark and required those who wanted to use it to pay a licensing fee and those who wanted to teach it to receive certification through their studio. In 1996, a Sacramento-based manufacturer of Pilates equipment, Balanced Body, took exception to the trademark and filed a lawsuit, with the strong support of many in the Pilates community. The litigation lasted four years, until a Manhattan federal court ruled that "Pilates," like "yoga" and "karate," is a generic term that cannot be monopolized. The court also rejected the argument that only teachers certified by the Pilates studio were qualified to teach the method.

Even though the law seems to be in their favor, many teachers are worried that Choudhury, with his vast financial resources and outsized personality, will somehow manage to steer the law in his favor. "If he succeeds, he paves the way for another person to step forth and claim ownership of iyengar, ashtanga, power yoga, meditation and other forms of yoga-related healing arts," says studio owner Mark Morrison. The larger question is where to draw the line, both legally and ethically, in preserving an ancient tradition that is meant to be shared. "Spiritual practice should be free to all," says Jacob Needleman, a San Francisco State philosophy professor and the author of "The American Soul." "At the same time, you can't deny, even if you are a spiritual being, that you are living in a world organized by money."

Which is precisely why resourceful yogis have started to mobilize: Careful not to use the B-word, the Hot Yoga Alliance, which calls itself "a community of support," has a message board and a link that offers legal advice. And a nonprofit organization tentatively called Once Source Yoga Unity is scrambling to raise a legal defense fund for the Morrisons and other studio owners who are threatened. Mark Morrison says dozens of yogis have already pledged their support -- and just in time. Reportedly, Choudhury has been imploring graduates of his teacher training to open a studio in Costa Mesa to put the Morrisons out of business.

"I don't care," Choudhury says of those who oppose him. "They are pissing in the wind. There is always some idiot. So what can you do? You treat an idiot like an idiot." As divisiveness grows over who, if anybody, owns yoga in America, one thing seems clear: The essence of yoga, or "union" in Sanskrit, seems to have gotten lost in the translation.

This story has been corrected since it was first published.

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