Why I Didn’t Want to Write Just Another Yoga Book
When people first hear about User Manual for a Human Being, they often assume it is primarily a book about Yoga or spirituality. That assumption is understandable because Yoga has played an important role in my own journey, and many of the ideas discussed throughout the book naturally lead towards questions of self-awareness and consciousness. However, one of the earliest decisions I made while planning the manuscript was that I did not want to write only about Yoga. In fact, I did not want to write only about any single subject. My intention was to understand the human being as a whole, and that objective naturally required looking beyond the boundaries of individual disciplines.
As I explored different areas of knowledge over the years, I noticed that most books focus deeply on one particular subject. A book on psychology explains behaviour, emotions, memory, and personality. A book on biology explores the human body, genetics, and evolution. Philosophy examines questions of existence, ethics, and meaning, while religious literature discusses spiritual teachings through the language of tradition and symbolism. Yoga literature presents practices that cultivate awareness and inner discipline. Each of these fields contains extraordinary knowledge, and every one of them has contributed immensely to humanity’s understanding of life. Yet I repeatedly found myself asking a different question. What happens when we try to study all of these perspectives together instead of separately?
The more I reflected upon this question, the more obvious the answer seemed. Human life itself is not divided into separate subjects. We do not experience our body independently from our mind, nor do we separate our emotions from our relationships, or our beliefs from the decisions we make every day. Every experience is influenced simultaneously by our biology, psychology, habits, environment, education, values, and awareness. If life itself is interconnected, then understanding it through only one discipline will always provide only a partial picture.
This became particularly clear while studying Yoga. Modern discussions often reduce Yoga to physical postures and flexibility, while traditional texts describe it as a comprehensive system for understanding the human being. At the same time, I realised that many readers approaching the subject today are also interested in neuroscience, psychology, health, and philosophy. They naturally ask how ancient observations relate to modern scientific understanding. Those questions deserved thoughtful exploration because they reflected genuine curiosity rather than disagreement. Instead of asking readers to choose between science and Yoga, I wanted to examine how each could contribute to a broader understanding of the same human experience.
The same pattern appeared while reading psychology. Many psychological principles helped explain everyday behaviour with remarkable clarity, yet they often raised deeper philosophical questions about identity, consciousness, free will, and meaning. Those questions eventually led towards subjects that psychology alone could not fully address. Similarly, philosophy encouraged careful reasoning but did not always provide practical methods for observing the mind directly. Yoga offered those methods, while science continued revealing fascinating discoveries about the brain and body that expanded the discussion even further. Gradually, I stopped viewing these disciplines as competing explanations and began seeing them as complementary perspectives.
Another important reason I avoided writing only a Yoga book was that I wanted the manuscript to remain accessible to readers from every background. Some readers approach these subjects through science. Others are drawn towards philosophy, while many come through psychology or spirituality. Some may never have attended a Yoga class, while others may have spent decades practising. If the book began by assuming that everyone already shared a particular worldview, many readers would immediately feel excluded. Instead, I wanted to begin from something that belongs equally to all of us—the experience of being human. Regardless of our profession, religion, nationality, or education, every one of us lives through the same body, experiences emotions, makes decisions, forms relationships, and searches for meaning in our own way. That common foundation seemed like the most appropriate place to begin.
Throughout the research process, I also became increasingly aware that every discipline possesses its own language. Scientists describe reality through evidence and experimentation. Psychologists discuss cognition, behaviour, and emotion. Philosophers rely upon logic and careful reasoning. Religious traditions communicate profound ideas through stories and symbolism, while Yoga often explains them through practice and experience. Initially, these different languages appeared to describe completely separate worlds. Over time, however, I began recognising that they were often attempting to understand many of the same questions from different directions. This realisation became one of the central ideas behind the book because it encouraged me to focus less on the differences in terminology and more on the underlying human experience they were attempting to describe.
Travelling across India strengthened this understanding in an unexpected way. During those journeys, I met people who approached life through very different traditions and educational backgrounds. Some spoke about science with great enthusiasm, while others discussed philosophy, spirituality, or practical wisdom gained through everyday life. Although their vocabulary varied enormously, many conversations eventually returned to the same themes. People wanted to understand happiness, suffering, relationships, health, purpose, and peace of mind. The questions remained remarkably similar even when the explanations differed. Those experiences reminded me that the search for understanding belongs to everyone, not only to specialists within a particular field.
Looking back now, I feel that writing only a Yoga book would have left an important part of the conversation unfinished. Yoga has undoubtedly influenced my own life, but so have science, psychology, philosophy, business, travel, and countless ordinary observations gathered through everyday experience. Separating these influences would not have reflected the way I had actually learnt. My understanding developed through the interaction between different disciplines rather than through any one of them alone, and I wanted the book to reflect that same journey.
This also explains why the chapters follow the sequence they do. Rather than beginning with spirituality, the book begins much earlier by exploring the origins of the universe, the evolution of life, and the development of the human body. From there, it gradually moves towards the mind, behaviour, consciousness, religion, Yoga, and self-inquiry. The structure itself reflects the belief that understanding grows step by step. Before exploring deeper philosophical or spiritual questions, it is valuable to first understand the remarkable biological and psychological processes through which those questions arise. Every chapter prepares the reader for the next one because every stage contributes another piece to the larger picture.
Perhaps this is the reason I never wanted User Manual for a Human Being to become simply another book about Yoga, psychology, science, or spirituality. There are already many outstanding books dedicated to each of those subjects individually, written by people whose knowledge within their own fields is far greater than mine. My contribution, if there is one, lies not in replacing those books but in attempting to bring their conversations together. I wanted readers to see that understanding a human being requires more than one lens, because human life itself is far too rich and complex to be understood from only one perspective.
In the end, the book was never about proving that one discipline is superior to another. It was about recognising that every sincere attempt to understand human life adds something valuable to the larger picture. Science helps us appreciate the extraordinary complexity of the physical world. Psychology deepens our understanding of behaviour and emotion. Philosophy teaches us to question carefully. Religion preserves timeless wisdom through culture and symbolism. Yoga encourages direct observation of our own experience. When these perspectives are allowed to complement one another instead of competing, they create something far more meaningful than any one of them could offer alone. That understanding became one of the guiding principles behind User Manual for a Human Being, and it remains one of the ideas I value most from the entire journey of writing it.