Industrial fan blowing and I try not to slip on the blanket that is too thin to cushion the pressure of my bones against the tiled floor. Laptop up on a desk, screen tilted down and volume turned up. This is what yoga looks like in the research house. As luck would have it, the treasurer of the foundation of which I am an employee walks in while we hold a pose. It’s hard to laugh when your arms and legs are pointed in different directions to wring out your core. I end the session in shavasana, or Corpse Pose, palms up, offering my body up to the mosquitos.