5 Sanskrit Words We Keep Getting Wrong (and Why It Actually Matters)
Ever whispered “what?” to your mat neighbor mid–Down Dog when your instructor suddenly starts speaking another language?
Or what exactly Tay Swift was getting at with, “Karma is a cat, purring in my lap…” (spoiler: pretty sure even she’s still figuring that one out)
You’re in the right place!
Today we’re unpacking the Sanskrit words we love to say but rarely get right and why it matters.
Been using “Namaste” like “peace out” for years? Don’t panic, it’s not Kanye-on-the-playlist bad. But still, let’s get educated, k?
When there’s no perfect English translation, we borrow words from other cultures all the time. Think connoisseur, déjà vu, feng shui, and my personal fav, siesta. It’s what humans do: we blend, borrow, and build meaning.
But Sanskrit’s a bit different and it’s worth unpacking why.
So what is Sanskrit, anyway, and why does my yoga teacher keep dropping secret code names for the poses?
History nerds, you’ll love this. Everyone else, buckle up. I promise there’s a point!
Most people think language history starts with Latin, but Sanskrit was here centuries earlier. Born in India, it was considered the language of the gods and passed down orally long before anyone thought to write it down. The first texts, the Vedas, might ring a bell — they’re a collection of hymns, rituals, and reflections that formed the foundation of Hinduism, as well as the philosophical backbone of yoga itself.
All of the OG yoga texts, from the Vedas and Upanishads to the Bhagavad Gita and Yoga Sutras, were written in Sanskrit. But as the world globalized and new regional languages like Hindi, Tamil, and Bengali emerged, Sanskrit slowly faded from daily use. And when yoga eventually traveled west, it went through its own translation, shaped by colonization, interpretation, and later, commercialization. Somewhere along the way, the depth got a taaaad watered down.
A palm-leaf manuscript of the Rig Veda, one of the oldest known sacred texts.
Here are my top two reasons why it actually matters to get the Sanskrit words right:
1. Let’s not white-wash the practice
When the British colonized India, they replaced traditional education with English-language schools as part of a wider push to reshape Indian identity and values. Sanskrit was labeled outdated, while English was crowned the language of “superior” knowledge.
But Sanskrit never fully disappeared. After independence, India restored it as one of its official languages, an act of quiet resistance and cultural reclamation.
Fast-forward a few decades, and it has emerged in the West through modern slang and yoga. The irony? When we use Sanskrit just because it sounds cool or aesthetic, we risk echoing the same history that once tried to erase it. How about we get it right this time around and honor the roots that built the practice!!!
2. Ancient meaning can’t survive modern shortcuts
Simplifying Sanskrit or translating it word-for-word dilutes its meaning, especially when you’re dealing with an ancient language that was designed to hold layers of depth, vibration, and philosophy.
British historian Thomas Macaulay famously wrote that “one shelf of English literature is worth more than all the literature of India combined.” While he was probably tossing some subtle shade, let’s reframe it – in English we don’t shut the heck up!!! We’ve got a million words to say absolutely nothing at all.
Sanskrit doesn’t waste its breath. Every sound, root, and variation carries layers of meaning that don’t quite fit into English. One Sanskrit word can hold what might take a full sentence to explain in English.
Sanskrit is also a vibrational language, where sound and meaning are intertwined. Every syllable is crafted for its resonance, rhythm, and energetic effect.
And here’s where it gets even more interesting. Sanskrit, like most Indian languages, is verb-based. It’s built around movement, process, and flow. English, in contrast, is noun-based and leans toward labeling, defining, and categorizing. Sanskrit describes becoming, not just being, which makes it nearly impossible to capture its full essence in static English words.
So if you’re hoping for a one-word English-to-Sanskrit shortcut — look again, sis. This language doesn’t do simple.
Students in an Anglo-vernacular classroom in Karachi, British India (1873) — history worth remembering as we choose what comes next.
Now that you have the run-down, the next time your instructor cues Adho Mukha Svasana you’re gonna be like ohhhh this is important. Because now you know the Sanskrit has a meaning (think humility and surrender) beyond just where your feet go. Right…? Still with me?
If I lost you somewhere between Adho Mukha Svanasa-whaaat? and colonial history, here’s the juicy part: even if you’ve never set foot in a yoga studio, you’ve probably misused a Sanskrit word or two.
Here’s what happened when wisdom went west (& south!) and how we can make it right:
Guru
Modern Misfire: Someone wise, probably in linen pants, who gives life advice or runs a wellness retreat. OR an “expert” in pretty much any field: skincare, business, coffee, crypto, you name it.
Lost in Translation: “Every finance bro with a whiteboard is now a money guru.” Love the TED-talk energy, but guru isn’t about your funnel strategy.
Real-deal: In Sanskrit, guru means “one who dispels darkness.” Gu = darkness, ru = remover. Traditionally, a guru isn’t a lifestyle influencer, it’s a spiritual teacher who guides students from ignorance to understanding. It’s a sacred relationship built on humility and practice.
Namaste
Modern Misfire: A polite “see ya later” at the end of yoga class, maybe with a little bow and a deep breath to seal the vibe. Sometimes tossed into emails or captions when you’re feeling extra zen.
Lost in Translation: “Namaste in bed today.” On a t-shirt, and a mug aaand a bumper sticker. Cute? Sure. Sacred? Not quite.
Real-deal: In Sanskrit, namaste roughly translates to “I bow to you,” but it carries a much deeper meaning: an acknowledgment of the same divine consciousness in both people. It’s not a sign-off; it’s a sacred greeting rooted in respect, humility, and shared spirit.
Karma
Modern Misfire: Basically, cosmic payback. Do something shady, and the universe will “get you back.” Do something kind, and good vibes magically appear.
Lost in Translation: “That’s what she gets — karma’s a b*tch.” That’s gossip, not Gita.
Real-deal: In Sanskrit, karma literally means “action.” It refers to the universal law of cause and effect: that every thought, word, and deed has consequences that ripple through time, shaping one’s future experiences and even future lifetimes. It’s not punishment or reward; it’s energetic accountability. In yogic philosophy, karma is less about revenge and more about responsibility and living with awareness of how your actions impact the world around you.
Mantra
Modern Misfire: A cute motivational quote you put on your vision board or caption under a sunrise pic. Basically, any feel-good phrase that sounds deep enough to get reposted on Pinterest.
Lost in Translation: “My mantra is ‘inhale confidence, exhale doubt.’” Love the sentiment but that’s an affirmation, not a mantra.
Real-deal: In Sanskrit, mantra combines man (mind) and tra (tool or vehicle), meaning “a tool of the mind.” A mantra isn’t just a phrase, it’s a vibrational sound that focuses awareness, calms the mind, and shifts energy. Traditionally, mantras are recited in repetition (known as japa) to create resonance between sound, breath, and consciousness. Think less “daily inspo,” more “energetic recalibration.”
Om
Modern Misfire: The universal yoga soundbite. The thing you hum at the start or end of class because everyone else is doing it. A soothing “vibe word” that’s made its way onto candles, tote bags, and tattoos everywhere.
Lost in Translation: “I only Om because everyone else does and I don’t want to look rude.” A for effort, but the universe can tell.
Real-deal: Om (or Aum) is considered the primordial sound, the vibration of creation itself. In Sanskrit, it represents the union of all things: waking, dreaming, and deep sleep; birth, life, and dissolution. Chanting Om isn’t about “setting the mood” it’s about tuning into the frequency of consciousness.
