This report from India is by Larry Niven and Steven Barnes, two of my favourite science fiction writers. Their book Saturn's Race, set in the year 2020, includes a visit to Mysore with a Dr. Jois, a "small, limber, dark man," and describes an Ashtanga class taken there:

They rolled down a driveway sheltered on either side with palm trees. Through the branches, he saw the students' glistening, sweaty bodies torqueing and twisting through their morning exercise. They jumped back and forth with impressive athleticism., and Chaz finally couldn't contain himself. "What exactly is that?
Jois smiled. "It is called Ashtanga. A form of hatha yoga. You know yoga?" Chaz nodded. "By reputation. Looks strenuous. I thought yoga was sitting like a pretzel, contemplating your navel... that sort of stuff."

His host chuckled. "My grandfather taught it around the world. We continue his work. Perhaps you would like to try a class?"

Chaz held his hands out in protest. "That's a little much for me. I was injured recently."
But Clarise watched the students intently. Chaz realized that in all the time he's known her, he had never seen her work out. She was Security; she'd be skilled in various techniques of restraint and defence. She moved like a panther, but he had never actually seen her undergoing her rigors. She squeezed his hand and said. "I'd like to try."
...
Lanky, lean yoga students strolled the halls. They looked to be from many countries, including Europe and America, and they smiled at him... they had a quality of supple strength that was rather androgynously appealing.

A few questions took him to the dining hall, where he piled a bowl with banana and a kiwi-like fruit he didn't recognize. The hall was almost empty. A jovial, rounded chef informed him that afternoon classes were in session.

The building looked new but already well used. Three stories on about five acres of ground, with spacious patios and gardens. Many, many windows and open doorways looked out onto small patios where pairs or triplets of students worked at various arcane poses, meditated, or just lounged and enjoyed the day...

A few more enquiries took him to a larger room, where at least forty students faced each other in two rows, exercising. Jois conducted the class personally, and his meek country doctor persona had evaporated, revealing a merciless taskmaster far more lion than lamb.
Jois barked commands, he cajoled, he joked, he insulted. With hands and feet he prodded them into more precise postures. He urged them to breathe more deeply and slowly.

Pools of sweat dripped from them. The windows were fogged up. Chaz sat quietly in one corner of the room and watched. Together, as if they had done these things a thousand times, they rolled through the movements.

Suddenly he realized that one person was out of sync. It was Clarise! Oh she was lean and strong and flexible, but she had never attempted these specific motions. Her savage look of concentration was somehow endearing. When Jois barked at her, called her lazy and told her to "tighten her fundament," Chaz could barely retrain his mirth.

He kept his cool. The last thing he wanted was for Jois to notice him and invite him onto the floor. There was something about this art that was both beautiful and intimidating as hell..."