My doshas weren’t just balanced, they were blissed out.
Floating weightlessly in the nice and cozy Watsu pool like a newborn, eyes closed, I used to be cradled within the arms of a hydrotherapist who gently rocked, stretched, and massaged my body. By the point she sounded the ultimate Tibetan singing bowl, I used to be in a state of absolute beatitude.
And I had totally modified my tune.
Once I booked a five-day program at Six Senses Vana, the Indian wellness retreat nestled within the Himalayan foothills, I expected to calm down, lose a couple of kilos, and embarrass myself in yoga class. All of those things happened, but I also gained an unexpected latest appreciation for the ability of holistic healing systems.
The all-inclusive resort in Dehradun is one in every of the leading ayurvedic sanctuaries on the earth, setting a latest standard for serene high luxury, and personalized treatment plans. Indian entrepreneur Veer Singh opened the state-of-the-art ashram in 2014 after spending five years and a reported $55 million constructing the 21-acre destination. In January, he handed over operations to Six Senses, the worldwide hotel group.
The property is tranquil but dazzling. Leafy grounds are ringed by sal trees and populated by songbirds, butterflies, and a cartload of monkeys.
The vast kila, or lobby, is centered around an oval reflecting pool, whose ripples are echoed within the wavy bamboo ceiling. A fascinating rooftop infinity pool boasts panoramic forest views.
After arriving from Delhi in a chauffeured automotive stocked with refreshments, I used to be greeted by the welcoming team. They slipped a sandalwood bead bracelet on my wrist, handed me a ceramic mug of red orchid infusion, and dotted my brow with crimson. I used to be officially a Vanavasi.
A Guest Experience Maker escorted me to a Bodhi Suite, which felt more like a floor-through apartment with a beautifully appointed sitting room, meditation room, dressing room, bedroom, powder room, bathroom, and two balconies. It was so exquisite that I never wanted to depart.
Then she explained the home rules. Guests are asked to wear the baggy white cotton kurta pajamas delivered every day to their rooms. At first, I felt like I used to be in a Latest Age cult, but quickly realized it’s liberating to wear a vanity-neutralizing, elastic-waist uniform. Almost everyone complied with the dress code, although I used to be shocked to see one woman overtly rocking a Versace hoodie and leggings within the dining room.
Harder to get used to was the cellphone and laptop ban in shared and outdoor spaces. I used to be jonesing for media fixes, but there’s absolute confidence that my experience was greatly enhanced by the partial digital detox. It was also easier to hobnob with the interesting international crowd — I met an English portrait photographer on her third visit and a Central European couple having fun with a 21-day Ayurveda Panchakarma reset — since I wasn’t gazing a screen.
My visit began with a consultation with Rafeek Jabbar, a jovial Ayurvedic doctor. He checked my heart rate and blood pressure, measured my oxygen levels, and hooked me as much as a high-tech screening machine that analyzed 40 different biomarkers. The gadget revealed that I used to be dehydrated and sedentary, which I couldn’t deny.
He determined that my dosha life energy type is Vata — a mixture of air and space — and prescribed yoga and detox modalities. I used to be encouraged to drink warm water within the mornings, avoid carbs, and participate in group activities, from Om Mantra Meditation to Sandhya Yoga Respiration.
I spent my days gliding from Yogayam and reflexology to Tibetan hot oil massage. (Vana is one in every of the few places on the earth to supply Sowa Rigpa traditional Tibetan medicine.) I sampled biohacks within the kila — thigh-high air compression boots that inflated to hilarious proportions and a heated massage belt — and lazed on the indoor and outdoor pools.
I felt particularly virtuous eating colourful vegetarian fare, in sharp contrast to my usual heedless weight loss plan. Executive chef Rajesh Sharma creates varied and delicious Indian-inspired ayurvedic menus (with meat and fish options) and makes every thing fresh in-house, from condiments to flour. The breakfast and lunch buffets were artistic endeavors.
Two guided off-site expeditions, available to guests at a further charge, were bucket-list worthy. I went on a pilgrimage to the ashram town of Rishikesh, the yoga capital where The Beatles studied transcendental meditation within the ’60s. On the banks of the sacred Ganges river, I participated in aarti, a hearth ritual and flower offering. The next day, I hiked the upper Mussoorie hills and caught a panoramic view of the snow-capped Himalayas.
Despite being skeptical of anything remotely woo-woo, I had to confess the rituals worked. I lost 3 kilos without trying and felt more relaxed and energized than I had in years.
If this isn’t nirvana, it’s close.
My doshas weren’t just balanced, they were blissed out.
Floating weightlessly in the nice and cozy Watsu pool like a newborn, eyes closed, I used to be cradled within the arms of a hydrotherapist who gently rocked, stretched, and massaged my body. By the point she sounded the ultimate Tibetan singing bowl, I used to be in a state of absolute beatitude.
And I had totally modified my tune.
Once I booked a five-day program at Six Senses Vana, the Indian wellness retreat nestled within the Himalayan foothills, I expected to calm down, lose a couple of kilos, and embarrass myself in yoga class. All of those things happened, but I also gained an unexpected latest appreciation for the ability of holistic healing systems.
The all-inclusive resort in Dehradun is one in every of the leading ayurvedic sanctuaries on the earth, setting a latest standard for serene high luxury, and personalized treatment plans. Indian entrepreneur Veer Singh opened the state-of-the-art ashram in 2014 after spending five years and a reported $55 million constructing the 21-acre destination. In January, he handed over operations to Six Senses, the worldwide hotel group.
The property is tranquil but dazzling. Leafy grounds are ringed by sal trees and populated by songbirds, butterflies, and a cartload of monkeys.
The vast kila, or lobby, is centered around an oval reflecting pool, whose ripples are echoed within the wavy bamboo ceiling. A fascinating rooftop infinity pool boasts panoramic forest views.
After arriving from Delhi in a chauffeured automotive stocked with refreshments, I used to be greeted by the welcoming team. They slipped a sandalwood bead bracelet on my wrist, handed me a ceramic mug of red orchid infusion, and dotted my brow with crimson. I used to be officially a Vanavasi.
A Guest Experience Maker escorted me to a Bodhi Suite, which felt more like a floor-through apartment with a beautifully appointed sitting room, meditation room, dressing room, bedroom, powder room, bathroom, and two balconies. It was so exquisite that I never wanted to depart.
Then she explained the home rules. Guests are asked to wear the baggy white cotton kurta pajamas delivered every day to their rooms. At first, I felt like I used to be in a Latest Age cult, but quickly realized it’s liberating to wear a vanity-neutralizing, elastic-waist uniform. Almost everyone complied with the dress code, although I used to be shocked to see one woman overtly rocking a Versace hoodie and leggings within the dining room.
Harder to get used to was the cellphone and laptop ban in shared and outdoor spaces. I used to be jonesing for media fixes, but there’s absolute confidence that my experience was greatly enhanced by the partial digital detox. It was also easier to hobnob with the interesting international crowd — I met an English portrait photographer on her third visit and a Central European couple having fun with a 21-day Ayurveda Panchakarma reset — since I wasn’t gazing a screen.
My visit began with a consultation with Rafeek Jabbar, a jovial Ayurvedic doctor. He checked my heart rate and blood pressure, measured my oxygen levels, and hooked me as much as a high-tech screening machine that analyzed 40 different biomarkers. The gadget revealed that I used to be dehydrated and sedentary, which I couldn’t deny.
He determined that my dosha life energy type is Vata — a mixture of air and space — and prescribed yoga and detox modalities. I used to be encouraged to drink warm water within the mornings, avoid carbs, and participate in group activities, from Om Mantra Meditation to Sandhya Yoga Respiration.
I spent my days gliding from Yogayam and reflexology to Tibetan hot oil massage. (Vana is one in every of the few places on the earth to supply Sowa Rigpa traditional Tibetan medicine.) I sampled biohacks within the kila — thigh-high air compression boots that inflated to hilarious proportions and a heated massage belt — and lazed on the indoor and outdoor pools.
I felt particularly virtuous eating colourful vegetarian fare, in sharp contrast to my usual heedless weight loss plan. Executive chef Rajesh Sharma creates varied and delicious Indian-inspired ayurvedic menus (with meat and fish options) and makes every thing fresh in-house, from condiments to flour. The breakfast and lunch buffets were artistic endeavors.
Two guided off-site expeditions, available to guests at a further charge, were bucket-list worthy. I went on a pilgrimage to the ashram town of Rishikesh, the yoga capital where The Beatles studied transcendental meditation within the ’60s. On the banks of the sacred Ganges river, I participated in aarti, a hearth ritual and flower offering. The next day, I hiked the upper Mussoorie hills and caught a panoramic view of the snow-capped Himalayas.
Despite being skeptical of anything remotely woo-woo, I had to confess the rituals worked. I lost 3 kilos without trying and felt more relaxed and energized than I had in years.
If this isn’t nirvana, it’s close.
