This morning we bade farewell to Hirsch, Mr. Jith, and Bala in Delhi, and flew to the town of Dehradun situated in the foothills of the Him-al-yas. We were met at the airport by our colorfully turbaned and thick mustachioed driver, who whisked us up the mountains to the idyllic site of the Ananda Spa. The Spa sits in the center of a sprawling mountaintop haven, owned to this day by the Maharaja, and which contains the Maharaja’s palace. Ananda is a serene wellness center where the staff to guest ratio of 5:1 makes for a luxurious and friendly atmosphere. The perpetually genuflecting staff call out “Namashcar” every time they pass you and the al fresco dining room waiters remember how you like your earl grey tea (with lemon thank you) and that you prefer sparkling water. Upon arrival we were greeted with flower necklaces and a traditional welcome whereby a small prayer was offered and a red saffron dot placed between my eyes to ward off evil while musician played the sitar and flute.
I then had my Ayurvedic and Wellness Consultation with the resident Ayurvedic doctor, Dr. Shabyran. The kind doctor explained that he would do a brief intake to assess my Ayurvedic body type (there are 3 types and depending on your type different foods are encouraged and discouraged) so that I could follow a special food and beverage regimen while at Ananda. I informed him that I knew I was not a Vata but unsure as to whether I might be a Pitta or a Kapha. Dr. Shabyran gave me a sideways glance, “let me be the judge of that” he seemed to be saying. A few questions later, the most embarrassing of which required me to classify the nature of my stool as “dry”, “oily”, or “moist”, and the good doctor pronounced that I was very clearly Vata. So there.
He then went on to describe in specific detail the telltale signs of Vata; she prefers to drink water at room temperature, often suffers from indigestion, suffers from knee pain, has skin that is highly sensitive and on and on. Dr. Shabyran gave me a deep knowing look, “nailed it!” his soft brown eyes announced. I was cautioned to never skip meals but eat often, to avoid cold foods, and to ensure that I had sufficient fat in my diet to combat my tendency toward dryness. This will now serve as my favorite excuse for why I must indulge in full fat cheeses and add cream to pretty much everything. I am also to avoid cauliflower and other “windy” vegetables and legumes such as lentils as according to the doctor “tey wheel tend to mek you even gahseeah tan you neture-alee ahr”. I assured him that I am no “gahseeah” than the next person and that even when I am gassy it doesn’t have an odor, in response to which the good doctor simply smiled and said, “Tis the sem for all Vata. Too much ayahr, too much weend.”
I then relaxed into a 4-handed Manipuri Massage, Ananda’s signature Ayurvedic treatment which is a full body scrub followed by a deep tissue massage employing two massage therapists as well as warm poultices filled with detoxifying herbs. After my massage, and feeling the warm post massage glow flowing throughout my every chakra, I changed and headed into the town of Rishikesh to attend the holy ceremony of Ganga Aarti.
Rishikesh is the yoga capital of India and the place where yoga is said to have been created. It is also the home of the annual International Yoga Festival which I imagine is like Lollapalooza for Yogis. The town is situated on the banks of the Ganges and pilgrims flock here all year long to pray by the holy river which itself is an incarnation of the god Shiva, and to cleanse themselves by ablution and dare I say it, the drinking of the Ganges water. Having been taking the precaution of drinking 2 tablespoons of Pepto Bismal daily as a prophylactic stomach protector while in India, I cannot fathom how anyone would dare drink directly from the river.
Our driver parked the van by the riverside, ditched his turban, and led us through the village past women selling flower and food offerings for the gods. We then boarded a small wooden boat and crossed the Ganges along with colorfully dressed pilgrims excitedly chatting away. We then disembarked and walked through the cow strewn streets (there are an enormous number of sacred cows in this country), taking time to visit the local Ashram where young Indian boys from Brahmin families are sent to live and study Hinduism and Yoga from the age of 8-18. The saffron colored robes of the boys are as immaculate as their carefully combed hair. I spotted one young man, so beautiful that he could have been a Bollywood movie star playing the role of a young priest in training at the Ashram. I may have come across as a bit of a camera stalker to the young man, who did look mildly uncomfortable when I trained my lense on him repeatedly.
We found seats on the marble steps beneath an archway leading down to the river and thus seated amongst the pilgrims, the boys and their Swami, enjoyed the hour long chanting and singing of the Ganga Aarti ceremony. Candles were lit, incense burned, offerings tossed into the holy fire and holy river, and the Swami’s muse led the crowd in melodic verses of “Om Shanti, Shanti Om”, as well as several stanzas of an old Beatles song (seriously who knew that “Hari Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Krishna Krishna Hari Hari, Hari Rama, Hari Rama, Rama Rama Hari Hari,” were actually the words to a holy Hindu prayer sung on the banks of the Ganges at dusk). I sang along to that part with gusto, eliciting smiles from several of the younger boys. The boys swayed as they sang, hands above their heads in exultation to mighty Shiva, Krishna and Rama.
The service was magical (video clip attached) and as the sun set and the service came to an end, we made our way back across the river by footbridge, carefully avoiding holy cows and their patties, under the cover of darkness.
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