A basin of marigolds, plumeria blossoms, rose petals and curry leaves greets
visitors to the spa at the Taj Malabar in Cochin.
7:28 AM: It’s fresh and cool outside. The bright red orb of the rising sun flickers through the leaves of the palm trees. A white egret streaks down the canal that runs along the worn brick path. As I leave the villa, I can smell wood smoke in the air. An unknown bird issues a pure, haunting call.
A few minutes later I am sitting in a small room in the Ayurvedic Center at the Taj Garden Retreat. It feels old fashioned, more medical than posh. The creamy stucco walls are unadorned and in one corner, there is a dark cabinet filled with mysterious bottles of oil. A ceiling fan whirls overhead.
I am wearing nothing except a paper loincloth.
Mini, a plump young therapist with dark hair, pours a bowlful of neeleebhringadi, coconut oil laced with fragrant herbs, over my head and enthusiastically rubs it into my scalp. She studied auyurvedic massage for a year and a half, and her hands are very, very strong. She smoothes more oil onto my face and ears, and then vigorously pinches my lobes.
Last night, Dr. R. a middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses. sleek black hair and a slight paunch, gave us a run down on the 6,000 year old science of Ayurveda. It’s a holistic system of herbal medicine that not only aims to cure what ails you, but also to boost the immune system. Treatments are based partly on body type. Vadas are lean and tall, dry-skinned active types with low body temperature. Pittas, with oily skin and higher temperatures, are prone to “digestive fire” and ulcers. Kapphas love sweets, are not very active, and, big surprise, can be obese. Most of us are a combination of the three—the goal is to bring all these traits into the proper balance.
Normally this is accomplished by a personalized regime of diet, massage and elixirs, which involve ancient blends of plants, minerals and, on the rare occasion, metals such as purified mercury. But the doctor wasn’t in this morning so I couldn’t get a personal diagnosis. Instead Mini is giving me Abhyangam, a fragrant oil massage “for making strong the muscles.” Call it Ayurveda 101.
It is very, very oily.
After the ear lobe pinching, I lie down on a hard table made of medicated neem wood. Mini pours lots of Dhanwantharam Thailam, an aromatic 28-herb oil that smells a little like fresh camomile over me, then vigorously massages my back, legs and front in a circular motion. I’m slipping and sliding all over the table, which fortunately has a raised wooden rim, or I might fly off into space. At the end, she squeezes every joint and nerve ending in my hands and feet, leaving me limp, but happy.
After dousing me with yet more oil, she helps me sit up and scrubs the soles of my feet with a rough towel so that I won’t slip when I step off the table. Then it’s into the steam room for ten minutes. Just when my pores can’t open any wider, Mini motions me into the shower where the most interesting part of the treatment occurs: she rubs handfuls of an earthy paste made of split green mung dal—a lentil that’s usually eaten—to remove all the oil and impurities that have flowed out of my skin. At the end she takes my hand, pours the last of dal onto my palm, and delicately turns her back while I finish cleaning myself. A warm shower washes everything down the drain.
I emerge, glowing and relaxed.
Outside the sun is up. A dark-skinned woman in a green sari is sweeping the brick path with broom made of twigs. The sun is hot and air is heavy with humidity. I can’t exactly describe how I feel: light, but not floating, grounded, but not heavy. Balanced, I guess. And good.
Note: This was one of three massages I had in India. The first, at the Taj Malabar in Cochin, was rather more luxurious, the perfect way to banish lingering jet lag. After a purifying cup of lemon, honey and holy basil tea, my feet were washed in a copper basin floating with rose petals. Candles flickered, ethereal new age music played, and I gave in to pehlwan malish, a fragrant oil massage favored by Indian wrestlers, said to be “extremely good for the skin, and relieves aching, sore, tired muscles.” It was all that, and more.
Later on, in Goa, I tried the Masala Spice Scrub at the Taj Fort Aguada Resort. The therapist warned that the spices might inflame my skin: the formula was “secret” but I could smell ginger and cardamom in the paste that she smoothed over my body, before wrapping me tightly in a sheet. My skin became warm and tingly, then suddenly cooled off. There was also a delicious massage with aromatic oils, all of which, sadly, I had to wash away before flying to Mumbai.