Oasis of Tranquility

Anindita Chattopadhyay returns from Ananda In The Himalayas completely recharged with a large dose of serenity in tow...

For oft when on my couch I lie in vacant or in pensive mood
They flash upon that inward eye which is the bliss of solitude

I walk downhill past the golf course into the sal forest. Barefoot, flip flops in hand. The winding path beset with stones, slippery from the rain. My toes clawing into the ground to avoid misses and trips. The place looks wild. Some fallen trees here and there - the bare tree trunks standing stoically. The outcrops of stones jutting out. The lush green foliage unrestrained. I reach a small clearing. All's quiet, except a woodpecker, busy drumming. He stops, casts a sideway glance at us and goes back to work. Certainly, he didn't expect intrusion. I look around for a place to sit. Before I could decide Colin had plonked himself on the bare ground. "Sit wherever - relax, take three deep breaths and meditate. Feel your inner self," he signs off with a smile. I find a stone, big enough to make me comfortable. Close my eyes, while the woodpecker carries on with a staccato rhythm. The wet fragrant air caresses me. I absorb the chill. But soon I open my eyes. I want to feast my senses on the sight, sound, smell and touch presented on a platter. Revel in the silence, the romance of nature. Colin can meditate.

Grilled to the bones by Delhi heat, when I decided on a weekend sojourn to the Ananda in the Himalayas, little did I know that like Wordsworth, I would experience the priceless gift of peace and joy in the serene atmosphere of nature. Ananda means bliss. And that's what I experienced at this destination spa built around the 100-acre palace estate of the erstwhile Maharaja of Tehri Garhwal in the foothills of the Himalayas.

Did you say you know all about Ananda? So thought I. Haven't we seen it all in the ubiquitous pictures showing models enjoying a massage, relaxing like Cleopatra in the rose bath, or meditating (sitting too straight to be comfortable)? However, there is more to this place than what the picture shows.

What did I find so special about this place? I think beyond pampering the body and rejuvenating the mind, which any spa in the world would do, it exudes peace. I shared my thought with Colin Hall, the spa director. He attributed this magical effect to its location. "Everything at Ananda struck me as something positive and enlightening the first time I came here – a pleasure I had not experienced elsewhere. The five elements that make up life – fire, earth, water, air and space – appear to have lived in perfect harmony here for ages. It has the enviable proximity to the Himalayas, the home of therapeutic herbs and natural crystals, and the holy Ganges – the two most talked about natural phenomenon. Plus, the place enjoys the beneficial effect of the positive energy vibrations from Rishikesh where holy men practised yoga and chanted mantra for ages." Well, ma-a-y be. He knows better.

I arrived here on a Friday. Took the morning Shatabdi from Delhi, which reached Haridwar at 11.40 am. As the pick-up car navigated the narrow Haridwar roads and the bends and turns uphill, a very soothing music played softly, interspersed with a narration on the history of the places en route and what Ananda is all about. After a while, my inner started churning, the veins on the forehead throbbing. High altitude sickness was getting its grip on me.

As the car pulled in the porch of the sprawling palatial estate, lilting strains of Raag Kalavati greeted me. Once the lady executive finished the customary arti and garlanding with a string of rudraksh, I went and sat near the violinist playing in the corner of the wide black-n-white Italian marble portico. The concoction of music, warm ginger-honey drink, fresh perfumed mountain air was the perfect panacea. Check- in can wait.

The reception area is housed at the Viceregal lodge that was traditionally inhabited by the viceroys during their stay with the king. The lounge with 14 feet high ceiling made of stamped and pressed copper, the stone fireplaces, Venetian crystal chandeliers, framed pashmina shawls and photographs of royalty adorning the wall, the period furniture and card tables, the 150-year-old original hand carved billiards table, hand carved Burma teak banisters on the staircase - all were eloquent of the life and time of a bygone era. However, the richly done 3,000 square feet Viceregal suite with a private Jacuzzi bath right in the middle of its private terrace with a breathtaking view of the palace garden and the Rishikesh valley reminded that one is here to be pampered.

The guest quarter was more than half a kilometre away from the reception area. The walkway snaked through the undulating lush green lawns dotted with eucalyptus trees and lined with bushes and shrubs. The terracotta roofed five-storied block is built on a slope, with stepped architecture. On my way to the guest residence in an electric cart, I saw men and women, many of them foreigners, ambling around attired in off white kurta pyjama and the rudraksh dangling on the chest. Interesting! No skin show as one might expect at a resort. Rather, the dress and the ambience gave the feeling of an ashram.

My room faced the Rishikesh valley, overlooking the sal forest. The tastefully done interior was minimalistic, yet classy. In fact, everything here is very subtly understated. I found a pair of finely woven cotton kurta-pyjama in the cupboard. I was told a fresh pair is placed every morning. That explained the dress code. Well, long-staying guests can travel light.

I reclined on the chair in the balcony and stared at the open vastness. The landscape looked straight out of the pages of some child's drawing book - tiny houses in the midst of a green valley, a river meandering through, waves of purple hills in the backdrop, the sun peeping through two misty peaks. But suddenly, the nimbus decided to leave the pinnacles and drift around. Soon the blue sky turned inky. Strong wind lashed out forcing trees to do forward, backward and side bending at his will. The flashes rifted the sky apart. And the rain god went berserk. Through the thick liquid sheet everything looked so intriguing. I decided to have my lunch out here.

In the evening, it was still drizzling. I arrived at the spa centre for my appointment with the doctor before taking the therapy. (Consultation with the doc is important as he analyses what massage is best suited for you). Facing the door was an idol of Lord Ganesha decked with marigolds and flanked by brass lamps. A floral fragrance permeated the air. Though people around were moving briskly there was hardly any noise. A quiet calmness prevailed. Orange, saffron and deep red colour dominated the decor. In every therapy room you find rolled deep red and saffron towels, the ritual trays with brass lamp, manjira and vermilion, the copper footbaths lined with stones and filled with Ganges water, the foot high glass jars containing yellow, orange and red gulal powder.

A couple entered the kama sutra room – specially designed for couples to allow them to enjoy the treatment together. I entered the bakula for lithos. Lithos therapy uses heated igneous basalt rock and chilled marble instruments along with oil massage. I was asked to choose a tune that I wanted to be played while I took the foot-bath. The unrobing part was a bit uncomfortable. But the therapist very professionally instructed me how to drape the towel and get on to the bed. Throughout the treatment, my body was covered with two towels except for the part of the body that was being massaged. The therapist's hand nimbly went up and down my body creating ripples in the muscles. No pounding at all. As he juggled with the stones, alternate hot and icy cold sensation gradually numbed my senses. I almost dozed off. When he sounded the manjira, I stood up unwillingly. Oh, how I wanted it to continue!

Back in my room a rose petal bath was awaiting me. I slid into the water ear-deep and coyly arranged the floral cover. As the skin lapped in the warmth, I lay like an empress. The lavender fragrance, the dim candle light, the starry night outside created a fairy tale setting. I languidly watched the sal trees etching mysterious shadows as the moon played hide and seek and the Rishikesh valley glittered like a reflection of the sky above. After a relaxed soup and salad dinner and a couple hours later, when I tucked myself in I was feeling so feather light.

For the next two days my morning started at six with a cup of ginger lemon tea served in the room. Then I went for a stroll barefoot before attending the morning yoga. The open air yoga pavilion, a marbled floor shelter with gold leaf ceiling fresco, surrounded by a water pool offered a serene setting and the best view. Breakfast was always at the wooden deck adjacent to the restaurant, built around a 100-year-old sal tree and overlooking the wooded terrains. The birds serenaded while I enjoyed my oat porridge, croissants and fresh juice.

On the second day I had rafting in the itinerary. Ananda gave me a scope to experience the elements as I discovered the thrilling powers of the waters, winds and terrain. With packed lunch of chicken sandwiches and apple, I headed for Shivpuri to raft with a group of Delhi Rotarians. Sanjeev Mehta, who conducts adventure tours, was waiting for me midway. "I do not know swimming," I said. "Don't bother. Ganga is the safest river for rafting. We'll give you life jackets, anyway," he retorted.

At the beach, I learnt that a French couple from the embassy would also join us. No doubt, that was relieving because I was feeling the odd one out in a group of twenty odd men. Media, exclaimed Eve. And soon we two struck a chord as we were from the same profession. We collected our paddle and life jacket, while Sanjeev briefed us about the command and dos and don'ts. Following his instruction, I tightened the straps of my jacket with forceful yanks because a loose jacket means reduced effectiveness. We pushed the raft, jumped in and started rowing down the stream – the Rotarians cheering each other full throated. The first rapid was Return to Sender. Forward, shouted Sanjeev. Splash went my paddle skimming the surface of the water. But before I could realise, the three metre high wave had dislodged me unceremoniously. I found myself grappling on all fours inside the raft. My paddle lying a little away from me. Zapped when I recovered position, Sanjeev was laughing. All the six in our boat had their paddles in the air, he said. The next rapid Roller Coaster was an exhilarating rush. Sanjeev told us he needed some paddling this time to push through. Adrenaline pumping, we went with a gusto. The waves almost lifted the raft into the air and threw it back like a cork, while the next one thrashed it again. The next three rapids were Initiation, Golf Course and Double Trouble. Golf Course, a grade 4 rapid, was the toughest to negotiate. It had nine holes and we had to save ourselves from getting into the holes. Sanjeev instructed me to take the hi-side. On command, I had to throw my weight on the prow of the raft - not kneeling but legs stretched - as the weight would help the raft to push forward. Every time he gave the command I threw myself prostrate, ducked my head next moment seeing the wave rise like the towering hood of a snake and next thing I knew was gallons of ice cold water veiled me leaving me soaked to the bones. When we reached the Body Surfing rapid - a 2 km safe stretch where one can float or swim in the rapid, I decided to test the effectiveness of the life jacket. Hesitantly, I took the plunge and wow I was floating. I threw my legs and hands pretending to swim, the sun smiling at me.

After a cup of hot tea and changing into dry clothes at the tent near Rishikesh, it was time to watch the sandhya aarti on the bank of the Ganga. Such a congregation! Saffron clad young resident students of the Parmarth Niketan ashram sang bhajans as locals, tourists and devotees took turn to gyrate the amazingly light, but huge lamps. The sky in front changed colour from crimson to luminescent orange, to pale orange, while the river water was dotted with earthen lamps floating adrift. As the sky turned dark, the river gleamed. It was quite a show, only if the bhajans could be more in tune.

Back at the resort, I went to attend the cultural evening. Amidst the mountain settings and against the backdrop of the magnificent Himalayas, the amphitheatre, called the Hill Theatre, resounded with the melodious strains of the sitar. The magical ambience lifted my spirit as the tune soaked the soul.

The next morning, I went for aromatherapy after the yoga. While the stiff muscles were being loosened and circulation activated, I lay fleeting between sleep and consciousness inhaling the aroma. It left me so refreshed. Breakfast over, I strolled to the yoga pavilion. Lay spread-eagled on the green staring at the glistening blue dome arching over me. It's so nice to laze around. The clouds fleeting around started forming a huddle. It would rain. I got up and headed for Anandamoyi Ma's abode. The room's simply done with a cot, a chair, a lamp and mat on the floor, but the adjacent open terrace overlooking a dense grove of sal trees offers a fantastic view. I sat on the mat and watched the rain perform its musical bonanza. After a while I closed my eyes to meditate. Gradually, the pitter-patter background music faded in the distance. My mind was emptied of all worries. I felt so unburdened.

I don't remember how long I sat like that. But recovering from the reverie, I headed for the room to pack. All good things, after all, come to an end. So was this visit. But the lingering memory is so therapeutic.