A Mouthful of Good Health

We tucked in to a bowl of clear vegetable soup, followed by beet-root and spinach salad jazzed up with orange juice dressing, and then cauliflower and peas with a subtle carrot sauce as a dip for dinner. Delicious! We salivated for more. As one of the waitstaff cleared our plates, we asked, “What’s next?”

“That’s it,” he responded with a poker face. 

At that point we knew how Oliver Twist, Charles Dickens’ hero in the novel by the same name, might have felt when he said, “Please sir, I want some more.”

This was far from Victorian England however. We were at Kalari Rasayana, an Ayurvedic Hospital recognized by the prestigious NABH (National Accreditation Board for Hospitals and Healthcare Providers). Located in South Paravur, Kollam, Kerala, the hospital is owned and run by the wellness wing of CGH Earth, one of the pioneers in sustainable tourism in India.

At Kalari Rasayana, Ayurveda is taken seriously. From here, many a wheelchair-bound patient leaves unassisted, head held high after a month’s treatment (or longer), we were told. Here, a patient is viewed through a multi-lens of food, lifestyle and outlook; essentially, how a person ‘digests life’ and copes with his or her inner or outer worlds. A healthy diet is one of the pillars of Ayurveda and at authentic Ayurvedic hospitals like Kalari Rasayana, the food plan, therapies and yoga regimen are prescribed and customized for every guest by the vaid (Ayurvedic doctor).

We were two carnivores fighting a losing battle—our hopeless addiction to an unhealthy meaty diet, glazed with dollops of oil or rich cream, tongue-singeing fish curries and saccharine-sweet desserts. Hoping to get our slightly elevated cholesterol, blood sugar and stress levels under control, we decided to sign up.

On arrival we were captivated by the centre’s scenic location next to a palm-fringed lake, where nature seemed to play a sweet duet with ancient Ayurvedic wisdom. At the entrance to the lobby, a sign urged: “Please leave your world here.” That’s easy, we thought, because Kalari Rasayana’s 22 villa rooms are scattered artfully over eight acres, vibrant with bird song and lush greenery.

The pitched tiled-roof cottages come with patios or verandahs that lasso views of the limpid lake and dramatic post-sunset skies. The chime of soft, distant temple bells often lulled us into a state of meditative relaxation. At other times, we would sit on green wrought-iron benches, placed along a red-earth walking trail, dreamily watching birds skim overhead to roost on the trees on the distant lake shore.

This visit was not our first tryst with Ayurvedic rejuvenation practices. On three previous occasions we had checked in to Ayurvedic spas offering a potpourri of massages and therapies that press the unwind button. The spas re-package Ayurveda to make it more accessible to seekers of respite and relaxation rather than healing as is the case for Ayurvedic hospitals. One does not have to be on the wrong side of 30 or ailing to check into a spa, which is essentially an oasis of self-indulgence.

Today, ad hoc Ayurvedic massages even figure on the spa menus of splashy luxury resorts in India. Our goal at the time was to escape the frenzy of everyday life and, specifically, to experience a culinary epiphany—and as a spin-off perhaps acquire a more shapely silhouette! However, in each instance we would return home only to tumble ignobly into the same rabbit hole of non-vegetarian gluttony and the swirling waters of life with its the unabashed pursuit of wealth, careers, love and happiness.

This time would be different we decided. On our first morning, we awoke to the tranquil vistas of Lake Paravur, rippling beyond our villa and a taste of an ashram-like discipline. A bell clanged to signal breakfast and we traced the sound to a dining area with a wrap-around verandah, where other treatment-seekers sat and hungrily ploughed into platters of fruit.

We dutifully followed suit, quelling rebellious fantasies of butter-slathered toast, fried eggs and steaming cups of coffee and tea—our usual daily armaments to battle a ‘cruel’ world. “Eat mindfully and focus on your meal,” we were counselled, rather than indulge in frivolous chatter or monotonous scrolling on one’s phone.

What made it difficult was that we could not sneak outdoors for a quick cuppa or a crispy dosa at a hole-in-the-wall wayside stall. The other patients from Russia, Germany and the UK had obviously made peace with the strict regimen of the wellness centre and its plant-based diet. They had a serene virtuous look about them, while we, on the first day, were nursing a throbbing headache. Occasionally, they would throw sympathetic glances our way as we were obviously struggling to enjoy our organic vegetarian meals.

Dr Firoze Varun, chief physician at Kalari Rasayana, who comes from a line of Ayurvedic vaids, compared checking into an Ayurvedic centre once every few years to taking one’s car to a garage for a tune up. Much of Ayurvedic knowledge was lost in north India in the British era, we learnt. However, it was in lush laidback Kerala that Ayurveda took firm root.

Indeed, the state has always had traditional sanatoriums and hospitals practicing and teaching Ayurveda, in the lee of the Western Ghats. Even today, there are traditional practitioners in every village who glean their Ayurvedic knowledge from ancient palm-leaf scrolls handed down over generations within families.

The concept of constitution (or prakriti) is the cornerstone of Ayurveda. This ancient Indian health regimen classifies human beings based on the predominant element within them—air, water, earth and fire. At an Ayurvedic hospital, various diagnostic methods (pulse rate, body type, etc) are used to determine which therapies and diet would be suitable for someone of a particular constitutional type, or dosha.

Incidentally, doshas determine a person’s mind, body and even type of skin and hair. “Our meal plans are tailor-made for each individual’s condition and to balance his or her doshas,” Sreejith K.V, the general manager enlightened us. “What you eat has the power to heal.”

Slowly but surely we began to appreciate executive chef Nishanth Muthu Krishnan’s culinary dexterity. His passion for fresh local ingredients (vegetables and plump fruits are plucked from the hospital’s own vegetable garden and fruit orchard) and minimal use of spices—turmeric, coriander, ginger, garlic and almond paste (all pounded in-house) were given heft by a smattering of Himalayan rock salt. The food was generally steamed and occasionally cooked in a grudging dollop of virgin coconut oil.

With these, the chef conjured restrained, yet life-affirming, meals—a miniature sadya (a festive Keralan meal) served in a copper platter lined with a banana leaf. Small bowls brimmed with fragrant millet rice, artsy swoops of daal, a ridge-gourd preparation and a pretty pink beetroot salad. His curries were spiked with banana flowers and his soups were wreathed in a fugitive flavour which left us asking for seconds.

Iddiyapam (fresh steamed rice noodles) entwined with generous helpings of vegetables would come with a side of flavour-friendly almond sauce and a green gram wrap enhanced by a velvety tomato chutney for extra bite. Glasses of gut-loving buttermilk would accompany the meals. To round it off, a sweet finale came in the shape of tamboolam, a paan look-alike. It was essentially a betel leaf coddling a concoction of dates, cinnamon powder, cardamom, pepper and fennel.

The seasonally-accented menus had a vivid colour palette of green, orange, yellow and pink hues that showcased indigenous ingredients and were visually appetizing. We reluctantly admitted that healthy food was perhaps akin to medicine for it made us feel feather-light and brimming with energy.

We realized that one becomes what one consumes and so we were overweight, under-exercised and had developed a waddling gait like a ship in a gale!

Back home, we were soon proselytizing with the zeal of new converts about our life-changing experience. Our kitchen was no longer a grazing ground for unhealthy, oily fare nor a carnival for the misguided foodies we once were.

We did, however, sorely miss chef Nishanth’s luscious, whimsical creations, which were nothing less than mouthfuls of good health. If only we could have poached him and flown his team to cook for us at home!