Reflections

I’m writing from the airport lounge, ready to set off for the next leg of my adventures but with a mind still full of Kairali and panchakarma.  What an extraordinary experience it has been!

 Over the past 15 days, I’ve prepared, purged and cleansed, eaten a lifetime’s worth of red rice in various guises, had an inordinate number of in detail conversations about my bowel movements with my friends (and deepened my friendships even further in so doing), drunk medicated ghee (the thought still turns my tummy), been confined to my bungalow for “laxative day” and had four enemas.  In the process I find myself feeling  lighter, brighter, clearer, more focused and energetic.  I’ve lost half a stone, 2 inches from my waist and (less welcome), an inch from my already tiny bosom!

 On our penultimate day at Kairali, we each meet with Dr A for a debrief on our experience of panchakarma, and to understand how to approach this re-entry into the real world.  She compares panachakarma to surgery, and as with surgery, a recovery period is to be expected, and honoured, in our case for at least 2-3 weeks.  During this time, we’re to stay away from tea and coffee (this comes as a bit of a blow), eat only vegetarian food, avoid all refined sugar and processed foods, rest, rest, rest, massage ourselves daily with a specially prescribed oil and generally be kind to ourselves.  If that all feels a little unrealistic to someone about to embark on a two-week tour, Dr A reasons: “We ask a lot of our bodies…in panchakarma we offer our bodies this month each year to reset, and then our bodies take care of us for the rest of the year.”

 The last few days at Kairali have something of an end of term air to them.   There are still emotional ups and downs, and I spend the penultimate day bone tired for a reason I cannot fathom, but there’s a sense of achievement accompanying that, and such warmth from the team at Kairali who all seem so convinced they’ll “see us again next year” that I almost believe it myself.

 Our treatments take on a new quality, a sort of “polishing” for our re-entry to the big, wide world.  One of these involves a coconut and turmeric scrub – literally grated coconut and turmeric rubbed vigorously all over the body.  For a while afterwards I find bits of coconut in places where coconut has no right to be, and my painted pink nails are turned a peculiar shade or orange!  We have a clay face mask whilst enjoying our final abhyanga massage, a last steam, selfies with our lovely therapists with whom there’s a genuine (and understandable – they’ve seen it all) sense of closeness despite the communication barriers. I bid farewell with a hug to the “shower lady” who allocates changing rooms and cleans the showers.  I never did learn her name but twice a day she made sure I had the special orange flip flops (every other pair is blue) and there was something about this gesture that felt amazingly uplifting during my wobbles of the early days.

 On our last evening, my friends arrange a surprise birthday celebration.  Well, a sort of surprise as they know I’m not that keen on surprises, so they kindly let me know their plans over lunch to give me a chance to get used to the idea!  There’s to be a gathering to celebrate my 50th at 5.30pm in reception.  There’ll be a cake and as part of the celebrations, all the staff have been provided with some snacks. As a result of the latter, all afternoon I’m wished a happy birthday as I move around the village – ironically on the day of my husband’s actual birthday and still a few weeks out from mine – and then we gather in reception with other guests for the ceremony.  The reception has been decorated, and birthday wishes to “Emma Louise” are written in a sand swirl on the floor. 

 I’m given a tallow lighter to light the birthday lamp and “light up my future” and whilst I do this, our yoga teacher (oh my goodness she’s wonderful) chants in her beautifully pure voice.  I get a little shiver of awe thinking about it.  I cut my (sugar free/ dairy free/ wheat free/ egg free) cake and share this with our little assembly and it feels such a special way to start my birthday celebrations.

Thank you, Kairali, for an unforgettable two weeks.  And thank YOU for sharing my journey through this blog.

 I remember in my first panchakarma blog questioning my “why” for embarking on the process in the first place.  At my discharge meeting, Dr A gives me a copy of my medical notes to take home and for the first time I read her initial diagnosis: “Swastha” – preventative.  I realise my “why” was powerful enough after all.

Rejuvenation

Day 9, and I gratefully bid farewell to the cleanse stage and move into the promising new territory of rejuvenation. I’m not quite out of the detox woods yet though; several enemas scheduled over the coming days loom large, but nevertheless, there’s a sense of achievement in having made it this far.

Our diet begins to relax a little. We’re allowed a plate of cut fruits for breakfast (heaven!) along with a small curry rather than the usual rice porridge. A roti and an extra curry are added to our lunch plates, and there are even two tiny refined sugar free deserts on offer after lunch and dinner. After having one the first day they’re offered, I decide not to get back in the habit of rounding off meals with something sweet. Recalling how I felt in the early days of the detox, I’m currently full of good intentions to keep my sugar consumption pared right back going forwards.

The treatments continue to flow. In recent days I’ve experienced Siro Vasti - a rather bizarre treatment best described as a very tight crown on your head that’s filled with warm oil, which is then allowed to sink into the head; it’s supposed to be beneficial for various emotional and neurological conditions -, Pizhichil - a warm oil “bath” where litres of very unctuous oil are poured over the front and back of the body, a relaxing experience if rather messy! - and Podi Kizhi, a hot poultice based massage using dry poultices filled with herbal powder; this ones feels really therapeutic to me.

I experience my first ever enema, a “small” enema (they differentiate here between small oil enemas called Matra Vasti and herbal enemas, which are much more voluminous, referred to as “big’ enemas, or Kashaya Vasti). The small enema is administered by one of my regular afternoon therapists, and she does so with the same pragmatism she employs as she massages my near naked body, which puts me at ease too. It’s not as bad as I’d feared at all.

The following day it’s time for Kashaya Vasti, and it’s clear from the moment we arrive at the hospital that this is a different beast from the small enema. We’re seen first by a doctor (Dr A’s been called away on business, so others are stepping in), who explains the procedure and gets us to sign a disclaimer that lists possible side effects including vomiting, abdominal cramps and fatigue. We then have a half hour massage with just a single therapist for the first time since our arrival (it has a calming quality, I notice) and a quick steam. Meanwhile the second therapist is busy preparing the enema, which it’s her job to administer. I’d asked the doctor about its content and it varies from patient to patient but is 750ml in volume and a mix of warm water, milk and herbal powders. I choose not to look at the concoction before its administered but my friend does and later tells me hers was a beigey colour with the appearance of herbal tea.

The enema is again administered by the therapist, but this time the doctor is present too, in case of any problems. It’s not a particularly pleasant experience but not at all painful. Afterwards my tummy is rubbed vigorously by the two therapists and I move my legs as instructed in and our of tent position until the urge to go to the loo overcomes me. There’s a bathroom attached to the therapy room and it’s there that I evacuate the enema. This is the least dignified part of the detox (maybe of my life thus far?!), as whilst doing so the therapist comes in first with some tablets (I’ve no idea actually what they’re for but am in no mood for questioning!) and a big glass of warm rice water, which I have to finish, then a glass of herbal water and finally a large glass of lemon water with sugar and salt in it. It’s then time for an extremely welcome shower.

After Kashaya Vasti, we’re taken to a quiet part of the hospital for more drinks and some rice porridge, of which I manage a little, before being discharged feeling slightly crampy and weak but definitely relieved to be done. I spend the rest of the day fatigued and low in mood and wondering again about the efficacy of this curious panchakarma process.

But there are compensations; peak yoga Nidras where I feel gloriously floaty, games and movies together with my friends in the evenings, deep conversations and the reemergence of a body that feels and looks a little like 5 years ago me. There’s also space in my head for some proper reflection, a key driver to my being here in the first place. I recalibrate how I’d like my life to be as I move into my second half century and I feel a gentle loosening of some unhelpful behavioural patterns acquired over the past decades.

So, tentatively, I do I think have a sense of the beginnings of a rejuvenation - and I’m looking forward to this growing further over the final days of the panchakarma.

The Big Cleanse

Four days of preparation behind us, and we get to the business end of this detox process, the cleanse. This in itself takes four days. For the first three days, the morning begins with a glass of medicated ghee at 8.15am. Thereafter its rice porridge for lunch and a loose kitchari for dinner. Treatments continue morning and afternoon. On the eve of the fourth day, we’re given an Ayurvedic laxative powder (which looks harmless - like something you’d find in your spice cupboard) which is taken at 7am the following morning and completes the process the ghee has begun.

Weirdly, I feel relieved to have reached the cleanse stage, a sense of “let’s get on with this” and glad to have four days of panchakarma experience under my (now on a tighter notch) belt. We do yoga and take our daily walk to the nearby river first thing before arriving at the hospital for our ghee. Everyone’s glasses are pre-prepared with their specific prescription and dose. I’m pleased that morning to find my own glass has a relatively modest amount of ghee in it. It’s warm and smells a little toasted and whilst the flavour is not altogether unpleasant, my stomach lurches as I knock back my first dose. Several glasses of water later, it feels a bit more settled although I have a queasy feeling all morning and definitely couldn’t stomach an actual breakfast even if it were on offer.

My treatments also change, and the highlight of my day becomes my afternoon Shirodhara, perhaps the most iconic of Ayurvedic therapies. After a head massage and a warm oil body massage, warm oil is poured in a continual stream over the forehead. Its purported benefits include helping with sleep, stress and anxierty, and pacifying vata energy. I find it really blissful and calming and leave after each treatment feeling restored.

On the afternoon of the first day of the cleanse, I begin to notice that my emotional state has shifted too and my mind feels alive and creative. I feel some of my usual optimism surging. I begin to understand the difficult emotional journey during the prepatory phase of panchakarma as body toxicity being drawn out by the treatments and total dietary detox. For the first time, I start to think that maybe this will all be worth it after all. I’ve lost weight too, we all have, and there’s an odd sense of having let go of more than surplus pounds, of a shedding in a deeper sense.

I also notice the diminution of my appetite. I feel surprisingly sustained and energetic on the very restricted diet and only once do I feel any hunger. My tastebuds seem to have adjusted their expectations as well, and the food, whilst definitely monotonous, doesn’t offend me.

By day three of the ghee diet, I feel like a pro at this new regime and on something of an emotional high. My final ghee dose is enormous though and initially I don’t think I can finish it. I wretch a few times between mouthfuls but manage it in the end. I can feel its agitating effect straight away. I spend a lot of the afternoon running to the loo. Dr A is delighted - “your body is all prepared for the final cleanse” she tells me. Frankly, by 8pm I feel pretty well cleansed already.

I don’t sleep well that night, I’m awake at 2am anxious about the virechanam (laxative) on a tummy that’s only just settled from its exertions the previous day. The night passes with Netflix and a bit of journalling (I don’t seem able to settle to any of the books I downloaded onto the new kindle I’d purchased expressly for this trip) and I’m relieved when the on site wake up music begins to play at 5am.

The laxative is taken at 7am. At 6.45am, the kitchen team deliver hot water (along with lemon, salt and sugar “just in case”), and I add water to the powder to make it into a thick paste. It tastes quite strongly of cinnamon and there’s definitely some pepper in there too. It’s not delicious but it’s manageable (and I’d take it over the ghee any day!). We’re advised to drink a glass of warm pathimukham (herbal water) every 20 minutes to ease things along. You probably don’t want me to go into too much detail about my bowel movements so I’ll summarise as quick and efficient! By about midday the process was complete.

The doctor visits at 10am and takes my blood pressure, hears about my experience and confirms plans for the rest of the day. Breakfast (more delicious rice gruel, but I’m hungry so grateful for it) arrives at 11am. I’m to stay in my room until my afternoon treatment (Siro Vasti, another treatment involving oil and the head which I’m looking forward to). I know I should be resting but the lure of the lap top and admin overcomes me. And then at 1pm, the biggest treat - a glass of coconut water, which tastes heavenly.

So here I am, a little weary and weathered but way more cheerful than the Emma of a few days ago, a lot more trusting of this strange and ancient process and, remarkably, feeling already a sense of rejuvenation.

And so we prepare…

The first part of the panchakarma process prepares the body for its complete cleanse. It involves following a strict panchakarma diet, two treatments per day and as must rest as possible.

I begin to understand the shape of the day at Kairali. At 5am, music is played across the site for an hour - an extended and not altogether unpleasant wake up call. Yoga begins at 6.30am, an hour of quite gentle stretching. Breakfast is at 8am - for those on panchakarma this consists of a bowl of “porridge” (rice gruel) with a little chutney side dish. The first treatment begins at 10am, followed by yoga Nidra at 11.15am. There’s an optional lecture on Ayurveda at midday followed by lunch - a thin soup, red rice, a small portion of vegan curry, an egg cup of chopped beans or lentils. At 3pm its back to the Ayurvedic hospital for another treatment. Then there’s some free time until 6.30pm meditation (during which the bedrooms are smoked to keep away mosquitos and drive out bad energy) , dinner - a thin soup, a millet dosa, another small portion of vegan curry and an egg cup of boiled veg- and bed.

The routine is steady and structured. My mood, however, is not, as I struggle to come to terms with the deliberately bland food. I find myself experiencing flashes of hot anger, bouts of despondency, periods of intense frustration. I do not think I am good company. We start to chat to other guests here and discover that very many are “returners”, some of whom have been here multiple times (I meet a new friend from Jordan who has been 9 times since 2022!) and there’s some reassurance there that perhaps the process (we keep reminding ourselves “it’s a process…”) must at some stage feel worth the effort.

We each receive a tailored treatment plan from our respective doctors (there are four on site) and my friends and I compare notes. We engage AI to understand what’s involved in the treatments and we try, unsuccessfully, to persuade the doctors it’d be easier for us all if our programme plans were more in synch - Dr A was having none of it; each programme is tailored to the individual and I was reminded that panchakarma is a discipline (those words echo around my head as I fall asleep).

The treatments offered during his phase of the process are designed to reduce inflammation and water retention in the body and are carried out in the on-site Ayurveda hospital. Arriving at the hospital that first morning it was quickly clear that this is no ordinary hospital - more like a spa in set up with a large shower area and a series of treatment rooms. The therapists are universally lovely, warm and welcoming , holding hands to guide, a gentle touch to the back as they usher us along to the shower rooms. Once there, we receive a pair of tie on paper pants and a coloured sarong, which we change into before completing the look with some industrial style flip flops.

We’re shown to the treatment rooms. The first surprise is that as well as the therapist who’s guided me there, another therparist is waiting with a smile of welcome in the room. At the centre of the room is a high massage table, made of dark wood - with no mattress, pillow or other soft part. I’m invited to take my seat in wooden chair and the first therapist fills her hands with oil and places them on my head for a blessing. This is followed by a vigorous (there’s lots of vigour) Indian head massage, and ear massage and then, with an instruction to lower my sarong, a massage of the neck, shoulders and upper back. It’s then time to move from the chair to the massage table. The sarong is removed and it’s time for a facial massage, lying on the table in my scant paper pants. The other therapist takes over now, with assured hands making firm strokes. She then asks me to open my eyes for Naysam, nasal drops. Three drops each of a different oil are added to each nostril for me to inhale, something that feels unfamiliar but not uncomfortable.

The body massage is next and its - intense? I think is the best word. Me, practically naked on the bed and the two therapists each working either side of my body in amazing synchronicity, sweeping oil over my body in strong brush like movements. And two things about the oil itself - they use tons of it, it must be a least a litre per treatment, and it’s smell is evocative of cooking oil. After a couple of days and with a rather queasy tummy, I long for the aroma of lavender!

Post massage I’m led to the steam chamber - a wooden box structure in which you sit on a stool, head out of a hole in the top of the box, for 5 minutes. I always enjoy warmth so I like this bit. And then its time for the showers, for which we’re given a green powder that mixes with water to create a creamy substance which serves as a body and face wash, and some shampoo to do its thing on our oily hair.

The next day the treatments involve a pounding with poultices filled with a detoxifying herbal powder and a very interesting experience of two people pouring herbal tea over my body for half an hour. Both are prefaced with more oil massage and always there are two therapist involved.

And so we move through our first days at Kairali, one treatment at a time, and still feeling that 14 days is a really long time!

Thanks heavens for my friends!

Panchakarma

Friends, I am far away from Quinton, in Kerala for panchakarma, an Ayurvedic detox programme, for 15 days. In Quinton it’s cold, it’s raining and all is comfortingly familiar. In Kerala it's none of those things and having just arrived there is definitely a jerking sense that I’m in brand new territory emotionally as well as physically.

I’ve been wanting to experience panchakarma since I started to learn about Ayurveda, the ancient Vedic holistic health system, about 8 years ago, and more so since I embarked upon an Ayurvedic apprenticeship with Anne McIntyre, a UK authority on all things Ayurveda as well as being a western herbalist, back in 2021. I’ve since returned to Anne regularly for training and consultations and deepened my knowledge of Ayurveda with copious reading. And now, finally, here I am in Kerala, where the roots of Ayurveda run more than 3,000 years deep, about to experience panchakarma for myself at the Kairali Healing Village. This is a proper bucket list trip for me and I’ve chosen to keep this blog of my experiences partly for my own benefit (my memory not being what it once was…) and partly because I hope others might be curious about what’s involved.

Panchakarma means “five actions” - its a process used to clean the body of toxic materials left by disease and poor nutrition and its generally recommended in Ayurveda to carry our panchakarma at least once a year. The “actions” refer to the different processes used to cleanse the body. In modern Panchakarma generally only three of these are used. Given the other two are blood letting and vomitting, I’m grateful for that! - but that still leaves three not altogether enticing actions to enjoy: Virechana (purgation therapy), Vasti (medicated enema) and Nasaya (nasal administration of medicine). You can experience panchakarma without visiting India (there are centres which offer the programme in Germany, Austria and Spain, for example), but I felt very drawn to coming to Kerala for my own process. It’s my first time in India, and as a not altogether brave person, I feel quite adventurous and intrepid just being here, albeit with three close friends.

The Healing Village is about 2.5 hours from the nearest airport, so there was plenty of time on the journey to witness a little of Keralan life with its sights and sounds and smells, and to adjust to the hike in temperatures; it was 5 degrees when we left the UK and 25 degrees on landing 16 hours later. On arrival, feeling a bit crumpled and jet lagged, we’re draped in lovely white scarves and offered coconut water to drink whilst all the formalities are carried out.

The four of us each have separate bungalows dotted around the site and once unpacked, it’s already time for lunch - our first experience in the Ayurvedic canteen. Initially, everyone eats the “normal” menu; and it follows a daily formula. For lunch its a thin soup, a tiny portion of chopped cooked veg, curry, rice, a bread and then a very small desert - a couple of mouthfuls of rice pudding for example, which is what we had on that first day. I was genuinely excited to try authentic Aurvedic cuisine. I love my food, and mealtimes often feel like the highlight of my day. At our first lunch, I was struck by how bland the food was. I rarely leave anything on my plate but I struggled with my meal because it really wasn’t what I’d expected. Ayurvedic cuisine I’ve tired before has been flavourful, plentiful and vibrant. This all tasted, honestly, a bit (lot) meh.

That first afternoon I had my consultation with the Ayurvedic doctor I’d been assigned to, Dr A. She ran through a pre-arrival medical form I’d completed and confirmed I’d done my pre-retreat detox (no sugar/ alcohol/ caffeine/ processed food for 2 weeks prior to arrival), I was weighed, measured and had my blood pressure taken, then Dr A did her diagnosis of my requirements based on my pulse. She was curious about why I wanted to do Panchakarma as I wasn’t presenting with many health issues (aside from my foggy brain and feelings of overwhelm - I’d definitely like to see an improvement in these). I realised most people come to the process with the intention to fix a physical health issue - lower their heart rate or cholesterol for example - for me, as I told Dr A, it was curiosity, and wanting to immerse myself in the Ayurvedic experience, to try the specialist therapies Ayurveda advocates. A couple of days later that why didn’t feel quite strong enough, but I’m getting ahead of myself….

Dr A and I had a long chat about Ayurveda and about her proposed treatment plan for me. The process is broken down into three main stages; preparation, the detox and rejuvenation. Each day we’d receive a least two treatments and follow our prescribed diet. The onsite gym was off limits for me (I’ve never seen anyone in there so I guess this must be true for everyone, which begs the question why its here at all, tempting us in the middle of the site!) as was running. She talked through some of the detox treatments - more on those later too, but by day 5 we’ll be drinking medicated ghee (clarified butter) for breakfast and eating only porridge all day of we feel like eating at all. She explained that after the panchakarma, it’s recommended to go easy on life and food for at least three weeks. To treat the process as if you’re having an operation and need to nurture yourself back to strength thereafter.

I left the consultation feeling rather ambivalent about the panchakarma and already wondering if I could see if through. I collapsed into bed after that, the journey having caught up on me, with day 1 a broken night’s sleep away.