What do you think about when you're getting a massage? It's not like any other kind of zoning out—your body is engaged, and yet not engaged, your mind is free to wander at will, and yet tethered to the sparks coming off your skin and your muscles. Sore, in my case, a sedentary lifestyle, hunched over my laptop, like the old crone in a fairy tale, spinning wool. I am slick with oil, I can hear the masseuse breathe as she presses down on my body for the abhyanga massage, and I begin to think about people, about friends I haven't seen in a long time, about the relationships I have now, it's a lot of thinking time—like therapy, I realise, another way this is a "therapeutic" massage.
I'm at Naad, a new wellness centre just outside of Sonepat. Sonepat is not a lovely town, in fact, it is almost defiantly ugly—buildings with no particular design aesthetic, fields that are either dry or boggy, but Naad makes up for this with high walls edged with bamboo trees. There's piped muzak in all the corridors, aromatherapy burners on the floor, potted plants in niches. It's a small property—compact and broad-shouldered like a wrestler, three floors, only 39 rooms. I am the only guest this weekend, and it is raining.
After a heavy July; parties, too many gin and tonics, definitely too many cigarettes, I was beyond ready to take a break, but as everyone realises, it's hard to walk away from all the excitement, unless the decision is taken from you. My visit was scheduled for the minimum possible time: a three-day, all-inclusive detox wellness experience (the maximum is 28 nights). I had never done anything like it before, but I leapt into it with all the zeal of someone wanting to convert. I decided to do my three days completely addiction free, no smuggled in bottles of wine in my bags, no cigarettes, and, the hardest, I didn't even carry along my trusty Aeropress for the two cups of coffee I have to drink every day or risk becoming an incoherent blob. (I did carry along my vape though, not being completely confident in my ability to kick nicotine completely.)
As soon as I got there, I was given a white kurta with matching pyjamas to wear. This will be my uniform for the next three days, my kurtas are changed daily. I'm a little concerned because this also happens to be the weekend I got my period, but at least I'm wearing a menstrual cup, which seems to fit with this whole wellness thing. Gwyneth Paltrow would be proud of me, I think. There's an instant sense of playing at costumes, or putting on a new school uniform. I could be anyone at this moment—a bandit, a hermit, a politician, especially with the prayer beads they give me in the lobby to hang around my neck.
I'm also given an itinerary, another school flashback, and all my days are scheduled, down to how much personal time I get. As a freelance writer, my days are so fluid that for once it's quite soothing to be told what to do, where to go, when to wake up, when to eat. As soon as I get there, I'm taken for a consult with one of the two in-house ayurvedic and naturopathic doctors. I tell her everything that ails me—and she writes it down and weighs me and then, I imagine, while I am whisked off for a massage, she tells the kitchen what sort of meal plan I should be on. Sadly, because of the rain, and because I spend all my downtime reading, I don't use their other facilities—but the pool looks gorgeous, lined with sandstone so it's warm all year round, I'm told.
The meals are all-vegetarian, as one would expect, but delicious, home-style Indian cooking. I eat a lot of soup. The lack of coffee is adding a certain amount of dreaminess to the whole experience, that and my variety of treatments.
If I had to pick a favourite massage, it would be the Thai one, I was pummelled and stretched like a piece of dough, my arms and legs twisted into pretzels, the sore spot in the centre of my back finally receding. The Turkish hammam stands out as well—not least because the room was so beautiful, all blue tiled, like the bottom of a swimming pool, and I sat in the dark candle-lit steam room, sweating and thinking peaceful thoughts.
On the second day, I was given a teeth scraping by a dentist—odd, but part of the wellness activities, I understand. I also have a throbbing no-coffee headache, but by day three, sleeping at 8pm and waking up at 7am have transformed me into an actual Morning Person. The yoga classes though, are a bit feeble. I've had better ones, and I'm pretty sure that the sort of person who would sign up to a retreat like this one would have had yoga classes in the past as well. As complaints go, this is just me nitpicking. I'm not fond of exercise at the best of times, and at 7.30 in the morning, I keep falling asleep on my mat.
By the time I leave, I change into one of the dresses I brought along, the first time I'm wearing something different since I got there. Three days of just my own company have made me barely glance at the bathroom mirror, and I am almost shocked at the sight of my face, is this what it looks like? Was it always so round? Did my shoulders always stick forward so? But I feel lighter and well-rested for the first time in about a year.
The after-effects last about a week, I am energetic and restless. I eat a lot of meat and drink a lot of coffee. It even seems like I'm kinder, more patient, when I'm talking to people, which is nice. "Detox" has been getting some bad press lately, doctors say you don't need to drink the juices or fast, that your body is fine at removing toxins on its own, but unplugging, taking a break from all your vices, no one can argue with that being good for you. It was for me.
Naad Wellness, Sector 62, Sonepat, Haryana. Website . Packages start at Rs 49,000.