A Gentle Deceleration

The knocking was persistent, and I dozed in and out of sleep until I realised that I was in Kerala and someone wanted me up for breakfast. It was 9 o’clock and many other guests had been up and about for three hours. I pulled on some clothes and made my way through the gardens of hibiscus and bougainvillea, neem trees and banana trees to the main building.

Papaya fruit on the tree

To my left, the ground fell away from the path down to the river which splashed and trickled over the rocks. This was the only noise apart from the breeze in the leaves and the bird-calls that came from all around. Up on the first floor dining area, I sat on the balcony letting this whole new experience soak in.

A waiter appeared with a brass tray which held small bowls with different foods, some sweet, some savoury and one of diced fresh mango and papaya. The discipline here is to eat slowly, and I relished every mouthful, not knowing when I might expect real food again, but I need not have worried. I later discovered that the first day is set aside to allow guests to recover from their journey. Later I would meet the doctor, who would discuss my treatment in detail.

I spent the morning posting my blog, deleting most of my emails on Googlemail and sorting out my clothes and other luggage. Lunch was another selection of delicious concoctions and since most of the guests seemed to be enjoying the same menu I began to wonder how the anti-obesity programme actually worked. All in good time: at 2 o’clock I had my consultation with the doctor who explained the programme.

The consultation was very detailed and lasted well over an hour. I was questioned in depth about my health, my lifestyle, my moods and any aches and pains or other ailments. The doctor outlined the principles of the treatment and explained that in the classical tradition, my first treatment would be vomiting therapy.

Now I am pretty adventurous and open to new ideas, but this scared me. Most Ayurvedic medicines made me want to throw up anyway, so what was this business of turning an aversion into a therapy? It got worse as the doctor spoke further. For 3 or 4 days my breakfast would be warm, medicated ghee (clarified butter.) I’d had this before – it is disgusting. Then at lunchtime and in the evening, I could have a small bowl of what is euphemistically called rice porridge. Actually, that’s broken grains of rice served in the water in which they’ve been cooked. Same each day, with the dosage of ghee being increased to a large tumbler by Day Three. If the doctor is satisfied that this is sufficient, I will be woken at 5am on Day Four and led off to the treatment room where I will be fed large volumes of milk, followed by large volumes of salt water. When the inevitable has happened, that process will be repeated two or three times. Great holiday, huh?

The good news is that once this initial treatment is completed I will be allowed to add 3 hours of yoga each day to the 90 minutes exercise already in my initial programme.

Meanwhile, there must be no sessions on the online computer for a few days. I totally understand the reasoning for this... it’s not just the slow connection that raises the blood-pressure, it’s the missing keys on the keyboard and the extreme discomfort of sitting on either a low stool or a on the window-ledge to be able to see the flickering screen.

I made the most of the soup, curry, fruit and vegetables in the knowledge that tomorrow would be very different.

The estate at top right running down to the river