By Andrew Taylor
Ayurveda, India's 3000-year-old science of healing, is gaining popularity.Credit: Greg Elms/Lonely Planet
DOCTOR Priyadharsini knows exactly what I'm up to and she isn't having a bar of it.
"No, no, no, no," she says, her head bobbing from side to side like a metronome. "That is for the long-term treatment. You are too young."
Perhaps, but it's hard to resist a massage that promises to "enhance sexual vigour by purifying and improving circulation to the genitals". Still, it's gratifying to get the good doctor's vote of confidence in regions below the belt.
In any case, the Vajeekaranam ayurvedic treatment is spread out, so to speak, over seven days - far longer than our two-night stay at Coconut Lagoon, a lavish, tranquil resort hidden in the backwaters of Kerala in southern India.
But to truly unwind requires the ministrations of Dr Priyadharsini, who briskly demands my age, pulse and any medical problems (the latter in front of my travel companions, such is doctor-patient confidentiality in India).
She points me towards the men's half of the Ayurvedic Centre, where
I will receive the Rasayana Uzhichil, or rejuvenation therapy, aimed at "preventing the destructive effects of ageing on the human body".
There's certainly no hiding the destructive effects of eating your own body weight in curries as I exchange my clothes for a coarse cotton G-string. It manages to chafe and scratch without doing much for one's modesty. The massage begins on a hard wooden stool with Babu, a middle-aged gent, vigorously rubbing my scalp and pouring enough oil on it to deep-fry bhaji for that night's dinner buffet. Babu polishes my head until he can see his own reflection before handing over to his younger colleague Prasad, who's tasked with bringing order to my gelatinous upper body.
Stomach massages are not for the body conscious; indeed, it's best to focus on more edifying sights such as the birds circling the rice paddies behind the resort. Finally, it's time to lie down while Babu and Prasad start a two-man full-body massage that is eye-wateringly comprehensive.
There's a lot of attention paid to areas south of the solar plexus; presumably, Prasad and Babu think I store a lot of tension in my groin. For a few terrifying seconds, I fear I've been massaged out of my cotton G-string but, happily, it holds firm.
It's obvious why Ayurveda, India's 3000-year-old science of healing, is gaining popularity. That day, a headline in the Indian Express screamed "Manpower crisis ails ayurveda industry".
The Global Ayurveda Summit in nearby Cochin was told "the mushrooming Ayurvedic spas ... would demand trained hands" but Dr S. Sajikumar declared: "The problem is that we do not get quality hands."
No such issue at Coconut Lagoon where a state of bliss has been expertly kneaded into me.
The final part of my treatment takes place inside a steam box made of kino wood in which I sit for 20 minutes with a brew concocted of herbs from the resort's garden. I'm sweating like a Christmas ham but it's still cooler than the searing humidity outside.
Prasad directs me to shower and scrubs me with a gently abrasive mix of cardamom, vetiver roots, sizzling tree bark and much else as I stand stark naked and red-faced with embarrassment.
Prasad then hoses me down, drying me and giving me a cup of herbal coffee to round off the therapy - leaving me (hopefully) years younger.
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