Unlike polar bears which need to eat as much as they can during summer and conserve energy all winter but sadly are starving now due to climate change, I indulge all year. In December, when my husband suggested we check into a detox clinic before we start 2022 full of regrets, I agreed.
My faith in him decided my fate. The nature-cure centre is set in a beautiful town in Kerala. The drive out from Bengaluru is a pretty one past coffee and rubber estates. The actual centre is a no-frill building on a quiet rocky outcrop. More shrubs than trees dot the landscape. Hilly ghats frame the horizon, the isolation is ideal.
I was eager for ayurvedic massages while dreading kashayams. The chief doctor diagnosed us by pressing points on the back of my palm with a pen-like instrument. He requested me to tell him only when it truly hurt. My threshold for pain is low or there are a lot of things wrong with my body because I heard my yelps bounce off the glass walls. My husband went through the grind in a more mellow fashion. We discovered the treatment is not Ayurveda but naturopathy. There would be no kashayams and fasting is the treatment.
I associate fasting with religion and culture and have resisted it all my life. As a means to healing, “fasting” took a new status. A childhood memory surfaced of my ailing granduncle who had cancer. He said, “Cancer cells need to feed,” and so he starved them by fasting. It was too late for him but the simple strategy he practised back then is being tested now.
We started day one on a diet of dry ginger water, two glasses of freshly ground amla and one lemon juice sweetened with local honey. The doctors checked our blood pressure and sugar levels daily. Pangs of hunger passed like waves till we stopped experiencing the hunger or the bad mood that rode in tandem. Like our hunter-gatherer ancestors who only eat when food or prey was available and waited out the rest of the time, our systems adjusted to the idea of not eating. We stopped thinking of food which was the most peculiar foodie behaviour.
The fact that I could go without food for a few days felt empowering. I finally understand how sadhus can survive in caves without food for days on end. Of course, they balanced their practices with yoga techniques. On a lighter note, I see now how ordinary citizens could go on a hunger strike and make an impression with such ease. They were privy to this priceless art of fasting long before it went public.
When it comes to the animal kingdom, I am guessing it’s an innate behaviour. We know animals starve when unwell and make a quick recovery. If you own a pet, you know this.
Some of our fasting-fellows were second-timers, some four-week-long residents who swore they had reduced medications over time. It helped to have people sharing the same experience offer encouragement.
Lack of solids had zero impact on our energy levels. We were lighter, upbeat, exploring the surroundings, and attending yoga sessions. By day three, we got into the groove of liquid diets, mud baths, water soaks. After seven days of fasting, they asked us if we were ready for solid food. We decided to extend our fast to 10 days.
The masseuses work in pairs with strong cupped palms. It sounds and feels like a slap… the first took me right back to school. All my bad deeds, ill intent and every toxin were surely exorcised by the skilled women. Despite the masseuse exerting, it was I who was exhausted and reduced to pulp. In the end, our skin glowed and the old pains eased off. I joke that we two geezers are now spring chickens, an exaggeration but we do have a spring in our steps.
