This serene Bekal resort offers private backwaters and beach escapes

Some places are built for the gram. Others are built for you. The LaLiT Resort & Spa, Bekal is firmly in the second camp. The best thing about this resort is that it doesn’t try to impress you as it doesn’t need to. The 26-acre property rests easy among lush coconut plantations, stitched together by the river Nombili and bordered by a private beach, accessible only through a wooden bridge that feels more like a portal than a walkway.

What makes this luxury resort in Bekal a true hidden gem?

Within moments of entering, we could already tell this wasn’t going to be just another weekend escape. We took an early morning flight and landed in Mangalore airport, the nearest one to Bekal, just before the sun had fully blinked awake. The two-hour-long car journey from Mangalore airport to the resort, with the constant sway of the vehicle, had tired us needlessly. Checking into our villa, numbered 205, we collapsed onto the freshly-pressed sheets.

We had a bedroom large enough to do cartwheels in, a sprawling bathroom with a private jacuzzi, and a balcony that could outdo any Pinterest board. The interiors made for a space that was both indulgent and grounding. Every corner carried an intention, to make us feel unhurried and held.

We headed to the balcony, coffee in hand, it was only the right thing to do given the view. The river stretched ahead in absolute stillness, mirroring the overcast skies. With nature’s bounty as our view, it was finally time to relax and try to rekindle our spirits in just three days before heading back to the daily grind.

Once refreshed, we strolled through the property and met the team behind the scenes, warm, gracious, and eager to share their little piece of paradise. A garden shaped like a reclining human caught our eyes; each part of the ‘body’ grew herbs said to heal that specific organ. A clever intersection of art, wellness, and belief.

There are 38 suites here, scattered thoughtfully so guests don’t just stay, they settle.

Later that afternoon, our hunger led us to the in-house restaurant, Nombili. If we are being completely honest, the richness of Kerala cuisine didn’t come as a surprise. But what lends the depth to this fare is a mix of spice, soul, and heritage that’s deeply personal. Here, we dug into a flavourful Malabar biriyani and a spicy, rustic Aatu erachi varattiyathu. These were not resort-level versions of regional food; they were the real deal. Each bite felt like home, even if we didn’t quite belong.

The resort’s private stretch of backwaters opens up a playground for those who love the outdoors: kayaking, bamboo rafting, cycling along the bank, you name it. We opted for the bamboo raft first. Unlike rowboats, these rafts are manned by two, using long bamboo poles to glide us through waters only about four feet deep.

Then we chose kayaking along the backwaters, which felt less like an activity and more like a meditation, each stroke a gentle reminder to stay present. With every paddle into the still backwaters, the noise of everyday life seemed to fall further behind us.

Later that evening, our feet found their way to Spiceology, the resort’s holistic wellness centre housed in a Nalukettu-style building that celebrates Kerala’s architectural heritage. The space features 13 treatment rooms, a salon, and even a relaxation library. There’s also a massive conch shell statue at the centre of the building, a symbol associated with Lord Dhanvantari, the god of Ayurveda.

We chose a foot massage that evening, the kind that doesn’t just relieve aches but stirs up a sense of surrender. Every press and stroke drew the day’s fatigue out of us, leaving behind a hush we hadn’t felt in years.

Spiceology is big on customised Ayurvedic programmes called Swasthya Retreats, with 7, 14, or 21-day offerings aimed at goals like anti-ageing or burnout recovery. Prior to your visit, they even analyse your health profile and body constitution to plan treatments in tandem with the chef. Yes, your diet too is curated.

Dinner was a good old wood-fired pizza, comfort food to end a day that began with airport coffee and ended with our feet dipped in backwater serenity.

We set out early the next day, hoping to dodge the sun. We were fooling ourselves, of course. Emerging from the air-conditioned cocoon of our car at our first stop, the Ananthapura temple, we began sweating immediately. But the view was worth it.

About 20 kms from Kasaragod town, the temple sits in the middle of a serene water body. It stands like a quiet sentinel in the middle of an emerald-green pond. Its twin red-tiled domes shimmered under the soft morning sun, their reflection breaking gently on the water.

A story that stuck with us from here was about the resident crocodile, believed to be the temple’s guardian. The original herbivorous croc passed away in 2022, but its successor now lounges quietly along the banks, shy but significant.

From there, we headed to the Bekal Fort, easily the crown jewel of this coastline. Built over 400 years ago and spread across 40 acres by Tipu Sultan, this laterite structure isn’t your typical royal dwelling. No palaces, no thrones. Just thick walls, lookouts, and perfectly aligned holes to fire at varying angles. It was built for defence, not decadence.

We amble gingerly on the paved walkway leading up to the main tower, our pace losing its morning vigour with every passing second as we undergo a quiet hypnotism impressed upon us by the majesty of the structure.

Climbing up the central watchtower, we were greeted by a panoramic view of the Arabian Sea on one side, and a green explosion of coconut trees on the other. It’s easy to see why AR Rahman’s Uyire/Tu Hi Re from Bombay was filmed here. We could almost see Monisha Koirala’s silhouette drifting along the ramparts. With vantage points offering a 360-degree view, it’s easy to imagine ourselves as a king here, standing atop the ramparts, strategising battle plans with army and navy generals, scanning the horizon for incoming threats.

They say monsoon is the best time to visit the fort, when the moss-covered walls glow an eerie green. But even in the summer, the place breathes. It has a pulse.

Before heading back to the resort, we met Arun Das, a local businessman who left a career in the UK to move to Kasaragod. “Life here is slower, grounded. Everyone still grows their own food. The festivals, the forests, the ocean, it all balances you out,” he says.

Lunch back at the resort was Cheera kozhi roast and parotta, a rich, satisfying pairing that fuelled us for another round of kayaking in the evening. This time, we veered deeper into the backwaters. A few cranes hovered nearby and the sky turned that perfect orange where light and silence meet. Sunset kayaking quickly went from an activity to a ritual.

We ended the day at the resort’s private beach, waves folding over our feet like a soft goodbye.

And just when we thought our body couldn’t relax any further, we treated ourselves to a Swedish massage. We entered Spiceology again, this time for full-body renewal. Long gliding strokes, gentle kneading, and rhythmic tapping, all the knots and tension worked wonders on our tired limbs. We returned to our villa almost floating.

The morning of our departure began at Kappil Beach, where local fishermen worked together to pull in nets cast hours earlier. Dozens of hands tugged in unison, each motion familiar, practiced, ancient. We sat watching them, feet dipped in the tide, as the generational knowledge unfolded right in front of us.

Back at the resort, we took a long soak in the private Jacuzzi inside our villa, facing a curtain of coconut trees that swayed like they were waving goodbye. Time moved like molasses.

Our last meal before check-out was a study in contrasts. The Mushroom cappuccino soup was intensely earthy, concentrated and frothy, for it’s the espresso of soups. Not for the mushroom-averse, but sublime as a dip with garlic bread. The grilled chicken Caesar salad was textbook delicious. Crisp lettuce, juicy chicken, and croutons seasoned just right with a mild tang from local cheese. It demanded to be eaten quickly, before the sun or the lettuce could wilt.

We checked out reluctantly but had a few hours to spare before our flight, so we explored Mangalore. The city’s roads surprised us, curved and layered, thanks to the natural terrain.

We made a quick stop at Machali, a no-frills, much-loved restaurant in Kodialbail. The menu lives on a whiteboard and changes according to what’s in season. We feasted on Neer dosa, Chicken ghee roast, and Squid masala fry, a farewell feast that was spicy, rich, and memorable. Little did we know that fighting this post-hogging food coma would be harder than we thought.

Just in time to catch our flight, we took a last fleeting glance at the city on our way to the airport, promising ourselves a long-lasting affair with Kasaragod and Mangalore the next time. Cause some holidays you take to get away. This one felt like a place we could stay lost in.