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They say when the tide turns, it lifts all boats. After a long lull in travel, it seemed like the universe had suddenly flung open the gates of wanderlust as adventures rolled in, one after another, in a rapid cascade. The finale in our packed itinerary was a wellness retreat to Raga Svara, a boutique luxury retreat in Rajkot, Gujarat. The very prospect of immersing ourselves in therapeutic rituals and quiet reflection felt like the perfect epilogue to our odyssey.
When the weekend dawned, we set off to Rajkot to get far away from the clamour of our crammed routine. While airport grub rarely tickles our taste buds, we hastily chowed down on a chicken roll and a piping hot cappuccino like it was our lifeline, because we are well aware that our ‘hangry’ alter ego and ‘regular’ personalities are like chalk and cheese. We scampered towards our gate, which was packed to the rafters, courtesy of the holiday. The journey from Mumbai to Rajkot turned out to be as quick as gossip in a small town.
As the aircraft glided over an endless mosaic of verdant patches, we must say, we were caught on the hop. After all, our previous trips to Gujarat, meandering across Vapi, Ahmedabad, Bhuj, and the dry stretches of Kutch, had all been through xeric topography. So, we were delighted to see the landscape wearing a green robe this time around.
The Rajkot Airport greeted us with the stunning displays of the intricate beauty of Gujarat’s rich textile heritage, be it rogan, khadi, tangalia, applique, ikat, mashru, bandhani, patola, or soof, all vying for attention like models on a colourful runway. We whipped out our phones to capture the ‘textile-themed expo.’
After parrying off an onslaught of taxi drivers pitching ‘discounted prices,’ we finally spotted our own road steward waving a placard bearing our name. In that flicker of time, he seemed like a lighthouse in a sea of confusion. During the 40-minute drive through the countryside, we grilled him with questions like detectives on a case, but he seemed to have mastered the art of minimalism, and all he dispensed were one-word or one-sentence responses.
Raga Svara felt like stepping into an alternate realm. After a formal welcome, we were led to Anuraga, the reception at the boutique luxury retreat, where we were initiated as Raga Nivasis, invited to greet each morning with purpose and to conclude each day in reflection. We were given journals to scribble our deepest thoughts and were nudged toward a digital detox and introduced to maun vrat (silent meditation). “Simply sport this badge during your vow of silence and consider yourself immune to all small talk,” we were told.
Lunch at Samskara, a charming little restaurant tucked into the middle of meticulously curated wilderness, came with some pearls of wisdom. A signboard urged us to chew deliberately, embrace silence, and leave a sliver of space in our stomachs. In our case, that space is usually reserved for desserts, but we realised that here, they meant business! We kicked things off with a detox drink that tasted like wellness in a cup and then sipped on buttermilk tailored to our doshas (in our case, kapha). Then arrived the pièce de résistance, which comprised leafy rotis, warm curries, dal that hugged the soul, salad, a crunchy fête of spinach, red apple, walnuts, feta, and cranberries, and bottle gourd trifle as dessert. This sure felt like a wellness retreat for the palate.
Joining us at lunch was the visionary behind Raga Svara, Mohit Patel, effortlessly dressed in pristine white, a reflection of the serene ethos he had cultivated here. “Luxury and Ayurveda don’t often cross paths. That was the very inspiration behind creating this sanctuary,” he told us.
Post-lunch, we met with the resident doctor, who prescribed tailor-made treatments for us. Soon, armed with our bespoke wellness roadmap, we made our way to Prakriti, the spa-like sanctum, where we surrendered to the magic of Sarvanga Abhyanga, a luxurious full-body oil massage with warm, medicated oils, so divine that it felt like every cell had been personally forgiven for working overtime. Rejuvenated and borderline levitating, we wrapped the day with a gentle meditation session at Antara, the tranquil in-house yoga centre where one could even hear a cat’s paw and the drop of a pin.
Our room at Megh Suites was christened after Raga Bhatiyar, a melody that tiptoes between night’s end and dawn’s first breath. We were greeted by a handwritten note, “My soul honours your soul. And we hope you find your inner peace and heal your soul here.” The den came with a private verandah bathed in drapes of greenery. We grabbed a cup of herbal tea, reclined with our feet resting upon the table, and let the soothing strains of mellow Ilaiyaraaja numbers waft through the air. And just like that, all was well with the world!
The next morning kicked off with Shastik Shali Pinda Swedan, a traditional treatment that involved warm rice and milk and expert hands undoing years of pent-up stress in the body. It turned out to be the quiet reset we didn’t know we needed. Then came Shirodhara, where a gentle stream of warm oil trickled onto our foreheads in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. It was less treatment and more like a warm lullaby in a liquid form, somewhere between meditation and a nap. If our minds had a ‘do not disturb’ or ‘airplane’ mode, this was it. All our thoughts dissolved into the void.
With our digital devices benched, we found ourselves in the soothing embrace of Anahata, the in-house library. There, a book by Mohit Patel snagged our attention, especially a poem intriguingly called Nomadic Furniture, which made us wonder about the transient nature of life. Nearby, an unfinished Mandala art whispered an invitation. Someone had started a design but left it dangling midway, like a story waiting for its sequel. We picked up where the mystery artist left off and added our strokes to the design. And crikey! What a piece of art we had accidentally unleashed! We were filled with smug satisfaction and posted our ‘collaborative’ work on Instagram. Nearly two years ago, a dear friend had gifted us a Mandala art kit when we moved to Chennai, and it had been languishing in the recesses of our cabinet. For a blink in time, we were torn between flaunting our artistic skills and hoping our friend wouldn’t connect the dots back to her untouched gift.
Day three began at the crack of dawn, when we emerged from slumber, slightly disoriented but willing to participate in the magic. We set off across the sprawling, dewy grounds of Raga Svara for a morning stroll. The earth had just been kissed by rain, and we breathed in the heady perfume of petrichor. We meandered into the herbal and rock gardens, where every corner looked like it had been landscaped by someone with a deep passion for both Ayurveda and Instagram aesthetics. This was followed by a yoga session at Antara, where we were introduced to foundational asanas, or in other words, ‘positions that look simple until you try holding them for longer than 10 seconds.’
We are not sure if it was some cosmic chief, but while heading for our breakfast, we stumbled into an underground meditation chamber named Bodhi, a bubble of calm so quiet that even our thoughts did a no-show! We plopped down in Padmasana, gave our best ‘Om,’ and the echo rippled through the chamber. By the time the final echo faded, we realised that we had scored some zen points and we were in the thick of Raga Svara’s peaceful groove.
We embarked on the next chapter of wellness with Churana Potli, a snug herbal bolus that promised to unknot every cranky muscle and probably some emotional baggage too. This was followed by yet another episode of Shirodhara, a silky oil rain that serenaded our senses and soul alike. After refuelling with a gourmet meal, we channelled our inner Picassos with clay pot painting, where art meant ‘I have no idea what I am doing, but it’s therapeutic.’
On our final morning, we treated ourselves to a farewell breakfast. Antioxidant shots were raised like toasts, detox water flowed like champagne, and the table whimpered under a lineup of fresh fruits, cold-pressed juices, finger millet protein-rich dosas, oats and broccoli waffles, and mejdoul dates. We made our way to Sarvanga Abhyanga, our final dose of warm and oiled bliss.
The most miraculous magic of our stay? A complete digital detox! Our phones and laptops didn’t even get a second glance, as if our minds had orchestrated a quiet coup against technology. As we bid our farewells to this sanctuary of stillness, we felt refortified in mind, body, and spirit and ready to re-enter the world, albeit with a touch of calm.
sangeetha.p@newindianexpress.com
X- @psangeetha2112
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