Authentic Pancha Karma Treatment in Kerala

Posted by Joel Gales - Comments Off

In the heavily touristed areas of southern Kerala, the insincere and exaggerated claims put forth by many less scrupulous practitioners can be an exhausting distraction when looking for authentic Ayurvedic care. Everywhere one turns, it seems, there spas and billboards claiming to be able to cure all diseases, extend mortality, and restore youth. As I began again in my search for an authentic practitioner, I was becoming skeptical that I would ever find “real Ayurveda.”

While my sneha paana treatment with Dr. Raj had been authentic in that he didn’t cater to tourists looking for massages rather than medicine, all that time spent suffering the strict diet and ghee drinking failed to pass the simple test of alleviating any of my symptoms. Still, I felt I needed to give a full course of pancha karma a chance before going home, if for no other reason than thoroughness; it was what I set out to do when I started this blog, and I didn’t feel I could make a fair judgment about Ayurveda without the experience.

In my search for a provider, I returned to scour industry-related Facebook groups, AYUSH recognized hospitals, Green Leaf certified clinics, and traveler review websites. I cannot overstate how difficult it is to find a good pancha karma clinic that is both authentic and provides treatments at a reasonable price. Those two criteria immediately eliminated all the fancy spas and resorts from my list, but there were still dozens of choices to sift through. After many emails and phone calls with several top treatment centers, each of which had a price tag averaging in the $100+/day range, I finally found Dr. Bina through her high ratings on a travel website.

While most Ayurvedic centers I corresponded with recommended 21-28 days treatment in order to reach a “cure” (sometimes even before I explained my symptoms), Dr. Bina told me that two and a half weeks should be plenty for my “mild” conditions, and that, while she thought we could see some good effects, she was was not making any false claims she could provide a cure. Her honesty in setting my expectations about results was the main reason I chose her center for treatment, but there was also the price, which was about half of what I was quoted everywhere else: only 70,000 rs ($1087) for the treatments, room, and board for 19 days.

When I arrived at the center around noon on the first day, Dr. Bina was there to greet me and chatted with me as I ate the delicious homemade vegetarian lunch they provided. She then left me to unpack in one of two guestrooms upstairs where there was also a treatment room, cook’s quarters, living room, and dining area. She and her husband, a government Ayurvedic doctor who also consulted on treatments, lived with their young daughter in the lower unit of the spacious residential duplex, so she was never more than an instant message away when I needed anything.

My first treatment, an abhyanga massage, was administered expertly by the only therapist at the center, a woman in her late 50s named Anna. When I remarked later how strong Anna’s hands were, Dr. Bina told me that she had worked hard as a laborer while raising her daughter alone after her husband died tragically during her pregnancy. After years of odd jobs, Anna had come to be a PK therapist after Ayurveda cured her from a serious disease. Dr. Bina spoke of how difficult it was to find a committed therapist who had both “the hands and the heart,” but Anna had both. Unlike many of the massages I had experienced, she seemed completely present and aware during her treatments, and I felt something like love coming from her hands: for me and for the practice.

The chief complaints I presented with were the recurring insomnia, although I’d largely gotten it under control with help from daily meditation; constipation with any change in diet or routine, which was a bothersome issue while traveling; emotional excesses such as anger, impatience, and anxiety; both dryness and inflammation of the skin, which my dermatologists had shrugged off as rosacea; and pain in my fingers and hands, usually after typing, that felt like the beginning of joint issues or maybe carpal tunnel. In short, I was middle aged.

Despite well-groomed case of hypochondria, Dr. Bina told me I was pretty healthy, but that I had some vata (one of the three main doshas, or energies) imbalances that led to the dryness, insomnia, anxiety, and joint pain. She also noted a healthy dose of pitta in my doshic makeup that tended toward its own set of disorders, such as the inflammation of my skin, the pre-hypertension, the anger, and the impatience.

For these imbalances, she suggested the following plan, with modifications to come as we saw how I progressed.

The Treatment Plan

Abhyanga: whole body massage with oil. Six days.
This massage technique consists of long, vigorous strokes up and down the body in an effort to stimulate the internal organs and improve circulation. There are copious amounts of oil used, which softens the skin and is part of the “sneha” (oleation) process preceding PK. Abhyanga is thought to help with sleep and to aid in longevity.

As someone used to having massages in the US, I was surprised and unabashedly delighted to discover that traditional Indian massage includes massaging the breast area, usually with long strokes that include the arms and go down to the belly or ankles. It’s healthy for the breast and surrounding lymphatic tissue to be massaged regularly, and it’s a good addition for women to include in their daily practice of abhyanga self-massage.

Jambeera Pinda Swedam: application of poultice with medicinal powders, lemon—jambeera—and coconut. Three days.
I thought I was going to miss the abhyanga, but the poultice treatment was a lovely substitute. Each morning, Anna cooked up a batch of herbs in oil with lemons and crushed coconut, which she wrapped in a tight muslin poultice. During the treatment, she dipped the poultice in oil before rubbing it over my body with deep strokes that felt like a cross between a massage and an exfoliation treatment. The smell is heavenly, and the slightly coarse texture of the muslin left my skin feeling silky soft.

Patra Potala Swedam: application of poultice with medicinal leaves—patra—lemon, and coconut. Four days.
This treatment is the same as the one above but incorporates the addition of medicinal leaves as the primary ingredient. These “swedam,” or heat treatments, use hot oil to prepare the body for PK. As Dr. Bina explained, the body must be both lubricated (“sneha”), either internally, externally, or both and steamed with warm oil or water (swedam). When it comes time for the actual treatment, the body will be pliable enough to fully receive the medications.

Nasyam: instilling liquid medication through nostrils. Six days.
Anna gave me this treatment in the morning a couple of hours before the abhyanga. After she massaged my face, chest, and back with a mentholated substance, I would deeply inhale from a steamer to open up the sinuses and bronchial areas. Then she would tilt back my head back to drop up to six drops of medicated ghee into my nose, which she would have me sniff deeply to draw in but not swallow, which was a difficult reflex to suppress. Instead I had to spit it out into a container until my saliva no longer tasted of ghee, which usually lasted only a few minutes.

Sirodhara: pouring warm oil on the forehead continuously for 45 mins. Seven days.
The poster child of Ayurvedic massages for good reason. This technique involves a stream of warmed oil pouring over the forehead for 45 minutes, which is exactly as hypnotic as it sounds. I was not supposed to go to sleep during the session, but a few times I couldn’t help dozing off as my body and mind reached total relaxation.

Vasthi: a combination of five oil enemas and three decoction enemas where a special medicated liquid will be inserted through the anus. Four days.
This treatment and the virechana (below) are the main PK treatments which all others have been leading up to and will begin shortly after this blog post goes live.

Virechana: purgation therapy aimed at eliminating excess pitta dosha from the small intestine, liver, and gall bladder. One day.
Not originally part of the treatment regimen, she added a mild virechana PK treatment after I arrived as I had more pitta imbalance than she originally thought.

The Medications

I started on all three medications immediately, and all were provided free of charge. In addition to the diet and massage, these were used to prepare the body for the PK (Vasthi).

Gandharvahastadi Kashayam: used to treat digestive issues and bring vata dosha under control. After 5 days, we switched to Guloochiaddi Kashayam, which is indicated to clear liver heat in case of high pitta dosha.
Ashwagandharishtam: used to soothe neurological disorders (anxiety).
Gandharvahasta Tailam: a castor-oil based liquid used to treat vata digestive and neurological disorders.
Medicated ghee starting on the 4th day with 20 ml, increasing to 50 ml by day 10, which was the day before virechana. Post virechana treatment, we returned to 20 ml.

The Diet

I knew the diet was going to be vegetarian as non-veg foods are too heavy for any PK diet, and I also expected it to be a little bland and pretty restricted. I could not have been more wrong. Each meal was a south Indian specialty, and the subtle flavors and complex but mild spices did not leave me missing the spicy, salty, and oily diet I had become accustomed to while eating in restaurants since my last treatment. Dr. Bina even let me have raw fruit, although raw vegetables were not part of the plan. South Indians just don’t do salads, she told me, and besides raw vegetables were hard to digest, which was not allowed during treatment.

She also dealt me the blow of no more coffee—not ever—due to its heating and drying properties and how much it increased stress and blood pressure, which were two things of the issues I was battling. I think she noticed how saddened I was by this news because she relented to giving me a nice thermos of chai early each morning to ease my SBS (shy bowel syndrome). When she first started the clinic, she had her patients follow a stricter diet, but then noticed they were becoming even more stressed out by the deprivation. She now allows for some small joys, such as oil, some spice, some fruit, and a little caffeine as long as the patient’s condition is not too severe.

Typical meals were as follows:

Breakfast: a south Indian specialty like rice noodles (Iddyapam) with coconut milk, puttu (steamed rice and coconut rolls) with curry, or rice pancake rolls stuffed with shredded coconut. Rice and coconut are common and beloved staples in this part of India, and they provide sweetness in a diet that does not include refined sugar. If these dishes sound bland or boring, I can assure you they are not, despite their simplicity.

Lunch: the largest meal of the day, as the digestive strength (or agni, fire) is considered highest at this time in Ayurveda. At first they were serving me white rice until I requested brown, which puzzled them as brown rice is considered inferior and is often fed to animals, and they proudly had been serving me the best white rice available. I explained that I wanted the extra nutrients and fiber with brown rice, so they accommodated my eccentricity with good humor. In addition to the rice, they usually served a soupy coconut-based curry along with a couple of vegetable masalas, and fresh fruit for dessert.

Dinner: whole wheat chapatis with a simple vegetable curry. Whole fruit dessert along with fruit juice, although I cancelled the juice later because I wanted to reduce my calorie intake.

The Results

Each day I have kept a journal, and, looking back, it was on day five that I started to feel really relaxed and at peace. My skin, oiled each day during treatment, has taken on a lustrous quality, and my hands looked younger. It will doubtless return to a drier state once I stop the daily oleation treatments, but for now I’m enjoying it. The inflammation has lessened but still remains.

My sleep, pretty good before I arrived, has deepened to a level I haven’t felt since I was in my 20s. It’s so good, I don’t even want to tell my other friends in their 40s who almost all complain of having lost the ability to sleep through the night.

Of course, my main issue is stress, and there is none of that here. The house sits back from the main road over a quarter mile and backs up to wetlands framed by palm trees in the far distance, so there is no noise other than bird song, the bleating of goats as a herd wanders by, and children playing in the adjacent field. All my meals are prepared, my room cleaned daily, my clothing washed, and my body manipulated into relaxation every day by someone else’s hands, so I have nothing to do aside from read, write, do yoga, and take gentle walks. The test will come when I return to the real world, and Dr. Bina has warned me that conditions that got better often worsen again after her patients go back to their old environments and perhaps old habits, so it will take discipline to maintain a lifestyle that will allow me maximum benefits from the treatment.

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Sun
01 ^st

Arya Vaidya Sala Kottakal

Posted by Joel Gales - 1 Comment

One of the most well known and highly regarded Ayurvedic institutions in all of Kerala and throughout India, Arya Vaidya Sala Ayurvedic Hospital & Research Centre was my first choice in seeking treatment. In addition to the many online reviews and articles praising their treatments, I was referred by Ayurvedic practitioners for the quality of their medicines. The main drawback was that the center is in the middle of a busy city unlike most of the peaceful, secluded resorts, but still the positives seemed to outweigh the shortcomings. In addition to their sterling reputation, the prices I found online were much lower than the thousands of dollars charged by resorts catering to Westerners. Or so I thought.

While the website states there are additional costs for treatment and medicine, I could find no information on these tariffs, which turned out to be almost as much as the room per day. Thus, a three-week stay would cost just over $2000, which puts this place on par with some of the resorts I researched.

Their site also offers a free “online consultation,” but it’s not what I would call a real online consultation. Instead, potential patients fill out a simple form that sends an automated reply directing them to come to the hospital in Kottakal for an in-person consultation. There’s no way to book this place without going in person for evaluation, so you don’t know if you will even be admitted. I thought that made sense as a doctor would need to assess a potential patient in the flesh in order to conduct a thorough examination, and I knew from their website that they treated hypertension in addition to other disorders.

After filling out the evaluation form online, I called to speak to someone in their office because I wanted some reassurance that making the trip to otherwise undesirable Kottakal would not be in vain. She told me that I would need to be seen by a doctor, and while there were no vacancies at the time, there were frequently cancellations for bookings, so the best I could do was to show up and try to grab a spot. Undaunted, I made the long train overnight train journey from lovely Canacona station, which is about 1.5 km from Palolem Beach center, to less-than-lovely Tirur station in northern Kerala. From there I caught a rickshaw, which was incredibly cheap after Goan prices (only 250 rs for about 15 km) to make the final part of the journey to my hotel in Kottakal, where the main Arya Vaida Sala hospital is located.

My hotel was just over half a kilometer away from the in-patient panchakarma center, but I had been told when I called the week before to report to the out-patient center, which is closer to 2 km away. There are several hospital buildings, including a cancer ward, the outpatient building, a medicine manufacturing facility, and the PK center. The entire area, which I began to think of as the Ayurveda Industrial Complex, is encircled by four main roads and includes an area of about 8 km. There are also research centers, a huge and beautiful outdoor herb garden, and even a trash disposal site for the hospitals. Surrounding the hospitals are hotels (none that I would call a good value), restaurants, pharmacies, and drug compounding shops that thrive on the business the hospital brings.

The morning after my arrival, I walked to the out-patient treatment center to get in line for my free consultation. I had a photograph of my passport on my phone, which they let slide, but ideally I would have had the actual book in my hand. (Note: always carry your passport when you will need to prove your identity.) After about twenty minutes sitting in a crowded waiting room, I was shown to the doctor’s office. She asked me a few preliminary questions, but nothing as in-depth as I’d been asked by Ayurvedic doctors before. She took my blood pressure, which was 140/100, the highest it had been since Bombay, but I had also been cutting my dose of blood pressure medicine as the side effects, which included dizziness, edema, and nausea, were becoming too much to bear. I asked her if she could prescribe me a new blood pressure medication that didn’t have side effects, but she said she wanted me to go to the PK treatment center first so the doctor there could determine the course of treatment. She assured me that if the doctor at the PK center was not available, she would help me with getting new medication that afternoon, so, with her referral slip in hand, I made my way to the center close to my hotel.

Upon arriving at the center, I was given a sheet of paper with the room types listed along with prices. I had to get out my calculator when I first saw the prices to make sure that the hot walk hadn’t given me any temporary brain damage when I was doing the conversion from rupees to USD, but I my initial calculations were correct: the price including treatment and medication was much higher than I’d expected, even for the more basic rooms with A/C.

After studying the list of rooms, I told the young man behind the desk that I wanted the most basic room with A/C, and he seemed taken aback. He told me there were other options that were much more “deluxe” and included amenities like attached kitchenettes, cable television, and so on. He got on the phone and spoke to someone in what I assume was Malayalam and then hung up to tell me that my choice was not available and that the only room left was due to a cancellation, and that was the more expensive room that included what I considered a bunch of unnecessary luxuries.

He then said that I needed to choose the length of my course of treatment, which went anywhere from 7-28 days. “How do I know how long the treatment needs to be without seeing a doctor?” I asked. He seemed annoyed by the question, and assured me I would see a doctor, but then also told me that he would need full payment the next morning before I was admitted, and that was when I would see the doctor. “Ma’am, the boy will take you to see the room so you can tell us if it’s acceptable.” Okay, whatever, I wasn’t in the mood for his circular logic, and I planned to go back to the outpatient doctor to see if I could get my blood pressure medicine changed, which was at that point my primary concern, especially after the high reading from that morning.

I’d named the pushy sales guy behind the desk “Rick” because it rhymed with a word that I thought described him well. Rick then called over a man to take me to see the room, but before I had gathered my things, he was outside, and by the time I reached the courtyard outside, he had disappeared. I waited for a couple of minutes while the guards, who spoke no English, tried to fathom what I wanted when I asked them where I was supposed to go to see the room. Finally my guide stuck his head back around the courtyard gate and motioned impatiently for me to follow him.

It was a typical hot day in India, and my heart was beating a little too fast for my comfort as I walked up the inclined sidewalk behind my guide who was not slowing down or even checking to see if he’d lost me again. I was trying to focus on my breathing instead of my thoughts so that I would stay calm, but I was getting pissed by that time. We made it to the building where a couple other people were waiting, but the elevator was broken so we had to walk up three flights of stairs to the room. The young man who’d taken over as our tour guide in the lobby opened a door to show us the $35/night room, and right away I muttered, “you have got to be kidding,” as he kept asking us “room ok? Room good, yes?”

No, room not good, room kind of shitty, dirty, and dark, I thought to myself. There was a short, narrow bed with dingy sheets, and the floor didn’t seem clean. The place smelled of Ayurvedic medicines, and the attached kitchenette was nothing more than a sink with a counter. The bathroom was tiled but beyond that nothing nicer than your typical Indian bathroom with a Western toilet and a shower head coming out of the wall. There was a partial view of some greenery in the back yard, but it was nothing like the photographs I had seen of the lovely manicured gardens with pools of water reflecting the surrounding plants.

He seemed to need immediate validation that the room was acceptable, so I finally said, a little sharply, “No, the room really isn’t okay, and I need to see a doctor before I can make a decision.” He didn’t seem to understand what I was saying, so I repeated more loudly, “I want to see a DOCTOR NOW!” At last, he got the message, and he showed me out of the room and downstairs to the doctor’s office.

To the credit of the hospital, both the doctors I saw were very nice, but even this doctor didn’t seem interested in asking me any questions, looking at my tongue, feeling my pulse, or performing any of the standard intake procedures you think of when you see a vaidya, or Ayurvedic physician. She did take my blood pressure again, which was back to normal, even after I’d thrown my little hissy fit a few minutes before.

I explained to her that I needed to understand what length of time I would need the treatment before I could secure the room and pay the hefty price tag for that length of treatment time. She nodded, said she understood, and after hearing my basic complaints (hypertension, recurring insomnia, dry skin, rosacea), she told me that 21 days would be ideal but that 14 would suffice, depending on time and financial constraints on my side. I said that time was not the issue, but that the price for the room and the medicines daily was pretty high considering what I’d been shown a couple of minutes before. She conceded that the pricing was expensive, but she told me I could do the first part of the treatment as an out-patient and then complete the next two weeks in the facility. She also kindly recommended that I keep checking back every morning to see if one of the room types had had a cancellation.

I thanked her and made my way back to the administration office to see my friend, Rick.

Once back, I let him know that I’d seen the doctor and she had recommended 21 days of treatment, so that was the length of time I needed. I told him that as I didn’t need A/C (and having it during PK is not recommended by some practitioners as it cools the body too much), I would be happy to take one of the smaller, more affordable rooms without A/C. He immediately told me that there were no other rooms available, even the basic hospital rooms that had “NON-RESERVABLE” printed next to their description on the sheet of paper. I asked when the next availability was for a room, as I could come back in a month if necessary, to which he impatiently responded that “all rooms were booked one year in advance,” which I found hard to believe. I asked if I could check back daily for to see if there had been a cancellation for a cheaper A/C room, and, after thinking about it for a second, he assured me that was an option but only after I had been admitted and paid in full for the expensive room for 21 days. I would be willing to bet that, had I checked in, there would never have been a cancellation.

“Okay,” I finally said, “I will take the room, but I want to check in tomorrow morning because I already have my hotel room for the night.” Suddenly, Rick was my new best friend. Smiling, he told me that I could come at 8 a.m. for immediate check-in. “And how much is the food?” I asked, as their kitchen supplied all the detox meals during treatment. He had no idea. Really? Was it his first day or something? That seemed like a pretty basic piece of information.

Putting on a smile, I told him I’d see him first thing in the morning, and then I made my way back to my hotel, ready to move onto Plan B even thought I didn’t know what that was yet.

Once back, I messaged a doctor of Ayurveda in nearby Thalassery with whom I’d become acquainted through an Ayurveda Facebook group to see if her clinic offered PK treatment. She responded to tell me that only about 5% of patients even needed the somewhat drastic PK treatment, but that the industry was making so much money here in India (and abroad) that no one was telling the truth. When I told her about my experience that morning at the hospital, she said, “No, they will not treat you, they will cheat you.” For the first time that day, I felt like someone was being straight with me.

She said all that I probably needed was dietary modification, herbs, and a simple treatment to get my blood pressure under control, so I asked if her partner, whose specialty included hypertension treatment, could see me. While I’m agnostic on the idea of fate or divine intervention, I do believe that we see opportunities clearly at the right time, so after she confirmed an appointment for a couple of days later, I set out to buy my train ticket.

I cannot call this post a review of the esteemed hospital, and for all I know, they may have had very good treatments and medicines. However, the feeling I got while I was there was that I was being hustled and misled. Ayurveda is big business here in India and abroad, and it’s difficult if not impossible to find providers who will be honest with you or who know what they are doing. My experience with the sales and intake department at AYS in Kottakal, unfortunately, did not leave me with a good feeling about what they could offer as far as healing. Ayurveda is supposed to be a spiritual practice, but what I encountered felt like I was dealing with an insurance company in the states: they didn’t care so much about my health as they did about getting my money.

But let the journey continue.

Note: during my wanderings I carry a blood pressure cuff so that I can monitor my status a couple of times a day. I also keep my blood pressure pills in my purse, and I always make sure I am near a hospital in case I need emergency treatment.

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Thu
14 ^th

Kaivalyadhama Center for Yoga and Panchakarma in Mumbai

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I wasn’t planning on getting any panchakarma treatments until I traveled further south to Kerala, but then I stumbled upon Kaivalyadhama in Mumbai while searching the web for a place to buy a neti pot. I was in the midst of a terrible head cold and was desperate to clear my sinuses with some neti pot action, but upon visiting their site, I learned they also had panchakarma treatments.

One such treatment is called Nasya, and they list the benefits as follows:

It is a wonderful treatment to remove the doshas or congestion in the ear, nose & throat. It cures problems of the respiratory track like chronic allergic asthma, cold, cough, etc.

It relieves mental fatigue, nervous disorders like depression, insomnia, epilepsy and insanity. It is also useful in problems of excessive hair fall and premature graying. It helps to induce calm and quiet sleep. It sharpens the intellect by enhancing nervous system.

I’ve also been having problems with insomnia since my arrival in India, so the treatment sounded like a good one for me. I emailed them on Sunday, and they got back to me Tuesday morning to let me know they had availability that day. They also confirmed they had ceramic neti pots for sale (only 40 rs!), so I hopped in a cab and made my way to their facility conveniently located on Marine Drive across from Chowpatty.

After the receptionist did a quick intake, I was shown into the doctor’s office. Of all the doctors of Ayurveda I have seen, I liked this woman especially for her compassion in addition to technical knowledge. She worked with me on my short time frame to compile a couple hours’ worth of treatments to help me clear some of the sinus congestion lingering from my cold. I knew I wanted the nasya, which she confirmed was a good treatment for me at that time, and she added a full-body massage—abhyangam—with herbal steam. I didn’t argue with her, especially as the price for all three treatments was only 1800 rs in addition to her 250 rs consultation fee.

The panchakarma (PK) therapist was a sturdy woman (and they only do same-sex massages there, which is a hallmark of Ayurvedic authenticity) with kind eyes and strong hands. She showed me to the PK room and had me sit in a chair for the head massage with herb-infused oil. After about ten minutes of this heavenly treatment, told me to strip down naked and lie on the massage table, where she expertly rubbed down my entire body with long Swedish-style strokes and a lot more medicated oil. I was in heaven.

Next came the steam, which meant climbing into a box with doors in front and up top that folded shut around me to leave only my head sticking out. The steam became pretty intense after a couple of minutes, so I had to pop open one of the top lids to release some of the heat. The PK therapist had assured me she was within earshot if I became uncomfortable, so I didn’t feel trapped.

After the steam, it was time for my nasya treatment. The thought of oil going up my nose seemed strange, but since I had mastered the neti pot, I wasn’t too concerned. She first massaged my entire face with ghee, which was lovely if not a little bit weird smelling, and then gently tilted back my head to receive about five drops of oil in each nostril. As soon as I could taste the herbs in the back of my throat, she stuck cotton in my ears to protect them from the air after the nasya (the ears, nose, and throat passages are all connected) and told me to wait at least three hours before showering.

Ideally I should have gone straight home to rest, but it was my last night in Bombay, and I already had plans to see a movie with my friend. When I emerged from the movie, my friend pointed out that my neck and shoulders were glistening with the oil that had dripped down from my hair, so I’d recommend going straight home after treatment if for no other reason than to prevent the oil from running down your back and staining your clothes.

The center also offers yoga classes and is renowned for its yoga teacher certification and mission to understand yoga from a scientific as well as spiritual perspective. They can create yoga routines that are designed to treat specific conditions, so I plan to visit them next time I’m in Mumbai to see what Ayur-yogic asanas they recommend for my dosha type. And another hour-long massage doesn’t sound bad either.

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Wed
30 ^th

R. A. Podar Ayurved Medical College in South Mumbai

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Lord Dhanvantari welcomes students to the RA Podar Ayurvedic College in Mumbai — Lord Dhanvantari welcomes students outside the hospital entrance

Amid a lush garden of banyan trees, the stately yet somewhat decrepit R. A. Podar Ayurved Hospital just south of the Bandra-Worli Sea Link offers no-frills treatments for locals and foreigners alike at some of the lowest costs I have encountered for Ayurvedic care. I have visited the institution twice, with the first time being almost a year ago for virechana treatment, and the second time being a week ago for some vata pacifying herbs to help with my jet lag. Overall, I’d recommend this place as an option for treatment in Mumbai, but there are some caveats.

Virechana Treatment November 2016

Before my first visit, I began by filling out the online consultation form available on the college website, and I highly recommend taking this step first if you decide to go. I was able to correspond with an upper level professor at the college who arranged for me to see a doctor before I arrived.

The morning of my consultation, the doctor recommended virechana, and I was given a set of instructions for purvakarma, which is the preparation for treatment. For those of you who have not had virechana before, this is the treatment where you drink ghee every day in order to loosen the ama, or built-up toxins, in the body. My orders were to drink increasing amounts of ghee mixed with special salt for the week leading up to treatment. I had to ingest the ghee and salt mixture first thing every morning at home, and by the end I think I had worked up to drinking close to 100 ml or more at once, but I don’t recall the exact amount as I have buried this memory, along with the ones of bearing my child, deep in my subconscious.

The doctor at the clinic had warned me about the difficulties inherent in ghee drinking, but I thought it wouldn’t be too bad because I love ghee so much when it’s warmed and spread on chapatis or drizzled into dahl. Clearly I was in denial, because—I am not gonna lie—there’s nothing nice about drinking salted ghee first thing in the morning. By the time I had worked my way up to drinking the full amount, it was all I could do not to throw it all up as soon as I had choked it down. (Pro-tip: hold your nose closed and drink it as fast as you can.)

There is also a special diet to be followed, but after you drink a big swig of ghee first thing in the morning, nothing after that will look like a hardship. The diet is basically kitchari, steamed veggies, and light vegetable soups. If you are not staying in a place where you can do your own cooking, it will be hard to find what you need in a typical Indian restaurant as the amount of spice in practically everything will only provoke the pitta dosha, which is the imbalance virechena seeks to address.

I did pretty well at following the diet, aside from falling off the purvakarma wagon once for an amazing thali on the day we celebrate Thanksgiving in the United States. I also may have taken too much to heart the advice that I could snack between meals on chikki, a jaggery and nut or seed-sweetened snack available in markets (“chikki” may be the Hindi word for “crack”), but otherwise there were no major offenses.

After a week of cleansing, I showed up at the hospital for my treatment, which I was told would take the entire day. During my first visit the week prior, I had been massaged by two women PK specialists (there is no opposite-sex massage in true Ayurved) and treated to a session of svedana in their special steaming apparatus that looked like a cross between a beautiful wooden coffin and a tanning bed. This visit, I was again treated to a massage with medicated oil and steam before I started the treatment. If you’re a California gal like me, you might be tempted to strip down to nothing before you are massaged with oils, but I recommend you wear an old pair of panties because they really do want you to keep them on, as I found out the hard way.

hospital treatment room at R A Podar Ayurved Medical College in Mumbai — Private hospital room used during treatment

Massaged, steamed, and dressed again, an attendant took me to a hospital room to start the therapy. I had to drink some nasty concoction and then sit and wait for the pooping to begin. Be sure to bring a book, because there’s a lot of waiting. After a couple of hours and a couple more drinks, my bowels were still hanging on stubbornly, but after a third drink served with the attendant’s assurance that “this one will work,” I began to get some results. Finally, around 6 pm, I was pronounced fit enough to take a cab home.

For the following week, the doctor suggested continuing in the same detox diet while slowly introducing foods that are harder to digest. Again, I think I did pretty well, but it’s Bombay, and I’m a foodie, so there was a lot more cheating than during the purvakarma phase.

Did it work? Yes, I think it did. The symptoms of my primary complaint abated significantly, although they returned a couple of months later to a lesser degree. However, that may be due to the diet I followed while traveling in South America in the subsequent months, which mostly consisted of bread, cheese, coffee, and chocolate.

Podar Hospital Pros & Cons

First the good:

Cost: my entire treatment from consult to hospital stay was under rs 20,000, which was about $30 USD at the time.

Ease of use at facility: the hospital is well staffed with English speaking doctors and student practitioners, and they are welcoming to foreigners despite serving primarily to treat locals who are unable to afford more expensive treatment.

Authenticity: if you are from the US or another foreign country, it’s really cool to be able to see a real government-run Ayuvedic hospital from the inside.

Quality of care: as someone who is just starting to study Ayurved, the treatment seemed legitimate to me, although there was no examination during purvakarma to determine the level of oleation resulting from the ghee drinking. I was also impressed with the staff and doctors at the hospital in how I was treated and in the communication I received.

And the maybe-not-so-good:

Ease of use at facility: this is not a spa, and you will have to stand in a queue with other folks to await your treatment. At times there is also a lack of privacy in discussing your medical issues as some consults will take place in rooms with other patients.

I had a private bathroom in my hospital room, but I think it was well known as a place to go pee for the workers there. Twice while I was in the room, employees entered the room without knocking and then went into my bathroom to use it. Being a whiny, uptight American, I complained, but let’s just say I’m glad that I didn’t need that bathroom during those interruptions.

Self-care during preparation: no one is going to hold your hand during all that ghee drinking, and no one will provide your meals. Patients must be prepared to follow the instructions for preparation and post-care or the treatment will not work as well.

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