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The experience of staying at Six Senses Vana—and it really is, as any visitor will quickly discover, an experience—begins well before you actually arrive.
There’s the information you’ll be asked for in the weeks ahead of your stay, so that the team can begin preparing your custom health and wellness plan, whether for the minimum break of five days or (in the case of the lucky few who can afford it) for a month and upwards. There’s the lengthy pilgrimage it takes to get there, which will, most likely, see you land at Delhi airport, before being collected in one of the resort’s plush minivans to navigate the city’s infamously traffic-clogged streets. A few hours later, you’ll pass through the teeming city of Dehradun; on its outskirts, you’ll begin the slow climb up winding roads to the foothills of the Himalayas, before pulling down a discrete side road and plunging deep into a forest of towering sal trees.
As soon as you step through the doors of the arrival pavilion, you know you’ve crossed a threshold of some kind. My “guest experience manager” for the week floated in with a detox tea and provided me with a set of thick linen kurta pajamas to change into, before I received a red string to tie around my wrist as a blessing and had a dot of vermillion powder swiftly applied to my forehead. Next, I was whisked away in a golf cart along the leafy pathways that snake around the 21-acre property, and led into the architectural marvel of a building that serves as the beating heart of it all. But with barely a moment to gawp at its cavernous, light-filled central atrium, all soothing neutrals and tasteful hanging sculptures, it was time to begin addressing the real reason for my visit—by taking a trip to the doctor.
Because, yes, Six Senses Vana is a wellness retreat, but one with a very distinctive outlook. First opened as simply Vana in 2014 by Veer Singh, the resort quickly built a reputation as one of the most restorative (and ravishingly beautiful) destinations in the world, both for the subdued luxury of its design and the sheer breadth of wellness traditions on offer. It’s one of the few places globally, for example, to offer the Tibetan medicine practice of Sowa Rigpa, here delivered by therapists who trained at the Dalai Lama’s Tibetan Medical and Astro Institute; the Dalai Lama himself paid a visit to the resort back in 2016, images of which are proudly displayed on its walls. Earlier this year, however, the property was acquired by Six Senses, the hotel brand that has established itself as a pioneer in delivering an accomplished blend of luxury, sustainability, and wellness.
Naturally, there was some skepticism from long-time Vana devotees—or “Vanavasis,” as they’re nicknamed—when the news was announced. Would its takeover by a larger hotel group detract from the resort’s rare magic? Reader, I’m happy to report that any worries are unfounded. The majority of the team has remained from its previous iteration, and the only real tweaks to its well-honed formula are the additions of a few signature Six Senses touches: a more high-tech wellness screening upon arrival, for example, alongside the intuitive Ayurvedic screening for which the primary reading is a finger on your pulse, as well as the addition of an Alchemy Bar to whip up scrubs and masks, another Six Senses staple. Phones and digital devices are still banned in public areas, and while beer and wine are available upon request at mealtimes, it’s unlikely you’ll find yourself tempted.
As for what also hasn’t changed? The astonishingly good food. As part of your arrival screening, the doctor will prescribe a series of recommendations for how you should be eating during your stay, based on the three Ayurvedic doshas of vata, pitta, and kapha. (I was diagnosed as kapha, meaning I should be favoring warm, light, and drier foods, as well as prescribed an aloe vera shot with a dash of turmeric every morning and a concoction of fennel and cumin to chase each meal that is surprisingly delicious.) If that sounds like a lot to think about while you’re supposed to be relaxing, rest assured that in the capable hands of the resort’s culinary staff—who make everything from scratch on-site, and source the vast majority of their produce and ingredients from the local area—sticking to your diet will be a breeze.
Having heard tales of draconian health retreats where dinner is a slice of watermelon and a cube of cheese—tales that, to this writer anyway, read more like horror stories—I was pleasantly surprised to be eating remarkably low-calorie dishes while still feeling as though I were feasting like a maharajah. At lunchtimes, I found myself gravitating towards the restaurant Anayu, which came with a set menu tailored specifically towards your dosha, with the main course featuring a jewel-like thali plate covered with various bowls of curries, salads, rice, and chutneys—and, as is the Ayurvedic way, with just one type of protein throughout. (A small bowl of butter-soft grilled fish in a delicate spiced coconut sauce was a particular standout.) Then, in the evenings, I would ensconce myself in the same corner booth at Salana, where a wide-ranging menu of largely South and East Asian dishes would be provided; everything from a delicately spiced paneer curry to teriyaki chicken—all locally sourced, of course.
And while the resort doesn’t make a song and dance of its sustainability credentials, its efforts on that front are genuinely impressive. As the resort’s manager points out over a lunch of grilled fish and stir-fried local vegetables, sustainability was embedded in the ethos of Vana from the very beginning, long before it became a priority for the world’s biggest hotel groups. Rainwater is collected and recycled to irrigate the property’s 21 acres, while solar panels supply heating during the cooler months. No foodstuffs are air freighted in, and nearly everything—from cheese, to bread, to miso, to kombucha, to butter—is made in-house from local ingredients. Even those linen pajamas are upcycled into dhurrie carpets after they’ve had enough wear and tear, while the in-house bottling plant ensures the entire resort is a plastic-free zone.
Yet where Six Senses Vana shines brightest is in the treatments, which are not only world-class, but set the very standard of world-class. Not long after my arrival, a few sheets were slipped under my door. First, a timetable of the head-spinning array of activities on offer each day, including breath work, meditation sessions, and—a particular favorite—raga therapy, which essentially involved lying on the ground as a sitar was gently strummed, and most days led to a mid-afternoon doze. In the evenings, there were film screenings at an outdoor cinema, or scheduled talks from visiting practitioners and experts on ancient Indian spiritual practices. At an additional cost, there were also a handful of excursions on offer, including the spectacular Arti ceremony held on the river in nearby Rishikesh—it was here that the Beatles infamously spent a period in the late ’60s at an ashram and embraced Transcendental Meditation—or simply hikes to nearby monasteries and nature reserves. Personally, I chose to remain mostly on site, and although I didn’t make quite as much use of the state-of-the-art gym and expansive outdoor pool to swim laps in the morning as I’d initially planned (to be fair, it was the height of monsoon season), I began every morning with 7 a.m. yoga before a hearty breakfast of masala dosa, and that felt good enough to me.
It was also partly because, despite the relaxed pace at Vana, I felt I barely had time. On another piece of paper under my door came my personalized wellness plan for the week, which laid out all the ways in which I’d be prodded, poked, primped, and pricked (yes, there’s an in-house acupuncture specialist) over the coming week. There were two or three scheduled per day: a ku nye Tibetan oil massage to soothe my weary limbs after the long flight over; an array of treatments at the outbuilding dedicated solely to Ayurvedic principles, at which I was slathered in warm oil and applied with hot herbal poultices; or, on the afternoon before I left, a sound healing and a hor gyi metsa session that incorporated Tibetan chanting, preparing me to ease back into the outside world.
There was a touch of the surreal about my week in the mountains, made all the more heightened, perhaps, by being there during monsoon season. (Conventional wisdom might tell you to visit during the warmer, drier months, but I actually found the pitter-patter of rain outside the windows strangely soothing and conducive to entering an appropriately meditative state of mind.) You could chalk it up initially to mild jetlag, but as someone who typically struggles with sleep, from the very first night onwards, I felt I was resting more deeply and restoratively than ever before—even when I was awoken in the morning by a clattering of branches, eventually revealed to be a particularly lively monkey performing some Cirque du Soleil-worthy maneuvers through the canopies above. While I did spend the first few days pining for heartier portions, it didn’t take long for my body to adjust, and for the purifying nature of the low-fat, low-salt, low-protein diet to work its magic, making me feel just that bit lighter, as my Ayurvedic dietitian had promised. As the day of my departure approached, I found myself approaching the doors reluctantly, as my experience manager tied my wrist with another bracelet and handed me a cloth bag containing a set of bells that had been blessed to wish me a safe journey onwards. At this point, my only question was: Do I really have to leave? Consider me a convert.
Of course, taking all of the habits you’ll acquire at Six Senses Vana back with you is easier said than done. I quickly found myself reverting to a few of the bad practices I’d shed during my time there; I couldn’t resist ordering some French fries with my salad when I got back to my hotel in Delhi before heading home, and it only took a few days back in London for my sleeping pattern to fall out of whack. But the stay prompted me to get back into yoga again. I started making an effort to put my phone away before bed and not pick it up as a reflex in the morning, and I did find myself sleeping better as a result. I even began carving out the time at lunch not just to scarf a sandwich at my desk in order to get me through the afternoon, but to eat it slowly and mindfully without distractions, as I had been taught at Vana. I had my bells and my bracelet, but the best souvenir from my trip wasn’t anything material, but the small, unspoken lessons I’d absorbed along the way. And isn’t that what the best travel experiences are all about?
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