"Puck, Puck," go the pomegranate-sized linen bundles of rice cooked with herbs. My body, warmed with fragrant oil, is being pummeled with rice. "Whap, Whap." One therapist starts on my left leg and down the right while the other keeps the rice packs steaming. Unable to resist this whacking duet, limb by limb, my muscles yield.

Riced into a comfortable mush, my eyes and ears are covered with cotton. Then, a beautiful brass bowl descends over my head. From a tiny hole on the bowl’s bottom, a gentle wisp of warm oil trickles onto my forehead. The therapist swirls the bowl around in spirals. The oil tickles my hairline, caresses my temples and soothes my brow. Heaviness drains from my mind. A mild euphoria seeps in.

Thus disencumbered, I steam clean in the shower and am led to the resting room. Stretched on a terrycloth-padded lounger and listening to Beethoven on a personal sound system, I sip cool water flavored with lemon grass. I’d be crazy, however, to cover my eyes with the mini herbal pillow because out the semicircle of tall French windows lie the Himalayas—high, wide and awesome. Far below, the holy Ganges spills out of the high Himalayas into what they call in these part "hills," 5,000’ hills. Terraced fields of spring-lime green cut across the lower hills, giving way to ridge after ridge of the high—9,000’—but still forested "hills." Storm clouds, mimicking the forested mountains sweep through on their way to the plains. Indians call this the ‘Abode of the Gods.’

Ananda: Quite the destination, quite the spa. The spa’s western accoutrements —from hydro and aroma therapies to body wraps and Aveda facials—are all first-rate. Ananda’s soul, however, is her mountain home, on the estate of an erstwhile Maharaja, and her heart is Ayurveda, a 5000-year-old Indian healing system.

Ayurveda, a Sanskrit word, is derived from two roots, one meaning life and the other knowledge. It treats each person individually and as a whole—body, mind and spirit. Ayurveda aims to enhance life, prevent illness as well as cure it. In Ayurveda there are three principle "bio-energies" called doshas that exist in different combinations in everyone. Most people have a dominant dosha that determines their body type. Ayurveda prescriptions—a combination of treatments, diet, yoga, meditation and lifestyle changes—rebalance one’s doshas in accord with their body type.

Ananda is a resort to some, a health and beauty spa to some and a 28 day Ayurvedic rejuvenation program to others. There are, however, no strict divisions. I followed a much-shortened rejuvenation program. In my private consultation, Dr. Gupta, the spa’s Ayurvedic specialist, determined my body type. He made life style recommendations (travel only once a week) and thinking recommendations (quiet your mind and it will be easier to get out all the thoughts fighting to get out.) He also made diet recommendations. "Ayurveda," Dr. Gupta explained, "is all about balance." He recommended foods I should emphasize or reduce—not eliminate. It’s a relief to be free of California’s diet police and their latest forbidden apple.

Ananda’s staff is genial and supportive. They strike just the right chord for me and my fellow rejuvenators to enjoy each other’s company while retaining time for solitude. This week, there’s a German food and wine connoisseur here for his annual month-long renovation, an English couple stretching their long un-stretched bodies and an Indian couple from California looking to their roots to restore their vitality.

Enough rest and rejuvenation to enjoy my last two weeks in the not-always-easy India is my goal. In my personal yoga session, I learn specific postures to help my particular strains and touch my toes for the first time in decades. Each morning’s group yoga session further limbers my limbs. The meals, each adjusted for my specific dosha imbalance, are exquisite and the spa treatments are up to their locale in the Abode of the Gods.

Goose bumps rise when my two masseuses start an Ayurveda double massage by ringing a temple bell and saying a prayer over me. Then, after a slathering of scented oil, both masseuses begin to play what feels like a velvet symphony on my back. One presses as the other sails, one tiptoes as the other skates, one pummels with sides of her hands as the other pushes with her palms. Then they reverse and do it all again. A massage definitively worthy of Shiva, the one-thousand-armed Hindu Goddess. A eucalyptus-infused steam shower and a rub down follow. I then sit content, obediently eating my honey-sweet Ayurvedic medicine with a little wooden Dixie-cup spoon. Back in the resting room, I feast my eyes on India’s Abode of the Gods feeling like a minor deity myself.