India & Sri Lanka - Four Weeks through Heat, Healing & Monsoon Wildlife

Mumbai welcomed me exactly as expected: loud, hot, humid, chaotic - and somehow still incredibly charming. It took almost two hours for immigration after two A380s landed simultaneously (night-arrival efficiency: denied) and at at 5:30am I collapsed at Naman’s place for a much-needed reboot. The next five days were a immersion into his world: constant change of plans, food craze & lazy lunches, rooftop football, late-night movies in recliner chairs (yes, complete with the national anthem), and meandering through Colaba, Bandra and South Mumbai.

Mumbai is a city of contrasts - leafy calm around the apartment, and two streets later, full sensory overload: traffic, horns, people, life everywhere. I escaped the heat with café breaks, sampled my way through street food (wada pav instantly entered the top tier), and let the city do what Mumbai does best: overstimulate and embrace you in the same breath.

Landing in Kerala felt like switching from fast-forward to slow motion. The Sivananda Ashram sits among palms and forested hills, with monkeys offering early-morning mischief and an atmosphere so quiet it makes your own thoughts echo.

Most guests follow the full yogic routine: chanting at dawn, asana classes twice a day, karma yoga, lectures, lights out at 10. I checked in for a 14-day Ayurvedic Panchakarma - equal parts physical cleanse, emotional excavation, and surrender to unfamiliar routines.

It began immediately: dosha assessment, herbal medicines, dietary restrictions, and treatments that swung between blissful and confronting. With external stimuli stripped away - no coffee, no snacks, no screens, minimal conversation - my internal landscape had nowhere to hide. The first days were honestly rough. The massages, warm herbal streams, and shirodhara (continuous warm oil on the forehead) stirred restlessness, sadness, resistance.

I spent two days wanting to run away. And two more realizing this was exactly the point. Then came the ghee days - increasing amounts of clarified butter on an empty stomach. Heavy, foggy, tiring, emotionally wide open. Boredom even visited, and turned out to be surprisingly revealing. With so little distraction, every inner monologue became audible: old fears, old patterns, intrusive thoughts, and beneath them, the softer layers I often drown out.

Virechana (purification) was gentler than expected - more a quiet internal reset than a dramatic purge. Afterwards I felt a peaceful emptiness, as if someone had dialed down the internal static. Then the bastis (herbal and oil enemas): not glamorous, but grounding.

Kashā Seka - warm herbal liquid poured rhythmically over the body - was unexpectedly soothing. Some days felt light, others stirred irritation, but every day peeled a layer back. By the end I’d lost around 5kg and gained a sense of spaciousness - lighter, calmer, more aware of what nourishes me and what doesn’t. Emotionally, it was a journey of resistance → release → gentle equilibrium. I didn’t leave with a burst of energy, but with something better: a reset nervous system and a quieter mind.

Sri Lanka greeted me in peak monsoon fashion: a cyclone threatening my entire route. Flooded roads, drivers unwilling to travel, fuel shortages - for a moment I considered flying home early. Instead, I waited in Negombo (in close proximity to the airport) and improvised. The country rewarded the patience.

When the rain eased, I headed south. A lagoon safari on the Madu River led me through mangroves, cinnamon island workshops, tiny temples and wildlife hiding among the roots. Galle Fort - all pastel houses and colonial charm - was the perfect mid-journey pause.

Then came one of the absolute highlights of my travels so far: A blue whale sighting off Mirissa. For nearly an hour, this gentle giant surfaced 30–40 meters from the boat -  feeding, diving, rising with slow ancient grace. Even the crew was buzzing. Knowing the Sri Lankan blue whale population has declined recently made the encounter feel even more like a rare privilege.

The days after flowed easily:

• snorkelling with a turtle and a black-tip reef shark

• humbling surfing attempts

• rice paddies, buffalo-lined roads and quiet villages

• a safari in Udawalawe, full of elephants and birdlife

• ayurvedic massages in between monsoon showers

• long beach walks at dusk & dawn

• a charmingly chaotic introduction to Colombo

Colombo surprised me - temples, colonial buildings, shiny towers, and a city beach alive with families at dusk. The view from the Lotus Tower, a 360° panorama of the tropical metropolis wrapped in rain clouds, was the perfect farewell.

Beyond the beaches, treatments and cities, these four weeks turned into a journey inward: A journey that stretched me, slowed me, unsettled me, grounded me - and filled me with moments I’ll carry for a long time. From emotional release in a quiet treatment room in Kerala to the tail of a blue whale disappearing into the deep Indian Ocean, these weeks reminded me how much can shift when you let yourself pause, feel, and reset.

Mumbai’s intensity.

The ashram’s silence.

Sri Lanka’s raw, rain-washed beauty.

I didn’t return overflowing with energy. I returned clearer, softer, and more aware of what serves me and what drains me. Lighter in ways that matter. With a sense that something has reset - and that the real integration is just beginning.