This famous spa costs $17k for five nights. Is it worth it?

Of the many luxury spa options across India, it’s hard to imagine a better choice than Ananda, nestled up in the clouds, among the lower reaches of the Himalayas, overlooking the Ganges Valley and bustling Rishikesh – once on the hippie trail as the birthplace of yoga.

Since it was created in 2001 by Delhi businessman Ashok Khanna (a devotee of Ayurveda, yoga and Vedanta – and a veteran of the Oberoi Group of hotels), Ananda has scored accolades everywhere from The Telegraph in London to The New York Times. It has been awarded the world’s No. 1 destination spa six times by readers of Condé Nast Traveller. The alumni guest list reads like an Oscars roll call and includes Uma Thurman, Nicole Kidman, Kate Winslet, Liz Hurley, Oprah Winfrey and Ricky Martin. King Charles and Camilla stayed here in 2013.

“We hope we are voted the best for the service and the staff,” says Soumya Banerjee, the director of rooms, as he shows me around. Looking at the panorama, he adds, “also nothing can beat the Ganges and the Himalayas for a view”.

The Delhi-based friend who got me in here, Jamshyd Sethna, later explains: “No one can spin vedic stuff like us. But I find Ananda is less pushy and far more genteel. I would personally focus on the treatments, yoga and such, and ignore the rest. I keep returning to Ananda as I like the very relaxed vibe, plus the treatments are excellent.”

Sethna, the founder-owner of Shakti Himalaya and Banyan Tours, often sends guests there for a few days of R&R or an extended stay after they have hiked the higher ranges of the Himalayas, in which many of his boutique Shakti properties are located.

Suffice to say, Ananda’s setting is a showstopper. The air is sweet, the hills are alive with the sound of expensive water features, and each dawn brings the promise of yet more dewy facials and vigorous Himalayan salt scrubs – in between your wheat shots, buttermilk, and protein pancakes with curd.

A better, cleaner, more mindful and less materialistic you is a polished stone’s throw away. At around $US11,000 ($16,950) for a five-day all-inclusive package in an entry-level garden-view room, you’d hope so. Then again, don’t get too disinterested in money or you’ll never be able to afford it.

With the price point top of mind, I’m counting my lucky chakras to be here at all, even if it is a three-night flash-in-the-pan media stay. Real guests usually book in for seven to 21 days. Some even stay two months, at which point, you’re pretty much booted out to go work on your inner child at home. (Always with the warm invitation to return, of course.)

After check-in, my 45-minute consultation with Dr Harilal and a quick look around, I settle into room 510, with views of the hills and the river. I sit cross-legged on the bed like the newly minted wellness convert I am, perusing Dr Harilal’s recommended diet and other notes, along with my treatment schedule, and the daily activities everyone is encouraged to join in.

I have two full days here, and the first one looks like this: a 7.15am morning mantra chant, followed by an hour of hatha yoga, then breakfast at 8.30. At 11am it’s time for a 90-minute grounding aromatherapy massage before an emotional healing consultation at 2. Choose from a nature walk or afternoon tea at 4, then there’s a Vedanta talk at 6.15 and dinner at 7. At least one spa treatment a day is included in the package, but I have been turbocharged on Sethna’s orders.

“You don’t go somewhere like Ananda to see the sights,” Sethna chastises by text on learning of my request for time out to see Rishikesh. “That’s a not great, very touristy town. You’re at Ananda to be pampered. Do two treatments a day. More if you can.”

I’m not sorry when I depart with six treatments under my belt, including reflexology, and the two-therapist, four-hands Abhyanga massage with dosha-specific warm herb-infused oil. There are also physiotherapists, fitness experts, doctors of Chinese traditional medicine and meditation experts on site. It’s the full monty on the road to glowing good health.

For sustenance, a central dining room with a vast shady outdoor terrace keeps guests well fed and hydrated. The food is calorie-conscious, nutritious and fresh, with dishes such as Japanese pumpkin salad with boiled eggs, and slow-roasted carrots, chickpeas and courgettes tossed with feta, quinoa and mustard honey dressing.

To rebalance our doshas and clinically detox (if you are a 21-day guest), some are on personalised meal plans, while others (like me) are simply trying to avoid certain foods – such as acidic fruits, sourdough and dairy. Rest assured plenty of cheating goes on for those in the “just try to avoid” category.

Alcohol is definitely out, and caffeinated coffee is frowned upon in the dining room – but it’s readily available in your room. Carb-heavy foods such as pasta and rice are not served at dinner, nor is red meat. All that’s left to add is I never once felt hungry. Nor did I miss my usual double espressos.

The calming CFC tea (cumin, fennel and coriander seeds) was a refreshing alternative. But the real fun came with the group activities. After all, exactly who, other than movie stars and celebrities, do these places attract?

It’s hard to get a handle on this at first blush given all guests mostly wear the provided uniform of loose-fitting soft cotton kurta tunic and long pants – known as the Ananda “whites”. But the slip-ons lying outside the yoga pavilion each morning confirm the guests aren’t always so spartan: pearl-encrusted Chanel flip-flops, along with Donna Karan, Tory Burch and Burberry footwear. The only ends they are struggling to make meet are during the forward-bending, eight-angle Yoganidrasana pose.

There are around 60 or so guests when I stay, and everyone is friendly if on the quiet side. This is six-star “me” time. The 30-metre pool by the spa is a magnet for middle-aged women of mystery in designer sunglasses cradling Pulitzer Prize-winning novels in their slender hands. And men in branded sports caps, iPhones firmly on silent, even if you can tell it’s killing them.

“There’s a nice friendly vibe, but a lot of people come here for introspection,” says Banerjee. “If you get talking and socialising too much, it can take the focus off you.” Fair point. I resolve to talk less and group chant more.

On my second-last day, during the three-hour morning hike to Kunjapuri Temple, I meet French Sophie from Paris and Greek Roula who used to live in Paris, and now resides in London. The pair have been firm friends for decades. “We love to catch up like this,” explains Roula with a wave of her hand. “I’ve tried a few of these places, and this one is particularly good.”

We walk and chat, laughing and high-fiving the school children skipping along the winding village path, their scruffy dogs in tow; smiling at the farmers milking their cows. It’s a perfect morning and I nod enthusiastically at Sophie and Roula’s musings, thinking I could definitely get used to 7am temple walks with girl pals like these, followed by peanut butter protein pancakes. In fact, I realise, I feel fantastic. That Dr Harilal is a magician; maybe there’s something in the 100-rupee Nimbamritasavam potion after all.

The writer was a guest of Ananda in the Himalayas, and travelled to India with Banyan Tours and Shakti.