Whenever I am in India I always visit the same massage therapists, Madhu and Muralee. They are 14th generation bone setters and Ayurvedic practitioners from Kerala. I’ve never found anyone better, ever. Plus, they are sweet as pie. Today when they picked me up for my massage I was relieved to see they arrived in a car instead of on a motorcycle (helmets cease to exist in India). When I remarked that they usually drive a bike Muralee said, “No more…car is VERY safety”. It was so cute I smiled the rest of the ride.
The massage here is no joke. You get smothered in more oil than you can even imagine. To the point where you’d better hope you wore black, otherwise your clothes are ruined. Beyond that you are practically naked and should just get used to it….they don’t care. At first they massage your scalp and head and you think to yourself, “this feels nice and relaxing” and then BOOM! They kick it up a thousand notches and you actually feel your self being restructured physically, mentally, and beyond. Your knots don’t stand a chance. You do lay down but are also contorted into all kinds of positions in which they massage you even more. By the end you have no choice but to feel great. Everything is open and relaxed. But just in case you have too many toxins floating around in your body they throw you into a steam box for 10-15 minutes so you sweat your brains out like never before. I do mean an actual box of steam, by the way. Only your head is sticking out. Meanwhile, Madhu and I have this very deep conversation while I am steaming, discussing spirituality and the roots of the Ayurveda he practices, etc. All I keep thinking is, “I must look insane with my greasy hair and face sticking out of this sweat box”.
After that he says blessings and I pay him. Before I leave his family members from Kerala, whom I suspect have never seen a blonde before, insist on taking their picture with me. Then they drive me home in the “very safety car”, take a couple more pictures with their phones, and send me on my way.