Our writer goes from being a sceptic to a wellbeing convert.

Yam, yam, yam," I chant, following the lead of yoga and meditation teacher Ganesh at the Dwarika's Resort, in the hills above Dhulikhel, on the fringes of the Kathmandu Valley.
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"Om, om, om," I repeat, as I envisage and "invite down from the firmament" a range of colours from orange to yellow to green to light and dark blue, to wash over me.
Sitting cross-legged during this chakra meditation Ganesh is leading me through, I try not to let my natural scepticism get in the way, try to emulate, in some small way, the serenity and sincerity emanating from this Nepalese guru.
We've been "contracting and loosening" the areas around our five bodily chakras - from the throat down to the base of the spine - for half an hour now in this meditation pavilion positioned high in the resort, and even my inner cynic is beginning to feel cleansed.
Well, if it didn't happen here, in one of the world's most spiritual countries, where Buddha was born and several of the world's tallest mountains reach skyward, it was never going to.

This three-day visit to the Dwarika's Resort, an hour's drive from Nepal's capital Kathmandu, comes at the end of a challenging 10-day trek in the Himalayas and was intended to deliver rest and recuperation ahead of further travels.
When I arrive, though, on a Saturday morning, it feels as if I've booked into a ghost town or an extravagant folly, so empty and sprawling does the 10-hectare property appear.
As I tour the grounds, with receptionist Ashmita, winding up the steep slope on which it is built, on a golf buggy, I feel overwhelmed and disorientated.
It all looks lovely, with its residences and suites, restaurants, a spa village, infinity pool and both Himalayan salt and Crystal houses, set among gardens and spiritual statuary, but to begin it feels like somebody else's dream that I can't connect with.

"I felt like that too," says Kate, from Brisbane, whom I meet at my first hatha yoga session with the elastic-limbed Ganesh the next morning, "but it's growing on me fast."
Kate is also here recovering from trekking but has had the prescience to book for a week.
After a 7am yoga session in a studio at the top of the resort, we both move on to a Pranayama breathwork session in the meditation hall below, where we are joined by an Indian businessman and his 12-year-old daughter.
By 5pm on my second day, I am ready to fully surrender to a Himalayan singing bowl therapy session.
As we lie there on padded yoga mats, I try to quiet my busy brain as we suck air in through one nostril and expel it through the other. This ancient breathing technique, which involves controlled inhalation, holding and exhalation, is meant to lower blood pressure, enhance respiratory function and calm the mind. And, after an hour practising Pranayama, I do feel less enervated.
"I'm trying to show my daughter techniques," the Indian man confides in me afterwards, "to help her navigate her teens."
Over a healthy breakfast in the resort's Nature's Flavours restaurant, I contemplate my two daughters back home, who have lived through one of the worst periods in history to be a teenager, including the mass anxiety of COVID-19 and the looming threat of global climate disaster, and can only imagine them benefiting from such practices.

For me, something is shifting and I turn up for my appointment with resident Ayurvedic doctor Sanju with a more open mind.
"You are a Pitta body type," the doctor tells me after considering my answers to a detailed questionnaire. "Fire and water, hard working but with strong emotions," he says, before going on to recommend a range of dietary dos and don'ts to help balance my metabolism.
In are greens like spinach and kale, lentils and legumes and sweet fruits and out, predictably, are my favourite foods like chilli, tomatoes, seafood, and sour citrus like oranges and limes.
It's after a lunch of (prescribed) watermelon and feta salad at the poolside restaurant that I find myself happily chanting along with Ganesh in that chakra meditation and finally getting into the spiritual groove of this resort.

What once felt rambling now feels airy, soulful and spacious. Quotations, arrayed on plaques throughout the property, that seemed trite, now seem meaningful: "Yesterday I was clever so I wanted to change the world," reads one quote, "today I am wise so I am changing myself."
By 5pm on my second day, following an Ayurvedic massage in a spa villa, in which herbal oils are rubbed into my body to activate "marma" (energy) points, I am ready to fully surrender to a Himalayan singing bowl therapy session.
As multi-talented Ganesh conjures harmonious sounds from the front of the room, blending with and miraculously muting the tinnitus in my left ear, I am carried away somewhere tranquil and otherworldly.
The next day, I take it easy, with just an early-morning yoga session, time spent in both the Himalayan Salt and Crystal houses, and a soothing hour creating some (singing) bowls with the resort's resident potter.
The more I chill the more I absorb the resort's restful essence and its valley views, from the terrace of my sumptuous suite and from the infinity pool.

There is, however, one more cleansing ritual to experience, as the sun goes down that evening: a blessing from Hindu priest, Rajesh Badal, at the summit of the resort, at the meditation maze.
First, Rajesh leads me through offerings and prayers to a triumvirate of Hindu gods, culminating with the all powerful Shiva. Then he lights some material in a bowl that I carry through the maze, the priest following on behind me.
It's a moving ceremony, with Rajesh blowing into a conch and banging on a small drum as we process out of the maze, completing a transformation of sorts, from sceptic to wellbeing convert.
Where: The Dwarika's Resort is about a 60-minute drive east of Kathmandu, in the town of Dhulikhel.
Explore more: dwarikas-dhulikhel.com
Pictures; Daniel Scott; supplied
The writer was a guest of the Dwarika's Resort.




