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Oiled in India
by John Towler (Read biography)
posted on Friday, December 19, 2003
Oiled in India
By John O. Towler Ph.D.
 He told me to close my eyes, then he poured warm oil all over my head and began to rub it in. As it dripped down my face, he scooped it up and worked it into my forehead, nose and cheeks. This went on for several minutes before he asked me to lie on the hard, bare, and unpadded teak table. It was obvious that getting an Ayurvedic massage was going to be a totally new experience.
It was the tenth day of our month long tour of India and we had arrived at the Spice Village Inn when Lorna who has a fondness for sensual pleasures, suggested that I try an Indian massage. I had agreed.
 I was shown to a large bright room with floor length windows on two sides. It contained a teak table, a stool and a young man who told me to disrobe – completely. As I stood self-consciously by the windows, he fasted a thin paper belt around my waist. Reaching between my legs, he grasped the long strip of paper hanging down in front and tucked it into the waistband at my back. Feeling only slightly more presentable, I was led over to the stool where I sat and waited while he left the room. Sitting there with the door open and in front of the windows, I felt exposed and on-view, but no one seemed to be around, not even my masseur. A few minutes later, he returned with three pots of aromatic oils and the slathering began.
When my head and shoulders had been saturated, he asked me to climb onto the table and stretch out. It was smooth and burnished to a rich dark colour by who knows how much oil and very hard. The small pad he placed under my chin did very little to alleviate the discomfort. He proceeded to oil every available inch of my body and believe me, nearly every inch was available. This required copious amounts of oil, but he had an endless supply. Instead of kneading my muscles and massaging areas of stiffness, he simply moved his hands gently all over me adding even more oil as he slithered away.
After 20 minutes of this, he indicated that I should roll over onto my back. Let me tell you, this is no mean feat when you are covered with oil, lying on a slippery slab. The masseur was no help as he was as oily as I was and neither of us could find anything to hang on to, no matter how appropriate or inappropriate it may have been. I probably would have seen the humour in this if I hadn’t been so concerned about skidding to the floor. After a few tense moments, I managed the maneuver and watched as he renewed his efforts with even more oil. This continued for another 20 minutes, when I was told to sit up. If I had thought that turning over was difficult, it was nothing compared to what happened next. A great deal of gliding and sliding accompanied by some skillful prodding and pushing eventually got me sitting up with my legs over the edge. My man carefully wiped my feet and asked me to follow him to the shower room. Clutching each other like a pair of drunks, I oiled my way across the tiles into the room next door where I was told to sit on a stool in the shower.
I watched curiously as he mixed up several gallons of herbs and warm water never suspecting what would happen next. Picking up a pitcher, he filled it with this muddy mixture and poured it all over me, explaining that it would remove the oil. But not only did he pour it on, he massaged it all over me. After each body part was thoroughly muddied, he sluiced me off with pitchers of warm water. My paper belt had completely disintegrated by this time and I found myself completely nude sitting in a puddle of mud. When he was satisfied that no oil or herbs remained, he gently dried me off using a miniscule cotton cloth smaller than a hand towel. I have no idea how he managed this.
 Next, he said that if I wished, I could have a real shower and he would bring me a fresh towel. I jumped at the opportunity little realizing that the new towel would be the same size as the one before, but I managed. Finished at last, I padded nude, but clean back to the massage room, thanked my masseur, got into my clothes and left in search of my wife and a cold beer. I had experienced just the massage component of the ancient ayurveda approach to wellness. The other aspects of this 6000 year old holistic process involve diet, meditation, and exercise with an emphasis on the link between mind and body. My body felt that it had been washed polished and given a complete lube job and oil change. All of my fluids had been checked and topped up. I think I took four quarts. There is no doubt that this introduction to ayurveda had left me relaxed and rejuvenated but I think I prefer the Swedish massage and a lot less oil.
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John Towler
 John Towler has traveled to, lived in and written about more than 60 countries. His articles have appeared in more than 25 magazines including En Route (Air Canada in-flight), Lookout (Spain), Canadian Banker, Horse Illustrated, Exchange, Maine Business, HR.com, Workz.com, Small Business Canada Magazine, CanadaOne.com and several regional and national newspapers. He is a regular contributor for a variety of business publications and is an accomplished digital photographer.
John holds undergraduate degrees from the University of Toronto and York University, two postgraduate degrees from the University of Alberta and has taught at seven universities in Canada, the USA and the UK. He is the Senior Partner of Creative Organizational Design, a former Principal of Renison College, a professor emeritus at the University of Waterloo and a faculty member of the American College of Pre-hospital Medicine.
He divides his time between Canada and his home in Spain.
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