India, Sept. 8 -- Chandreyi Bandyopadhyay I thought I understood "wellness travel". I had done the sleek retreats-the curated sattvic menus, infinity pools, and spas lit with scented candles. But somewhere between the prescribed rituals and forced adherence, the clarity I craved never came. I'd walk the reflexology tracks, inhale the incense, do my yoga-and still long for the acrid burn of tobacco.

It took me five retreats, and a forest, to realise I'd been looking in all the wrong places. Wellness wasn't in perfect pools or polished massages. For me, it meant dismantling what I had built inside myself for fourteen years.

The first crack appeared at home. At an Ayurveda-led retreat, mornings began before dawn. Nadi bibhajana and jal net...