I’m throwing up like an elephant, puking saline water in one enormous wave. I’ve just swallowed a litre and a half of tepid, salty water – drinking several glasses very fast under the unwavering watch of my yoga teacher, Sandeep Aggarwal. At his instruction, I’ve tickled the back of my throat with my fingers, before belching more liquid into the sink. As I do this, an elegant woman in a sari walks past the open door of the therapy room and smiles encouragingly. ‘You’re a natural,’ Sandeep enthuses simultaneously, watching me chuck up. There are few things more curious than forcibly evacuating the stomach in public, on purpose and being congratulated for it. ‘Not many Westerners ask to do vomiting,’ adds Sandeep. I cannot think why.

I’m on the new Yogic Detox programme at Ananda in the Himalayas. The week-long programme includes: different Hatha yogic techniques for cleansing internal organs (known as Shatkriya); yogic postures (asana); breathing techniques (pranayama); meditation; and an Ayurvedic diet (based on the ancient medical system). The aim is to balance our three doshas (think constitution). If you want to get technical, there’s Kapha (which relates to mucous and is connected with being reliable), Pitta (think bile and fiery) and Vata (which denotes wind and indicates fast-moving personalities). Imbalances are believed to result in disease and illnesses.

If throwing up sounds crazy, mostly the treatments are wonderful – and they take place in one of the world’s loveliest destination spas. Ananda is in a stupendous location, overlooking the Ganges and set in the Maharaja of Tehri Garhwal’s palace estate near Rishikesh, India. There’s the Maharaja’s private summer palace, a restored Viceroy’s Palace (with its museum-like Vice-Regal suite where Mountbatten stayed) and comfortable modern accommodation. Then there’s the spa the size of an Indian state which has won more awards than most Hindus have had past lives. It’s vibrates to the sound of chants of Om and Indian flute music; there are Ganesh statues with marigold garland necklaces and rose petals floating in bowls.

But back to the vomiting. The aim of Kunjal (as voluntary regurgitation is known) is to cleanse the stomach, oesophagus, throat, lungs and chest. (You have to do it early in the morning, on an empty stomach and after ‘finishing nature’s call’.) It’s said to wash out strong acid and excess mucous and, in yogic therapy, it plays a key role in alleviating asthma and preventing ulcers. Yogis have practised these techniques for centuries. The idea is that sneezing, defecating, crying, sweating – you name it – are very cleansing. (‘You should try to be positive and relaxed, to feel that you are doing it for your own purification,’ explains Sandeep.) Just as a sauna or scrubbing the skin helps the skin to breathe better, so flushing helps the digestion and is said to make it work better. It takes me ten minutes to chuck up – a pro can do it in three – and, frankly, leaves me feeling rather grotty.

Now it’s time for my Jal Neti treatment, which is a way of cleansing the nostrils with warm salty water. It’s a practice aimed to alleviate sinusitis, bronchitis, hay fever and negative thinking. Great if you’re prone to coughs and colds. The technique involves filling a doll’s house sized tea-pot with another brew of warm saline solution, tilting my head, popping the spout up one nostril and pouring. The water goes up one nasal cavity and comes out of the other nostril, first in a drip and then in a steady stream. I keep my mouth open and the effect is like choking on the Indian Ocean. Afterwards my sinuses are born-again and I feel delightfully light and clear-headed.

Another important part of the Ananda cleansing programme is the diet. It’s prescribed by their Ayurvedic doctor Dr Adarash, for clients’ specific doshas. I’m diagnosed as Pitta Vata and told to avoid sour and spicy food, overeating, pickles, sour cream and vinegar. We start our meals with a nasty cup of hot water sprinkled with spices and a tiny glass of detoxifying juice with herbs and rock salt. ‘Keep enjoying,’ insists Akshay, the head chef cheerily. The dishes are small and inventive. Think Indian cottage cheese (paneer) kebabs with cous cous (231 calories) or spiced bitter gourd with yellow lentil stew (221 calories) and sugar-free apple cinnamon pieces with home-made vanilla ice cream (129 calories). There are also international Ayurvedic dishes, aimed at helping people replicate the food at home. It’s not my favourite food but I don’t feel hungry or tired after meals. I get a detox headache on day three – as does everyone in my party – but don’t feel any cravings between meals.

There are superb therapies to facilitate further detoxing. The Ayurvedic ones start with a spiritual ritual: foot cleansing in a bowl with Ganges pebbles and the chanting of an Ayurvedic prayer, a supplication to Guru the creator, sustainer and destroyer. They range from Abhyanga (a traditional four-handed synchronised massage on a wooden Ayurvedic massage bed and with sesame oil, which leaves me smelling like a frying pan) to Choornaswedana, a dreamy massage with dosha specific oils and warmed herbal poultices, Shirodhara (where luke-warm herbal oil is poured from a dangling brass bowl in a stream onto the forehead) to Indian head massage, which eliminates toxins and stimulates circulation.

Ananda is in a place of pilgrimage said to be the birthplace of yoga, meditation and Ayurveda, so it’s fitting that we practise yoga daily in the amphitheatre outside as the sun rises and peacocks wander past. Toe Bending, Half Butterfly (‘place one foot on top of the opposite. Hold the toes…’) The Cat Stretch pose, the Cobra, the Snake and the Crocodile; each day I become more supple. Additionally I have private Pranayama lessons which teach me to breathe properly and my yoga instructor works with me on my psychic energy centres – but I fall asleep.

It’s possible to escape to the palace for cream teas, scrabble, billiards on a 100 year-old table, classical music and bagpipes. Alternatively there are activities that are more strenuous and with a spiritual twist. One day we walk through villages with tethered goats and past fields of yellow mustard, through the mist to the nearby Kunjapuri temple, a holy shrine dedicated to the Goddess Sati. There’s a climb of 306 steps to reach the temple, but who’s counting? Once there we’re given bindi markings on our foreheads, red ‘kalawa’ temple bracelets (to represent God) and blessings.

Another day we trek nearly three hours to Rishikesh, through the fluorescent green landscape, past a lurid snake, monkeys and smiling kids requesting: ‘you have chocolate, please Auntie?’ We sit on the banks of the Ganges for the daily evening Aarati ceremony, an auspicious Hindu ritual performed at Parmarth Niketan Ashram. Small, symbolic lamps are lit while the local orphans chant mantras and a Bollywood-style priest looks on ethereally as his Guru sprinkles the holy riverside fire with herbs and ghee to purify the environment.

What makes Ananda so special though, are the endlessly helpful staff who have a way of anticipating everyone’s needs before we’ve even thought of them. After the exertions of our Rishikesh trek, unrequested, someone runs soothing baths with herb poultices and lemon verbena leaves for our party. They genuinely want to make everything wonderful for their guests. I fall asleep at 9.30 pm every night and aside from waking several times – who wouldn’t on the gallons of fresh ginger and lemon tea we drink? – I sleep soundly. Nobody ventures out of their kurta pyjamas all week except perhaps to put on a shahtoosh.

I leave floating on a spiritual cloud feeling calm, happy, wise, and with luminescent skin, having lost a few pounds and with my sinuses and (supposedly) chakras cleared. Perhaps the excellent treatments achieve the spectacular results. Maybe it’s the clean air, peace, beautiful location or my vegetarian diet. Throw into the mix too the sunken bathtub overlooking the valley, the Kneipe foot bath (where you walk on stones to improve your circulation) and sauna overlooking the jungle views and Ganges. And the fact that the air is cool and there are no crowds. Whatever, I reap great benefits from the Yogic Detox programme although I’m glad it isn’t an extreme package. After all, Ananda offer oil enemas and Nasyam (where medicated oil is poured into the nostrils) but thankfully they don’t offer the variation of Jal Neti called Sutra Neti, where a fine thread is taken inside one nostril and pulled out of the mouth through the throat. And I won’t be vomiting again in public…