Catching a cure in Sri Lanka

The doctor in the Fuchsia Sari leaned over her desk and took my hand like a fortune-teller. "Just as I thought," she murmured, feeling my pulse. "Too much kapha." She glanced at the symptoms on my chart—fatigue, irritability and the occasional blinding migraine—and scribbled a prescription. "Don't worry, we can help you." A day later, I was in treatment, lying flat on my back with a thin stream of heated oil drizzling onto my forehead. For 40 min. two barefoot attendants poured a pungent green oil over my brow in a gentle back and forth motion. It might sound like slow...

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