“I was conceptually interested in the approach, the ‘mom and pop’ thing,” he says. “I wanted to introduce it to India for a small number of sophisticated travellers – about 1,000 a year.” His compulsion to pull it off ran deep. “The more I travelled, became anxious, irritable from living in a city, the more I felt it had to be done. In the mountains everything drops away. It’s like three months of therapy in three days.”

Shakti’s village walks are logistically complex. They are also culturally sympathetic. Sethna goes into partnership with local families who let him “do up” their houses on the understanding he won’t change their vernacular essence. The balancing act seems to run smoothly, and Sethna has already managed to duplicate the model in Sikkim. He has also launched a third circuit, in Ladakh, which is the moonscape region of Jammu and Kashmir running along the Indian Tibetan border.

But it’s not until you put on your walking shoes and do the Shakti walks that you appreciate the subtleties.

At the beginning of the Kumaon village walks, it’s the accidental topiary I notice first: pine trees, planted by the British for India’s railways, denuded of their lower branches save for lollipop heads of feathered needles. The villagers take the wood for fuel. Beneath me is the valley floor, a ripple of emerald terraces punctuated by domed hills carved with narrow trails. On the flanks of a river the paddies are a richer, stingray green. And there are people, Brueghelian people, with backs bent in fields of wheat.

The scene brings to mind Gozzoli’s Renaissance masterwork, “Procession of the Magi”, in Florence’s Medici Chapel with its coned hills, mannered trees and tracks zigzagging the land. Except I’m not looking at some panoramic painting; I’m walking into its fields, making way on narrow tracks for passing cows, a string of school kids, and a loquacious salesman for a pharmaceuticals firm.

When you go walking, you stop, think, talk, engage with the passing traffic, which, with Shakti, is made possible by the company’s guides. Mine is called Kabir Pradhan. He is the perfect companion as we walk from dawn to dusk, weaving through woods and valleys. Occasionally we get a ridge­line glimpse of the white peaks and can hear the silent hum of the mountains. But otherwise this part of the Shakti experience is about engaging gently with the culture. It’s also about travelling in an old-fashioned, physically demanding way.

We start at Kesar Devi, four miles north of Almora. The first night we spend at a village called Alai in a two­floor house; the second at Jwalabanj in a more remote community. I take my first bucket shower – a copper cup, vat of hot water, a slat­floored room. These ablutions might seem arcane, but after a day’s walking, the sense of completion is perfect.

Like the bed’s cashmere throw and pressed Indian cotton sheets, the hot water bottle is a touch of genius, the smell of wood smoke comforting. The mattress is a 7ft­long nest, the room lit by an alcove of candles. Dinner is chicken curry, rajma dhal and Kumaon hemp chutney. The next day, we have a breakfast of fruit, eggs made to order, lychee honey, marmalade and toast, all prepared by Shakti’s cook and served with linen napkins, copper cutlery and a silver teapot.

It is a different kind of luxury to what I’m used to: sensitive, understated. And I like it. I get time to think, to move slowly, which couldn’t be more different from my usual modus operandi of three countries in as many days. And aside from the walking, it’s effortless: for every two clients, Shakti provides a travelling staff of six.

I’m so enamoured, that three months later I returned to India to see Shakti’s latest project – the three village homes, opened in July, in Ladakh. Here the accommodation is smarter and more spacious, most rooms with ensuite bathrooms and conventional hot water showers. Instead of walking between lodges, you can sometimes raft, following the milky waters of the Indus river, weaving through the valley, visiting Buddhist monasteries, talking with monks.

I had reached Ladakh by travelling overland from Kashmir where I was reminded of my last experience of Himalayan trekking in 1993. I remember leeches, damp nights, parasites in camp food. But with Shakti I kick back at the end of the day with a whisky, convinced this high-end, low impact model of culturally sensitive tourism is where we should all be headed. And Sethna is right: for therapy, the mountains are hard to beat. Perhaps it’s the altitude, but somehow, the experience brings on a rare, and possibly addictive, clarity of mind.

Sophy Roberts is editor at large of Departures magazine and the FT’s hotel review columnist

RECOMMENDATIONS

Run for the hills

The best time to visit the Kumaon Himalayas is either the autumn, when the skies are clear and cold, or April, when the rhododendron come into bloom. October delivers the best views. Note the spring can get hazy with the build­up of heat from the plains. The walks are closed during June, July and August and some of September. This summer period is when Shakti’s Ladakh route opens up.

A three night Kumaon village walk costs from £600 per person, based on two people sharing, and includes all porterage, guiding, accommodation, transfers, tips, meals and beverages. The Ladakh village walks cost from £1,600 per person based on the same inclusions as above, for a seven night stay.

Book through Cazenove+Loyd www.cazenoveandloyd.com; +44 (0)207 384 2332.