Logo

Cart

Category: Blog

6 Everyday Spices Ayurveda Wrote About Centuries Ago

If you grew up in an Indian household, you’ve probably heard it at least once – “add some jeera, it’ll help you digest” or “have a bit of ginger, it’ll help settle your stomach.”   We all treated these as remedies our grandmothers just knew.   But a lot of these tips come from classical Ayurvedic texts, with specific reasoning attached. One of the best known is the Bhavaprakasha Nighantu, written by Bhavamishra around the 16th century. A Nighantu is basically a reference book of medicinal plants and foods, listing each one’s taste, qualities and what it does inside the body.   Even the Charaka Samhita and the Ashtanga Hridayam, two important classical Ayurvedic texts, discuss many of the ingredients we continue to use in everyday cooking. Their approach to food is particularly interesting because it looks beyond individual ingredients and considers how food is prepared, how it is digested, and whether it is suitable for the person eating it.   Here are a few things from the texts about our everyday kitchen spices that you would find interesting and surprising. Let’s take a look.   Turmeric (Haridra)   Known as Haridra in Sanskrit, turmeric is described as pungent, bitter, dry and hot, and it’s said to calm Kapha and Pitta. It also has a long set of uses, from skin problems to swelling, wounds and pallor.   Modern research has paid considerable attention to curcumin, one of the principal compounds found in turmeric. It has been studied for its anti-inflammatory and antioxidant properties.   You do not need to consume concentrated turmeric preparations to appreciate the spice. Sometimes, the most sensible way to use turmeric is simply to cook with it regularly, rather than treating it as a supplement.   Add it to your everyday cooking. Use it in vegetable dishes, lentils, soups, or rice. Pair it with other ingredients as you normally would when preparing a balanced meal.   Black Pepper (Maricha)   Black pepper is sharp, pungent and strong at stimulating digestion, and it is used mainly to balance Kapha.   It relieves breathlessness, colic and worms, and also increases Pitta. So its generally not recommended for everyone to use in large amounts.   Black pepper can be added freshly ground to soups, vegetables, lentils, and other savoury foods. It is also a source of piperine, a compound studied for several biological effects, including its ability to influence the absorption and metabolism of certain substances.   Ginger (Shunthi and Ardraka)   In Ayurveda, ginger is known as Ardraka when fresh and Shunthi when dried. Both have an important place in classical Ayurvedic literature, although their qualities are not considered identical.   The Charaka Samhita describes ginger using the following verse:   सस्नेहं दीपनं वृष्यमुष्णं वातकफापहम् ।   Sa-sneham dīpanam vṛṣyam uṣṇam vāta-kaphāpaham.   The verse describes ginger as slightly unctuous, warming, and Deepana, a term associated with kindling digestive fire or Agni.   Agni is one of those Ayurvedic concepts that deserves more attention. It refers to the processes of digestion and transformation, not simply the amount of stomach acid a person produces. Ayurveda considers the ability to digest food comfortably an important part of maintaining health.   So, how do you use ginger in everyday life?   Add freshly grated ginger to vegetable preparations, crush a little into your dal, or use it to flavour a warm drink. You do not need to turn it into an elaborate preparation to make it part of your diet.   If you are prone to acidity or experience discomfort with spicy foods, it is advised to limit your intake of ginger.   Cumin (Jiraka)   Cumin, or Jeeraka, is one of those ingredients that can change the flavour of an entire dish with just a small amount.   If you have ever heated cumin seeds in ghee before adding onions, vegetables, or lentils, you already know how much fragrance they release.   Ayurveda classifies cumin among ingredients associated with Deepana and Pachana. These terms refer, respectively, to supporting digestive activity and the processing of food and substances within the body.   Cumin is also considered Medhya, meaning supportive of the mind, and supports the cleansing of the uterus.   Cumin can also increase Pitta, which is worth remembering if you tend to run hot.   One of the easiest ways to use cumin is to add the seeds to warm ghee at the beginning of cooking. You can also dry-roast them and grind them into a powder for vegetables and buttermilk.   Coriander (Dhanyaka)   Coriander is particularly interesting because both its fresh leaves and dried seeds are used in Indian cooking, yet they bring very different qualities to a dish.   The seeds are described as light and astringent, with a diuretic quality. The fresh form  tastes sweet, and is especially good at calming Pitta.   So that handful of fresh coriander on top of your curry isn’t just garnish. In Ayurvedic terms, it’s quietly balancing the heat in the meal.   Try adding freshly crushed coriander seeds to a vegetable dish or using roasted coriander powder in a homemade spice mix. You can also use fresh leaves to lentils, curries and soups.   Ajwain (Yavani)   Ajwain, known as Yavani in Sanskrit, is often one of the first ingredients we think of when discussing traditional approaches to digestive discomfort.   Its strong, distinctive aroma comes partly from compounds such as thymol. In Indian kitchens, ajwain is used in preparations such as parathas, savoury snacks, and certain lentil dishes.   Ajwain aids digestion, improves appetite, and is sharp, hot, pungent and light. It helps with Vata and Kapha related abdominal issues, bloating and worms. Like pepper and cumin, though, it can increase Pitta, so a little goes a long way.   Looking at these six spices together, one thing becomes clear. Ayurveda does not ask us to think about food exclusively in terms of whether an ingredient is good or bad.   It asks us to consider… Continue reading 6 Everyday Spices Ayurveda Wrote About Centuries Ago

Understanding Alasaka in Ayurveda

We have all had those days when we eat a meal and, instead of feeling satisfied and comfortable, we feel as though the food is just sitting there, your stomach feels heavy, and even hours later, we do not feel quite right.   We usually dismiss these experiences as indigestion, blame the meal we ate or promise ourselves that we will eat lighter the next day. But Ayurveda has a particular way of looking at certain kinds of digestive disturbances, especially those in which food and the processes involved in digestion appear to become stagnant.   One such condition is called Alasaka.   The concept of Alasaka is discussed in both the Charaka Samhita and the Ashtanga Hridaya. The word itself is associated with a state of inactivity or stagnation.   In the Ayurvedic description, the condition develops when food is not properly digested and the doshas involved in digestion become disturbed, rather than moving and functioning as they should.   One of the explanations given in the Ashtanga Hridaya describes food that neither moves upwards nor downwards and remains undigested in the stomach. This is a useful starting point for understanding the condition because it tells us that Alasaka is not simply about eating too much or experiencing ordinary fullness after a meal. It describes a more disturbed state of digestion within the Ayurvedic framework.   To understand this idea, we need to look at another important Ayurvedic concept: Agni. Agni is commonly described as the body’s digestive fire, although its meaning within Ayurveda extends beyond the literal process of digestion. It represents the capacity to process and transform what we consume.   When Agni is functioning appropriately, food is understood to be digested and assimilated in a way that supports the body’s needs. When this process becomes impaired, Ayurveda describes the formation or accumulation of Ama, a concept associated with incompletely processed material. Ama appears repeatedly in classical Ayurvedic discussions of digestive disturbances, and it plays an important role in the explanation of Alasaka.   The way we eat becomes relevant here. Alasaka in association with excessive food intake can cause weakened digestive capacity and the aggravation of Kapha and Vata.   It also mentions certain qualities of food, including heaviness, dryness, coldness and difficulty of processing within the Ayurvedic framework. When food is consumed in quantities that the digestive system cannot comfortably process,  rather than progressing through digestion normally, they remain there, contributing to the condition described as Alasaka.   There is an interesting distinction here between eating a heavy meal and experiencing a more serious digestive disturbance. We are familiar with the feeling of being uncomfortably full after a large lunch or dinner. Perhaps we ate too quickly, had more than we needed or chose a meal that did not agree with us. That experience alone does not mean that we have Alasaka.   It is a specific pathological state within Ayurveda, and it should not be used as a label for every episode of bloating or indigestion. Still, the text’s emphasis on digestive capacity raises a question worth considering: are we paying attention to how much we eat, how we feel after eating and whether persistent discomfort needs further investigation?   Within the Ayurvedic explanation, suppressing the natural bodily urges, particularly passing urine and stools and releasing intestinal gas urges is considered one of the factors that can contribute to the disturbance.   The idea is connected to the importance Ayurveda places on the normal movement of Vata, which is associated with movement and transport within the body.   When that movement is disturbed, the text describes a situation in which the doshas and food become obstructed rather than progressing through their usual pathways.   This is where the description of Alasaka becomes more specific. The movement of food and the doshas becomes obstructed, and the usual routes through which the body eliminates material are affected.   Symptoms described include abdominal distension or a sense of fullness in the abdomen, discomfort, thirst, belching and constipation. The reference also mentions a lack of the usual vomiting or diarrhoea that might otherwise be expected in some digestive disturbances involving Ama.   There also exists a more severe state known as DandAlasaka. The word danda refers to a staff or pillar, and the name is used to describe a state in which the body becomes stiff, as though it were rigid like a pillar. This is associated with a severe aggravation of the doshas and obstruction affecting channels throughout the body. It is presented as a serious and acute condition.   What makes this chapter interesting is the attention it gives to the relationship between food, digestive capacity and the normal movement of the body. We often discuss digestion in very simple terms: what we ate, whether it was healthy and whether it gave us enough nutrients.   But digestion is a process, and the experience of eating involves much more than the food itself. The amount we consume, our individual tolerance, the way we eat and the condition of our digestive system all influence how we feel afterwards. Ayurveda places these questions within its own framework of Agni, Ama and the doshas.   Perhaps the most useful takeaway is not to become anxious about every heavy meal or occasional bout of bloating. It is to become more attentive to patterns. Does discomfort happen repeatedly? Are there foods that consistently seem to aggravate it? Are we eating past the point of comfortable fullness? Are we ignoring symptoms that deserve attention because we assume they are simply part of everyday life?   These observations cannot diagnose a disease, but they can help us recognise when we need to change a habit or seek professional advice.   Alasaka represents a disturbance in which food and the doshas become stagnant and digestion is significantly affected. It is a more specific concept than the everyday feeling of being too full after a meal. But the broader conversation around digestion gives us… Continue reading Understanding Alasaka in Ayurveda

Understanding Ayurveda: A Way of Looking at Health

One of the things I find interesting about Ayurveda is that it doesn’t begin and end with the question of what is wrong with the body. It also asks what it means for the body to function well, what helps maintain that state, and how the way we live influences our health.   This might seem like an obvious distinction, but it changes the way we approach the subject. We are accustomed to thinking about health in terms of symptoms, diagnoses, and treatments. Ayurveda, while certainly concerned with the treatment of disease, also places considerable emphasis on preserving health before illness develops.   This is not a new idea in medicine, of course. But in Ayurveda, the maintenance of health is the very foundation of the system.   The word Ayurveda comes from two Sanskrit words Ayus, meaning life or lifespan, and Veda, meaning knowledge. It is translated as the science of life. What I find significant about this definition is its breadth. Ayurveda is not concerned exclusively with disease or the human body as an isolated biological structure. It considers the conditions that support a life of health and well-being.   To understand this approach, it helps to look at the principles on which Ayurveda is built.   According to Ayurveda, the human being was never understood as entirely separate from nature. The body is made up of the same fundamental elements that exist in the world around us. The food we eat, the air we breathe, the water we drink, and the environment we live in are not external to our experience of health.   They are constantly interacting with us.   And perhaps this is why Ayurveda places so much importance on paying attention to the world around us. Our bodies do not exist in a vacuum. They respond to changes in temperature, seasons, food habits, activity, rest, and countless other things that we may not always notice.   Of course, this doesn’t mean that every change in our health can be explained by our surroundings, or that we can resolve every problem by changing our lifestyle. But it does remind us that health is influenced by more than just the part of the body where a symptom appears.   Another thing I find interesting is that Ayurveda doesn’t assume the same approach will work for everyone. We often look for universal solutions. The same diet, the same routine, the same supplement, the same advice, hoping that what worked for someone else will work just as well for us.   Ayurveda encourages a more individualized way of looking at things. Two people might experience similar symptoms but have different underlying patterns, habits, and needs. Their constitutions, digestion, sleep, and responses to their environments may differ. So, while the symptom itself matters, understanding the person experiencing it matters too.   This is where the classical concepts of Dosha, Dhatu, Mala, and Agni come into the picture. These are not simply terms to memorise or labels to assign to ourselves. They belong to a larger framework through which Ayurveda understands the functioning of the body. Each concept describes a different aspect of that functioning, but none of them can be understood entirely in isolation.   And that, to me, is an important distinction. Learning a few Ayurvedic terms or identifying our Prakriti does not necessarily mean we understand Ayurveda. The concepts begin to make more sense when we understand how they relate to one another and how they fit into the broader principles of the system.   The same applies to the way Ayurveda understands food and medicine. We often reduce a substance to a single quality: this food is good for you, that herb is beneficial, or this ingredient is something you should avoid. But Ayurveda considers several aspects when understanding how a substance may act on the body.   Its taste, qualities, potency, and the changes it undergoes after digestion all contribute to that understanding. Some effects are also described as specific to a substance and not fully explained by those other properties alone.   This is why simply memorizing that a particular herb is used for a particular condition can give us an incomplete understanding. The more interesting question is why it is used, in what context, and for whom. Ayurveda offers a way to think through these questions rather than treating every ingredient as though it has the same effect on every person.   I also think it is worth paying attention to Ayurveda’s emphasis on prevention. A lot of our conversations around health begin only when something goes wrong. We look for a diagnosis, a treatment, or a way to get back to normal as quickly as possible. Ayurveda, however, also places importance on the ordinary things we do before illness develops: our daily habits, our relationship with food and rest, and the adjustments we make as our circumstances change.   There is something quite practical about this idea. We may not be able to control every aspect of our health, but we can become more attentive to our habits and to the ways our bodies respond to them. Rather than following a routine simply because it is popular, we can begin by asking whether it suits our circumstances and whether it is actually helping us.   At the same time, understanding Ayurveda does not mean accepting every traditional claim without question. Its concepts belong to a particular philosophical and medical tradition, and they should be understood in that context. Where claims concern the treatment or prevention of disease, they also need to be evaluated carefully against appropriate scientific evidence. Respecting a tradition and examining its claims critically are not mutually exclusive.   For me, the most useful way to approach Ayurveda is to look beyond the individual remedies, routines, and recommendations we encounter so often. Those things may introduce us to the subject, but they are only one part of it. The principles behind them are what help us understand how the… Continue reading Understanding Ayurveda: A Way of Looking at Health

Maybe It Is Not Just What You Eat, But How Much

We have become very good at asking what we should eat.   What is the healthiest breakfast? Which oil should we use? Is rice better than roti? Should we have more protein? What should we eat for good digestion? There is always another food to add, remove, replace or worry about.   But there is one much simpler question that often gets lost: how much are you actually eating?   Ayurveda has been asking this question for a very long time. In the Matrashiteeya chapter of the Charaka Samhita, the discussion begins with something remarkably straightforward: matrashī syāt, essentially, one should eat in the right quantity.   And then comes the important part that quantity is not exactly the same for everyone. It depends on the strength of one’s digestion.   That immediately makes the conversation about food a little more interesting. Because we often speak about food as though the food itself is the whole story. We label something “light” or “heavy” and assume that its effect will be the same every time we eat it.   But even foods considered naturally light or heavy still depend on quantity. Something that is generally easy to digest can become difficult when eaten in excess, while a heavier food may be manageable in an appropriate amount depending on the person’s digestive capacity.   In other words, there is no point in asking only, “Is this food healthy?” without also asking, “Is this the right amount for me, at this time?”   Eat according to the proper measure; the proper measure of food depends on the strength of digestion. It sounds almost obvious when you hear it, but think about how rarely we actually apply this idea.   We eat because it is lunchtime even when we are not hungry. We continue eating because the food tastes good even after we are full. We finish everything on the plate because that is what we were taught to do.   We order more because we are out with friends. Sometimes we eat very little all day and then compensate with a huge dinner because we are exhausted and starving. The food may not necessarily be the problem. Sometimes it is simply the relationship we have with quantity.   The chapter makes another interesting distinction between foods that are naturally lighter and those that are naturally heavier. It mentions foods such as rice, green gram and certain meats among the lighter foods, while describing things such as preparations made from flour, sesame, black gram, milk and certain meats like fish as heavier.   But even here, food is not reduced to a simple good-food versus bad-food list. It repeatedly brings the discussion back to quantity and digestive strength. This is important because the idea is not to become afraid of foods that are described as heavy.   It is to understand that the same food can behave differently depending on how much of it you eat, how strong your digestion is and what else is happening in your body.   You do not have to create a permanent list of foods you are “allowed” to eat and foods you are not. You can instead become more attentive to what happens after you eat.   Do you feel comfortable? Does the meal digest without leaving you excessively heavy or sluggish? Are you hungry again at an appropriate time? Do you feel energised or do you feel like you need to lie down immediately? These observations are not meant to turn eating into another thing to obsess over. They are simply a way of becoming familiar with your own body.   The appropriate quantity of food often supports one’s strength, complexion, comfort and longevity. That is quite different from the way we often talk about food today, where every meal can start to feel like a calculation of calories, protein, carbohydrates, fats and restrictions.   Ayurveda’s concern here is much more functional: what does this food, in this amount, do to the person eating it?   And it does not just stop with food.   Health is maintained through small acts of care repeated regularly.   Take something as ordinary as brushing the teeth.   Your body is something you maintain, not something you only attend to when something goes wrong.   We have a strange relationship with self-care today. We can spend hundreds of rupees on a product marketed as a “self-care essential” and still forget the basics. We can have a complicated skincare routine but sleep four hours.   We can buy supplements while eating at completely irregular times. We can spend an hour researching the perfect shampoo and then ignore the fact that we are exhausted all week. Sometimes care becomes another form of consumption instead of something we actually practise.   The Matrashiteeya chapter offers a much quieter idea of care. Eat in the right quantity. Keep yourself clean. Take care of the senses. Pay attention to the body. Maintain routines. Do things regularly rather than waiting until a problem becomes severe. There is a sense of maintenance rather than constant correction.   And perhaps that is the part of this chapter that feels most relevant now.   Eating when we are actually hungry. Stopping before we have eaten far beyond what we need. Paying attention to how a meal makes us feel instead of blindly following a food trend. Keeping our bodies clean. Taking a few minutes to care for our skin, hair, feet and senses. Giving the body enough rest. Building routines that are sustainable rather than impressive for a week.   There is also something important in the way the chapter describes the body: almost as something that deserves regular attention and respect.   Maybe that is what we miss when we reduce healthy living to individual foods and isolated habits.   Because sometimes the most useful change is not finding a better food.   It is learning when enough is enough. Health does not always come from… Continue reading Maybe It Is Not Just What You Eat, But How Much

Agnimandya: What Ayurveda Says About Weak Digestion

Have you ever noticed how two people can eat the exact same meal, and one feels perfectly fine while the other feels bloated, sluggish, or gassy an hour later? We usually attribute this to our different bodies but Ayurveda has a much more specific explanation for this, and once you understand it, a lot of your own digestive patterns start making sense.   It’s called Agnimandya, and the word itself tells you exactly what it means. Agni is digestive fire, Mandya means a lowered or weakened state. Put together, Agnimandya literally translates to lowered digestive capacity.   But before we get into what goes wrong, it’s worth understanding what Agni actually is, because I think this is where most people get it slightly wrong. Agni isn’t just “stomach acid” or metabolism. In Ayurveda, it’s considered one of the Panchamahabhuta, and its function mirrors that of Agni Mahabhuta in the universe at large, it’s the factor responsible for any transformation in matter.   It’s the same force behind a mango ripening on a tree, as it is behind the food in your stomach being broken down into something your body can actually use. Specifically, the Agni that governs digestion is called Jatharagni, because it resides in the Jathara, the stomach.   Whenever the term Agni comes up in this context, it’s really Jatharagni being referred to, not Dhatvagni, which operates at the level of individual tissues.   And here’s the part most people fail to understand. Jatharagni’s real job isn’t just to “digest food.” It’s to convert the properties of food into the properties of your tissues.   Wheat, for instance, carries a heavy, stable quality, what Ayurveda calls Guru and Sthira. Once Jatharagni processes it properly, those same qualities get transferred into your Dhatus, your tissues, in a usable, assimilable form.   When this transformation happens cleanly, your tissues stay balanced. When it doesn’t, that imbalance shows up directly in your Dhatus, and eventually, as disease.   This is really the whole premise behind why Agni is treated with so much seriousness in Ayurveda. It’s not just about comfort after a meal, it’s about whether your body is actually building itself correctly from what you feed it.   Now, Ayurveda doesn’t describe Agni as one fixed, uniform thing. It actually breaks it down into four distinct states, based on how consistently and effectively it digests, and this classification alone tells you a lot about how this system really is.   The first is Sama Agni, balanced digestive capacity. This is the ideal state, where food taken in the right quantity, what’s called Sama Matra, enough to satisfy hunger, not more and not less, gets digested smoothly, without discomfort, without excess, without deficiency.   Ashtanga Sangraha even gives this a rough timeframe, food digesting within about four Yamas, roughly twelve hours. Sama Agni stays balanced as long as your conduct around food stays proper, and it’s our own poor habits that typically disturb it.   This single idea alone reframes a lot of digestive complaints, because it suggests that for most people, balanced digestion isn’t a fixed trait you either have or don’t, it’s a state that holds as long as you don’t actively work against it.   The second is Manda Agni, low digestive capacity, dominated by Kapha. This is the state where even a small meal feels heavy and takes far longer than it should to digest. What’s interesting is how intolerant this type is. Manda Agni can’t handle any deviation in eating habits, even minor missteps show up quickly as Aadhmana, bloating, Aasya Shosha, dryness in the mouth, Aatopa, abdominal distension, and Aantra Koojana, that gurgling sound in the intestines many of us have felt after a heavy meal we clearly shouldn’t have eaten.   If you’ve ever felt like your body “punishes” you disproportionately for one slightly indulgent meal, there’s a decent chance Manda Agni is part of that story.   Then there’s Teekshna Agni, sharp or excessive digestive capacity, dominated by Pitta. This is almost the opposite problem. Food gets digested fast, sometimes too fast, even when eaten in excess. It sounds like an advantage until you realize what happens when this type of Agni isn’t fed enough, it starts consuming the body’s own tissues instead, leading to Dhatu depletion over time.   Taken to an extreme, this becomes a condition called Bhasmaka, a state of such intense digestive capacity that a person feels perpetually hungry, no matter how much they eat, almost as if the fire is burning through fuel faster than it can be supplied.   What I find notable here is that Teekshna Agni can tolerate improper conduct around food far better than Manda Agni can, it just has a different kind of cost attached to that tolerance.   And finally, Vishama Agni, irregular digestive capacity, dominated by Vata. This is the most unpredictable of the four. Some days digestion is fine, other days the exact same meal sits like a stone.   Charaka specifically describes this as the direct opposite of Sama Agni, unstable, inconsistent, and a major contributor to Dhatu imbalance over time.   Interestingly, Vishama Agni can behave in two completely opposite ways depending on the amount eaten, food consumed beyond actual hunger may digest surprisingly fast, while food eaten in a reasonable, hunger-appropriate amount might digest very slowly instead.   This unpredictability is exactly what makes it so hard for people with this pattern to pin down what’s actually “wrong” with their digestion, because the pattern itself keeps shifting.   Out of all four, only Sama Agni is considered the healthy baseline, responsible for Dhatu Saamya, true balance across all seven tissues. The other three are classified as Vikrita, disturbed states, and this is really where Agnimandya comes in specifically.   Technically, Agnimandya refers to Manda and Vishama Agni, the Kapha-dominant and Vata-dominant disturbances, both of which share that core feature of reduced or inconsistent digestive strength, as opposed to Teekshna Agni, which is excessive rather than diminished.… Continue reading Agnimandya: What Ayurveda Says About Weak Digestion

Principles of Ayurveda: What Everything Else Is Built On

Today, let’s go back to the very beginning.   Before Doshas, before Agni, before all the specific topics we usually talk about, there is a bigger question. What is Ayurveda actually trying to do?   Most people think of it as a system to treat disease and yes, it does that. But that is only half of it.   Ayurveda comes from two Sanskrit words, Ayur meaning life and Veda meaning science. Therefore, Ayurveda translates to the science of life, and it cares just as much about keeping a healthy person healthy as it does about treating someone who is unwell.   In the Indian way of thinking, life has four goals. Dharma, Artha, Kama and Moksha.  And none of these are possible if your body and mind are struggling. So, health was never the end goal, it was what made everything else possible.   Now, to understand how Ayurveda looks at the body, you need to start with one idea. Pancha Mahabhuta.   We experience the world through five senses. Sight, touch, hearing, taste and smell. Ayurveda says everything around us can be understood through five elements that go with these: Akasha, Vayu, Agni, Jala and Prithvi. Space, air, fire, water and earth.   And this isn’t only about nature. Your body is made of these same elements, so is your food and so is your medicine. Even ordinary water isn’t just Jala. It carries all five, with one leading.   This is why Ayurveda never saw the body and the world as two separate things. What is outside you keeps becoming what is inside you, through food, water and air. And when the balance shifts within, your body tries to correct it. It lets go of what is in excess and asks for what is lacking. In a way, that is what a craving really is.   From these five elements come the three Doshas. Vata, Pitta and Kapha.   Vata is mostly space and air. It is movement. Breathing, speaking, and everything in your body that needs to be pushed forward.   Pitta is mostly fire. It is transformation. Digestion, forming blood, vision, memory, turning one thing into another.   Kapha is mostly water and earth. It is moisture and stability. It softens food for digestion, helps you taste, and nourishes the senses.   Something I always want people to understand is that these three are not sitting in separate corners of the body. They are everywhere but the concentration varies. Vata is mostly in the intestines and bones, Pitta is in the stomach and blood, Kapha in the chest and joints. When they are balanced, they hold you up. When they are disturbed, that is where disease begins.   Then come the Dhatus, the seven tissues that form the body’s structure. Rasa, Rakta, Mamsa, Meda, Asthi, Majja and Shukra. Plasma, blood, muscle, fat, bone, marrow and reproductive tissue.   And this matters because Doshas don’t affect the body randomly. The Dhatus are the first place they act. So, when you look at how a disease really develops, it almost always passes through them.   Which brings us back to Agni.   The food you eat comes from outside. It is unfamiliar to your body, and it has to be broken down and made into something your body can use.   Agni is what does that.   But there is not just one Agni. There is the main digestive fire in the gut. There are five Bhutagnis that turn the elements in your food into elements your body recognises. And there are seven Dhatvagnis, one for each tissue, turning nutrients into that specific tissue, step by step.   That is why Ayurveda treats Agni almost as the body itself. When someone comes in with a problem, a Vaidya often looks first at the state of their Agni. Because if that isn’t working well, nothing else will. Most Ayurvedic medicines are designed with this in mind.   Now here is the part I find the most personal.   Prakriti.   Ayurveda believes every person is unique, and Prakriti is the reason. At the time of conception, the Doshas present decide your natural constitution. It could be Vata, Pitta, Kapha, a mix of two, or a balance of all three. And it stays with you for life.   That is why Ayurveda says it treats the person, not the disease. Two people with the same illness may need very different treatment. Someone with a Vata Prakriti is more prone to Vata problems, so they are advised to avoid what aggravates Vata. A Pitta person is given cooling things. A Kapha person, warming things.   And the mind is part of this too. Prakriti is also described through Sattva, Rajas and Tamas, because Ayurveda never saw disease as only physical. The mind affects the body, and the body affects the mind. Which is why even a physical illness sometimes comes with steps for the mind.   Even medicines are understood this way. They carry the five elements as well, so Ayurveda looks at their taste, called Rasa, their qualities, called Guna, their potency, Virya, and their effect after digestion, Vipaka. And then there is something none of these can explain, the medicine’s special action, called Prabhava. Two medicines can be alike in every other way and still act differently because of this.   Now, none of this is meant to be memorised in one sitting. But if you step back, you can see how it all connects. The elements make the Doshas. The Doshas affect the tissues. Agni keeps the whole thing running. Prakriti decides how all of it shows up in you and the same logic carries over to food, medicine and even the mind.   That is what makes Ayurveda a system, and not just a collection of remedies.   And I think that is the real takeaway. When you understand these basics, you stop seeing Ayurvedic advice as random rules, like eat this, avoid that. You… Continue reading Principles of Ayurveda: What Everything Else Is Built On

Atman in Ayurveda: Understanding the Self, Mind, and Consciousness

Today, let’s talk about a concept in Ayurveda that is present in everything the system talks about, but not everyone gets into it or knows about it because the whole concept itself is too abstract on the surface.   I am talking about Atman, which translates to the self, the soul, or simply the knower.   Now, before jumping into what Atman really means, let’s start with something which we are more familiar with in terms of Ayurveda, which is the Manas, the mind.   So, mind is essentially the part of you that reacts. It takes in the stimulus and turns it into a response. It distinguishes between likes and dislikes. For example, if something you eat tastes good, you want to eat more of it, and if you experience pain, you pull away. You don’t want to experience it again.   This is what the Manas does.   However, Atman is something else entirely. It is a part of you that is aware that all of this is happening. It’s not the reaction itself, but it’s the one noticing the reaction.   While Manas distinguishes experiences into pain and pleasure, Atman is simply aware of the inside and outside, it is the very awareness of this experience.   Here’s a simple way of how I think about it.   When you’re feeling unwell, usually the food that you eat every time, or the food that you like, you don’t want to have it and it might even taste unpleasant to you.   But nothing about the food has changed. What changed is how it is being received by your body.   This shift, the change between you and your mind, is the job of Atman. It is adjusting your experiences based on what is happening inside you.   Now, Atman cannot itself be described the way we describe everything else in the body, because it has no color, no shape, no texture. Its presence is not known entirely or directly.   But even if you don’t see Atman, you infer it. How differently a person can respond to the same thing, and how something within them prompts them to respond in that particular way.   The whole Atman can also be understood through this perspective, from the whole idea of possession, how it naturally comes to us when we talk about our things.   When we say, “I am tired,” there is still this strange distinction between the one who is experiencing tiredness and the tiredness itself.   This distance implied between someone who possesses and something that is being possessed, is where the idea of Atman comes from.   All the parts of your body are what is possessed by you, the person. So, despite any changes or aging or anything, the one that is staying constant is me, my. The idea of the owner is what is Atma.   And this whole distinction isn’t just philosophical. There’s a real practical framework of diagnosis around it too.   In Ayurveda, illness comes in three severities. One is ordinary, one serious, and one that is heading to a very fatal outcome.   And the way you tell these apart isn’t just purely because of external signs, but how clearly the person can experience their own feeling.   How clearly can they experience things like their preference, discomfort, desire, how they feel, and if all of this is intact in a coherent way.   Because once illness starts to get serious, all of this starts to blur. The person struggles to clearly experience. Memory becomes hazy, and the coordination too falters.   And in most serious cases, the patients may not be able to experience anything at all. They might feel numb. They can’t tell you how they feel because the whole response, the whole connection between your Atma, Manas, and the senses has weakened and there’s only basic signs of life that’s left.   This is such a different way of thinking about diagnosis compared to how we actually imagine ancient medicine, which is reduced to something that is purely external, physical observation.   In Ayurveda, the presence of your mind and the clarity of your awareness itself is one of the most important ways to diagnose what is wrong inside you, and it is sometimes arguably more important than any physical sign.   Now, the takeaway from all of this is very simple, despite how abstract Atman sounds.   And before even Ayurveda gets into the details of the body, bones, tissues, or organs, it is first establishing that awareness that is present inside every one of us, and everything else is built on top of that basic confirmation.   Health is never only about visible, measurable parts of the body. It is always, at its core, something that is changing inside you.   And I think this is where Atman becomes much less abstract than it initially sounds.   Because when we hear words like soul or self, it can immediately feel like we’re entering a completely philosophical conversation, something very distant from the body and from medicine. But Ayurveda doesn’t really separate these things in the way that we might expect. The person who is experiencing the illness is not just the body that is carrying the illness.   There is the body, there are the senses, there is the mind, and there is this awareness that experiences all of it.   If ideas like this interest you, you can check out our courses on Charaka Samhita and Ashtanga Hridayam which talk in depth about how Ayurveda understands the self, the mind, and the body as one connected system and much more.

Why Your Body Isn’t Just “Tissues and Waste”

Most people, the moment they start reading about Ayurveda, land on this word, Dosha, almost immediately. Vata, Pitta, Kapha. And usually, the very first explanation they get is something like “Dosha means fault” or “Dosha means fluid,” and honestly, that explanation doesn’t help at all.   If anything, it makes the whole thing feel more confusing than before you started.   So let’s actually slow down and ask a more basic question first. What is the body even made of, according to Ayurveda?   Before we even get to Dosha, there are two other categories worth understanding, Dhatu and Mala, because once you see how these three relate to each other, Dosha suddenly makes a lot more sense.   Dhatu refers to everything in your body that’s meant to stay. Your blood, muscles, fat, bones, the fluid in your spinal cord, reproductive tissue, all of it.   These are structurally very different from each other, obviously, but they share one thing in common, none of them are meant to leave your body under normal circumstances.   When they do leave, by injury or bleeding or some other accident, your body doesn’t feel relieved. It feels depleted, anxious and weak. That’s the signature of a Dhatu, its presence sustains you, and its loss destabilizes you.   Mala is the exact opposite category. This is everything your body is meant to get rid of, stool, urine, sweat, and so on. And here’s the interesting part, getting rid of these isn’t a failure of the body, it’s actually a sign of it working properly.   Holding onto waste for too long doesn’t protect you, it burdens you. A Mala that overstays starts creating problems rather than preventing them.   So while Dhatu is defined by staying, Mala is defined by leaving, and both, in their own way, keep the body functioning.   Now here’s where it gets genuinely interesting, because Dosha doesn’t fit into either of these categories. It refuses to follow the rule.   Think about saliva for a second. It’s produced inside your body, moves through your salivary glands, briefly steps outside the boundary of your internal tissue system into your mouth, and then re-enters your body as you swallow it along with your food.   It doesn’t stay put like a Dhatu, and it doesn’t fully leave like a Mala either. It does something in between, and that “in between” behavior is exactly what defines a Dosha.   It moves out into contact with the world, and then brings something back in, and this back-and-forth movement is precisely what makes digestion, absorption, and basically your entire relationship with the outside environment possible.   This is such an important shift in how to think about Vata, Pitta, and Kapha. They’re not things that cause or lead up to a disease. They’re the functional bridges that let your body interact with everything you eat, breathe, and absorb from the world around you.   Vata handles movement, what you take in. Pitta governs transformation, converting of one thing into another. Kapha manages binding, lubrication, and the way things hold together and connect.   Without these three doing their job constantly, your Dhatus would never get built, and your Malas would never get properly separated out and removed.   And here’s something that genuinely surprised me the first time I really understood it, this dual-direction movement of the Doshas happens twice a day, in the gastrointestinal tract specifically.   If something you’re consuming regularly doesn’t actually suit your body, that excess starts getting expressed back out, sometimes as an unusually sour or pungent sensation, sometimes as a sweet, sticky feeling.   This isn’t randomness, it’s your body’s own feedback system, quietly telling you that whatever you keep feeding it in excess isn’t being absorbed the way you assume it is.   Most of us just don’t know how to read that signal.   This is also why identifying someone’s Prakriti, their natural constitutional dominance of one or two Doshas, matters so much in how Ayurveda actually treats a person. Two people can eat the exact same meal and metabolize it completely differently, purely because their underlying Dosha balance is different.   What nourishes one person can genuinely unsettle another. This is the entire logic behind why Ayurveda has never really believed in one-size-fits-all diet advice, it was never really about the food.   It was always about how well your Doshas are managing the exchange between what’s outside you and what needs to become a part of you.   So the next time someone tells you Dosha simply means “fault,” it’s worth remembering that it’s actually closer to the opposite. It’s not what goes wrong in the body. It’s the very mechanism that allows the body to keep working, keep exchanging, and keep staying alive in the first place.   If ideas like this interest you, our courses on Charaka Samhita and Ashtanga Hridayam go much deeper into how Dosha, Dhatu, and Mala work together as the foundation of the entire Ayurvedic system.  

Dinacharya in Ayurveda: The Art of Living in Rhythm With Your Body

What comes to your mind when you hear the word Dinacharya?   You might think the words morning routine, right?   And what does your morning routine include?   Waking up early, brushing your teeth, scraping your tongue, drinking warm water, exercising, meditating, and perhaps some oil pulling. Then you begin your day feeling particularly disciplined.   Yes, some of these practices are indeed part of the Ayurvedic approach to daily living, but Dinacharya is much bigger than this list of things that we do.   It extends far beyond waking up and going to bed. Even the way we eat, the timing of our meals and the way food is prepared can influence how we experience our day-to-day health.   I recently spoke about some of these in my new YouTube video, “5 Ayurvedic Eating Habits I Wish Everyone Knew | Part 1.” If you want to understand how everyday eating habits can be approached, I go into this in much more detail there.   [Watch: 5 Ayurvedic Eating Habits I Wish Everyone Knew | Part 1]   Ashtanga Hridayam has an entire chapter dedicated to Dinacharya, and Vagbhata begins the chapter with a very simple instruction:   “Brahme muhurte uttishthēt.”   Wake up during Brahma Muhurta.   Now, what exactly is Brahma Muhurta?   A Muhurta is a traditional unit of time, approximately 48 minutes. Brahma Muhurta refers to the period before sunrise, traditionally beginning two Muhurtas, or approximately 96 minutes, before sunrise and lasting for about 48 minutes. So, depending on the time of sunrise, it generally falls somewhere around 1.5 hours before sunrise.   And there is a reason Ayurveda places such importance on this particular window.   This is considered a time dominated by Vata, the Dosha associated with movement, lightness and subtle activity. It is the transition between night and day. The environment is quieter, there is less sensory stimulation, and the mind is considered to be more receptive and clear.   The chapter then talks about Danta Dhavana, using twigs from specific trees like Arka, Nyagrodha, Khadira, and Karanja, chosen for tastes that are Kashaya (astringent), Katu (pungent), or Tikta (bitter). And it specifically mentions cleaning your teeth without hurting the gums, “dantamaamsaanyabaadhayan.”   It’s such a small detail, but it tells you something important about how nothing is too minor to matter. Even your mouth, the very first point of contact between you and your food, gets its own careful instruction.   The body is made up of all these small things, and the way you care for them every day eventually becomes part of your overall health.   From Danta Dhavana, the text moves into Anjana, or the care of the eyes. Vagbhata recommends Sauviranjana as a daily practice for the eyes and mentions Rasanjana at intervals for cleansing.   Again, what stands out to me is the attention to detail. The eyes are not treated as something separate from the rest of the body. They are another part of the body that needs regular care. And when you think about how much of our day today is spent looking at screens, this idea of simply paying attention to the condition of our eyes feels particularly relevant.   Then comes Nasya, Gandusha, and Dhoomapana, with the use of Tambula. These practices belong to a very different medical context, and they should not simply be copied into a morning routine without understanding who they are intended for and under what circumstances.   But what is interesting, and what I want to point out here, is how comprehensive the total idea of daily care was.   From the mouth, nose, eyes, skin, the head, and all the senses, everything had a place in Dinacharya. There was an understanding that health was made up of all these systems that need to be cared for continuously. It was not about waiting for something to go wrong and then addressing it.   And then we come to Abhyanga, which is one of the most recognisable practices today. Vagbhata says, “Abhyangam acharet nityam.” He recommended regular oiling of the body, emphasising particularly on the head, ears, and feet, and describing benefits related to the skin, vitality, strength and sleep.   I have also made a detailed video about Abhyanga, if you wish to understand the practice in more detail. [Watch the video here.]   Then finally comes Vyayama, or exercise.   Exercise that is appropriate can bring lightness to the body, improve our capacity for work, support digestion and help reduce excess fat. But we must understand that exercise is not the same for everybody, and it is certainly not meant to be excessive.   Vagbhata actually gives detailed instructions about who should exercise, how much they should exercise and when exercise should be avoided. He says that exercise should be done up to approximately half of one’s capacity, rather than pushing the body beyond what it can comfortably tolerate.   And I think this is an important distinction.   And Dinacharya doesn’t just stop with the physical body.   This is where I find the chapter particularly interesting, because Vagbhata gradually moves from taking care of your body to how you conduct yourself.   He speaks about using words that are truthful, measured and pleasant:   “Kāle hitam mitam brūyād avisaṃvādi peśalam.”   Speak at the right time. Speak what is beneficial, measured, truthful and pleasant.   He speaks about compassion, generosity, humility and how we should conduct ourselves even when dealing with people who may not treat us well in return.   And this tells us something important about what Ayurveda actually meant by health.   It was never only about physical health. The way you conduct yourself is also part of your well-being.   The way you speak, the way you behave, the conflicts that you create, the anger you hold on to, and the way you treat other people all become part of the environment in which your body and mind have… Continue reading Dinacharya in Ayurveda: The Art of Living in Rhythm With Your Body

Ama: When Digestion Is Incomplete

After you have had your meal, there might be times when you feel heavy. It is not exactly tiredness, but you do not feel nourished either. Your head feels foggy, there is a discomfort you cannot quite ignore, and yet it is not severe enough to feel like something is seriously wrong.   There may also be a feeling that you have not experienced complete satisfaction from the meal. It is almost as though something inside you is saying that the process is not finished, that the job has not been completed.   Today, we are going to talk about one of the widely spoken-about concepts in Ayurveda: Ama. When the accumulation of Ama is greater, it can give rise to a condition described as Amadosha.   To understand Ama, we have to go back to something we have spoken about before: Agni, our digestive fire.   What Is Ama?   Ashtanga Hridayam describes this state directly. When the digestive strength is low, the very first tissue formed from food, which remains undigested, becomes vitiated and gets lodged in the stomach as unprocessed matter. This is described as Ama.   When Agni is working the way it should, the food we consume gets properly digested, absorbed, and converted into Rasa Dhatu, the first and most essential tissue our body produces after digestion.   But when Agni is weak, this conversion does not happen cleanly. Your food is not entirely digested, but it is not entirely rejected either. Some of it remains half-processed, turning into something called Ama.   Ama is not exactly food. It is not waste either. It is something caught in between the two, the result of incomplete digestion and improper transformation.   What Causes Ama?   One of the causes is eating more than what your hunger can accommodate.   Ayurveda describes this as atimātrā āhāra, or consuming food in excessive quantity. When food is consumed in a quantity greater than what the digestive capacity can handle, it places a burden on Agni. This can lead to the aggravation of all three doshas and interfere with proper digestion.   But it is not exactly about quantity alone. The nature of the food also matters.   Food that is heavy, dry, or cold can contribute to the formation of ama, even when it is eaten in a reasonable amount.   And it is not just about food.   Your lifestyle, mental strain, and the mental state you carry throughout the day can also contribute. When your digestive capacity is compromised, even food that you consider light or harmless may not be processed properly.   When Agni is weak, food does not necessarily provide the nourishment your body requires. Instead, according to the Ayurvedic understanding of ama, incompletely processed material can behave like a slow-acting poison within the body.   What Happens When Ama Interacts With the Doshas?   As this undigested or improperly processed material interacts with the doshas, its effects can vary depending on how the body responds.   It may become trapped and cause a condition described in Ayurveda as Alasaka. Or it may be expelled violently from the body, which is described as Vishoochika.   Either way, the body is signalling that something has gone wrong in the process of digestion and assimilation.   The manifestation can also differ depending on which dosha is involved.   When Pitta is involved, you may see signs such as a burning sensation, excessive thirst, and disturbances in the mouth, reflecting more heat-related expressions.   When Kapha is involved, it can manifest differently, with congestion-type conditions, urinary disorders, and other Kapha-dominant patterns.   This is why Ayurveda does not look at digestion as simply a matter of what you eat. It considers the strength of Agni, the nature and quantity of food, the timing of meals, lifestyle, mental state, and the condition of the doshas together.   Ama, in this sense, is not simply about having eaten something unhealthy. It is about what happens when the body is unable to properly process what it has received.   What Are the General Properties of Ama?   Ayurveda describes Ama as having certain characteristic properties.   It is guru, meaning heavy and difficult to digest.   It is drava, meaning it has a liquid nature.   It is aneka-varṇa, meaning it can present in different colours.   And it is picchila, meaning slimy or sticky in nature.   The symptoms associated with ama are often the kind most of us have experienced at some point.   There may be a sense of blockage or obstruction, general exhaustion, heaviness in the head, dizziness, stiffness in the back and hips, unusual thirst, and that general feeling that whatever you eat is simply not sitting right.   Individually, none of these symptoms may seem particularly alarming.   But when several of them appear together, they can indicate that something is not functioning properly within the digestive system.   The answer is not always to simply eat less, eliminate one particular food, or ignore the discomfort and wait for it to disappear.   Ayurveda asks us to look deeper at Agni.   How strong is your digestion? Are you eating according to your hunger? Are you eating at regular times? Is the food appropriate for your digestive capacity? Is your lifestyle supporting digestion, or constantly working against it?   Because digestion is not merely about what happens to food after you swallow it. It is about how well the body is able to transform what it receives into nourishment.   If ideas like Ama and Agni interest you, our courses on Charaka Samhita and Ashtanga Hridayam go much deeper into understanding digestion, imbalance, and the way our body responds to what we eat, how we live, and how we care for ourselves.