Now and then, a glamorous celebrity posts a selfie sipping golden milk or soaking in a copper tub with a caption that reads: “#AyurvedaVibes.” And suddenly, my phone starts buzzing. Not for appointments, mind you, but for translation services.
“Doctor, is turmeric latte the same as haldi doodh?”
“Can I do panchakarma while following a keto diet?”
“My son’s girlfriend gifted him Shatavari powder. Should I worry?”
Welcome to the golden age of Ayurvedic pop culture, where ancient longevity secrets are being glamourised, commodified, hashtagged—and very occasionally, understood.
The world’s fascination with Ayurveda didn’t begin with Instagram influencers—it began decades ago, when Maharishi Mahesh Yogi introduced Transcendental Meditation to the West, igniting a wave of curiosity about consciousness. Research on Maharishi Amrit Kalash, conducted across institutions like Cambridge, Oxford, and Swiss universities, gave Ayurveda its first taste of scientific legitimacy in the West. Then came Dr. Deepak Chopra, whose bestsellers Ageless Body, Timeless Mind and Perfect Health turned ancient wisdom into accessible modern science. Ayurveda stepped into the limelight—not as an exotic curiosity, but as a holistic path to wellness.
Today, it’s not just about the texts and therapies—it’s about the experience. Celebrities now retreat to places like Ananda in the Himalayas, Soukya in Bengaluru, and Fivelements in Bali for Ayurvedic rejuvenation. What was once prescribed in hushed Sanskrit is now whispered in eucalyptus-scented spa rooms. Ayurveda has transformed into a modern luxury—chic, aspirational, and very photogenic.
The new trend isn’t about flaunting expensive cars or designer handbags—it’s about flaunting longevity. Celebrities have made health a status symbol, showcasing their commitment to health optimisation. Kim Kardashian’s biological age test results, Gwyneth Paltrow’s ghee shots, and Hrithik Roshan’s visit to a cutting-edge longevity clinic have made Ayurveda a part of global wellness culture. Whether it’s tracking biomarkers with the ŌURA ring or using platforms like MIDI Health for personalised wellness, celebrities are prioritising biological age scores over material wealth. Even icons like Chris Hemsworth are pushing for longevity, offering app-based programs that help people build strength and resilience. The world is waking up to the fact that healthspan is the true wealth of our time.
Longevity, or Deerghayu, as we say, has always been Ayurveda’s shining promise. But while our Aacharyas wrote about it in palm leaves, today’s influencers share it in pixels. And somewhere in between, the message, like a bad WhatsApp forward, gets a little lost.
In Ayurveda, longevity is not just about living longer. It’s about living better, with ojas—that radiant vitality that glows brighter than any Instagram filter. And while there are dozens of classical concepts, let me share ten that are ruling both my clinic and your feed.
First, Aahar-Vihar Satmya—the art of eating and living in harmony with your body type, season, and geography. Try explaining this to a patient who’s eating kale salad in December in Bangalore. I tell them, “Kale is great, but your grandmother’s soppina saaru knows your dosha better.”
Second, Ritucharya—seasonal routines. Ayurveda advises that your lifestyle should adapt to the seasons. However, in the era of air conditioning and climate-controlled cars, seasons are now only experienced through weather apps. I had a patient who caught a cold in July because she had turned her AC to 18°c and was drinking iced smoothies. “I’m just following a Scandinavian wellness plan,” she said. I said, “You live in RT Nagar, not Reykjavik.”
Third, Dinacharya—daily routines. Wake before sunrise, scrape your tongue, oil your body, meditate—simple, timeless advice. But a young techie once told me, “Doc, I wake up at 11, scroll through memes, drink black coffee, and scream into a pillow. Will that work?” I said, “Only if your goal is to age like an unrefrigerated paneer.”
Fourth, Shodhana Karma—the internal cleansing rituals. Detox is such a buzzword now that even my 9-year-old niece asked me if I knew “what colonics are.” I replied, “Yes. And so did Charaka, 5000 years ago. Only he used medicated ghee, not lemon-cayenne juice.”
Fifth, Rasayana Therapy—rejuvenation and regeneration. It’s not just Chyawanprash. It’s an entire system for building ojas, enhancing mental clarity, and boosting immunity. When patients ask if they can take Ashwagandha capsules from Amazon for everything from sleep to gym gains to heartbreak, I tell them, “Yes, but only if your Agni (digestive fire) isn’t flickering like a dying candle.”
Sixth, Sadvritta—ethical living. Modern science now confirms that optimism and morality enhance longevity. But try telling a high-strung CEO that cutting down ego, anger, and envy will improve his health. He asked me, “Is there a faster way?” I said, “Yes. Quit your job and become a monk.”
Seventh, Ojas Preservation—life’s essence. Ayurveda warns against overwork, excessive indulgence, and emotional extremes. I once advised a 70-year-old gentleman to slow down his romantic enthusiasm to preserve his ojas. His wife let out a relieved laugh and said, “Doctor, you’ve saved my back—and my sleep!”
Eighth, Brahmacharya—not just celibacy, but self-restraint. In practice, I translate this as mindful living. A 30-year-old came to me with burnout. He was juggling two startups, three relationships, four social media platforms, and five detox teas. “You’re not multitasking,” I told him. “You’re multi-deteriorating.”
Ninth, Kaala Satmya—honouring the rhythm of time. Ayurveda believes that every age has its own unique vibe and its own specific needs. In your 30s, it’s about sharpening the mind—think Brahmi and Jatamansi. But a sprightly 68-year-old aunty once walked in with her daughter and declared, “Doctor, give me something to boost memory—I have to beat my grandkids at online rummy!” I smiled and said, “Aunty, at this point, it’s not Brahmi you need—it’s a faster internet connection!”
And tenth, Snehana and Abhyanga—the act of oiling your body and mind. It’s not just skincare. It’s soul-care. Of course, now abhyanga is rebranded as ‘Ayurvedic lymphatic drainage massage’ on Instagram, with influencers rubbing sesame oil and mispronouncing ‘vata’ as if it were a new cryptocurrency.
The deeper truth? Longevity isn’t a pill, a powder, or a pose. It’s a quiet art of choosing sattvic meals, nourishing thoughts, seasonal rituals, occasional indulgences, and frequent gratitude. It’s not sexy enough for a reel, but it’s real enough for life.
Studies now confirm that meditation lengthens telomeres, Ashwagandha reduces cortisol levels, and Triphala modulates the gut microbiota. However, for me, the validation lies in my 84-year-old patient, who still climbs stairs, reads Kannada newspapers without glasses, and attributes her health to “millets, oil baths, and not gossiping too much.”
Longevity, you see, isn’t about living till 100. It’s about living well till 100.
It’s not always easy. Many patients struggle. One woman came to me after her divorce, asking, “Can Ayurveda help me start over?” I gave her medicines and told her, “Start with forgiving yourself, then soak your feet in warm water.” She now teaches yoga and brews her herbal teas. She said, “Doctor, I didn’t just get younger. I got wiser.”
Ayurveda doesn’t promise immortality. However, it does offer grace in the ageing process. Not the frozen Botoxed kind, but the kind that lets your eyes sparkle even when your knees creak.
The Instagram-ification of Ayurveda is both a blessing and a burden. On one hand, it brings awareness. On the other hand, it breeds half-baked fads—like people who smear ghee on toast and call it a cleanse. As practitioners, we need to keep reminding the world that Ayurveda isn’t a trend. It’s a tradition—sacred, evolving, and rooted in nature’s rhythm.
My parting advice.
Don’t just do Ayurveda. Live it.
Wake with the sun, eat like your ancestors, oil your joints, cool your rage, chew your food, rest your phone, breathe deeply, love kindly, and laugh at yourself. Especially laugh.
Laughter, as my oldest patient Jugal Kishore Madaan once told me while applying Brahmi oil to her grey hair, “is the cheapest rasayana I’ve ever used.”
He wasn’t wrong.
