Food is the only crime for which evidence shows up on your waistline and lab report. And yet, most people eat like their stomachs came with a reset button—and a lifetime warranty. Sulochana Rao, a spirited 68-year-old lady, came in fuming.

“Doctor, I tried that keto diet my grandson is doing. What nonsense! I got dizzy, gassy, cranky—and I lost weight only from my face!”

I told. “Sulochana-ji, you’re not a software engineer preparing for a beach vacation. You’re a grandmother with a gold medal in making rasam. Eat your age, not your grandson’s algorithm.”

She burst out laughing. That’s the thing with food. It’s never just about calories or carbs. It’s about identity, emotions, memory, ego, and sometimes revenge. Age-appropriate eating is not just a fancy phrase. It’s a quiet, wise protest against fads, guilt, and Instagram influencers blending spinach in almond milk while smiling like they discovered enlightenment in a smoothie.

Let me be blunt. I have seen more digestive issues than a tea stall sees opinions during election season. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s this—your digestive fire (Agni) is not a lifelong constant. It changes, like your back strength or your tolerance for annoying relatives. What you eat at 20 should not be what you eat at 60. Yet most people eat either from memory or from fantasy.

Take Karthik, a 27-year-old gym enthusiast who eats eight boiled eggs daily and wonders why he farts like an underpaid trumpet. “Doctor, is this normal?” he asked, clearly distressed. I told him, “Your diet sounds like a chicken revenge plot. Also, your gut isn’t a garbage disposal unit. It’s a delicate, thinking ecosystem. If you abuse it, it will talk back—loudly.”

Ayurveda has long recognised this. In your childhood (balya avastha), your digestion is still forming, like wet cement. At that time, simple, warm, nourishing foods work best. Porridges, ghee, and mildly spiced khichdi help build strength. But show me a five-year-old today who hasn’t tasted pizza before Pongal. Parents feed their kids like they’re product testers at Domino’s.

Then comes youth (yauvana). Agni is at its peak. You can get away with street food and midnight maggi, and you will barely digest it. But the body takes notes. Those notes become acidity, bloating, and grey hair at 35.

The worst misalignment, though, happens after 40. Your metabolism slows, your patience thins, and your body starts whispering secrets you’ve ignored for years. A 50-year-old man once told me, “Doctor, I’m on a protein-rich diet—only chicken three times a day.” I looked at his reports. His uric acid was dancing like a cricket victory celebration.

“Sir,” I said, “you’re not bodybuilding. You’re just body-bulking.” He had kidney stress, joint stiffness, and zero energy.

It took six weeks of moong dal, lightly sautéed vegetables, and warm jeera water to make him feel better. “I thought I needed more food,” he confessed. “Turns out I needed the right food.”

Our culture reveres food, but we don’t always respect it. We celebrate excess, especially at weddings. You’ll see a 70-year-old uncle stuffing jalebis after biryani like he’s in a relay race, followed by antacids as dessert.

There’s a deeper issue. Food becomes emotional currency. She cooked mutton curry today. That means she loves me.” “They didn’t serve me sweets. That means I’m not valued.” We eat for nostalgia, revenge, boredom, love, and rarely, for actual hunger.

In my clinic, I once saw a retired banker, Mr. Murthy, who came with acidity, constipation, and insomnia. His face was puffy, his eyes dull. “Doctor,” he said, “I’m a vegetarian. But I love fried things. And I drink milk after dinner. That’s healthy, no?”

Not exactly.

At his age (late 60s), digestion slows down like Bangalore traffic on a rainy day. Heavy, greasy, cold foods don’t move easily. Warm, light, spiced meals with early dinners can do wonders. I asked him to try a light dinner by 7 PM: steamed vegetables, a cup of thin dal, maybe some soup. No milk at night. Add a pinch of hing and ajwain to lunch. And walk after dinner.

Two months later, he came back glowing. “Doctor,” he said joyfully, “my wife is surprised. I sleep like a baby now. There is no bloating. And even my snoring has reduced.”

That’s age-appropriate eating. It’s not punishment. It’s a partnership with your body, time, and common sense.

 We now know that gut microbiota changes with age. In youth, we have more Bifidobacteria; in old age, they decline, and harmful bacteria rise if we eat poorly. Fermented foods, mild spices, and warm meals help restore balance. Cold salads may work for California, but not for a Vata-predominant 60-year-old in Jayanagar who wakes up sneezing at 5 AM.

As Charaka says, “Āhāraḥ sarvārthasya mūlam” — Food is the root of everything. Everything arises from food. It shapes our tissues, strengthens our immunity, sharpens our clarity, and influences our moods. Yet, we often treat eating as a mechanical task instead of a mindful, nourishing ritual.

I’m not saying everyone should eat boiled lauki and chant mantras. But even simple changes—like switching from cold curd to buttermilk, eating fruits before meals instead of after, reducing dinner portions—can bring significant results.

Of course, not all advice lands easily.

I once advised a 35-year-old working woman to stop skipping breakfast. “Doctor,” she said, “my meetings start at 8:30 AM. If I eat, I’ll be sleepy. If I don’t, I’m hangry.”

I told her, “Eat something that doesn’t cause a crash. Warm ragi malt with ghee, a banana with soaked almonds, not sugar-laden cornflakes or black coffee on an empty stomach.”

Two weeks later, she WhatsApped me: “That banana thing worked. My team is scared. I’m productive and smiling.”

Food is not just fuel. It’s an instruction. Every bite tells your body something. Are you saying, “I love you, let me nourish you,” or “I don’t care, deal with it”?

I tell patients: the plate is a mirror. The mirror cracks if you’re 60 and eating like you’re 20. The body sends bills—constipation, weight gain, reflux, insomnia, joint pain. Pay early, or pay dearly.

As we age, bitter and astringent tastes become more critical. A dash of methi, a few curry leaves, a little turmeric—these humble spices have more anti-ageing potential than imported supplements. But most people think health is hidden in a capsule, not a curry leaf.

We must realign. Respect age, respect Agni. Eat in tune with your body, not your memories or marketing trends.

Suppose you are tempted to try your teenage daughter’s detox juice, ask yourself: Do I need a detox or a dialogue with my digestion?

Ageing is not a disease. But ignoring age while eating? That’s a recipe for trouble.

Trust me, I have seen that recipe far too often in my clinic.

My closing thought is eat for the body you have, not the life you wish you had. Food is not a fantasy. It’s a lifelong friendship. Like all good friendships, it thrives on respect, adaptation, and a little spice.