What to Eat, What to Avoid if You Have Gastritis

It always starts with a burp.

Not a gentle one, mind you. It’s the kind that rises like an uninvited guest during a Zoom call—loud, awkward, and announcing something is off in your gut.

“Doctor, I just had upma. Why does it feel like I swallowed a volcano?”

This was the opening line from a 32-year-old marketing executive who came to my clinic holding her stomach like it was a ticking bomb. She travels 10 kilometres to work, spends 12 hours at a desk, eats irregularly, and scrolls through Instagram reels on gut health, while sipping masala chai. And now she’s googling “gastritis diet plan in 3 steps.”

Let’s pause and decode that.

Gastritis is inflammation of the stomach lining. Ayurveda refers to it as Amlapitta, where “amla” means sour and “pitta” refers to the fiery energy that governs digestion. It’s like your stomach got angry at you for disrespecting it with that third cup of coffee and a plate of greasy chaat.

 I’ve seen gastritis in all its glorious forms: the bloated bachelor on a bachelor’s diet, the overachieving startup CEO who forgets to eat all day and then binge eats biryani at midnight, the well-meaning aunty who pops hajmola after every meal and wonders why her stomach sings lullabies of acid reflux.

Let me tell you a secret: gastritis doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a patient artist. It paints its masterpiece slowly—stroke by stroke of bad habits.

Food is not just fuel; it’s conversation. And when we interrupt that conversation with fried snacks, cold drinks, and panic-driven meals eaten in traffic, the stomach responds with symptoms. Burning, bloating, nausea, heaviness after meals, sour belching—these are its protest slogans.

One patient, a techie, came in and said, “Doctor, I think my stomach hates me.” I smiled. “No, your stomach is the only one telling you the truth.”

What do I advise?

Let’s start with what to avoid.

If you have gastritis, think of your stomach lining as a delicate silk saree. You wouldn’t scrub it with detergent and throw it in a washing machine, would you? Yet that’s what spicy, sour, oily, and stale foods do.

Avoid tomatoes, vinegar, tamarind, curd at night, fried pakoras, bakery items, carbonated drinks, and yes, your beloved instant noodles. Oh, and coffee? The less said, the better. Coffee is to gastritis what petrol is to fire. Many patients look at me as if I’ve insulted their mother when I say this. “But doctor, coffee is my morning hug.” Find a new hug. Preferably, a warm glass of jeera water.

Then there’s the matter of timing. Many skip breakfast, eat lunch in a rush, and dine like kings at 10 p.m.—only to wake up at 2 a.m. feeling like a dragon. That’s not acid reflux; that’s karma.

Now the good part. What to eat?

Simple, soft, warm, and freshly cooked food. Think khichdi, moong dal, lightly cooked vegetables, rice with a teaspoon of ghee, and soups. Ash gourd juice in the morning is a hidden gem. Not glamorous, but highly effective.

Coconut water is your stomach’s best friend. It’s alkaline, hydrating, and soothing. Tender coconut water works like an internal fire extinguisher.

Buttermilk, not curd, taken post-lunch with a pinch of roasted jeera and rock salt can work wonders.

And remember this ancient tip—eat two fingers less than your hunger. Overeating, even healthy food, can disturb digestion.

One of my patients, a retired schoolteacher, followed this strictly. “I never eat till full,” she proudly declared. “Only till I can still praise the cook.” Her digestion was perfect even at 75.

Gastritis is not just about food. It’s also about mood. Stress adds fuel to the fire. I’ve had patients who followed every dietary rule but still suffered because their minds were on fire—burning with deadlines, resentment, and anxiety. That’s why Ayurveda talks about manasika dosha—mental toxins.

Along with diet, I often prescribe a small ritual: sit in vajrasana for five minutes after meals. Not on your phone. Just sit. Breathe. Let your body digest not just the food, but the moment.

A young girl once told me, “Doctor, I feel guilty eating calmly. It feels unproductive.” That’s the tragedy of our times. We rush through meals like it’s a crime to enjoy them. But digestion begins in the mind. If your mind is agitated, even amrut can turn to acid.

Then there are lifestyle hacks. Sleep on time. Walk after meals. Don’t drink water during meals—sip warm water after meals, not with them. Soak a few coriander seeds overnight and drink the water in the morning. Chew fennel seeds after meals. 

One more: boil a small piece of liquorice (yashtimadhu) and drink that water—it coats the stomach lining like a soothing balm. Not recommended for people with high blood pressure, though. Ayurveda’s brilliance lies in customisation—no one-size-fits-all here.

In one curious case, a man developed gastritis after switching to so-called “healthy” smoothies and raw salads from Western diets. His digestion wasn’t ready for that cold, fibrous onslaught. Warm Indian meals suited him better. Ayurveda teaches us to eat according to our agni—digestive fire, not Instagram reels.

Once, a couple came in—both suffering from acidity. “We follow intermittent fasting,” the husband proudly said. “16:8.” I looked at them and asked, “Do you break the fast with fruits, coffee, or Instagram arguments?” They looked sheepish. Fasting helps only if done mindfully. Skipping breakfast and binging on samosas at lunch is not fasting. It’s abuse.

Ayurveda offers a brilliant metaphor: annam (food) is mahabhaishajya (the great medicine). But only when consumed in the right quantity, at the right time, with the right mindset.

In a world obsessed with superfoods, the real superheroes are simple ones—warm rice, ghee, cumin, ginger, fennel. Not exotic, but effective.

One of my patients, a young mother, followed my gastritis protocol for three months. When she returned, she said, “Doctor, my stomach is smiling again.” That was all the validation I needed.

Whenever you reach for that plate of chole bhature at 11 p.m., pause and ask—am I feeding my hunger or my habits?

Gastritis is not just a digestive disorder. It’s a lifestyle feedback.

Your stomach doesn’t speak English. It speaks sensation. Listen to it. Feed it with kindness.

Healing starts not on your plate, but in your awareness.