“Doctor, I take your medicine without fail. But I also take pizza on Saturdays. That’s not a problem, right?”
I have heard this line more times than I can count. Some say it with guilt, some with hope, and some with the confidence of a five-star hotel chef who thinks ghee is “bad cholesterol.” And each time, I take a deep breath and smile. Behind that smile is 5000 years of Ayurvedic wisdom screaming for attention — Pathya and Apathya, the most underrated, ignored, and misunderstood pillars of healing.
Imagine going to a temple, bowing down with reverence, and blowing out the sacred lamp on your way out. That’s what most patients do. They take their medicines sincerely, but eat in a way that undoes everything. They don’t need a new medicine; they need a new mindset about food.
I remember a gentleman in his early forties who came to me for skin allergies. He was on three types of antihistamines, two types of ointments, and one emotional breakdown per week. “Doctor, I think my body hates me,” he sighed. But a quick peek into his diet diary told me it wasn’t hatred. It wasn’t a disease, it was a food-fueled revolt. His daily meals were a festival of fermented, spicy, oily, and sour foods. Curd rice with pickle, shawarma in the evenings, and iced cola at bedtime. All of this, while taking my prescribed medicines! That’s like pouring rose water into a gutter.
Ayurveda’s concept of Pathya-Apathya is more than “good food versus bad food.” It is not calorie-counting. It’s not about carbs or keto. It’s about the right food, at the right time, in the right season, for the right constitution. It is so precise that it changes according to your illness, digestive strength, and the weather outside your window. Charaka, Sushruta, and Kashyapa said the same thing: Medicine is important. But without Pathya, it’s like trying to fill a pot with a hole in the bottom.
One of my young patients with diabetes once asked, “Doctor, can I have sugar-free sweets after meals?” I said, “Sure, if you also take medicine-free medicines.” Ayurveda isn’t about loopholes. It’s about alignment. And Pathya isn’t a punishment — it’s a precision tool, designed for your healing.
Take fever, for example. What do we eat? In most homes, the answer is toast, bread, tea, or maybe curd rice. But Ayurveda prescribes Yavagu — a thin, light, nourishing, and kind rice gruel to the digestive fire. The idea is simple — don’t give it another fight in the gut when the body is fighting infection. Give it food that digests itself. Food that’s like a warm hug, not a wrestling match.
Bitter-tasting vegetables like neem, patola, and karela become your best allies in skin disorders. Not because they are trending on health blogs, but because they help purify the rasa dhatu (plasma), cleanse the blood, and cool down an overactive Pitta — the fire element often behind itching, rashes, and acne. Ayurveda believes that the body speaks through the skin, and bitter foods speak clearly.
Now, take a seemingly unrelated condition — obesity. Surprisingly, the logic is similar. The focus is not on punishment or starvation but on removing what doesn’t serve the body. Dry, light, rough foods like barley, horse gram (kulattha), and aged red rice help reduce medas dhatu (excess fat tissue). Sipping warm honey water, especially with dry ginger, is a classic Ayurvedic method to “scrape” sticky fat and reboot metabolism gently. Even some of the more unusual remedies mentioned in classical Ayurveda, though unfamiliar or uncomfortable by modern standards, were always grounded in a more profound philosophy: cleanse the channels, restore the tissues, and reset the body’s natural intelligence.
You’d be surprised how specific our texts are. For hypothyroid-like symptoms (Galganda), the classics mention red rice, rock salt, selenium-rich cereals (Selenium-rich cereals like red rice (Rakta Shali), barley (Yava), and millets such as kodrava not only nourish deeply but also support thyroid function, immunity, and antioxidant defence, making them valuable allies in managing conditions like hypothyroidism and chronic fatigue.) cow’s ghee, and even rainwater for its trace minerals. Yes, rainwater. It turns out that what our sages called “amrut” was iodine-rich water from the skies. Who needs a lab when nature already does the processing?
Another story that comes to mind is a teenage girl with severe acne, irregular periods, and sugar cravings that could scare a bakery. We didn’t start with medicine. We began with Pathya — bitter gourd juice, no curd, no fried snacks, early dinners, and warm jeera water. Within six weeks, her skin had calmed down, her hormones were behaving, and her smile returned. “Doctor, I never knew my body could be this peaceful,” she said. It wasn’t magic. It was food.
What’s cool about the Ayurvedic diet is that it’s all about eating with the seasons and region. In the blazing summer heat, Ayurveda says, “Bring on the cooling!” Think ghee, juicy sweet fruits, and refreshing drinks like vetiver-infused water that make you feel like you’re chilling in a spa. Come winter, it flips the script—time for warming up with cosy sesame oil massages, hearty meat soups, and protein-packed urad dal to keep the chill away.
When the monsoon rains arrive, Ayurveda recommends that people with weak digestion or health issues avoid river water (no muddy adventures, please!) and heavy grains like white rice, wheat, ragi, and corn—because these can feel like wet blankets, making digestion sluggish. Healthy folks with strong digestion can enjoy these grains in moderation, but it’s best to lighten up if your stomach feels slow or you tend to feel heavy during the rainy season.
The best part? Ayurveda isn’t a strict diet police—it’s more like your wise, chill friend who knows when to cool down, warm up, and keep things flowing naturally. Ayurveda is not a rigid rulebook. It’s a living rhythm.
Yet, I often meet people who think “healthy food” means oats, quinoa, and almond milk—all imported, expensive, and irrelevant to their Prakriti. Ayurveda doesn’t ask for fancy. It asks for fit-for-you. That could mean ganji, buttermilk with rock salt, methi paratha cooked in ghee, or a bowl of moong dal with ginger and jeera. The food doesn’t need to impress Instagram. It needs to impress your agni.
Let me share something you won’t find in a lab report. The happiest, healthiest patients in my practice are the ones who don’t argue with their plate. They don’t ask, “Can I cheat today?” They ask, “How can I eat to support my healing?” That mindset is the true medicine.
I had a 60-year-old man who came for joint pain and fatigue. Instead of starting with medicines, I asked about his food. He said, “Doctor, I eat what my wife cooks.” I asked his wife. She said, “I make what he likes — curd rice with pickle and fried papads.” We switched to warm barley ganji, horse gram soup, and sesame oil massage. Within a month, he walked longer, smiled more, and told me stories from his youth. “I feel like I’ve come back,” he said. That’s the power of aligning food with nature and your body.
Ayurveda promises a system that listens to, understands, and works with you. Pathya is that quiet voice in the background, saying, “Eat right. I will do the rest.”
Whenever someone tells you that food has nothing to do with disease, offer them your rice gruel and walk away with the smugness of a sage. Because now you know what the ancient texts have known all along — food is not just fuel, it’s fate.
To my beloved patients who cheat with biryanis and ice creams—remember this: no medicine can fix what your fork keeps breaking. Healing is not a pill. It’s a pact.
