Aushadam ucchyate sarvam*

*Food is the ultimate medicine

The Indian lifestyle is built around food. Not only does food sustain life, it heals and cures as well. Indeed, Ayurvedha, the ancient Indian system of medicine pivots around food. Ayurvedha classfies, subclassifies, organizes food into Rajsik, thamasik and sathvik groups and goes into great detail on food group combinations and effects.



Of course, statements as above border on hyperbole. Most of the food-treatments have been handed down through generations, with no modern scientific double blind substantiations. But many of these food healing practices have worked fine through the ages, or at least not led to adverse effects, and so we could give them fair benefit of doubt. It is however best to be careful in choosing food-treatments and not succumb to latest fads that disguise as holy. "When in doubt, ask your grandmother" should be the watchword when choosing food for healing. In fact, even when not in doubt, ask your grandmother, because one day you will be one too (or a grandfather) to hand down these age tested recipes to health.

Unfortunately, many of these links are now broken, thanks modern lifestyle and Westernization. Very few people know, let alone follow some of these interesting food medications.

Take the stomach cleansing treatment that has disappeared now. This used to be a mandatory event every fortnight or month in every household. On a Saturday morning, all the kids of the house (and there were many, given the joint family system) would be made to sit in a row, and each of them, fed a large ladle of unrefined castor oil by the grand matriarch of the house. Within an hour the castor oil would do its thing and all the kids would again sit in a row, now, in the backyard, and add to the fertility of the land. The "mother of all runs" would be followed by an elaborate oil bath (yes, oil again). This time, sesame oil infused with omam, pepper, red chilly, rice, garlic, and betel leaves (each family has its own concoction) would be heated to fumes, and while still bearably hot, massaged into the heads and bodies of everyone under the age of 100. This process would involve a lot of chasing kids wanting to escape the treatment. After soaking for an hour, the oil would be removed using sheeyakkaai (once again, the formulation of the sheeyakkaai is family dependent - additives include dried rose petals, dried hibiscus leaves, methi seeds, curry leaves, dried lime rinds etc.) and a "head bath" in steaming water, so that the kids would come out like soaked raisins. The oil bath would be followed by a sambirani therapy until the house looks like a Vaikundam scene of a Telugu bhakthi movie.

The oil bath day would involve special food. Nothing heavy. Quite spicy. There would be milagu rasam (preferably with lots of garlic) and paruppu thogayal. Sometimes it would be pirandai thogayal. There would preferably be no vegetables on this day, but some times, a green vegetable such as avarakkai or a sundal would be made. Some families made pepper kuzambu instead of rasam on this day. Curd would be a no-no on the day of the oil bath. Perhaps a glass of watery, warm buttermilk, but curd - NO. Dinner on that day would be some sort of "tiffn" with very little oil - idly, dry pongal or in more liberated families, Roti.

The runs-oilbath-milagu rasam protocol would make the family sleep for hours in the afternoon. - the matriarch from the effort to provide the treatment and food and the rest for having endured it.

Almost all health conditions were associated with a special diet, called "Pathiyam". The type of pathiyam that still surivives at least in a few families is the postpartum pathiyam. Soon after delivery, the new mother would be started on a special diet that would last until she has picked up enough strength to go about her normal duties. Every morning, before sunrise, she would be fed the "pillai pethaal laegium", a herbal goo, stuffed inside a folded betel leaf. Yes, it is torture to be woken up after possibly a sleepless night, attending the fussy newborn, and given this spicy-sweet concoction that looks not unlike the meconium, but it is supposed to heal the battered innards, aid digestion and stimulate lactation. Garlic, cooked in milk is also given to the mother, to aid digesion and prevent colic in the breasfed newborn. The daily meal would be calorie rich, but easy digestible. Rice would be served with lots of ghee (clarified butter), and only a select set of vegetables allowed during the period to prevent colic - avarakkai and snake guard cooked in ghee again. Pepper rasam (with or without garlic) would be part of the daily menu. Barbequed (not fried) rice appalam would be the between-meal snacks, and idly would be the tiffin of choice. Once the mother and kid get into a routine other items would be slowly included into the menu.

There were kashayams (herbal tea) for almost all common ailments. Cold would mean pepper kashayam, a hot spicy tea that is sure to drive away the virus from the entire neighbourhood. Stomach pain and flatulence would mean jeeraga (cumin seed) kashayam. In fact, cumun seed kashayam used to be given to pregnant women to differentiate true labor from false pains. Fever and headache - dry ginger (sukku) kashayam. These were kashayams known to grandmothers as common sense. Apart from these, exotic kashayams would be prescribed by ayurvedic practitioners for various conditions.

Of course, fasting has been a very important part of traditional food therapy - "Langanam parama aushadam" ("Fasting is the best medicine"). A few of the more pious continue to observe the Ekadeshi (11th day of the moon) fast, where nothing touches their lips all day, but the next day, Dwadashi, spreads a feast at day break, consisting of gooseberry salad, agathi-keerai (a form of spinach) kootu, aviyal (a mixed vegetable stew), lime rasam and so on, a healthy, yet delicious combination that is supposed to cleanse the system.

Many of these food therapies have died. Some are dying. Some have been replaced by variations. There have been new food therapies. It is good to know of these, if not for therapeutic value, at least to sustain cultural diversity.