My name is Charan. For the past several years, I have been exploring my relationship with my body and mind. I’ve done this by observing how my body responds to different foods, routines, and environments, and by learning from people around the world who are asking similar questions. Over time, this exploration has helped me understand my body more clearly and simply. At its core, it has been driven by a quiet longing to feel free and at ease in this body, something I had not fully experienced before. As this inquiry deepened, more fundamental questions began to surface. What truly makes this body function? Why does disease arise? What does it really mean to care for this living organism? I began to question what food actually is for the body. Is it only what I put into my mouth, or are there other forms of nourishment such as sunlight, air, water, rest, touch, and movement?
My name is Charan. For the past several years, I have been exploring my relationship with my body and mind. I’ve done this by observing how my body responds to different foods, routines, and environments, and by learning from people around the world who are asking similar questions. Over time, this exploration has helped me understand my body more clearly and simply. At its core, it has been driven by a quiet longing to feel free and at ease in this body, something I had not fully experienced before. As this inquiry deepened, more fundamental questions began to surface. What truly makes this body function? Why does disease arise? What does it really mean to care for this living organism? I began to question what food actually is for the body. Is it only what I put into my mouth, or are there other forms of nourishment such as sunlight, air, water, rest, touch, and movement?
During this time, I paid close attention to all aspects of daily living. It became an exploration of relationship itself: my relationship with nature, with my mother and father, with my ancestors and my birthplace, with friends, with food and water, with sleep and dreams. I began to see that each of these is an aspect of living, and together they form the field in which this body and mind exist. Eating was not separate from this field. It was one of the most direct and tangible expressions of how I relate to the world. In this article, I stay with one strand of this larger inquiry: my relationship with food. I share my food history, where I come from, what we ate, how our regional landscape shaped our plate, and how I began to see the gap between nourishment and habit.
I come from Chittoor in Andhra Pradesh, India, a region near Tirupati, known for temples, rocky hills, and a climate that leans toward dryness. Hot summers, moderate monsoons, and recurring droughts shaped the crops people grow and how they think about food and water. My ancestors migrated to higher ground after facing floods elsewhere. They adapted to a land where rainfall was uncertain and farming required resilience. Millets like ragi, groundnuts, and pulses were staples. These foods required less water and could be stored for long periods. Vegetables were harder to grow consistently, and fruits, though present, were not daily staples. Growing up in Air Force campuses across India exposed me to diverse regional food habits. Chapatis became a regular dinner, and milk consumption increased under the influence of northern cuisines, particularly from Punjab, where dairy is a central part of the diet
At home, our meals were rooted in our native land. The staple was white rice, accompanied by a range of lentil-based preparations such as dals, sambars, rasams, and chutneys. Meat appeared mostly on weekends, eggs more often. Podis mixed with ghee or oil were a regular feature, and almost everything carried the sour taste of tamarind. Our food was heavy in grains and lentils, high in carbohydrates and plant proteins, but often low in daily fresh fruits and vegetables that provide water-rich nourishment and fibre. With refrigerators and gas stoves, idlis and dosas became convenient and slowly entered daily life.
When I spoke with my grandfather, he described meals centered around hardy grains and millets. White rice was rare and considered a luxury. Over time, as markets expanded and government systems made rice affordable, polished white rice became associated with comfort and status. By the time I was growing up, it had become the unquestioned centre of most meals.
As my inquiry deepened, I turned the question to my plate. Much of what I ate came from habit, convenience, and emotional comfort. Foods from childhood carried memories of home and care, and certain dishes felt tied to my identity. It led me to ask more honestly whether I was eating for nourishment or out of habit and conditioning. I also began to notice differences in lifestyle. My ancestors worked in the fields, walked long distances, and lived according to the sun. They usually ate two substantial meals a day, finished eating early in the evening, slept early, and woke early.
I began recreating ancestral dishes and examining them through the lens of nourishment. I explored how I could nourish my body while still eating familiar foods, and also by bringing more vegetables and fruits into these dishes. I changed what, when, and how often I ate, observing how my body responded. Simpler meals, more fruits and vegetables, adjusted meal timing, or reduced heavy foods each became a way to learn. The internet connected me with others experimenting with fasting, raw eating, natural hygiene, and body awareness. These were not laboratory experiments but daily observations of energy, digestion, sleep, and moods. Gradually, I understood that food is not only nutrients on a plate. It is also about how the body uses and eliminates what it receives, and how rest, breath, movement, sunlight, and connection support or burden the system.
What truly nourishes the body? Is food only the rice, dal, idli, dosa, sambar, or chapati on my plate? Through exploration, I saw that my earlier understanding of food was narrow and largely cultural. It was shaped by family, region, availability, and emotional comfort. This first article is a sharing of how that question emerged from my own roots, in a dry land, within a grain and lentil heavy food culture, in a body that is asking to be understood. In the articles that follow, I will explore what nourishment means in terms of body physiology, how different foods and rhythms affect this living system, and how our agricultural and cultural histories have shaped the way we eat today.
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