𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋
- Madhukar Dama
- 29 minutes ago
- 10 min read
𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 — 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄
In the last hundred years, disease has quietly changed its nature because we changed ours.
We no longer live close to soil, sunlight, hunger, or silence.
We live close to screens, walls, chairs, and noise.
We cleaned away the dirt but also the microbes that protected us.
We produced more food but lost the life in it.
We cured infection but invited inflammation.
We built hospitals but lost health.
Today’s body doesn’t respond to seasons anymore — it responds to data.
Disease has become less about germs and more about how we live, eat, sleep, and think.
It has become a mirror of our distance from nature.
---
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄
𝐀. 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄
1. Shift from infections to lifestyle and chronic disorders.
2. From short illness to lifelong management.
3. From curable to controllable.
4. From visible sickness to invisible imbalance.
5. From fever and pain to fatigue and pressure.
6. From sudden disease to silent deterioration.
𝐁. 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒
7. Germs replaced by stress, food, and pollution.
8. Contagion replaced by consumption.
9. Deficiency replaced by toxicity.
10. Infection replaced by inflammation.
11. Nature replaced by artificial environment.
𝐂. 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
12. Fresh food replaced by factory food.
13. Natural fats replaced by refined oils.
14. Hunger replaced by habit eating.
15. Nutrients replaced by supplements.
16. Soil-grown replaced by chemical-grown.
17. Eating together replaced by eating distracted.
𝐃. 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄
18. Movement replaced by sitting.
19. Outdoor work replaced by indoor screens.
20. Sunlight replaced by blue light.
21. Rest replaced by stimulation.
22. Walking replaced by scrolling.
23. Natural rhythm replaced by artificial routine.
𝐄. 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄
24. Pulse reading replaced by report reading.
25. Observation replaced by technology.
26. Healing replaced by management.
27. Prevention replaced by insurance.
28. Medicine for every discomfort.
29. Health converted into business.
𝐅. 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
30. Mental illness replacing physical weakness.
31. Stress as the new infection.
32. Depression as common as fever once was.
33. Anxiety replacing rest.
34. Loneliness replacing community.
35. Emotional pain becoming physical disease.
𝐆. 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐒
36. Children with adult diseases.
37. Early puberty, obesity, fatigue in youth.
38. Falling fertility and hormonal imbalance.
39. Gut damage from birth due to antibiotics.
40. Immunity declining each generation.
𝐇. 𝐄𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘
41. Clean water replaced by chemical water.
42. Clean air replaced by conditioned air.
43. Soil nutrition lost to pesticides.
44. Food contamination normalised.
45. Microplastics, hormones, and heavy metals in blood.
46. Sunlight deficiency pandemic.
47. Microbial exposure lost — immunity collapsed.
𝐈. 𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒
48. Screens replacing natural awareness.
49. Mind fatigue replacing body fatigue.
50. Attention disorders and sleep loss rising.
51. Fear-based health culture replacing body trust.
𝐉. 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋
52. Family guidance replaced by doctor dependence.
53. Community care replaced by isolation.
54. Natural death replaced by medical death.
55. Health equated to productivity.
56. Disease normalised, commercialised, and accepted.
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𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 — 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄
I’ve spent the last eight years living off-grid, guiding thousands of people who came for counselling — not as patients, but as learners of a new way to live.
They came tired of pills, diets, and fear.
Many used the Simarouba Kashaya I make and the authentic Castor Oil from our homestead — and through simple daily corrections, healed from what modern life calls “lifestyle diseases.”
Every healing story began with the same realisation:
the body is not broken — the lifestyle is.
If you wish to return to health, begin here:
1. Stop milk, maida, sugar, refined oils, and pills for every discomfort.
2. Reduce white rice and wheat; eat jowar, ragi, and millets.
3. Eat seasonal, local vegetables and fruits.
4. Walk daily under the morning sun; sweat once a day.
5. Use fermented foods like buttermilk regularly.
6. Take a full-body castor oil bath on Amavasya and Purnima.
7. Drink Mother Simarouba Kashaya nightly before bed.
8. Avoid refrigerator food; eat fresh daily.
9. Eat only when hungry and finish dinner early.
10. Practice Ekadashi fasting.
11. Sleep early, wake early, and stay close to the sun.
When you live in rhythm with nature,
disease stops being a punishment —
it becomes a reminder to return home.
---
---
𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋 — 𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐑. 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐇𝐔𝐊𝐀𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐀
---
𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐆𝐈
It was early morning near Yelmadagi.
The air was cool, the earth smelled of dew and neem.
Adhya opened the bamboo gate as visitors arrived one by one — some from Bidar, some from Kalaburagi, one even from Pune.
Anju carried small earthen cups of Mother Simarouba Kashaya, made by Savitri just before sunrise.
They all sat under the large banyan tree facing the east — a small circle of nine.
Each had come with a reason, but all carried the same silent question:
Why have diseases changed so much — and what can we do about it?
---
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇
Her name was Meera — a woman in her forties, neatly dressed, restless eyes.
“I’ve done everything, Dr. Madhukar,” she said. “Medicines, yoga, diets. My reports are normal, but I don’t feel normal.”
Dr. Madhukar looked at her calmly. “Reports show numbers, not life.
Tell me — when did you last sweat under the sun?”
She thought for a long moment. “Maybe years ago.”
He nodded. “That’s when your disease began. When sweat stopped, the flow stopped.
Your body heals not by yoga or reports — it heals by returning to the sun, the soil, and your own rhythm.”
---
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐍
Arjun was 32, fit, with a smartwatch and a protein shaker.
He spoke with quiet frustration. “I run ten kilometres a day, track my sleep, eat healthy — still, I’m tired all the time.”
Dr. Madhukar smiled softly. “You run on asphalt, not earth.
You eat food wrapped in plastic, not grown in soil.
You live under artificial light, not sunlight.
That’s why you’re tired — not from running, but from living unnaturally.”
---
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓
Ramesh, sixty, diabetic for fifteen years, sat with a trembling hand.
“Doctor,” he said, “they say my diabetes is lifelong. I must take tablets forever.”
Dr. Madhukar looked directly into his eyes. “Then stop feeding it forever.
A disease cannot survive without your daily help.
Every spoon of sugar, every processed oil, every late-night meal — you’re re-creating it daily.
When you stop creating, it stops existing.”
---
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑
Lakshmi, a homemaker in her fifties, spoke hesitantly.
“I take care of everyone. I cook, clean, serve. I eat last.
But these days, my knees hurt, I feel weak.”
Dr. Madhukar said gently, “When the mother eats last, the whole family eats sickness.
Eat first. Rest when your food rests.
Warm food, served to yourself with the same care you give others — that is medicine.”
---
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋
Vikram, 42, an IT manager from Hyderabad, leaned forward.
“I have everything — money, house, car — yet I feel empty. What’s missing?”
Dr. Madhukar replied slowly, “You built comfort but lost contact.
Your body misses soil under your feet, the ache after work, the sight of sunrise.
Without earth, even achievement feels hollow.
Return to sweat — that’s where joy lives.”
---
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐄𝐑
Padma, a retired biology teacher, asked, “Why is every generation weaker than the last?”
Dr. Madhukar said, “Because every generation is cleaner and more artificial.
We disinfected our immunity, polished away the microbes that protected us.
Our children live in sterile homes, eat dead food, and breathe conditioned air.
They’re protected — but from life itself.”
---
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘
Ananya, 21, a college dropout with bright eyes, said softly, “I want to live differently — close to the land, to people. But everyone laughs at me.”
Dr. Madhukar smiled. “Let them laugh.
The world mocks simplicity until disease teaches it back.
If you wish to live healthy, live slowly.
Simplicity is not backward — it’s forward, just without noise.”
---
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑
Keshav, who had once visited Yelmadagi bedridden with arthritis, spoke quietly.
“I used your Simarouba Kashaya and castor oil as you advised.
Now, I walk again. I came back to thank you.”
Dr. Madhukar nodded with humility. “Don’t thank me.
Healing comes from the body itself. I only helped you stop interrupting it.
Now you must help others remember the same.”
---
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑
A mother sat with her small child asleep in her lap. She didn’t speak.
The wind moved through her hair; the child breathed softly.
Dr. Madhukar noticed and said, “Silence is medicine too.
Sometimes, the body heals the moment we stop explaining it.”
---
𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄
As the circle grew still, Anju brought guavas from the garden and placed them before everyone.
The sun had risen fully. The Kashaya cups were empty.
Dr. Madhukar looked around and said slowly,
> “Disease changed because we changed.
We stopped touching soil, stopped sweating, stopped waiting for hunger.
Our body remembers this separation as pain.”
He paused, then continued:
> “Health will return when living becomes natural again.
Eat food that dies when left outside.
Drink water that smells of earth.
Wake up with sunlight.
Rest when your breath becomes slow.
Sweat daily.
Fast occasionally.
Use castor oil to cleanse and Simarouba Kashaya to strengthen.
Stop eating for comfort.
Start living with respect.”
The circle was silent. Even the breeze paused.
Finally, he said, “Health is not taught. It is remembered.
And disease — it’s only the body’s way of helping us remember.”
---
---
𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋 — 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐃𝐫. 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐡𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐚
---
You wake up
and there’s a notification
before your breath even settles.
The sun waits at the window,
but you touch glass instead.
There was a time
when mornings smelled of smoke and sweat,
and the body meant work.
Now the day begins
with pills, passwords, and protein powders.
You don’t see it happening,
but it’s happening —
the disease is changing.
It no longer limps in with fever or cough.
It seeps through lights that never go off,
through chairs that never move,
through food that doesn’t rot.
It comes with your comfort.
It stays with your routine.
You call it diabetes,
hypertension,
thyroid,
anxiety —
but they’re just new names
for one old thing:
forgetting how to live.
You are not dying from hunger anymore —
you’re dying from plenty.
You are not weak from labour —
you are weak from sitting.
Your disease has manners now.
It wears good clothes,
lives in cities,
has Wi-Fi,
and waits for blood reports
to tell you how unwell you are.
---
Look around.
No one dies young now —
they live long, medicated, exhausted lives.
They survive decades
but not days.
Children don’t climb trees anymore —
they scroll trees on their screens.
Men don’t sweat anymore —
they deodorise.
Women don’t rest —
they rush.
And everyone says,
“This is normal.”
But what is normal
about a body that forgets sunlight?
What is natural
about food that never spoils?
What is progress
when you have to book a weekend to breathe?
---
I’ve watched thousands come to me,
holding folders of reports
like prayer books.
They come because nothing works anymore —
not doctors,
not diets,
not faith.
They come with tired eyes,
expecting a miracle.
But I tell them the truth:
there is no miracle —
only remembering.
You were born knowing how to heal.
Your body knew the taste of hunger,
the joy of sweat,
the discipline of pain.
Then you traded it all
for convenience.
You drank cold water when the body wanted warm.
You ate late because the clock said “meeting.”
You feared sunlight,
but worshipped screens.
You cleaned your hands,
but forgot your gut.
And still you ask —
why are we sick?
---
Disease is no longer natural.
It’s manufactured
by the way we live,
by the way we refuse to stop.
You want to heal?
Then stop.
Stop running from discomfort.
Stop calling every fever an emergency.
Stop eating what doesn’t die.
Stop thinking that tablets fix time.
Stop mistaking silence for laziness.
Your cure isn’t new.
It’s old as soil.
Eat food that grows nearby.
Sleep when the light fades.
Walk before the world wakes.
Fast when you’re full.
Let your sweat clean your sins.
Do this —
not for spirituality,
not for detox,
not for vanity —
but because your body remembers
what your mind forgot.
---
Disease was once a teacher.
Now it’s a lifestyle.
You call it awareness.
You wear it like fashion —
gluten-free,
low-carb,
organic,
plant-based —
yet you still live in fear.
Fear of hunger,
fear of tiredness,
fear of doing without.
But health is not abundance.
It is emptiness —
a steady pulse
in the silence between two breaths.
---
Sometimes,
I think the body has more patience than the mind.
It waits.
It watches.
It sends signs —
a small ache,
a rash,
a restless night.
But you medicate every whisper.
You drown every message.
Then, one day,
it stops whispering
and begins shouting.
You call it diagnosis.
But it was communication,
ignored too long.
---
No,
disease is not natural anymore.
It’s a language we no longer understand.
It speaks in the accents of screens,
chemicals,
and hurry.
We’ve outsmarted the germs
but outlived our joy.
We’ve conquered infection
but not indulgence.
We’ve measured health
but forgotten feeling.
---
Once,
life was about being alive.
Now it’s about being busy.
And the tragedy is —
you can cure every disease
except this one.
---
I sit under the tree
and pour a cup of bitter Simarouba Kashaya.
The morning is still.
The wind moves slow.
A man from the city sits across me —
his hands tremble with anxiety,
his eyes filled with questions.
He drinks the bitter cup,
makes a face,
and says,
“Doctor, it’s hard.”
And I tell him quietly,
“Of course it’s hard.
But so is dying slowly.”
He smiles.
He understands.
---
That’s all healing ever is —
the moment you stop blaming your body
and start listening to it.
---
So yes,
disease is no longer natural.
But health still is.
It’s waiting,
right where you left it —
in the soil,
in the sweat,
in the hunger,
in the silence,
in the small bitter cup
that makes you alive again.
---
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