A CHILD CANNOT SAVE ITSELF FROM SUGER
- Madhukar Dama
- 9 hours ago
- 10 min read
1. THE CHILD IS NOT FREE. THE CHILD IS ADDICTED.
A child, when given a choice between plain food and sugary food, will almost always choose sugar.
Not once. Not twice. But every day.
Every meal.
Until teeth rot. Until the gut collapses. Until the pancreas gives up.
And even then — if given the choice — the child will still reach for sugar.
Because the child is not choosing.
The child is being pulled.
Sugar hijacks the brain.
It mimics the same reward circuitry as drugs.
It gives pleasure instantly.
And it punishes refusal with cravings, tantrums, mood swings, and emotional collapse.
A child does not have the constitution to say no to sugar.
If left to choose, the child will die of sugar.
And it will smile while dying.
---
2. THE LIE OF CHOICE: WHEN MODERN PARENTING BECOMES SILENT MURDER
We are told today to give children freedom.
Freedom to choose. Freedom to eat what they like. Freedom to decide.
But is it really freedom when every choice is hijacked by addiction?
Would you give a child a cigarette and say, "Up to you, beta"?
Would you hand a beer to your five-year-old and ask, "Do you feel like having it today?"
No.
But sugar is more socially accepted. And more dangerous because of its disguise.
It’s not freedom when the body is begging for poison.
It’s not parenting when the adult stands back and watches it happen.
---
3. WHERE IS THE MOTHER?
Where is the protector? The nurturer? The guardian of the home?
The mother who once picked fresh greens from the garden...
...who fed kanji, millet, fresh chutneys, hand-ground with care...
...now opens a packet of glucose biscuits, mixes formula, and proudly gives sweets on birthdays.
Because she is too busy. Too distracted. Too afraid of a crying child.
She doesn’t want tantrums.
She doesn’t want rejection.
She wants peace — at the cost of her child’s health.
She forgets: saying no is not violence.
Watching a child fall sick slowly is.
---
4. SUGAR IS A TRAP WRAPPED IN CELEBRATION
We decorate it with bows:
Birthday cakes.
Chocolates after exams.
Ice cream on Sundays.
Sweets for festivals.
We call it “love.”
We call it “reward.”
But it's a chemical leash.
Every piece of sugar is a seed of dependency.
The body forgets how to digest real food.
The gut ferments.
The child becomes bloated, angry, foggy, unable to focus.
The sugar highs are celebrated.
The crashes are blamed on the child.
---
5. THE MOTHER WHO FORGOT HOW TO SAY NO
A mother today is expected to be:
Soft, not strict.
Fun, not firm.
Pleasing, not powerful.
She is told: don’t control.
Don’t shout. Don’t insist.
And so she gives in.
To snacks.
To junk.
To everything that the child screams for — just to keep the house "peaceful."
But there is no peace in a house ruled by addiction.
There is only fear.
Fear of saying no.
Fear of anger.
Fear of being disliked.
And this fear is why mothers today watch their children rot — silently, helplessly, guiltily.
---
6. MOTHERHOOD IS NOT A POPULARITY CONTEST
The mother is not here to be liked.
She is here to protect.
To refuse.
To insist.
To remove sugar from the home.
To take the blame.
To take the tears.
To take the tantrums.
Because she sees what the child cannot.
She knows what the child does not.
She loves in ways the child does not understand — yet.
---
7. SUGAR WITHDRAWAL IS A STORM WORTH FACING
When sugar is removed from the child’s life:
There will be hell.
There will be crying.
There will be threats: “I won’t eat anything then!”
Let them not eat.
Let the body empty out.
Because on the other side of this storm, something magical returns:
Real hunger.
Real taste.
Real calm.
The child will begin to sleep better.
Bowel movements improve.
Mood stabilizes.
Skin clears.
Focus increases.
And slowly — the child becomes free.
---
8. HEALING BEGINS AT HOME — WITH THE FIRST NO
You don’t have to buy anything.
You don’t need supplements or fancy therapies.
You just have to stop buying sugar.
Say no to biscuits.
Say no to packaged juices.
Say no to chocolates.
Say no to energy drinks, soft drinks, flavored milk, sugary cereal, ketchup, and sauces.
Yes — sugar hides in everything.
That’s why parenting today means being alert, not blind.
Because corporations are waiting to capture your child.
To fatten them.
To sicken them.
And to profit from them lifelong.
But a mother can still stop it.
A mother can still break the pattern.
---
9. IF YOU CAN’T SAY NO, YOU’LL BE CRYING YES LATER
Every disease in childhood has a sugar trail:
Hyperactivity
Asthma
Skin rashes
Constipation
Sleep disorders
Tonsil problems
Cavities
Obesity
Early puberty
Insulin resistance
Anxiety
Gut imbalance
Attention problems
And then the doctor becomes the new parent.
And pills become the new permission slip.
The mother sits at the hospital, wondering where she went wrong.
She cries. She prays.
But it was never fate.
It was the sugar she allowed — quietly, daily, knowingly.
---
10. THIS IS NOT ABOUT SUGAR. THIS IS ABOUT COURAGE.
Sugar is just one example.
The real issue is this: will you protect your child even when they hate you for it?
Even when your relatives call you cruel?
Even when your child says “I don’t love you”?
Even when other kids are indulged and yours feels left out?
That’s when parenting begins.
That’s when love stops being shallow.
That’s when a mother becomes a healer, a warrior, a guide.
Not by magic.
Not by education.
But by standing tall and saying,
“NO. You may cry today. But you will live well tomorrow.”
—
“WE SWEETENED THEIR DESTRUCTION”
Setting:
Madhukar’s simple mud home, outskirts of Bengaluru.
A small garden rustles outside. No fan, no fridge, no packaged food in sight.
An urban family of four visits:
Father (Prakash, 42) – Software architect, diabetic
Mother (Leela, 38) – Homemaker, proud of her children's diet
Daughter (Myra, 14) – Chubby, acne-ridden, has PCOS
Son (Ishaan, 9) – Thin, hyperactive, irritable, addicted to soft drinks
---
Leela (smiling proudly):
We’ve come to learn about immunity, Madhukar-ji. Myra keeps getting boils, and Ishaan... he just doesn't listen. Always running, shouting, biting nails. No focus.
Madhukar (gently):
And what do they eat?
Leela (laughing):
Oh, they’re pampered. I make sure they get all their favorite snacks. Bread jam, Nutella, milkshakes, chocolates on weekends, and of course birthday cakes. I want them to enjoy childhood.
Prakash:
We believe in balance. Sweets during festivals, and a treat now and then. I mean, we all grew up with sweets, right?
Madhukar (quietly):
What if I told you… you’re not feeding your children — you’re feeding the sugar industry?
Leela (confused):
What do you mean?
Madhukar:
You think you’re giving them joy.
But what you’re giving is dopamine hits.
What you call “pampering” is actually programming.
You’ve made sugar the source of comfort, celebration, reward, and even love.
And the industry loves you for it.
Myra (muttering):
I can’t survive without something sweet after food. It feels incomplete.
Madhukar (turning to her):
You are not hungry, Myra.
You are addicted.
Your body is screaming in confusion. That’s why your face is full of heat and eruptions.
Ishaan (snapping):
I’m not addicted! I just like it! It tastes good!
Madhukar:
That’s what every addict says, beta.
Sugar is not food.
It is a substance processed to act like a drug — just legal, cheap, and available in every shop.
Prakash (defensive):
But it’s not like we’re feeding them poison...
Madhukar (firm):
You are.
Would you mix slow arsenic into their tea if it gave them a smile?
Would you let them drink petrol if it came with chocolate flavor?
Would you hold their hand and walk them to the diabetes ward at 30?
Because that’s what this is. A slow walk to collapse.
---
THE MIRROR OF PAIN
Leela (softly):
But everyone does it... How can we be the only ones to say no?
Madhukar:
Because everyone’s children are suffering, too.
But no one wants to admit it.
They’d rather post cake pictures on Instagram than face their child’s inflamed liver.
---
SUGAR IS THE NEW MOTHER
Madhukar:
Tell me, when your child cries, what do you offer?
Leela (whispering):
Something sweet...
Madhukar:
Then sugar has replaced your arms.
When he’s bored?
Leela:
Lollipop... or milkshake...
Madhukar:
Then sugar is the new teacher.
When she scores well?
Leela:
We treat her to her favorite dessert...
Madhukar:
Then sugar is the new reward.
You’ve outsourced love, encouragement, fun, celebration, and silence — to a chemical.
And now... your children can’t love themselves without it.
---
MYRA’S VOICE BREAKS
Myra (quietly):
I eat secretly sometimes.
Even when I’m not hungry.
I just feel... better.
Madhukar (nodding):
That’s not hunger, child. That’s pain.
Sugar has become your soother. But it’s also your slow killer.
You are bleeding from the inside and bandaging it with chocolate.
---
THE MOTHER SHATTERS
Leela (crying):
But I just wanted to love them.
I didn’t know...
I didn’t mean...
Madhukar (gently):
Love is not giving.
Love is guarding.
Love is saying “NO” even when the child hates you for it.
Every “NO” you say to sugar is a “YES” to their liver.
Every tantrum you allow is a war you’ve won.
Every rejection of a biscuit is a reunion with real hunger.
---
THE FATHER BREAKS HIS DENIAL
Prakash (teary-eyed):
I have diabetes.
I thought it’s just age, genetics...
But I see now — I was raised the same way.
And I passed it down.
I gave Myra and Ishaan the same childhood of sugar traps.
Madhukar:
This is not your fault.
But now it is your responsibility.
---
THE PATH OUT — WITHDRAWAL AND WAR
Madhukar:
You will go home.
Clear every shelf.
Throw it all — the ketchup, biscuits, hidden chocolates, soft drinks, flavored milk, cornflakes.
Let the children scream.
Let them rage.
They are detoxing. They are waking up.
Cook simple millet rice, dal, greens.
Let them feel hunger. Let them reconnect.
Sit together. No screens. No bribes. No replacements.
It will take 3 weeks.
On the other side, you’ll meet your children again.
The real ones.
Not the sugar-coated ones.
---
THE DAUGHTER FINALLY SPEAKS
Myra:
Will I ever be free from this?
Madhukar (placing a neem leaf in her hand):
When you learn to eat bitterness with grace,
your body will trust you again.
And the sweet you truly deserve —
will come from peace, not a packet.
—
"WE CALLED IT LOVE AND FED THEM POISON"
(a long poem about sugar, childhood, and the cowardice of parenting)
---
the first time
they gave me sugar
it wasn’t even mine.
it was a reward
for someone else's wedding,
someone else's promotion,
someone else’s god.
I was just a soft little mouth
in the room.
and they shoved it in
smiling.
---
THE INDUSTRY DOESN’T KNOCK
it doesn’t need to.
it creeps in through
cartoons,
school lunchboxes,
free samples at the pediatrician’s door.
it finds your child
before you do.
it tells you:
“Don’t cook. Just unwrap.”
“Don’t explain. Just reward.”
“Don’t raise them. Just feed them.”
and we obey
because we are tired,
lazy,
busy,
and dead inside.
---
SUGAR IS NOT FOOD.
it is a parent.
a very good one.
it shuts the child up.
it makes them smile.
it doesn’t question.
it doesn't say no.
and it doesn't demand love in return.
---
FATHERS CALL IT A TREAT.
MOTHERS CALL IT A BLESSING.
RELATIVES CALL IT BONDING.
no one calls it what it is:
a sweet-tasting leash
wrapped around a child’s neck.
---
they fed me laddoos
when I fell.
they fed me gulab jamun
when I cried.
they fed me cake
when I succeeded.
they fed me biscuits
when they wanted me to shut up.
and then they wondered
why I couldn’t
sit still
or sleep
or focus
or poop.
---
NO ONE TALKS ABOUT THAT.
sugar turns your gut into a garbage bin
lined with caramel.
the bloating,
the gas,
the constipation,
the candida,
the itching,
the mouth ulcers,
the mood swings—
all wrapped in
birthday balloons
and Doraemon wrappers.
---
I was six
when I first felt
the high.
I was ten
when I felt the crash.
I was thirteen
when my face exploded
with boils.
I was fifteen
when my periods became bloodless
and my brain became fog.
and still—
they said,
“just one more, beta. It’s a festival.”
---
THEY ALL COLLUDED.
the brands.
the ads.
the aunties.
the school principal who sold candy in the canteen.
they made sugar
the only language
a child could understand.
---
AND THEN THEY BLAMED US.
“Why is he so hyper?”
“Why is she so fat?”
“Why are these kids so restless, so rude, so anxious?”
they asked this
with a Rasna in one hand
and a glucose biscuit in the other.
---
WITHDRAWAL WAS WAR.
I tried to quit.
my hands shook.
I yelled.
I cried.
I punched the wall.
I hated everyone.
I vomited bile.
I chewed raw leaves.
I bit my own lip.
---
MY FAMILY CALLED ME CRAZY.
“Why are you punishing yourself?”
“Just have a little. Moderation is the key.”
but they didn’t know
that sugar doesn’t come in moderation.
it comes
with years of silence.
of looking the other way.
of buying love instead of earning it.
---
YOU DON’T QUIT SUGAR.
you bury it.
with every refusal.
with every bitter meal.
with every scream of a body
begging for its chemical master.
you bury it.
again and again.
until the mouth forgets
the lie it was fed
since birth.
---
and then,
on a quiet afternoon,
you eat
a plate of steamed millet
with curry leaves and salt.
and you cry.
because for the first time
you are eating food.
not drugs.
---
SUGAR TAUGHT ME WHAT FAMILY WOULD NOT.
that silence is betrayal.
that convenience is slow murder.
that anything fed with a smile
can still kill you.
especially if no one reads the label.
---
so now
when I see a child
with a mouth full of cream,
a hand full of cola,
and eyes full of confusion,
I don’t blame the child.
I blame the mother
who didn’t know how to say NO.
I blame the father
who thought money was parenting.
I blame the school
that sold sugar during sports day.
I blame the brands
that made poison look like love.
---
and I sit there
with my cracked tooth,
my angry gut,
my tired pancreas,
and my full-grown grief—
and I write poems
that no one will publish
because they’re too bitter.
just like real food.
—
