FOOD SLAVERY: THE CHAINS ON YOUR PLATE

You thought you were eating.

But you were being eaten.

Most people eat out of habit, not hunger. This exposé shows how food choices are shaped by marketing, timing, emotion, and convenience—not by real need. It explains how traditional food wisdom was replaced by packaged trends, why even so-called healthy diets keep you tired, and how to take back control of your plate. If you want to eat with clarity, strength, and freedom, start here.

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PART 1: HOW YOU LOST CONTROL OVER FOOD

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1. FROM FORAGER TO FOLLOWER

We once ate with freedom. Now we eat with fear.

In the beginning, food wasn’t a decision. It was a dance with nature.

People woke up with the sun, not alarms. Ate when they were hungry, not by the clock. They foraged leaves, plucked wild berries, sprouted pulses, made rice balls for the fields, roasted tubers under open fires. Nobody counted calories. No one asked about protein. They lived from their gut—literally and spiritually.

Even five generations ago in Indian villages, food meant working with the monsoon, the soil, and your body. What you ate in Savan was different from Kartik. Your gut flora danced with the seasons. Women knew which millet cools the womb, which leaf stops diarrhoea, which fermented dish boosts child immunity.

There were no packets.

No expiry dates.

No influencers.

Then came storage. Then came labels. Then came the slow shift from freedom of food to followers of food systems.

We started eating what society told us to eat—not what our body asked for.

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2. THE RISE OF “FOOD SYSTEMS”

When food became a “system,” it stopped being yours.

Why do we eat three meals a day? Who said breakfast should be heavy? Who decided lunch should be rice and dinner should be light?

You didn’t. Your ancestors didn’t.

It was decided by industrial needs.

Food systems evolved not for your health, but for managing labour. Factory workers in Europe were given a morning carb-heavy meal so they wouldn’t faint during 8-hour shifts. Soldiers were taught to eat at fixed times for discipline, not digestion. Schools needed fixed tiffin breaks to maintain uniformity. The British taught their colonies how to eat like the empire.

India inherited this machinery with pride.

We swallowed it like we swallow white bread—without thinking.

The British brought us tea, polished rice, wheat chapati, sugar in everything, tinned foods, refrigerator culture. Over time, food became less about the sunlight on your plate and more about the calories on a chart.

Slowly, you stopped trusting your tongue, your stomach, your traditions.

You started following diagrams, diet books, and ads.

That’s how slavery begins:

First they make you question yourself.

Then they sell you the answer.

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3. COLONISATION AND CASH CROPS

Food was the first battlefield of the empire.

Before the British came, India’s food was hyper-local and medicinal.

Each region had its grains—ragi in Karnataka, bajra in Gujarat, kodo millet in Chhattisgarh. Each village had its seeds, stored and gifted by grandmothers. Spices were used with surgical precision: hing for gas, jeera for milk flow, ajwain for cold.

Then came the cash crop revolution.

The British weren’t here for your health. They were here for tea, opium, cotton, sugarcane, and rice—things that sold. Not things that healed.

Rice was polished to whiteness, making it easier to store and export. The poor got beriberi, a disease from vitamin B1 deficiency.

Farmers were forced to grow sugarcane and indigo instead of native lentils or oilseeds.

Tea became a national addiction—despite being a dehydrating, acidic drink with zero nutrition.

Jaggery, which was medicine and nourishment, was replaced by cheap industrial sugar.

Wheat, a winter grain for the north, was pushed across India. Chapati became urban status. Millets became “backward.”

The British didn’t just enslave your land.

They enslaved your taste memory.

You still carry it. That proud obsession with white rice. That shame around ragi or kambu. That belief that cake is celebration, and jaggery laddoo is rustic.

Even today, five-star hotels serve “continental” food with pride and traditional thali with apology.

You don’t realise it yet.

But your tongue was colonised before your mind.

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PART 2: THE CORPORATE CAPTURE OF YOUR STOMACH

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4. THE GREAT MARKETING HIJACK

They didn’t sell food. They sold desire.

Once upon a time, a child cried for jaggery. Now they cry for chocolate.

Once upon a time, a farmer ate millet porridge. Now he eats instant noodles.

Once upon a time, food was felt, grown, smelt, and served. Now it is marketed, packaged, and sold.

You don’t even realise how your taste buds were trained like obedient dogs.

A jingle here.

A celebrity bite there.

A shiny wrapper.

A fake health claim.

That’s all it took.

Biscuits were sold as “energy.”

Flavoured milk was sold as “growth.”

Soft drinks became “cool.”

Ketchup replaced chutney.

Toffee replaced dry fruit.

Tea became the “break” in your hard day, even though it drained your minerals.

Bread became a “quick breakfast,” even though it bloated your belly.

And it didn’t stop with ads.

Schools began campaigns for packaged food.

Airports, trains, malls—every space filled with vending machines.

Even temple prasad started coming in sealed plastic packets.

The goal was not to nourish.

The goal was to make you forget how real food tastes.

They didn’t just market food.

They marketed forgetting.

You forgot how a sun-ripened tomato smells.

How buttermilk tastes after 24 hours of fermentation.

How rice changes with every season.

How ghee lifts mood better than any pill.

And now, when someone gives you real food—

You call it bland.

You call it poor.

You call it “not enough.”

That’s not hunger speaking.

That’s addiction.

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5. THE MENU OF DEPENDENCE

What you call a normal meal is engineered to make you sick.

The average urban Indian household now survives on a slavery menu:

Time Slave Meal Addiction Triggers

Morning Tea + Sugar + Maida biscuit Caffeine, sugar, gluten

Breakfast Bread + jam / cornflakes Ultra-processed, low fibre

Lunch Polished rice + wheat roti + refined oil sabzi High glycemic load, low nutrient

Snack Tea + namkeen / chips / cream roll MSG, salt, reused oil

Dinner Paneer, noodles, soft drinks, ice cream Salt-fat-sugar bomb

Weekend “treat” Pizza, cake, restaurant thali Addictive overload

This is not nourishment.

This is dependency disguised as variety.

You are not “choosing” your food.

Your addictions are.

You’re not eating to live.

You’re eating to stop withdrawal.

Your liver is inflamed.

Your gut is gassy.

Your sleep is light.

Your thoughts are foggy.

Your cravings are strong.

And yet, you can’t stop.

Because the menu is not meant to heal.

It is meant to loop you.

From craving → to indulgence → to crash → to medicine → to craving again.

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6. FOOD PYRAMID = PROFIT PYRAMID

The nutrition chart is a sales funnel.

You grew up seeing this pyramid in textbooks:

Base: Grains (rice, wheat)

Next: Fruits and vegetables

Then: Milk and dairy

Then: Protein (pulses, eggs, meat)

Top: Fats, oils, sugars (use sparingly)

Looks scientific?

It’s a lie.

The food pyramid was never neutral. It was born in America, sponsored by:

Wheat and corn lobby

Dairy industry

Big Pharma

India copied it blindly.

Rice and wheat became “staples”

Milk was pushed through government schemes (even to lactose-intolerant populations)

Pulses and desi oils were ignored

Millets were erased

Ghee was demonised

Sugar was hidden inside “energy” drinks

Traditional Indian thalis—based on fermentation, seasonality, food-body balance—were replaced by this pyramid of poison.

Even your modern-day dietitian uses these charts.

Even your school textbooks push it as truth.

Even government nutrition drives like ICDS or Anganwadi schemes reinforce it.

The result?

A country where:

1 in 3 children is undernourished

1 in 2 adults is diabetic or pre-diabetic

1 in 4 girls has PCOD by age 18

But everyone eats “according to the chart”

This pyramid doesn’t build health.

It builds markets—for wheat, dairy, and medicine.

You weren’t taught to eat right.

You were trained to consume what sells.

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PART 3: THE HUNGER INDUSTRY

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7. MANUFACTURED HUNGER

You’re not hungry. You’re programmed.

Close your eyes and ask:

When was the last time you felt true hunger?

Not boredom.

Not habit.

Not “it’s 1:30, let’s eat.”

Not “TV’s on, let’s snack.”

Not “I feel low, I need sugar.”

Most people today don’t eat to live.

They live to stop a chemical crash.

That growl in your stomach? It’s not hunger. It’s withdrawal from:

Caffeine

Sugar

Refined flour

Excess salt

Ultra-processed MSG

These substances trick your hormones—especially ghrelin and leptin. Your brain loses its ability to detect real nourishment. You feel “empty” even after a heavy meal, and “full” when you’ve eaten nothing but a cupcake.

Here’s the cycle:

> Wake up groggy → Tea to feel alive

2 hrs later → Crash → Biscuit or sugar snack

Lunch → Craving salt, chilli, ghee-like texture

Tea again → More sugar

Dinner → Craving dopamine → Comfort food

Sleep poorly → Wake up exhausted → Tea again

That’s not your appetite.

That’s your slavery cycle.

True hunger:

Doesn’t come on fast

Doesn’t scream

Doesn’t demand one item

Doesn’t make you angry

Doesn’t need marketing

Manufactured hunger:

Is sharp, emotional, compulsive

Demands “just one more bite”

Is always tied to something outside you—TV, phone, vending machine, stress

This is not food anymore.

This is behavioural manipulation using your biology.

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8. FORTIFIED POISON

Poisoning the poor—one fake nutrient at a time.

Ask anyone in a village:

“Have you got fortified rice in ration?”

They say: “Yes, that shiny white rice with dots in it.”

Ask a teacher in a government school:

“What is given to kids in midday meal?”

She says: “Fortified wheat rotis and oil-packed sabzi.”

Ask a young mother:

“What do you feed your child?”

She says: “Iron syrup and packaged milk.”

This is what modern nutrition has done:

Removed traditional food wisdom

Destroyed diversity and gut flora

Imposed synthetic substitutes in the name of “public health”

What is fortified rice?

It’s broken white rice mixed with iron dust and synthetic vitamins, made in factories, forced into poor homes via government schemes.

But real food is already fortified—by nature:

Pearl millet = full of iron

Ragi = natural calcium

Freshly ground sesame chutney = more zinc than tablets

Drumstick leaves = natural multivitamin

Fermented dosa = bioavailable B vitamins

But they don’t sell.

Instead, corporates push:

Fortified atta

Fortified sugar

Fortified oil

Fortified milk

Fortified chips for kids

And who eats these the most?

The poor. The rural. The tribal. The ones who once had the richest food traditions on Earth.

Now they eat industrial food in shiny packaging, with a government seal, believing it’s modern, scientific, and clean.

What they’re really eating is slow poison.

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9. FOOD AS PHARMA FEEDER

The food they give you makes sure you keep buying medicine.

Food and medicine were once the same thing.

Now, they are enemies tied together in a business contract.

Here’s how it works:

Processed Food Effect Pharma Solution

Gut inflammation from refined oils Antacids, probiotics, laxatives

Sugar addiction and insulin resistance Diabetes meds

Salt-fat overload = BP Antihypertensives

Hormonal disruption from seed oils PCOD drugs

Reduced sperm, early menopause IVF clinics, hormone therapy

Weak bones from soft drinks, caffeine Calcium supplements

Sleep disruption Sleep pills, melatonin gummies

Emotional swings from synthetic food Anti-depressants, mood stabilisers

This isn’t a coincidence. It’s a design.

The same companies that own food brands also own pharmaceutical brands.

The same labs that create health drinks also make vitamin syrups.

The same marketing teams sell “immunity biscuits” and protein shakes—and then insulin pens.

This is why your doctor never talks about food.

This is why your local chemist sells both glucose biscuits and metformin.

This is why every diabetic still drinks tea with sugar, and still takes pills.

You eat the food that made you sick, then take the pill that lets you eat it again.

That’s not healing.

That’s managed illness.

That’s repeat revenue.

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PART 4: THE INDIAN CONTEXT OF FOOD SLAVERY

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10. THE VILLAGE TO CITY DRAIN

The farmer gave up his food. The city gave him a job. Both lost.

Once, Indian farmers were not poor. They were independent.

They grew what they ate.

They knew the soil, the seed, and the season.

Their food was simple: kambu dosa, buttermilk, urad dal chutney, greens from the fence.

Children played barefoot and chewed on raw tamarind pods.

Pregnant women were fed cold rice porridge, not supplements.

Postpartum care included methi laddoos, ajwain water, sesame oil baths—not hospitals and pills.

Then came the Green Revolution.

Farmers were forced to grow what sold:

Hybrid rice (polished and tasteless)

GMO cotton (non-edible, pesticide heavy)

Sugarcane (water intensive)

Bt maize (animal feed)

Cash crops for export markets

Their diets collapsed.

Their soil eroded.

Their food became ration rice and ₹10 biscuits.

Meanwhile, their children left for cities—chasing degrees, desk jobs, and digital lives.

But city food is worse.

Tiffin boxes with paratha + ketchup

Hostel food: dal with 3 drops of oil, sour rice, reheated frozen sabzi

Eating out thrice a week: biryani, samosa, burger, ice cream

Cooking becomes a burden. Packaged food becomes survival.

The irony?

The farmer doesn’t eat what he grows.

The city worker doesn’t know what he’s eating.

Both are malnourished.

Both are sick.

Both are dependent on pills and packet food.

From root to roof, the drain is complete.

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11. FESTIVALS HIJACKED

What was once a ritual of healing is now a carnival of sugar and plastic.

In Indian tradition, festivals were sacred not only for worship—but for digestion, immunity, and seasonal reset.

Sankranti: Til, jaggery, sesame oil bath = warmth, joint care

Diwali: Ghee sweets, fasting before feast = liver cleansing

Ugadi / Gudi Padwa: Neem-jaggery mix = blood purification

Navratri: Nine days of simple, light food = gut rest

Ramzan: Controlled eating, dates, and hydration

Pongal: New rice, country cow milk, local sugarcane

Each recipe, each ritual, each fast and feast—was science and soul.

Now?

Diwali = kaju katli with synthetic silver foil

Holi = chemical-coloured sweets and plastic-wrapped thandai mix

Eid = overcooked mutton with 10 spoons of oil and packaged vermicelli

Christmas = maida cake with synthetic whipped cream

Janmashtami = packet butter, refrigerated sweets

Prasad = laddu made with hydrogenated vanaspati

We don’t fast anymore.

We binge.

We don’t make.

We order.

We don’t digest.

We pop antacids.

The festivals became excuses for shopping, not sanctity.

And the food became an invitation for disease.

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12. YOUR CHILD IS ALREADY A SLAVE

Before their body fully forms, their addiction is sealed.

By age 2, most Indian children are addicted to:

Refined sugar

Dairy from hormone-injected cows

Refined salt and seed oils

Screen-eating

By age 5, they are:

Constipated

Sleep-deprived

Diagnosed with allergies or low immunity

Addicted to daily sugar in some form

By age 10, they have:

Zero connection to soil

No idea where food comes from

Hate for vegetables

Preference for Western tastes

Emotional dependency on food for reward

Parents call it “treats.”

Schools call it “snack time.”

Doctors call it “normal.”

Corporates call it “target market.”

No one calls it what it is:

Childhood enslavement through food.

Watch their daily chart:

Time Food Damage

Morning Flavoured milk + white bread Hormone disruption + gluten overload

Break Biscuit or cream bun Sugar spike + gut imbalance

Lunch Roti + aloo + chips + tetra pack juice Low fibre + high insulin + additives

Evening Instant noodles / kurkure Salt-fat bomb + MSG

Dinner Paneer tikka or restaurant parcel Digestive overload + no real rest

Add to that:

Screens during meals = poor digestion

No chewing = weak jaw

Cold food = kapha aggravation

Zero fasting = toxic load

Aggressive ads = brand loyalty before puberty

Your child doesn’t know real hunger.

They only know chemical craving.

And their future?

Medical bills, therapy, fatigue, and a mouth that never feels satisfied.

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PART 5: FOOD SLAVERY IN THE NAME OF MODERNITY

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13. HEALTH FOODS = TRAP FOODS

What’s sold as healthy is just a cleaner leash.

You switched from sugar to jaggery powder from Amazon.

From wheat to quinoa.

From dairy to almond milk.

From namkeen to granola bars.

You thought you were escaping the trap.

But you just walked into another one—with better packaging.

Here’s the truth:

So-called Health Food Hidden Problem

Almond milk (tetra pack) Loaded with gums, preservatives, no actual nutrition

Quinoa Imported, carbon-heavy, over-marketed substitute for native millets

Gluten-free atta Made of ultra-refined flours like corn starch, potato starch

Protein bars Sugar bombs disguised with whey and synthetic fibre

Muesli / cornflakes Industrial junk filled with sugar, preservatives

Zero calorie sweeteners Gut-damaging, hormone-disrupting chemicals

Greek yoghurt (flavoured) Packed with sugar, colours, stabilisers

What about “superfoods”?

Goji berries? You have fresh amla.

Chia seeds? You have sabja.

Avocado? You have coconut.

Apple cider vinegar? You have buttermilk and fermented rice water.

Imported olive oil? You have cold-pressed sesame and groundnut oil.

Why are we ditching local, seasonal, intuitive foods for branded, processed, globalised “healthy” food?

Because health has been redefined as a market.

Just like old slavery used better clothes and cleaner houses to justify control—modern food slavery uses “superfoods,” “organic,” “fitness-friendly” as its new chains.

Health food should be grown, plucked, cooked, chewed, and passed through the body naturally.

If it needs a label, a box, a nutritionist’s chart, or a brand—

It’s not food.

It’s bait.

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14. URBAN RICH, NUTRIENT POOR

The more they earn, the less they absorb.

Step into a ₹5 crore flat in Bengaluru or Gurgaon.

Kitchen? Modular.

Fridge? Double door.

Groceries? Imported.

Food? Almost dead.

Breakfast: Oats + almond milk + flax seeds

Lunch: Brown rice + paneer + store-bought salad

Snack: Green tea + peanut butter toast

Dinner: Thai curry with basmati rice or food from Swiggy

On paper, it looks clean and balanced.

In the body, it’s:

Low in digestive fire (no ferments, no ghee, no spices)

High in dryness (lack of oil, overcooked vegetables, stored grains)

Nutrient dead (shiny but stale, overwashed, refrigerated too long)

Emotionally hollow (no ritual, no chewing, no sitting on floor)

And yet they suffer:

Gas, bloating, poor sleep, brain fog

Thyroid, PCOS, constipation

Regular blood tests, lifestyle coaches, mental health apps

They spend more on food, supplements, and organic stores than any village ever did.

But they’re weaker, more anxious, and deeply unsatisfied.

Their grandparents lived with a tin box of rice, a bottle of oil, seasonal greens, and fermented staples.

They died strong.

The rich now die slowly—under perfect lighting, filtered water, and non-stick cookware.

This is the new poverty:

The loss of living food in the name of a curated life.

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15. DOCTORS AND DIETITIANS IN THE MATRIX

The healers have forgotten the soil.

Walk into any clinic.

Do they ask:

What oil do you use?

When do you eat?

Do you cook?

Do you eat local grains?

Do you chew or swallow fast?

Do you sit and eat or eat while scrolling?

No.

They ask:

Symptoms?

Reports?

Sugar level?

BP?

Here’s your prescription.

That’s not healing. That’s management.

Medical colleges in India barely teach food.

They teach pharmacology.

They teach drug dosage, not digestive rhythm.

They know branded probiotics, but not how to ferment buttermilk.

They know the liver enzyme levels, but not why kashayam with cumin, ajwain, and pepper helps reset it.

Dietitians?

Most are trapped in spreadsheets.

X grams of protein

Y grams of carbs

Add oats, apple, paneer, multigrain bread

Cut ghee, mango, curd, white rice

They ignore the patient’s gut.

Ignore ancestral memory.

Ignore the food-body-soul connection.

They don’t ask what your grandmother cooked during illness.

They quote Western journals written by pharma-funded labs.

They praise protein powder and shun ragi ambali.

They’re not healers.

They’re product advisors in a medical mall.

And the worst part?

The patient believes them.

And forgets their own body.

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PART 6: WHO BENEFITS FROM YOUR FOOD SLAVERY?

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16. THE MULTI-LEVEL FOOD-PHARMA INDUSTRY

You are the product. And every bite you take feeds their empire.

Let’s follow a single ₹10 biscuit packet.

The flour comes from a corporate wheat monoculture farm.

The sugar is from a refined mill that pays farmers ₹2/kg and sells at ₹40.

The oil is industrial seed oil, chemically extracted and bleached.

The emulsifiers, preservatives, and flavours come from chemical labs.

The plastic wrapper is made by a packaging firm.

The marketing is run by an ad agency.

The transport is handled by a logistics company.

The retail margin goes to the supermarket or online app.

The profit goes to a corporate holding company with pharma investments.

And the consumer?

They eat it.

Get bloated.

Feel lethargic.

Ignore it.

Keep eating.

Eventually, they visit a hospital.

The doctor prescribes medicines.

The chemist sells branded pills.

The lab runs thyroid, liver, and blood glucose tests.

The insurance company gets its premium.

The hospital cafeteria serves more of the same packaged food.

The healthcare startup sends reminders and offers.

This is not a food system.

It is a profit conveyor belt.

You are not the customer.

You are the resource.

Your fatigue = their fuel.

Your fear = their revenue.

Your cravings = their cash cow.

It takes 10 companies to produce that one biscuit.

And none of them care if you heal.

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17. FARMER VS FOOD SLAVE

The one who feeds the world now eats leftovers.

The Indian farmer used to be sovereign.

They grew heirloom rice.

Saved seeds in clay pots.

Exchanged saplings, dried chillies, and jaggery for rituals.

Millets, pulses, oilseeds, greens, seasonal roots—it was all theirs.

Then they were told:

“Grow for the market.”

“Hybrid is better.”

“Use chemical fertilizers.”

“More yield = more income.”

“Contract farming is modern.”

“Export = progress.”

So they grew sugarcane.

They grew BT cotton.

They grew wheat and rice.

They took loans.

They bought tractors, pesticides, and high-yielding seeds.

They stood in line for subsidy.

And their own plate?

Poisoned.

They now buy polished ration rice.

Use refined sunflower oil.

Feed their children glucose biscuits and powdered milk.

Get ulcers, diabetes, kidney stones.

Visit PHCs for generic pills.

Borrow more money.

Eat less ghee, less greens, less hope.

In contrast, the city dweller who grows nothing—

Spends thousands on “organic vegetables” and “cold-pressed oils.”

Joins workshops on farming.

Buys copper vessels online.

Goes for a farmstay and calls it detox.

The irony?

The one who left the soil is now searching for healing.

The one who stayed is now diseased.

And in between them?

The system profits.

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18. LEARN TO FEEL REAL HUNGER AGAIN

Your body still remembers. You just have to listen.

Real hunger is not scary.

It’s calm. Silent. Grounded.

It doesn’t scream: “I want sugar now!”

It doesn’t panic: “Lunch is late!”

It doesn’t lie: “Just one bite of cake.”

Real hunger comes slowly.

It rises like a river, not a flood.

It doesn’t demand one food.

It receives whatever is given—rice gruel, leafy curry, dry chapati—and makes magic out of it.

Most people haven’t felt real hunger in years.

They have:

Conditioned hunger (12 pm = lunch)

Social hunger (“She’s eating, so I will too”)

Emotional hunger (“I feel low, let me eat something nice”)

Screen hunger (TV + snacks = default combo)

Withdrawal hunger (caffeine, sugar, MSG craving)

To heal food slavery, you must slow down.

Wait.

Listen.

Observe.

Let the stomach speak—not the tongue, not the phone, not the clock.

Try this:

Skip one meal when not hungry.

Eat only when your body signals—not habit.

Break fast with local food, not formula.

Don’t eat to kill time. Let time make space for hunger.

Sit on the floor. Touch your food. Smell it. Thank it. Chew it.

You’ll feel the difference.

Your breath will deepen.

Your mind will quieten.

Your cravings will reduce.

And your body will slowly remember: This is how I used to live.

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PART 7: THE PATH TO FOOD FREEDOM

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19. RETURN TO YOUR LOCAL FOOD WISDOM

Your healing doesn’t need the West. It needs your grandmother.

Before the internet, there was intuition.

Before the multivitamin, there was millet.

Before the dietitian, there was Ajji.

She didn’t have a certificate.

She had a clay pot, a gut instinct, and a way of tasting the season through the ladle.

This is what we’ve forgotten:

Kambu kanji cools the body in peak summer

Ragi ambali rebuilds gut after illness

Ajwain water helps post-delivery bleeding

Pickled amla boosts immunity better than any syrup

Cold rice with curd and raw onion fixes ulcers

Fenugreek seed tea balances hormones

Palm jaggery is iron and warmth wrapped in joy

Fermented buttermilk heals the deepest gut rot

And it’s not just about what was eaten.

It’s when, how, with whom, and in what mood.

Food was shared, not portioned

Meals were sacred, not scheduled

Cooking was intuitive, not formulaic

Hunger was respected, not feared

Gut feeling was real, not symbolic

You don’t need nutrition science.

You need a return.

Return to:

The taste of food that isn’t refrigerated

Rice that isn’t polished

Sweets that aren’t synthetic

Oil that smells alive

Meals that leave you light, not guilty

India has the deepest living memory of food-as-medicine on Earth.

Don’t Google it.

Go to your Ajji, your Amma, your land, your tongue, your forgotten rituals.

Your freedom lies beneath your feet, not in a PDF.

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20. BECOME A FOOD REBEL

The revolution starts in your belly.

You don’t have to protest.

You don’t have to tweet.

You don’t have to boycott brands publicly.

You just have to quietly, stubbornly, lovingly—say NO.

Say no to:

Tea every morning

Bread, biscuits, cornflakes

Soft drinks and flavoured milk

Plastic-wrapped sweets

Refined rice, maida, sugar, salt

Packaged snacks as kid’s tiffin

Doctors who ignore food

Nutritionists who cut ghee

Ads that insult your traditions

Say yes to:

Soaked millets

Sun-dried raw banana chips

Fermented kanji

Hand-churned butter

Wood-pressed oil

Seasonal fruits from a street vendor

Ground chutney made in stone

Cooking for the people you love

Eating slowly, chewing fully, digesting completely

You don’t need perfection.

You need rebellion—slow, consistent, cultural rebellion.

Let your home be a healing space.

Let your body become proof that ancient food works.

Let your children watch you return to the floor, to your hands, to real hunger.

Each bite you take with awareness

Is one less brick in their empire.

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EPILOGUE: YOUR HUNGER IS NOT A MISTAKE. IT’S A COMPASS.

You’re not broken.

You’re just disconnected.

You’ve spent years eating food made by strangers, promoted by celebrities, approved by government charts, and dictated by global trade.

But your body has not forgotten.

When you pause…

When you stop eating on autopilot…

When you chew a soaked raisin slowly…

When you feel your stomach burn with gentle hunger…

When you feed your family real food with your bare hands…

Something ancient will return.

It won’t be dramatic.

It will be quiet, grounded, unshakable.

And it will grow.

You were never meant to be a lifelong consumer.

You were meant to taste life.

To listen.

To grow.

To digest.

To love.

To cook.

To share.

To live free.

Not from diet charts.

Not from marketing.

But from inside.

Your belly is not a battlefield.

It is your original home.

Come back.

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AM I HUNGRY, OR JUST PROGRAMMED?

A food slavery healing dialogue with Madhukar

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Characters:

Madhukar: a humble traditional healer in rural India, known for his calm, clear insights and deeply lived wisdom

Anirudh: a 36-year-old tech worker from Hyderabad, recently diagnosed with fatty liver, insomnia, and early-stage diabetes. He believes he eats “healthy.”

Anju (10) & Adhya (14): Madhukar’s homeschooled daughters, who occasionally join with innocent questions or surprising observations

Lalitha: Anirudh’s wife, practical and observant, quietly skeptical of trendy food but doesn’t interfere too much

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SCENE 1: Arrival – A Tired Body and a Busy Mind

It’s 7:00 AM. The morning birds haven’t stopped. The mud path is still wet from last night’s drizzle. Anirudh and Lalitha arrive at Madhukar’s home. Madhukar is sitting on the stone bench, rubbing castor oil into a dry neem twig.

Anirudh (smiling stiffly):

I hope we’re not too early.

Madhukar (gently):

No. Your hunger brought you early. Not the clock.

Lalitha:

He hasn’t eaten anything. We left at 4:30 AM.

Madhukar (offering water in a brass tumbler):

Good. That’s how healing begins. When false hunger sleeps.

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SCENE 2: Unpacking the Slavery

Madhukar (leaning forward):

Tell me, what do you eat in a day?

Anirudh (sincerely):

I follow a good routine. Green tea in the morning. Then oats or brown bread. Lunch is two rotis, some sabzi, a little rice. Evening tea, maybe a digestive biscuit or fruit. Dinner is light—grilled paneer, soup, or khichdi.

Madhukar (nodding slowly):

And yet your blood sugar is high. Your sleep is broken. Your stomach feels full but never content. Is that correct?

Anirudh (quietly):

Yes.

Madhukar:

Because that food is not feeding your body. It is feeding your slavery.

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SCENE 3: Real Hunger vs Programmed Eating

Madhukar (to Anirudh):

When was the last time you felt hungry?

Anirudh:

I feel hungry twice a day—mid-morning and evening.

Madhukar:

No, I mean real hunger. Not boredom. Not habit. Not timing. Not withdrawal from tea. I mean that slow-building calm pull in your gut that says, “Now I’m ready.”

Anirudh (after a pause):

I… don’t know. Maybe in childhood?

Anju (from the back, munching soaked groundnuts):

I feel real hunger only after running three rounds of the well.

Adhya (quietly):

Or when Appa makes us sit without food for half a day during ekadashi. The taste after that… it’s different.

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SCENE 4: The Food Matrix

Lalitha (curious):

But oats and green tea… they’re supposed to be healthy, right?

Madhukar (gently):

Healthy for whom? For which soil? Which body? Which climate?

In Tamil Nadu, my grandmother never even saw oats. She lived 97 years. Ate fermented kambu, gingelly oil, and coconut chutney. Walked to the temple and back, barefoot.

You replaced your ancestral wisdom with a foreign protocol.

That’s not health.

That’s obedience.

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SCENE 5: Rebuilding from the Belly

Madhukar (rising):

Come. Let’s sit on the floor. I’ll show you how to restart your real hunger.

(He spreads a clean cotton sheet. Brings a warm bowl of fermented ragi ambali with a pinch of rock salt and buttermilk.)

Madhukar:

Take one sip. Chew it. Let your tongue and belly talk to each other.

(Anirudh sips. His eyes widen slightly.)

Anirudh:

It feels… grounding.

Madhukar:

Your slavery was not in the taste. It was in the hurry.

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SCENE 6: Daily Rebellion Plan

Madhukar (noting in his register):

Here’s your prescription:

Wake with the sun. No tea.

Sit quietly. Feel your stomach.

If not truly hungry, skip breakfast. Wait.

Break fast with local food: soaked nuts, fermented kanji, warm buttermilk.

No snacks. Only two real meals a day.

Walk barefoot. Chew slowly. Avoid screens while eating.

No biscuits, no caffeine, no foreign grains for three months.

Anirudh:

What about protein?

Madhukar (smiling):

That question is also part of your slavery.

Your Ajji never asked it. And she built stronger bones than you.

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SCENE 7: A Moment of Return

Later, while walking near the banana grove.

Anirudh:

I feel like I’ve been eating my whole life… but never actually fed.

Madhukar (quietly):

That’s what the system wanted.

To keep you full… but never nourished.

To keep you eating… but never arriving.

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SCENE 8: A Child’s Wisdom

Anju (offering a piece of jaggery):

Appa says when you stop wanting food all the time, food becomes your friend.

Anirudh (taking the piece):

I think I’m ready to be friends.

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SCENE 9: Epilogue – 6 Months Later

Anirudh writes in his healing log, now a worn notebook filled with entries.

> “I now eat once or twice a day. I walk barefoot to buy local vegetables.

My fatty liver is reversing. My sugar is normal.

I’ve not touched oats, tea, or multigrain bread in months.

I feel hungry, not desperate.

My mind is quieter. My food is simpler.

And for the first time… I feel free.”

—

A return visit to Madhukar. After six months.

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SCENE: A Mild Winter Morning in the Village

It is just past 6:30 AM. The sky is pink. The cows are moving slowly toward the water trough. A pot of buttermilk is cooling in the well. The wooden gate creaks as Anirudh and Lalitha return—slimmer, quieter, but surer of themselves.

Adhya spots them from the field and shouts gently:

“Appa, the people who ate food slowly are back.”

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SCENE 1: Arrival – A Familiar Smile

Madhukar (sitting near a bucket of soaking amlas):

Back again?

Anirudh:

This time not for healing… just for truth-checking.

Lalitha (smiling):

And to return your notebook. I filled it.

(She places a thick notebook on the bench. It smells faintly of castor oil and turmeric.)

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SCENE 2: Real Results, No Reports

Madhukar:

Any reports this time?

Anirudh (shaking his head):

No. But I’ve stopped snoring.

I wake up hungry—and light.

I sleep with silence in my stomach.

My clothes fit. My joints don’t complain.

I’ve not eaten from a packet in 87 days.

And I now know the name of my rice variety.

Lalitha:

Even our daughter eats without cartoons now. She asks for fermented rice with mango thokku.

Adhya (walking past):

And she even eats bitter gourd… without crying.

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SCENE 3: The Real Wins

Madhukar:

You’ve succeeded not because your sugar came down.

You’ve succeeded because:

You skipped breakfast without guilt

You said no to hospitality tea

You didn't ask a dietitian for permission to eat mango

You fed your hunger—not your anxiety

Anirudh (quietly):

And food became small again… in my life.

It’s not the centre of my emotions anymore.

It just comes, nourishes, and goes.

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SCENE 4: Reflections from the Register

Madhukar opens his old cotton-bound notebook. Reads aloud.

> “Day 1: Woke up tired. Ate out of habit.

Day 12: Missed breakfast. Felt light but scared.

Day 31: Ate fermented ragi after skipping dinner. Deep sleep.

Day 65: Realised I wasn’t hungry. Didn’t eat. Nothing collapsed.

Day 100: Craved jaggery. Ate one piece. It felt like prayer, not punishment.”

Madhukar closes the book.

Madhukar:

You now eat like the old ones.

Like a human.

Not a consumer.

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SCENE 5: A Simple Meal, A Silent Moment

They sit under the neem tree.

Adhya brings two leaf bowls of hot ambali, fermented for 18 hours, topped with rock salt and mustard seeds spluttered in sesame oil.

They eat slowly.

No words.

Only birds and breath.

Anju walks past and jokes:

“You don’t need a nutritionist when your burp feels clean.”

Everyone laughs.

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SCENE 6: A Message for Others

Anirudh:

Should I write about this? Share it? People ask me all the time how I lost weight, or why I glow.

Madhukar:

You don’t need to preach.

Just let them see your food habits.

Let them feel your calm.

Let them smell your lunchbox.

Let them hear you say, “No thanks, I’m not hungry yet,” without apology.

If they’re ready… they’ll ask.

If they’re not… even science won’t convince them.

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SCENE 7: Parting Words

As they prepare to leave, Madhukar hands Anirudh a piece of handwritten Kannada poetry from his Ajja’s notebook:

> "ಹಸಿವು ಬಂದಾಗ ತಿನ್ನು,

ಶರೀರ ಕೇಳಿದಾಗ ನಿಲ್ಲು,

ಆಹಾರ ಹೊಟ್ಟೆಗೆ ಮಾತ್ರವಲ್ಲ,

ಆತ್ಮಕ್ಕೂ ಆಗಲಿ ಪೋಷಣೆ."

(“Eat when hunger calls. Stop when the body whispers.

Let food nourish not just your belly—but your soul.”)

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SCENE 8: Last Entry in the Healing Log

> “Today, I no longer fear food.

Nor worship it.

I see it for what it is—an old friend I had forgotten.

And now… I chew. I feel. I wait. I stop.

I am free.”

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EAT. SWALLOW. OBEY

A real poem about food slavery and the quiet war inside your belly.

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they taught you to eat

before you could walk.

not feel,

just eat.

a spoon of sugar

so you’d stop crying.

a biscuit

to keep you busy.

a packet of chips

when guests arrived.

syrup when you had fever.

chocolate when you didn’t.

your mouth was never yours.

your hunger was never asked.

your stomach

just a dustbin

with a smile sticker on it.

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they called it care.

they called it growth.

they called it “he eats well.”

you grew sideways.

not up.

they said “finish your plate.”

they said “eat fast, bus will come.”

they said “eat now, or no TV.”

they said “don’t waste food.”

they never said

“wait until you’re hungry.”

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then school began—

steel tiffin boxes

with sour sambar rice,

shiny lunch breaks

and broken toilets.

you watched ads:

“health drink for genius kids”

you drank chemicals

to get marks

on a sheet

that forgot your name

before summer.

you started eating in fear.

for approval.

for awards.

for friendship.

you were already sold.

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the food wasn’t food.

the roti was rubber.

the rice was plastic.

the milk was white water

from a sick cow

on a hormone drip

pissing blood.

but it came with a label—

so it must be clean.

you called it modern.

your ajji called it nonsense.

you rolled your eyes.

and opened the microwave.

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college.

more junk.

less sleep.

canteen rice at 10 pm.

maggi during exam nights.

one samosa between two people.

“chai” to keep you awake.

“bread omelette” to kill the ache.

laughing, scrolling, bloating.

you never questioned

why you felt so empty

after eating so much.

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then came the job.

suit.

laptop.

invisible leash.

you ordered food

to your desk.

you drank protein shakes

and called it lunch.

you posted your smoothie bowl

on Instagram

then took antacid

before dinner.

you went to a doctor.

he gave you pills.

never asked about your food.

never asked about your bowel.

never asked about your childhood.

you asked,

"what should I eat?"

he said,

"low carb. high protein. multigrain bread."

so you obeyed.

like a good sick boy.

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but one day—

you woke up

and didn’t feel hungry.

no cravings.

no panic.

just… silence.

you waited.

two hours.

three.

then your stomach spoke—

like a friend,

not a master.

you ate a handful of soaked groundnuts.

chewed them.

tasted them.

they tasted like

something that knew you.

you didn’t feel full.

you felt fed.

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you started noticing.

how every ad made you doubt your body.

how every packet shouted: “I’m clean, your kitchen is dirty.”

how every cereal box mocked your grandmother.

how your child was being programmed

one colourful wrapper at a time.

you sat your daughter down.

gave her curd rice with mango pickle.

she said it tasted like summer holidays.

you cried inside.

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you stopped drinking tea in the morning.

your body shook for three days.

then it stopped begging.

you stopped buying “health food.”

and started asking your neighbour

about old rice varieties.

you stopped snacking.

and felt boredom again.

you sat with it.

like a dog that had returned

after years of running away.

you started walking barefoot.

cooking slowly.

eating without phone.

chewing like it mattered.

you said “no”

to that biscuit at the bank.

to that juice box at the airport.

to that free sample at the mall.

you said yes

to real hunger.

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you weren’t perfect.

you slipped.

the sugar pulled you.

the coffee flirted with your fatigue.

but you returned.

not to a rule—

to a rhythm.

and your belly

became less of a battleground.

more like a place of prayer.

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you are not free yet.

but now

you know the chains.

your mouth is not a gateway to slavery anymore.

it is a gatekeeper.

you no longer obey

the clock,

the app,

the boss,

the influencer.

you obey

your stomach.

your soil.

your silence.

and some nights,

you sleep

without eating dinner.

not as a punishment.

but as a return.

to the only thing

that was ever truly yours:

your hunger.

—

.end.