From Pills to Peace : the Healing of an Indian Family

Chapter 1 : At the Feet of the Healer

Setting:

A humble mud house on the edge of a bustling city.

Neem trees rustle in the wind.

Time moves slowly.

Here, people don’t come to get fixed.

They come to remember who they are.

The Family Seeking Healing

1. Kailash (45) – A Sub-Registrar, known for his sharp tongue and quicker judgments. Suffered from high blood pressure for 7 years. Lives with chronic acidity, sluggish digestion, and a growing dependency on pills and nightly alcohol. He blames stress, blames age, blames the system — but rarely questions himself.

   

2. Rani (43) – A school teacher who looks after everyone except herself. Diagnosed with thyroid disorder 6 years ago. Struggles with obesity, exhaustion, painful periods, and dark circles that no cream has fixed. Often says, “It’s just hormones,” and quietly believes sacrifice is her destiny.

   

3. Abhinav (18) – Just out of school. Smokes in secret, avoids studies, preaches about patriotism. Quotes Ambedkar and Kalam, but forgets to clean his plate. Sleeps late, wakes late, and talks big. Keeps saying, “I’ll do something big one day,” while doing very little now.

   

4. Priya (16) – Anxious, withdrawn, addicted to Instagram and short videos. Struggles with acne, hair fall, and poor digestion. Skips meals, hates mirrors, and constantly worries she’s not enough. Her world is filtered through screens and insecurity.

   

The Meeting Begins

[The family arrives, hesitant and unsure. They step into the Healer’s mud home — a cool space with mud walls, earthen lamps, and silence that feels strangely warm.]

Healer (welcoming):

You’ve all arrived.

But tell me — have your selves arrived too?

[The family sits. No one speaks. The air hangs thick with fatigue.]

Opening the Door

Healer (softly, to all):

Each of you came carrying a bag.

Not of clothes, but of habits, regrets, and half-truths.

We cannot heal what we don’t own.

So first — who will show me their bag?

Kailash (clears throat):

I don’t even know where to begin.

My BP is always high.

These medicines keep increasing.

I get acidity even if I just eat a banana!

It’s stress, sir.

My job is thankless.

People bribe, argue… no peace at work.

Healer:

And at home?

Kailash (slightly defensive):

What peace is there?

Kids don’t listen.

My wife is always tired.

And I get blamed for everything.

I drink just a little to sleep well.

Otherwise, I can't cope.

Healer (calmly):

So you have outsourced your peace to pills and alcohol.

But what do you do for your peace?

Kailash:

What can I do?

I am just trying to survive.

Healer (gently):

That’s not living.

That’s just postponing death.

And every pill you take without questioning is like borrowing time with interest.

Healer (turns to Rani):

And you, Rani-ji?

You seem like you’ve been carrying many people... but perhaps dropped yourself along the way?

Rani (quietly):

I used to be energetic.

But now I’m just... tired.

Every day.

My body feels heavy.

I teach children with a fake smile.

My own kids don’t talk much. My husband doesn't notice... unless something is missing.

Healer:

Do you notice yourself?

Rani (avoiding eye contact):

I take my thyroid pills.

I try walking when I can.

But the weight won’t go, the energy won’t come.

Healer:

Because the weight is not just in your body.

It's in your unspoken needs, your swallowed anger, and your quiet resignation.

Do you ever ask for help?

Rani:

What’s the point?

No one has time.

Everyone is busy or tired.

Healer:

So you punish your body because others don’t understand your pain?

[Rani looks up, stunned — as if something cracked gently inside.]

The Daughter’s Mirror

Healer (softens his voice):

And you, Priya?

You look like you’ve been arguing with your mirror.

Priya (almost whispering):

It keeps showing me things I don’t want to see.

Pimples.

Hair thinning.

I look… dull.

Like I don’t belong with other girls.

Healer:

Do you know what acne is?

Priya:

Dirty skin?

Healer:

No.

It’s your skin screaming about the war inside.

Your gut, your thoughts, your breath — all fighting.

Priya (tears welling):

I try creams.

I watch diet videos.

But I don’t know what’s right.

I scroll reels and lose track of time.

Then I feel guilty.

Then I cry.

Then I scroll again.

Healer (tenderly):

You’ve become a ghost in your own life, living inside screens.

But your body... it remembers you.

It’s asking you to come back.

The Son Who Knows Everything

Healer (now looking at Abhinav):

And you — the revolutionary.

Tell me how the nation will be built while your own roof is leaking?

Abhinav (half-smiling, half-smirking):

I don’t have health problems like them.

I’m just… figuring things out.

I’m thinking beyond family dramas.

I believe we need to change the whole system.

Healer:

Start with your plate.

Do you eat with awareness?

Abhinav:

I eat when I feel like.

Sometimes out.

Sometimes at home.

What’s the big deal?

Healer:

And your breath?

Your bowel?

Your sleep?

Your mornings?

Abhinav (uncomfortable):

Okay, maybe I’m not regular with all that.

But I have bigger goals.

Healer (sharply but kindly):

A man who cannot master his morning will never lead a movement.

The battlefield is inside first.

Abhinav (quiet, visibly stirred):...

The Layers of Healing

Ahar (Food)

Healer:

What you eat, eats you back.

Kailash, you eat when stressed.

Rani, you skip meals.

Priya, you nibble and compare.

Abhinav, you dump anything into the stomach like a dustbin.

Where is the prayer before food?

The silence?

The chewing?

You treat food like fuel, not life.

Vihar (Lifestyle)

Healer:

You all live in one house but in four different planets.

No shared meals.

No morning rituals.

No family walks.

No rhythms.

You are not living.

You are merely avoiding collapse.

Yoga (Body-Breath Union)

Healer:

You sit, slouch, scroll, sulk.

You do not walk together.

You do not breathe together.

The body wants movement, not medicine.

The mind wants stillness, not scrolling.

Aushad (Natural Healing)

Healer:

Rani trusts pills more than her own turmeric box.

Priya buys creams but never cleans her gut.

Kailash numbs his liver instead of healing it.

Abhinav mocks herbs because he thinks wisdom must wear a suit.

But healing lives in your kitchen.

In your grandmother’s whispers.

In oil, in neem, in silence, in sun.

Minimalism (Simplicity)

Healer:

You’re drowning in things.

In clothes you don’t wear.

Gadgets you don’t need.

Thoughts that aren’t yours.

The disease is not in your blood.

It’s in your clutter — mental, emotional, physical.

A Moment of Silence

No one speaks.

The silence is full.

For the first time, they’re not defending themselves.

Healer (softly):

There is no shame in being lost.

Only in refusing to stop and ask for direction.

You came here thinking you need a cure.

But what you need is courage.

To unlearn, to feel, to live differently.

The Invitation to Begin Again

Healer (rising):

Come tomorrow.

Before sunrise.

Leave your phones.

Bring your breath.

We’ll begin with silence.

With sweat.

With sunlight.

With sips of bitter tea and real questions.

You won’t be healed in three days.

But you’ll remember what healing feels like.

Kailash:

Sir… will it be hard?

Healer (smiling):

Yes.

But not as hard as living half-alive.

[They rise. Something has shifted. Not dramatically. But deeply. Even Abhinav nods before leaving.]

-----

Chapter 2: Day One – The First Breath

The family arrives at the Healer’s home just before sunrise.

The air smells of damp earth, tulsi, and quiet hope.

Healer (seated, eyes closed):

Sit.

No talking.

Just breathing.

Inhale like you’re meeting yourself for the first time.

Exhale like you’re letting go of who you pretended to be.

The Awakening

Kailash (grumbling):

I don’t know what this breathing will do.

My BP monitor didn’t show any improvement this morning.

Healer (opening his eyes):

The body is not a factory, Kailash.

It doesn’t work on your deadlines.

You gave your diseases 7 years.

Give healing at least 7 days.

Rani (whispers):

It felt peaceful… sitting in silence.

Like my bones were listening.

Healer (smiling):

Your body is the most honest listener.

You abuse it, it remembers.

You love it, it remembers.

The Food Shift

Breakfast: Steamed red rice, a spoon of homemade ghee, warm jeera water.

Priya (hesitant):

No bread?

No tea?

Healer:

No poison today, child.

Abhinav (muttering):

This feels like jail food.

Healer (smiling):

Yet your phone, your addictions, your laziness — those are the real prisons.

This plate is your bail.

Midday Lessons: Unlearning Begins

Healer (to Kailash):

Why do you keep saying "I have BP"?

Don’t own your disease like a medal.

Kailash (confused):

What else should I say?

Healer:

Say, “My body is healing from an imbalance.”

Words shape belief.

Belief shapes biology.

Healer (to Rani):

You serve food to everyone — but how do you eat?

Rani (surprised):

Usually standing, between chores.

Healer:

Then your body eats stress with every bite.

Starting today, sit down.

Eat with silence.

No martyrdom at the dining table.

Healer (to Priya):

When was the last time you touched soil?

Priya:

Umm… maybe in third grade?

Healer:

Then your skin is lonely.

It needs earth.

Go plant something today.

Healer (to Abhinav):

List me five things you did with focus yesterday.

Abhinav (pauses):

I watched a video on Bhagat Singh… I…

Healer:

Watching is not doing.

Thinking is not becoming.

Today, clean the cow shed.

Then talk of nation-building.

Abhinav (irritated):

You want me to clean poop?

Healer (firmly):

Start where the ego ends.

Evening Reflections: The Mirror Appears

They sit under a neem tree. A mild breeze carries questions they don’t yet know how to ask.

Kailash:

I realised something today…

I use anger to feel in control.

But inside, I feel helpless.

Rani:

I… cried while sweeping today.

For no reason.

Or maybe for every reason.

Priya:

The soil felt… nice.

My fingers were itchy but happy.

Abhinav (quietly):

The cow looked at me without judgment.

More than most people.

Healer:

That’s because animals don’t wear masks. You all are learning to remove yours.

-----

Chapter 3: Day Two – The Withdrawal

The sun hasn’t yet risen. The family walks slowly to the Healer’s home. No phones. No shoes. Just reluctant feet and tired eyes. The smell of neem smoke and tulsi tea welcomes them again.

The Healer Waits in Silence

Healer (without opening eyes):

Good.

You came back.

Healing doesn’t reward the enthusiastic.

It rewards the consistent.

Kailash (rubbing his forehead):

Didn’t sleep well.

Had a strange headache all night.

Healer:

That’s not a headache.

That’s your body mourning the absence of alcohol.

Rani:

I felt cold and sweaty.

And so hungry…

I even dreamed of samosas.

Healer (smiling):

The body is like a spoiled child.

It throws tantrums when you take away its toys.

Priya (softly):

I kept reaching for my phone in the dark.

My hand moved on its own.

Abhinav (grumbling):

I don’t get this.

What’s the point of suffering like this?

I had a chance to go out with friends today…

Healer (sharply):

Then go.

Go smoke.

Eat garbage.

Numb yourself.

But know this: Comfort is the currency you pay to stay sick.

The Wall of Withdrawal

The morning session begins. No yoga today. Instead: intense breathwork, deep silence, and bitter neem tea.

Kailash (irritated):

This breathing makes me dizzy.

Healer:

You’ve lived without breath for decades.

Of course your body is surprised.

Rani:

My legs hurt just from sitting straight.

Healer:

That’s not your legs.

That’s 20 years of ignoring yourself sitting in your thighs.

Breakfast with a Bite

Today’s food: Foxtail millet, raw coconut chutney, warm ajwain water.

Priya (sniffing it):

No sugar?

No tea?

No phone?

Healer:

No distractions.

You’ve all eaten with your mouths for years.

Today, eat with your presence.

Abhinav (half angry, half playful):

Are you trying to make us monks?

Healer (looking straight at him):

No. Just humans again.

Blame Games Begin

Later that day, they help clean the backyard, but ego seeps through their tired hands.

Kailash (to Rani):

You always used to cook oily food!

That’s why my stomach’s ruined!

Rani:

Oh really?

And who insisted on fried pakoras every Sunday?

Healer (stern):

Every time you blame, you delay your healing.

Disease doesn’t care who started it.

It stays as long as you keep pointing fingers.

Priya’s Meltdown

While watering the plants, Priya suddenly sits down and bursts into tears.

Priya:

I can’t do this.

I feel ugly.

My face is getting worse.

No creams, no friends… no escape.

I don’t know who I am without my phone.

Healer (kneeling beside her):

Your skin is shedding pain.

Your tears are not weakness — they are cleansing.

Let it come.

You’ve held it in too long.

Rani comes, hugs her. They both cry.

Abhinav Tries to Leave

Post-lunch, Abhinav is found packing his bag.

Abhinav:

This is nonsense.

I’m not sick.

I’m wasting time here.

I had an internship call…

Healer (blocking the door):

Tell me: are you walking away from this place, or from yourself?

Abhinav (angry):

You don’t understand!

I’m not like them.

I think differently.

Healer (calm):

Then why are you afraid to sit with your own silence?

Abhinav stands frozen.

After a minute, he drops the bag.

Evening Reflection: Truth Surfaces

They gather again under the neem tree. Tired. Sweaty. Silent.

Kailash (murmurs):

I realised today…

I don’t know how to be without distractions.

I read the newspaper, then drink, then complain.

It’s all one loop.

Rani:

I saw my own bitterness.

I hold so many small grudges.

They live inside me like tumors.

Priya:

I wanted to scream today.

But then…

I sat in the sun.

And I felt… okay.

Not happy.

But okay.

Abhinav (quiet):

I almost ran away.

But this silence… it scares me because it shows me who I’m not.

Healer (smiling):

Perfect.

Day Two is done.

You met the real villains today — not disease, not weakness — but distraction, blame, and ego.

Tomorrow, we go deeper.

----

Chapter 4: Day Three – The Cracks and the Light

The sun peeks through the neem leaves. A koel sings in the distance. The family enters the Healer’s courtyard slowly. Their bodies ache. But something deeper inside feels… awake.

The Healer Waits, Washing His Utensils

Healer (without turning):

Today, no words till breakfast.

Just cleaning.

Clean your space.

Clean your plate.

Clean your breath.

Each is handed a cloth, a brush, and a bowl of water.

They begin to clean the mud floor and brass plates.

The silence is strangely comforting.

Breakfast of Stillness

The meal is plain again — steamed ridged gourd with garlic, a spoon of sesame oil, and warm dhaniya water.

Kailash (finally speaking):

Something’s different.

The food… it feels enough.

Healer:

Because you’re eating with emptiness.

Not ego.

Rani Breaks Down

While folding the washed clothes outside, Rani sits suddenly and holds her stomach, tears pouring silently.

Healer (softly):

Let it come, Rani.

What have you buried in your womb for 20 years?

Rani (choking):

I… I never rested.

Not when I bled like a tap.

Not when the kids were sick.

Not when Kailash was shouting.

Even when my mother died…

I made tea for the guests.

Kailash (quiet):

I didn’t know… you held so much.

Healer:

She didn’t hold it.

She swallowed it.

Every ignored pain became fat.

Every unsaid no became thyroid imbalance.

Rani leans onto her knees, sobbing.

Priya hugs her from behind.

They sit like that — a portrait of inherited pain and generational healing.

Kailash Softens

Healer (to Kailash):

How many years did you work as a Sub-Registrar?

Kailash:

Twenty-two.

Endless papers.

Land, property, bribes, complaints.

Healer:

And how much of that stress did you digest?

Kailash:

None, I guess.

I just drank it down.

Then the pills.

Healer:

So now your liver, your gut, your blood — they’re all asking: “Why did you never ask for help?”

Kailash (looking down):

Because men don’t.

We push through.

Healer:

No, Kailash.

Machines push through.

Men feel.

And then they heal.

Priya’s First Smile

Later, while drawing with mud and flowers near the tulsi plant…

Priya:

I used to love sketching.

I stopped when I got acne.

Didn’t want anyone to see me.

Healer:

You became your own critic.

Not your friend.

Priya (smiling slightly):

Today, I didn’t care how I looked.

It was… nice.

Abhinav’s First Offering

In the afternoon, he walks up holding a bundle of neem leaves, tulsi, and dry cow dung cakes.

Abhinav (awkward):

I… made this mix.

For the evening havan, maybe.

Healer (nodding):

Why?

Abhinav (shrugging):

Felt right.

I wanted to do something real.

Healer:

Real doesn’t always look heroic.

Sometimes it just smells like neem and dung.

Abhinav chuckles. The family looks at him — surprised, quietly proud.

Evening Reflection: The Family Speaks

Kailash:

I see now… how much I used anger to hide my helplessness.

But silence, this silence… it shows me I can be gentle.

Rani:

For the first time, I listened to my own pain instead of pushing it away.

Priya:

I think my body’s not weak. It’s just… been neglected.

Abhinav:

I still want to change the country.

But maybe I should learn to sweep my own room first.

Healer (smiling):

That’s it.

The foundation is cracking.

Light is entering.

---

Chapter 5: Day Four – The Ghosts of Habit

It is a slow morning. The sky is grey. A mild drizzle falls on the clay roof. The neem leaves shimmer. But inside the house, tension is rising again.

The First Crack – Abhinav’s Call

Abhinav sneaks behind the cowshed with a phone he had hidden in his bag.

Abhinav (on call):

Bro, I can’t stay here.

This old man is insane.

No Wi-Fi, no music, no chill.

Yeah yeah… I’ll leave by tonight.

He turns… and finds the Healer behind him.

Healer (quietly):

You brought your phone?

Even after all this?

Abhinav:

So what?

It’s just one call.

I’m not sick like them.

Healer:

No, you’re worse.

Because you think you’re not sick.

You’ve outsourced your rebellion to your friends, your distractions.

When will you start building something… without running?

Abhinav throws the phone down.

Silent.

Angry.

Ashamed.

The Second Crack – Kailash’s Craving

Kailash is missing during breakfast. They find him sitting near the village shop, staring longingly at a crate of beer bottles.

Healer (firmly):

Craving is not weakness, Kailash.

But lying to yourself is.

Kailash (quietly):

I wasn’t going to buy.

I just wanted to remember the taste.

Healer:

Remember the bloating.

The breathlessness.

The shame in your daughter’s eyes.

Kailash (wincing):

I… forgot.

Healer:

No.

You remembered pleasure, but forgot the price.

That’s what addiction does — it edits memory.

The Third Crack – Rani’s Collapse

Rani fainted in the kitchen while making rice. Priya screams. They rush to her. The Healer kneels down and places a wet cloth on her head.

Priya (panicking):

Is it her thyroid?

Is she dying?

Healer (calm):

No.

It’s her grief.

Finally boiling over.

She’s carried too much.

Now the body is dropping the weight.

Rani wakes up, gasping.

Rani:

I saw Ma… she was calling me…

I wanted to rest in her lap.

Healer:

So rest.

On this earth.

On your own breath.

You don’t need to die to be held.

He wraps a thin cotton cloth around her head. She rests. Priya sits beside her, stroking her hand.

The Fourth Crack – Priya’s Mirror

Later, Priya looks at herself in the brass plate’s reflection. New pimples. More hair fall.

Priya (whispers):

What’s the point?

Nothing’s improving.

Healer (from behind):

Look again.

You’re seeing the old layer being shed.

This is your body’s detox. Not punishment.

Priya:

But I’m scared no one will ever find me beautiful.

Healer:

Then start by finding yourself honest.

Beauty built on shame always cracks.

But beauty grown from truth… it glows in the dark.

Evening Reflection: Choosing the Fire

They gather again. Worn out. A little broken. But still here.

Kailash:

I almost gave up today.

But I didn’t.

That… that’s something.

Rani:

I think my body is asking for love in the language of stillness.

Priya:

I felt ugly.

But… I also felt real.

Abhinav (after long silence):

I don’t know who I am without the noise.

But maybe… I’m ready to find out.

Healer (with deep warmth):

Beautiful.

Today, each of you faced your ghosts.

And didn’t run.

You sat in the fire.

That’s the beginning of freedom.

-----

Chapter 6: Day Five – Rebuilding with Silence

A small board hangs near the neem tree today:“Silence till sunset.”The family reads it, glances at one another, and then slowly, wordlessly, nods. They enter the day like monks entering a temple.

The Discipline of Stillness

The Healer walks barefoot in the yard, sprinkling water with tulsi leaves. His silence is contagious. Even the birds seem quieter.

Instructions (written on a palm leaf):

• Do not speak.

• If you must communicate, write or gesture.

• Observe your thoughts, not others’.

• Eat slowly.

• Breathe deeply.

• Forgive without words.

Kailash carries a pot of water to the plants, gently this time. Rani folds the washed clothes with focus. Priya sketches a hibiscus flower in her journal. Abhinav sharpens old sickles under the mango tree.

The Body Begins to Speak

Without words, they start noticing things they always missed.

• Kailash notices how his breath comes short after a few steps, and how heavy his belly feels even after a light meal.

• Rani feels a strange emptiness in her chest — not sadness, but space.

• Priya realises her fingers no longer tremble while drawing.

• Abhinav observes how often his hand reaches for his pocket, searching for a phone that’s no longer there.

The Healer's Silent Lessons

Throughout the day, the Healer leaves notes in random places, like secret messages from the universe:

• “The wound is not in your body. It is in your rhythm.”

• “Don’t fill silence. Let silence fill you.”

• “Addiction is a memory that keeps knocking. Don’t answer.”

• “When the breath becomes long, the anger becomes short.”

• “The liver is the seat of suppressed rage. Cook your rage into forgiveness.”

A Moment Under the Peepal Tree

In the afternoon, they sit separately under different trees — a ritual called Vriksha Dhyan (Tree Meditation).

• Kailash chooses the Peepal — strong, silent, old like him.

• Rani leans against a Neem — bitter but healing.

• Priya rests near the Hibiscus — shy, blooming.

• Abhinav picks the Banyan — wide, confusing, full of aerial roots.

For the first time in years, no one demands anything from them. Not even words.

Sunset — The Breaking of Silence

The Healer rings a soft bell. One by one, they gather. Still silent. The bell rings again. They place their hands on their own hearts, then on the earth.

Healer (finally speaking):Tell me, what did the silence teach?

Kailash (quietly):That my loudest problems… come from the softest denials.

Rani:That I don’t need to explain my tiredness to anyone. It’s real.

Priya:That I am more than my mirror.

Abhinav (slowly):That noise was my armor. But… I don’t want to fight anymore.

Healer:Then rebuild. Slowly.Not with medicines. Not with distractions.But with breath, food, movement, and presence.That’s how humans are born again.

----

Chapter 7: Day Six – Earth, Fire, Water, Wind

At dawn, the Healer is already at work — grinding leaves, lighting cow dung cakes, filling clay pots. The air smells of tulsi and wet earth. The family gathers around barefoot, drawn by something older than logic.

The Element of Earth – Touch the Mud

Healer (gently):

Today, you will bury your pain in the soil… and let it return as strength.

He mixes neem, turmeric, a bit of cow dung, and black soil into a thick, cool paste.

• Kailash sits shirtless on a stone, while the Healer packs warm mud on his abdomen and liver.

• Rani’s swollen feet are soaked in a neem-mud slurry.

• Priya receives a soft facial of multani mitti, rose, and aloe pulp.

• Abhinav is handed a spade and asked to dig a small channel for rainwater harvesting.

Healer:

Your pills covered your symptoms.

But this earth… it absorbs your stories.

Be still.

Let her listen.

For an hour, no one moves. The earth draws out toxins and forgotten grief. The sun warms their skin. Something releases without force.

The Element of Fire – Burn What No Longer Serves

At midday, a small havan is prepared. Dried peepal leaves, sesame, ghee, and camphor are arranged mindfully.

Healer:

Write one thing on paper that you’re ready to release.

No explanations.

No justifications.

They write in silence.

• Kailash: “My pride that I must always provide.”

• Rani: “My habit of pretending I’m fine.”

• Priya: “My obsession with others’ approval.”

• Abhinav: “My mask of not caring.”

They place their papers in the fire. It burns. Nothing is said. But the smoke smells like freedom.

The Element of Water – Return to Flow

In the afternoon, the Healer walks with them to a nearby stream. Cold, clean, silent.

Healer:

Stand in the water.

Don’t flinch.

Let it hit your skin.

Let it remind you that you are alive.

One by one, they wade in. First the feet, then calves, then deeper. Rani gasps. Kailash shivers. Priya laughs for the first time in days. Abhinav closes his eyes and submerges fully.

Healer (chanting softly):

Jal is truth.

Jal is memory.

Jal is you before your name was given.

They come out cleansed — not just by water, but by surrender.

The Element of Wind – Move What Is Stuck

Before sunset, the Healer leads a simple sequence of breath and movement: gentle asanas, sky-gazing, nadi shuddhi (alternate nostril breathing), and a laughing breath circle.

Healer:

The wind outside mirrors the wind inside.

If your breath is short, your life is stuck.

If your breath is long, your path is clear.

They sit under the open sky, eyes closed. The wind kisses their faces. For once, no one wants to leave.

Evening Reflection – Something Has Shifted

Kailash:

My stomach… it feels quiet.

Like a drum that stopped beating too hard.

Rani:

My feet don't ache.

I even forgot to think about them.

Priya:

My scalp didn’t itch today.

And… I feel prettier without doing anything.

Abhinav:

I didn’t touch a screen all day.

And I wasn’t bored.

Healer (nodding):

That’s the body speaking.

It thanks you for not interrupting.

Tomorrow, we learn how to eat like monks and think like trees.

-----

Chapter 8: Day Seven – The Alchemy of Food

The smell of roasted cumin, ginger, curry leaves, and moong dal floats through the morning air. The fire is slow, the pot is earthen, the spoon is wooden, and the cooking is done in silence.

The First Lesson: Slowness Is Taste

Breakfast is just a small bowl of rice kanji with a dash of ghee and rock salt. No pickle. No tea. No distractions.

Healer (softly):

You’ve spent decades eating in a rush, chewing anger with every bite.

Today, we eat in silence.

Slowly.

Thirty chews.

Feel the food.

Don’t judge it.

Kailash looks disappointed. Rani swallows with guilt. Priya sulks. Abhinav stares.

But by the end of the bowl…

• Kailash’s acidity has not returned.

• Rani's burping has stopped.

• Priya feels warmth in her stomach for the first time.

• *Abhinav writes in his notebook: "It’s weird how a plain meal can calm the storm."

The Second Lesson: What You Eat… Eats You

Later, they sit around a chart the Healer drew with charcoal:

Healer:

Every food carries a story — of land, season, mood, and memory.

If you eat in confusion, you digest confusion.

If you eat in blame, the food becomes poison.

Kailash:

But I always ate meat, fried snacks, heavy dinners…

It made me feel full.

Strong.

Healer:

No.

It made you numb.

Strength is not heaviness.

It’s lightness that lasts.

Rani:

I was always dieting, skipping meals, drinking only tea.

Trying to lose weight…

Healer:

But losing nutrition, not fat.

Losing joy, not disease.

Priya (timid):

I eat chips, chocolate… then feel guilty.

So I skip dinner.

Healer (gently):

You punish your body for your sadness.

And it keeps shrinking in fear.

Abhinav:

I just eat whatever’s there.

Mostly outside food.

I don’t even think about it.

Healer:

Exactly.

You eat like you live — absentmindedly.

It's time to cook your life like you cook your food — with presence.

The Third Lesson: Kitchen as Temple

Rani is invited to make lunch — simple khichdi with bottle gourd, ajwain, and a pinch of love.

She hesitates. But soon, her hands remember the rhythm of childhood. She chants softly while stirring.

Healer (to her):

You are not just cooking food.

You are cooking forgiveness.

Every meal made with peace… heals a wound deeper than any pill can reach.

Afternoon Sharing: Meals as Mirrors

• Kailash realises he always ate more when he was afraid of failure.

• Rani breaks into tears while chopping coriander — childhood smells made her miss herself.

• Priya eats without rushing for the first time in years.

• Abhinav surprises everyone by asking, “Can I cook dinner tonight?”

Healer (smiling):

And so… the medicine has entered.

Through the tongue, into the gut, into the bloodstream, into your memories.

Evening Fire Circle – The Digestive Fire

They sit around a fire, rubbing warm castor oil on their bellies as the Healer teaches them the age-old art of massage before sleep.

Healer:

You’re not just digesting food.

You’re digesting grief.

Guilt.

Ego.

Blame.

And tonight, you will sleep lighter — not just in body, but in soul.

----

Chapter 9: Day Eight – The Roots of Disease

The morning is still. The neem leaves don’t rustle. The air is heavy with emotion. The Healer sits on a low wooden seat, eyes closed, surrounded by tulsi plants and clay pots. Today’s session is not of herbs or yoga. It is of truth.

The Final Sitting – A Sacred Confrontation

Healer (softly):

Sit in front of me.

One by one.

This is your last day here… but the real journey begins tomorrow.

Let’s not pretend anymore.

You are not sick by accident.

You created your illness — not out of sin, but out of disconnection.

Now tell me… what disconnected you?

Kailash’s Confession – The Burden of the Provider

Kailash (voice trembling):

I thought… if I earned enough, solved enough problems, drank a little at night, and stayed strong…My family would be safe.

But I became a machine.

A boiling machine.

BP, acidity, liver — all signals I ignored.

I hid my fear under pride.

I wanted respect.

But I disrespected my own body.

Healer:

And now?

Kailash:

Now I want to feel again.

To walk without panting.

To eat without burning.

To live… not just provide.

Rani’s Confession – The Disappearing Woman

Rani (through tears):

I stopped asking for help.

I smiled when I was collapsing inside.

Menstrual pain, thyroid, weight — they were my silent scream.

I kept giving… until I had nothing left to give.

Healer:

And now?

Rani:

Now I want to be visible.

To rest without guilt.

To heal without hiding.

Priya’s Confession – The Mirror of Insecurity

Priya (softly):

I hated my face.

My hair.

My body.

I saw only flaws.

Acne, dandruff, hair fall — they weren’t diseases.

They were the punishment I gave myself.

Healer:

And now?

Priya:

Now… I want to be kind.

To my mirror.

To my mind.

To my skin.

I want to smile from inside.

Abhinav’s Confession – The Mask of the Rebel

Abhinav (quietly):

I acted like I didn’t care.

But I did.

I just didn’t know how to care.

I was scared of being ordinary… so I wore the mask of a revolutionary.

Smoking, drifting, blaming the system… while avoiding myself.

Healer:

And now?

Abhinav:

Now… I want to build something real.

Not just for the nation.

For my home.

For myself.

The Healer’s Blessing – The Ending That Begins

Healer (gazing at them):

Eight days ago, you were a family living under one roof…

But not with each other.

Your bodies shouted what your mouths did not say.

You blamed food, stress, genetics, age.

But it was never about the food.

Or age.

It was about listening — to your body, your breath, your being.

And now…You have begun.

Three Months Later…

Kailash walks five kilometers every morning.

His BP is normal.

He hasn’t taken a pill in 40 days.

He has not touched alcohol.

He now teaches yoga to senior citizens in his colony.

Rani has lost 9 kilos.

Her menstrual cycle has returned to rhythm.

Her eyes no longer have dark circles.

She laughs more.

She eats simpler.

She no longer hides her tiredness — she honors it.

Priya’s acne and dandruff are gone.

Her hair is thicker.

She studies with better focus.

She uses social media only one hour a day.

She has started writing poetry.

Abhinav has quit smoking.

He now works with a community farm and is preparing for civil services — not for pride, but to serve.

He has also taken up meditation.

They all eat meals together.

At the table.

With prayer.

With gratitude.

Their home now has a small garden.

And a compost pit.

And sometimes, when things get noisy, they all sit silently… like on Day Five.

Final Words from the Healer

Healer (voice in their memory):

Healing is not an escape.

It is a return — to what was always within you.

You don’t need me anymore.

Your breath is your healer.

Your food is your healer.

Your silence is your healer.

Your truth… is your medicine.

And so the story ends…

Not in a hospital.

Not with a prescription.

But in a kitchen, in a garden, in a breath,

In a home that has finally… come home to itself.