THE GEOGRAPHY OF THE FOOD: WHY TRADITIONAL FOODS VARIED ACROSS INDIA — AND WHY IT MATTERS NOW MORE THAN EVER
- Madhukar Dama
- 3 days ago
- 7 min read

PART 1: GEOGRAPHY, CLIMATE & HOMEOSTASIS — WHY FOOD VARIED SO MUCH
Our human body is an intelligent, adaptive system.
Its one goal? Homeostasis — the ability to maintain stable internal conditions (temperature, hydration, energy balance) regardless of the outside world.
And geography plays the biggest role in challenging this balance.
Whether you live in:
A cold mountainous region (like Ladakh)
A wet, humid tropical zone (like Kerala)
A dry, hot desert (like Rajasthan)
A forested plateau (like Bastar)
A coastal salt-rich environment (like Gujarat)
— your body is constantly working to stabilize:
Internal temperature
Water and salt levels
Digestion and metabolism
Blood sugar and energy
Mineral usage
Sweating and excretion patterns
And that is exactly why traditional Indian food varied so dramatically across regions.
The food was not based on taste, but on what the body needed to adapt to that climate.
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Some examples:
In the tropics (Kerala, Tamil Nadu, coastal Andhra):
Foods are cooling, water-rich, high in electrolytes
Coconut water, fermented rice, buttermilk, tender jackfruit
Spices like curry leaves and pepper promote circulation and detox
In cold climates (Kashmir, Ladakh, Himachal):
High-calorie, warming foods: ghee, nuts, animal fats, fermented roots
Bone broths, barley, dried fruits, cooked greens
Spices like saffron, cinnamon to warm from within
In dry hot zones (Rajasthan, Kutch, Marathwada):
Salt-preserved foods, bajra rotis, ker sangri, buttermilk, garlic chutney
Minimizing water loss, supporting digestion during dry heat
In flooded or forest regions (Assam, Jharkhand, Odisha):
Wild greens, bamboo shoots, smoked foods to prevent spoilage
A variety of tubers, millet mixes, and fermented fish or rice
In tribal belts and plateaus:
Seasonal rotation of forest produce
Rice-bean-lentil-pumpkin meals with hand-pounded spices
Oil-free cooking, pestle-ground chutneys, solar drying
These aren’t just culinary traditions.
They are climate-responsive medical systems.
They allowed the body to breathe with the land, to remain balanced and disease-resistant.
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PART 2: HOW FOOD DIVERSITY IS BEING DESTROYED
In just two generations, this astonishing diversity has collapsed.
Why?
a. Urban migration and uniform packaging
People moved to cities, and with it came supermarkets and mall shelves.
Everyone eats the same: bread, biscuits, milk, white rice, potatoes, chicken, paneer.
b. Industrial agriculture and seed control
Monoculture farming = only wheat, rice, and sugarcane thrive.
Traditional crops like ragi, amaranth, kodo, bamboo rice, and native vegetables vanished.
c. Media and marketing manipulation
Ads made "modern" food look superior.
Ghee was labeled cholesterol. Millets became poor people’s food. Fermentation became “smelly.”
d. Standardization of school, wedding, temple food
Every child in Bengaluru eats idli-dosa-noodles-pasta.
Every function serves paneer butter masala + naan + gulab jamun.
No one knows what their own geography demands anymore.
e. Collapse of oral transmission
Grandmothers who remembered 100+ combinations of seasonal chutneys, pickles, decoctions and laddus — were silenced.
Nobody asked. Nobody preserved.
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PART 3: THE CONSEQUENCES OF THIS COLLAPSE
This is not just about nostalgia.
This is about survival — physical, emotional, economic, and cultural.
a. Lifestyle diseases
Foods no longer regulate homeostasis.
Uniform diets cause mismatch with local climate = acidity, inflammation, poor digestion, constipation, heat exhaustion, weight gain.
Rise of diseases like diabetes, hypertension, IBS, thyroid, and PCOD.
b. Behavioral & emotional imbalance
Wrong foods = wrong gut bacteria = wrong neurotransmitters.
Anxiety, mood swings, emotional dullness, hyperactivity in kids.
Especially visible in Bengaluru’s high-screen, low-fiber children.
c. Collapse of rural economy
Nobody buys traditional grains or forest produce.
Farmers grow sugarcane instead of millets.
Herbal wisdom is lost. Seasonal farming disappears.
d. Psychological confusion and loss of identity
Children no longer know the name of even 5 native vegetables.
Teens associate “roots” with shame.
Food becomes an identity crisis — not a source of grounding.
e. Environmental destruction
Mono-cropping = soil depletion, water misuse
Local food ecosystems like soppus, mushrooms, tubers disappear
Packaged food = plastic waste + food miles
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PART 4: HOW TO REVIVE TRADITIONAL FOOD IN A MODERN BENGALURU HOME
You don’t need a farm.
You don’t need a grandmother.
You don’t need 10 hours a day.
You only need intention + 15 minutes daily.
Step 1: Identify your root geography
Were your ancestors from North Karnataka? Andhra coast? Kodagu forest? Tamil highlands?
What did they eat during:
Summer? Monsoon? Winter?
Illness? Menstruation? Exams?
Step 2: Local, seasonal, and whole
Buy millets, nati rice, hand-pounded oil
Use jaggery, rock salt, tamarind, dried mango powder
Avoid frozen, uniform, non-seasonal veggies
Step 3: One traditional recipe per week
Ragi ambli, bajra khichdi, rice kanji, raw banana curry, drumstick leaves poriyal
Use stone grinders or hand pounding for chutneys once a week
Step 4: Fermentation and pickling revival
Start with simple curd, dosa batter, lemon pickle, sun-dried papad
Let children participate — connect them with time, texture, taste
Step 5: Involve elders and ask questions
What did they eat in childhood?
What food was served in fever, wedding, summer heat?
Write it down. Make it. Taste history.
Step 6: Grow one food plant at home
Tulsi, curry leaf, drumstick, coriander, ridge gourd, soppu
Even a balcony pot builds intimacy with soil and season
Step 7: Respect food rituals
Sit together
Eat with hand
Don’t multitask
Thank the land mentally
Fast occasionally — seasonally
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CONCLUSION: GEOGRAPHY IS NOT A PLACE — IT’S A PATTERN
Your body still thinks you live in your ancestral land.
Even if your GPS says "Koramangala" or "Indiranagar,"
your cells remember Tandur, Kodagu, Thanjavur, Bastar.
To ignore geography is to fight your body every single day.
Let’s bring back food that speaks our climate.
That nourishes us for real.
That doesn’t come with a barcode.
That was grown for your lungs, your bones, your blood — not just your tongue.
And it begins with one step:
Eat where you are, how you were made.
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HEALING DIALOGUE
"MY CHILD EATS EVERYTHING — EXCEPT OUR ROOTS"
A family from Bengaluru visits Madhukar the Hermit after realizing their home-cooked meals aren’t really feeding anyone anymore.
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RAGHU (Father, 41):
We eat at home.
We don’t eat outside food much.
Still, my son has constant acidity, low energy, and frequent mood swings.
We’ve done all tests. Nothing shows up.
Is it mental?
MADHUKAR:
What does your home-cooked meal contain?
RAGHU:
Rice, dal, roti, paneer, sometimes noodles.
We use cold-pressed oils, ghee…
We’ve tried oats, quinoa, everything.
He doesn’t eat pickles or traditional stuff though. Says it smells.
NEHA (Mother, 38):
I stopped making all that. Too much work.
My MIL used to make millet rotis, amla chutney, moringa dal, but kids don’t touch it.
They find it “weird.”
I’ve kept it simple — pressure cook, mix, serve.
MADHUKAR:
Simple for whom?
For you?
For their digestion?
For their instincts?
Or for their rebellion?
NEHA (confused):
What do you mean?
MADHUKAR:
Your child doesn’t eat his roots — not just in food, but in identity.
He eats what the world sells — not what the land offers.
His gut is not broken.
His relationship with food is broken.
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RAGHU:
But how can we go back?
This is Bengaluru.
We’re busy.
Markets are modern.
The kids don’t even know the names of those old vegetables.
MADHUKAR:
That’s not the problem.
The problem is — you never told them the names.
Your grandmother whispered recipes in the kitchen.
Your mother passed on herbs in your fever.
But you outsourced all of it to YouTube and Zomato.
Now your children eat pasta during pitta season,
drink cold shakes in vata season,
snack on chips before exams —
and you wonder why their body protests.
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NEHA (softly):
But they won’t eat drumstick leaves.
They hate bitter things.
They want butter toast and ketchup.
MADHUKAR:
Yes. Because they were never taught hunger.
Only fullness.
Never taught reverence.
Only reward.
Feed them truth — not convenience.
Start small:
One traditional recipe a week
Sit together without TV
Explain what the spice does
Tell them why ragi cools the body
Let them grow one herb
Children don’t resist tradition.
They resist tasteless imitation.
Bring flavor back. Bring soil back.
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RAGHU:
Will it really help?
Is food enough?
MADHUKAR:
Food is not enough.
But it’s the beginning.
Of gut healing.
Of memory revival.
Of emotional grounding.
Of inner stillness.
What the mother stirs into the pot becomes the child’s first wisdom.
You’ve kept them fed.
Now start keeping them whole.
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CHARLES BUKOWSKI-STYLE POEM
“YOU ATE THE LAND, THEN CALLED IT POOR”
you took
ragi,
bajra,
red rice,
tamarind,
drumstick,
and you threw them
into the dustbin
because some man on a billboard
told you that
cornflakes were “complete nutrition.”
you poured oil
into a pan
but couldn’t remember
why your grandmother always started with cumin and asafoetida.
you said
“we don’t have time for that.”
but had two hours for youtube chefs
and thirty minutes for salads
that made your stomach feel
like an empty drum
full of alphabets.
you stopped fermenting.
you stopped pickling.
you stopped listening.
your gut stopped trusting you.
you wrapped tradition in foil
and tossed it into the microwave.
then you wondered
why your child
got allergies
from summer wind
and cried during monsoon nights
without reason.
you imported quinoa
when kodo millet was dying in the next district.
you paid 400 rupees
for almond milk
when a buffalo stood
outside your lane.
you made your children
learn formulas
but forgot to teach them
what jackfruit smells like in May.
how to chew raw mango
with black salt.
how to sit
on the floor
and be grateful
for turmeric in the dal.
you said
“our foods are too oily.”
so you removed oil.
then fiber.
then soul.
and you served
white rice
with shame.
they call it progress.
you call it comfort.
but your body
still remembers the land.
and it misses the way
your ancestors ate
with hands
wet with sweat
and love
and season.
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