Why Government Bans?

Why does the government always ban the things that truly help us — home births, herbal healing, homeschooling, seed saving? This timeless exposé uncovers how, step by step, the Indian government (like others around the world) has systematically banned not danger, but freedom — freedom to live, grow, heal, learn, and think without permission. With real Indian examples and clear language, this piece invites you to remember what we’ve lost — and what we must quietly reclaim.

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PROLOGUE:

The Indian government does not ban things because they are dangerous. It bans them because they work too well without it.

If something makes you healthy without pills, If something feeds you without a market, If something teaches you without certificates, If something makes you powerful without permission—

It becomes a threat.

This exposé walks through time—from India’s ancient wisdom to its digital prisons—and shows how bans were not just on things, but on memory, dignity, freedom, and self-reliance.

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CHAPTER 1: WHEN WE WERE FREE (ANCIENT BHARAT)

Claim: We once had complete systems for healing, farming, learning, birthing, governing.

> These were banned, not because they failed—but because they worked without requiring the State.

Real Indian Examples:

1. Siddha Medicine

Practiced in Tamil Nadu for over 2000 years.

Colonial and post-colonial governments sidelined it as "unscientific."

Even in 2023, courts debated whether Siddha doctors are legitimate.

2. Traditional Midwives (Dais)

Attended most rural births safely for centuries.

Today considered illegal in many states.

In 2025, Kerala doctors demanded home births be criminalized.

3. Gurukuls

Children learned astronomy, Ayurveda, dharma, math.

Replaced by colonial schooling that promoted English and obedience.

Real education banned and mocked as "backward."

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CHAPTER 2: BRITISH & COLONIAL BANS (1700s–1947)

Claim: The British didn't just take land. They banned knowledge.

> The goal was to make us ashamed of our roots, and dependent on their systems.

Real Indian Examples:

1. Ban on Indigenous Medicine

Ayurveda, Unani, Siddha excluded from official practice.

Hospitals pushed English medicine and rejected herbal healing.

2. Ban on Local Grains

Millets and desi rice replaced by cash crops for export.

Millions died in Bengal famine while grains were shipped to Britain.

3. Ban on Indian Languages in Schools

Persian, Sanskrit, and Tamil literature removed.

English made the language of the elite and the exams.

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CHAPTER 3: MODERN INDIA'S BANS (1947–2000s)

Claim: After freedom, the bans continued. But now they wore a Nehru jacket.

> Independent India kept colonial laws that banned self-reliance.

Real Indian Examples:

1. Homeschooling Grey Zone

RTE Act never formally allows or supports homeschooling.

CBSE/ICSE disallow private candidates; only NIOS permits.

Parents threatened with child rights complaints.

2. Desi Seeds Replaced by Hybrids

Local seeds criminalized via Seed Acts and Monsanto lobbying.

Navdanya Movement exposed how farmer suicides rose with GMO debt.

3. Street Vendors Pushed Out

Mumbai and Delhi hawkers evicted in name of "clean cities."

Traditional snacks replaced by chain stores.

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CHAPTER 4: FOOD AND MILK BANS

Claim: Food that heals and nourishes is quietly banned or discouraged.

> Because healthy people don’t buy supplements or see doctors often.

Real Indian Examples:

1. Raw Milk Discouraged

FSSAI promotes pasteurization; raw milk framed as "unsafe."

Small desi cow farmers lose customers.

2. Fermented Foods Marginalized

Kanji, homemade pickles, and buttermilk called "unsafe."

Probiotic supplements promoted instead.

3. Millets Mocked Until 2023

Once called "poor man’s food."

Revived only after global markets showed interest.

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CHAPTER 5: BANNING HEALING

Claim: Natural and traditional healing is always under attack.

> Because healing without hospitals is economic rebellion.

Real Indian Examples:

1. Patanjali Coronil Banned

Banned temporarily in several states during COVID.

Accused of "false claims" though millions used it.

2. Castor Oil Dismissed

Used for gut cleansing, arthritis, immunity.

Now labelled "unscientific" in clinics and schools.

3. Ayurveda Treated Unequally

Students get fewer resources and poor infrastructure.

Modern doctors reject Ayurvedic reports in diagnosis.

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CHAPTER 6: HOW THE GOVERNMENT BANS THINGS

> It doesn’t always say "banned". It just makes life impossible around it.

🧨 Method 1: FEAR

"Raw milk spreads TB"

"Home births are risky"

"Unlicensed healers can kill you"

🧨 Method 2: SHAME

"Castor oil is for illiterate villagers"

"You’re backward if you homeschool"

"Fermented food smells dirty"

🧨 Method 3: PAPER TRAP

To grow food, teach kids, heal someone — you need a license.

Getting a license? Near impossible.

So you're not banned. You're blocked.

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CHAPTER 7: WHAT'S ACTUALLY BANNED?

What's Banned → And What's Really Being Taken Away

Home births → Taking away a woman’s right to give birth in her own way

Raw milk → Taking away natural strength and real nutrition

Herbal medicine → Taking away the power to heal without hospitals

Homeschooling → Taking away freedom to teach your child your way

Barter and seed sharing → Taking away local trade and farmer independence

Silence and slow life → Taking away peace, thinking time, and clarity

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EPILOGUE:

They didn’t ban poison. They banned the antidotes.

They didn’t ban weakness. They banned strength that didn't need saving.

And today, what is banned is not a product. It’s a memory: That we were once free. Strong. Wise. Whole.

And we can be again.

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The Things They Ban, The Things We Lose – A Healing Dialogue with Madhukar

Scene: Early morning, before sunrise. A soft drizzle taps on the clay-tiled roof. A slow fog hangs over the mango trees. Ravi walks quietly through the garden path leading to Madhukar's small hut. He carries a newspaper rolled under his arm. The smell of wet earth mixes with the faint aroma of roasted jeera and ajwain.

Madhukar is already seated on the front porch, sipping warm herbal water from a steel tumbler. His daughters, Adhya and Anju, are sweeping the yard together, humming. A kettle whistles inside.

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Ravi: (sits down, shivering slightly) They’ve banned raw milk in our town now. Said it’s not safe. People are scared.

Madhukar: They’ve been banning safety in the name of safety for years. Come, drink this. Tulsi, ajwain, and a bit of castor root bark.

Ravi: (drinks slowly) Why do they always go after the things that work? Things that kept our grandparents alive?

Madhukar: Because these things don’t make you dependent. That’s the real threat. Raw milk, homebirths, fasting, silence, healing herbs — they all make you need no one but your body and your land. And that scares people in power.

Adhya: (pauses sweeping) Appa, they also removed Amma’s pickle seller from the weekly market. She said someone complained about "unlicensed food."

Madhukar: (sighs) The same hands that blessed you yesterday now need a certificate. And yet, those certificates bless no one.

Ravi: I brought this. (hands the newspaper) They’re considering banning uncertified home tuitions too. Something about protecting children.

Madhukar: Always protection. Like fencing off the sky to protect the wind. Who protects the child from the screen? From school lunches soaked in refined oil? From textbook lies?

Anju: But Amma teaches us at home. She doesn't have a certificate.

Madhukar: That’s why you know the names of birds and trees and how to light a stove. That’s why you can look someone in the eye without fear.

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(They fall silent. The drizzle has stopped. Birds begin to chirp. The distant sound of a bullock cart.)

Ravi: How did we reach here? From grandmothers delivering babies to police inspecting kitchens? From sitting under banyan trees to getting fined for homeschooling?

Madhukar: Slowly. Through fear. Through shame. Through paper.

"Raw milk causes TB."

"Home birth is risky."

"Herbs are unscientific."

"Village knowledge is outdated."

They made us ashamed of our ways. And once we felt shame, the ban wasn’t needed. We banned ourselves.

Ravi: What do you think will go next?

Madhukar: Silence. It’s already rare. Then it’ll be rest. Then memory. Already, people don't remember what unrefined jaggery tastes like. Or what their grandmother's feet felt like.

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(Amma steps out with a warm cloth-wrapped bowl. Fresh fermented ragi ambali. She places it gently before them.)

Amma: Eat this. Before someone files a case against it.

(They laugh. Anju giggles, running inside to fetch cups.)

Ravi: You joke, but it feels possible. They already sell probiotic drinks in plastic with celebrity faces.

Madhukar: You can sell poison with a celebrity. But truth needs no face. Just memory. Just slowness. Just faith in what once was.

Adhya: But what can we do? We are so few.

Madhukar: (quietly) Be few. But be full. Let them ban what they want. We’ll keep storing truth in clay pots, in stories, in our sleep, in our songs. Let them steal the markets. But they cannot steal the mornings.

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(Ravi breathes deep. He’s no longer cold. The sun is rising. A rooster crows. The fog lifts.)

Ravi: Thank you. I’ll go back now. There’s a mother in my neighborhood asking if her daughter can be taught without textbooks. Maybe I’ll just tell her what Anju said.

Madhukar: What did Anju say?

Anju: (grinning) You don’t need a license to love someone enough to teach them.

(Everyone smiles. Another morning begins. Unbanned. Unbroken.)

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[ONE YEAR LATER]

Scene: A small patch of land beside Madhukar's hut has turned into a quiet learning space. A few mats, some handmade books, a mud stove in the corner. It's early evening. A few families are seated with children. Ravi arrives on his bicycle, tired but happy.

Ravi: It grew, Madhukar. Slowly, just like you said. Ten children now. Three mothers who teach. No fees. No uniforms. Just rhythm.

Madhukar: That’s how truth returns. Quietly. Without slogans.

Adhya: Appa, today we taught them how to ferment rice kanji. They liked the smell!

Anju: And we made them read the old stories. The ones with trees that talk.

Ravi: And no one's asking for certificates yet. Some fathers come and just sit under the tree. They say it reminds them of childhood.

Madhukar: That’s healing. When grown-ups begin to remember what they forgot. Before the bans. Before the shame.

Amma: I made oil bath paste. Share some with the little ones. Their feet are cracking.

Ravi: I brought raw milk too. From a woman who milks her cow before sunrise. She says it tastes like her mother.

(They sit in silence. The children play nearby, laughing over a game of stones. The stove crackles. A bird perches on the neem branch above. No one hurries. No one explains. No one sells anything.)

Madhukar: You see? You didn't fight the bans. You simply remembered what was before them.

Ravi: Yes. And I wrote it all down. In my own words. No one edited it. No one approved it.

Madhukar: Then you’ve already won.

(The sun sets. A light breeze stirs the tamarind leaves. Clay pots are brought out. A story begins. And no law is broken. Only silence is kept.)

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THEY BANNED WHAT WORKED

A slow burn about the 50 things India lost while it slept

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They didn't come in boots. They came with papers.

They didn’t drop bombs. They dropped warnings, notices, fear.

And we signed the form. We nodded. We let it happen.

They didn’t ban chaos. They banned what made sense.

They didn’t ban addiction. They banned the cure.

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They banned home births. Called it unsafe. As if women had forgotten how to push.

They banned raw milk. Too alive, too real, too local. Can’t sell trust in a tetra pack.

They banned castor oil. Because it healed too cheap, and nobody profited from grandmothers.

They banned dais. Midwives who didn’t wait for machines to beep.

They banned the way we slept, ate, bathed, taught, prayed, healed, waited.

And replaced it all with packaging.

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You want fifty examples? Fine. Here you go.

1. They banned fermented rice.

2. They banned jaggery.

3. They banned cotton nappies.

4. They banned seed saving.

5. They banned bullock carts.

6. They banned walking to school.

7. They banned silence in temples.

8. They banned oil baths.

9. They banned early morning sun.

10. They banned moonlight sleep.

11. They banned touching soil.

12. They banned barefoot feet.

13. They banned neem twigs.

14. They banned rainwater.

15. They banned clay pots.

16. They banned fasting.

17. They banned village weddings.

18. They banned the firewood stove.

19. They banned hand fans.

20. They banned storytelling grandmothers.

21. They banned open defecation — but sold garbage food.

22. They banned cow dung floors.

23. They banned home tuitions.

24. They banned copper vessels.

25. They banned ghee.

26. They banned hugging trees.

27. They banned jasmine in hair.

28. They banned toddy.

29. They banned dying at home.

30. They banned rice kanji.

31. They banned hand-cleaned grains.

32. They banned clay toys.

33. They banned warnings about copper IUDs.

34. They banned virgin coconut oil.

35. They banned tulsi in courtyards.

36. They banned ritual fasting.

37. They banned curry leaves.

38. They banned bamboo shoots.

39. They banned barefoot temples.

40. They banned seasonal living.

41. They banned cloth pads.

42. They banned instinct.

43. They banned boredom.

44. They banned slow hunger.

45. They banned sleep without pills.

46. They banned sky-gazing.

47. They banned pulse diagnosis.

48. They banned charcoal.

49. They banned village games.

50. They banned trusting your own body.

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What did they give instead?

Licenses. Labels. Shame. Fines. Screens. Addictions. Substitutes with side effects. And a hotline number to report your neighbor for being too natural.

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They banned what worked because it didn’t ask permission. Because it didn’t beg for a policy. Because it didn’t need a barcode.

And no one came to defend it. No candle march for rice kanji. No PIL for neem twigs. No outrage over silence.

Just slow death of things that once made life real, honest, resilient, and worth waking up for.

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So next time you’re sick, broke, lonely, exhausted, watching an ad for a product that promises life—

Remember:

They didn’t ban poison. They just banned what made you strong enough not to need them.

.end.