Why Medicines Are So Small
- Madhukar Dama
- 1 day ago
- 10 min read
Look at a pill.
It’s so small. Sometimes smaller than a seed. Sometimes just a dot you could swallow without water.
And that’s where the deception begins.
Humans are wired to think that “big” means dangerous, and “small” means harmless. A gun looks terrifying. A bottle of acid looks menacing. A huge snake scares us.
But medicines? They’re packed into neat little tablets, soft capsules, sweet syrups. Small. Glossy. Pretty. Easy to swallow. They don’t feel like poison.
And yet—these are some of the most potent toxins ever designed. Chemicals so dangerous that even milligrams—sometimes micrograms—change the course of your body’s chemistry. That’s why they are so small. Not because they are harmless, but because they are too powerful to be given in larger amounts without killing you.
---
The Illusion of Safety
Doctors hand them out like tokens. Pharmacists sell them wrapped in shiny strips. People pop them like candy.
Headache? Take a pill.
Acidity? Take a pill.
Can’t sleep? Pill.
Can’t wake up? Pill.
Diabetes, hypertension, arthritis, thyroid—pill after pill after pill.
Each is so small you think: This can’t harm me. This is just medicine. My doctor prescribed it. Surely it’s safe.
But that tiny pill is carefully dosed just below the level where it will damage you immediately. Not because it’s safe—because it’s barely tolerable.
And when you repeat it every day, week after week, year after year, it’s like dripping poison slowly into your bloodstream.
---
The Chemistry of Poison
Let’s be brutally clear:
The very reason medicines work is because they are poisonous to some part of your biology.
Antibiotics work by poisoning bacteria—but they also weaken your gut, liver, and immunity.
Painkillers numb pain by poisoning the pathways of your nervous system—while slowly shredding your kidneys and stomach lining.
Statins reduce cholesterol by poisoning your liver’s natural production—while creating fatigue, muscle damage, and memory problems.
Psychiatric drugs dull emotions by poisoning brain circuits—leaving dependence and withdrawal in their trail.
There is no medicine that “heals.” There is only medicine that suppresses. And suppression always comes at a cost.
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The Long-Term Trap
The real tragedy isn’t in one pill. It’s in the lifetime prescription.
Doctors never say: “This is poison, take it sparingly.”
They say: “You must take this every day, for the rest of your life.”
Imagine being asked to drink a drop of cyanide daily. You’d laugh it off. You’d run. You’d say: “That’s insane.”
But when the same system packages another poison in micro-doses, calls it medicine, stamps it with authority, and prescribes it in perpetuity—people obey.
And thus, modern humanity is trapped in a slow poisoning cycle. Livers collapsing under chemical load. Kidneys failing silently. Hearts dependent. Brains dulled. Bodies enslaved.
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Why Smallness Means Danger
Here is the paradox:
Medicines are small because they are too powerful to be large.
The smaller the pill, the more potent the poison inside.
A sugar cube that size wouldn’t even register. But a microgram of morphine can knock you unconscious. A few milligrams of chemotherapy drugs can destroy all rapidly dividing cells in your body—cancerous or not.
That is why medicines are small. Not because they are gentle. But because they are violent.
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The Forgotten Alternative
For centuries, humans healed with food, herbs, fasting, sunlight, water, rest. None of these needed to be disguised in milligrams. None of these were so dangerous they had to be rationed like explosives.
True healing is abundant.
You can eat bowls of fruit without side effects.
You can drink liters of clean water without risk.
You can walk miles, breathe deeply, bask in sun—and nothing poisons you.
But with medicine, a single extra pill can mean organ failure, overdose, even death. That is not healing. That is chemical control.
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The Final Deception
The pharmaceutical world thrives on this lie: “Medicine is small, therefore safe.”
But history will remember: these were not cures. These were sanctioned poisons. The most sophisticated, marketed, normalized poisons humanity ever swallowed willingly.
And just because they came in the form of a small, polished pill—people thought they were harmless.
But no. The smaller the pill, the stronger the poison. And the longer you take it, the deeper it buries itself into your body.
Dialogue: The Family of Pills Meets the Healer at Yelmadagi
Characters
Madhukar – lifestyle scientist, healer.
Ramesh (60) – grandfather, hypertensive, on pills for 20 years.
Savita (55) – grandmother, diabetic, on insulin + tablets.
Mahesh (35) – their son, works in IT, frequent acidity and headaches, dependent on OTC pills.
Lakshmi (32) – his wife, takes sleeping pills occasionally, believes medicines are "normal."
Ananya (12) – their daughter, weak immunity, frequent antibiotics.
Rohit (8) – their son, already on syrups for cough/cold almost every season.
---
Scene:
Under a banyan tree near Yelmadagi. The family sits across from Madhukar. The children look restless. Pill strips peek out of Ramesh’s shirt pocket. A faint worry lingers on Savita’s face.
---
Dialogue
Ramesh (grandfather):
Doctor saab, we came because our whole family has some health issue or the other. We are on so many tablets. But my doctor says without medicines I won’t survive. Blood pressure, you know…
Madhukar:
(looking at the strip in his pocket) Rameshji, tell me honestly. Twenty years of pills—are you cured of your blood pressure?
Ramesh:
(sighs) No. It’s the same. Sometimes even more tablets now.
Madhukar:
Exactly. If medicine was truly healing you, twenty years is more than enough to reverse it. The reality: your body has not been healed, it’s only been controlled. Controlled like an animal on a leash. The pill is the leash.
---
Savita (grandmother):
But without insulin, I collapse. So I cannot stop.
Madhukar:
Of course. Because your body is now dependent. Like a person addicted to alcohol cannot function without it, your body is addicted to external insulin. Did diabetes exist in this form in villages fifty years ago? No. It is manufactured by lifestyle, and then “maintained” by medicine. Not cured.
Savita:
But doctors never said this clearly.
Madhukar:
They won’t. Their language is: “manage the disease.” Not “reverse it.” Management keeps you a lifelong customer. Reversal sets you free.
---
Mahesh (son):
I am not like them. I don’t have big diseases. Just small things. Acidity after food, headaches after long work, some constipation. I just take one tablet and it’s gone.
Madhukar:
Do you know why the tablet is so small, Mahesh?
Because it’s not food. It’s poison. It is measured in milligrams because even a little more could harm you. You think it’s harmless because it’s small. But every pill you swallow is like dropping acid on your stomach lining and liver.
Mahesh:
But without it, how do I work? I have deadlines.
Madhukar:
That’s the trap. The pill doesn’t remove the cause of acidity or headache. It only silences the alarm. Like breaking the fire alarm in a burning house. The fire still burns inside you.
---
Lakshmi (daughter-in-law):
But sir, modern life is stressful. Sometimes I cannot sleep. One pill helps me. What is wrong in that?
Madhukar:
Think of sleep as a guest. You invite it with rest, darkness, calmness. But you are forcing it with chemicals. Each sleeping pill dulls your brain circuits, rewires them wrongly, and leaves you weaker. Over time, natural sleep disappears. You are left with dependence.
Lakshmi (hesitant):
So then… what should I do on sleepless nights?
Madhukar:
Work with the body, not against it. Evening walk, no late-night screens, light dinner, breathing practices—sleep will arrive naturally. Healing is in habits, not in pills.
---
Ananya (12-year-old):
Uncle, I always get cold and cough. My doctor gives me antibiotics. Then I’m okay. But again it comes.
Madhukar:
Antibiotics are like burning the whole farm to kill weeds. They kill bacteria, yes—but also kill your good bacteria, your natural army. Then your body becomes weaker each time. That is why it “comes back.”
Ananya:
So what should I do?
Madhukar:
Strengthen your immunity. Fresh fruits, sun, clean water, regular play. Your body will fight infections itself. No pill can give you the immunity your body can build.
---
Rohit (8-year-old):
My cough syrup is sweet. I like it. Mama gives it.
Madhukar:
(smiling sadly) That syrup is not sweet medicine, Rohit. It is sweet poison. It sedates you, makes you drowsy, and your body forgets how to heal coughs. Even children are being trained to depend on bottles instead of nature.
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Turning Point
Madhukar (looking at all of them):
Do you see the chain? Grandfather with BP pills. Grandmother with insulin. Parents with acidity and sleeping pills. Children with antibiotics and syrups.
This is how a family becomes a family of pills.
But you don’t have to be this family. You can break the chain.
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Family Reacts
Ramesh:
But is it really possible at this age?
Madhukar:
Yes. At any age. Not in one day, but slowly. Correct your food, your lifestyle, your habits. Diseases are reversible. Medicines are not healing you; they are only renting you time.
Savita:
Doctor saab, you are saying we are eating poison daily?
Madhukar:
Yes. Just because it is small and prescribed does not make it safe. Remember: the most poisonous substances are always measured in the smallest doses.
Mahesh (thoughtful):
So the real healer is our own body?
Madhukar:
Exactly. Your body is the doctor. I only remind you. Nature is the medicine. Lifestyle is the prescription.
---
Closing
The family sits in silence. Pill strips lie untouched on the ground. The banyan tree sways.
For the first time, they see medicines not as saviors, but as shackles.
Madhukar (final words):
"Choose food, movement, breath, rest, sunlight, water. They are the true tablets of life. The others—the small white ones—are only poisons in disguise."
milligram city
1
the strip tears open with a crackle
like cheap fireworks
but there’s no festival here
just a man at 6 a.m.
swallowing something smaller than a sesame seed
to keep his heart from remembering
how to beat on its own.
2
grandfather has a box with days labeled
monday through sunday
the compartments filled with dots of surrender
he doesn’t call them by name anymore
just says: the morning one, the night one,
the one that burns the stomach,
the one that makes the ankles swell.
3
grandmother sharpens insulin pens like pencils
she stores them in the fridge
beside the pickles and curd
funny how food was supposed to heal her once
now it’s locked in the same cold cage
with the plastic syringes
and nobody sees the joke.
4
the son works nights in IT
a glowing monitor, four coffees,
and by 3 a.m. he’s fishing for the antacid
like it’s a mint
he keeps them in his desk drawer,
next to the charger and headphones
the blister pack is always half-empty
so is he.
5
the wife doesn’t talk about it much
but there’s a strip of sleeping tablets in her handbag
tucked between receipts and lipstick
she pops one on nights when silence feels too loud
in the morning her eyes look rinsed out
like clothes left too long in detergent.
6
the daughter is twelve
she already knows what an antibiotic tastes like
chalky, bitter, mixed with fake orange
she’s had them six times this year
the school nurse says it’s normal
the chemist says it’s normal
the mother believes them
so the daughter believes them too.
7
the boy is eight
his cough syrup is thick and pink
he likes the sweetness,
asks for extra spoonfuls
nobody tells him that syrup is alcohol
diluted with flavoring
nobody tells him it trains the body
to wait for bottles instead of breath.
8
this is not fiction.
go to any bus stop at dawn
watch the people dry-swallowing tablets
with tea in plastic cups
go to any train station
pill bottles rattling in handbags,
lunchboxes of medicine traveling further
than vegetables ever will.
9
the pharmacy is brighter than the vegetable shop
more foot traffic too
lined with men and women carrying prescriptions
like passports to survival
the counters stacked in neat geometry:
white, blue, pink, yellow tablets
each one pretending to be rescue
each one priced cheaper than a kilo of fruit
and still more expensive
than health ever should be.
10
why are pills so small?
because they don’t need to be big
poisons rarely do
a gram of salt won’t kill you
but a gram of the wrong white powder
will shut down organs
this is not drama
it’s chemistry.
11
every medicine is a compromise
antibiotics wipe out infections
and your gut flora with them
painkillers take away pain
and leave behind kidney stones,
bleeding ulcers, swollen ankles
blood pressure pills lower pressure
and push the liver to mutter complaints
that no one listens to.
12
hospitals are warehouses of faith
corridors full of people holding envelopes
xrays, blood reports, ECG charts
but what they really hold
are prescriptions
neatly typed, stamped, signed
longer than grocery lists
some for a week,
most for a lifetime.
13
nobody asks: lifetime of what?
because the doctor says it calmly,
and calmness is contagious.
“take this daily.”
so they do.
years pass.
the same pills, the same instructions.
the disease is never gone
only the years are.
14
the chemist knows more family secrets
than neighbors do
he knows who can’t sleep
who can’t digest
who can’t stop shaking
he watches children grow
from syrup to capsules
watches adults graduate
from single dose to triple therapy
he doesn’t judge.
he just rings the register.
15
at funerals the pill boxes remain on the shelf
full or half-finished
sometimes thrown in dustbins
sometimes left to expire quietly
nobody mentions the irony:
a lifetime of swallowing
and still the body didn’t make it.
16
look closely at the city:
every pocket rattles with strips
every table drawer hides a bottle
every family has a row of blister packs
lined up like soldiers
people trade them like matches
“try this, it worked for me.”
no one calls it addiction
but it looks like addiction
it behaves like addiction
and it pays better than addiction.
17
pills shrink the human body into a schedule
a 6 a.m. swallow,
a 2 p.m. swallow,
a 9 p.m. swallow.
the body isn’t allowed to speak anymore
only obey.
18
once upon a time
food was therapy, sleep was therapy,
sunlight was therapy, walking was therapy
now therapy is a strip of dots
sold behind a counter
with a polite “take care”
from a man who never asks your name.
19
nobody believes a pill can kill slowly
because it doesn’t knock you down today
it only files the damage quietly:
toxic lines drawn across the liver
tiny scars on kidneys
memories dulled in the brain
but not loud enough to notice
not until it’s too late.
20
the truth is boring:
medicine doesn’t cure
it maintains.
you’re not healed
you’re managed.
a machine on permanent repair mode
oiled just enough
to keep moving.
21
the advertisement never shows the hospital bed
never shows dialysis tubes
never shows dementia setting in
it only shows smiling actors
taking a tiny white dot
and walking into sunshine
cut, edit, sold.
22
out in the real world
the sunshine is blocked
by pharmacy signboards
by clinics on every corner
by the slow shuffle of old men
who can’t remember a day
without tablets in their pockets.
23
so why are pills small?
because they are condensed orders
distilled commands to the body
shut this down
speed that up
ignore that symptom
do not rebel.
24
small because they are strong
small because they are dangerous
small because even a little too much
tips the body into collapse
small because control doesn’t need bulk
it needs precision.
25
and the world keeps swallowing
because it’s easier to believe
a pill the size of a fingernail
than to believe
that food, rest, movement, breath
could be the real work
of staying alive.
