What Wellness Really Looked Like in My Indian Childhood
- Dr. K.
- Mar 25
- 7 min read
Updated: Mar 29
I didn’t grow up chasing wellness. It wasn’t something you scheduled into your week or streamed on an app. It was simply life — a quiet rhythm that moved through our days without needing a name.
Years later, while writing my dissertation on cultural identity in Indian-American families, I realized something I had always sensed: identity is often passed down not through grand gestures, but through tiny, repeated rituals. Through scent and touch. Through the way oil is warmed for a head massage, or how you instinctively reach for certain spices when someone isn’t feeling well. These weren’t called “wellness routines.” They were simply what we did. They still live in my muscle memory.
Here are the rituals I carry with me — not to recreate the past, but to stay grounded in the present.
1. The Head Massage on Sundays
It didn’t come from a spa. It came from my mother’s fingers, a small steel bowl of coconut oil, and a day of the week that belonged to rest. Sunday was head massage day. One by one, we sat cross-legged on the floor while my mom gently rubbed warm oil into our scalps in slow, circular motions. Once she was done with everyone else, one of us massaged her head — and that part always felt the most tender of all.
The oil was never rushed. It traveled down to the ends of our hair, then wrapped up into braids or buns while we walked around, letting it soak in before a long shower. Those twenty minutes of focused, intentional touch — passed from one set of hands to another — held something deeper than just nourishment for hair. It was care. It was connection.
Try this at home: Gently warm coconut or almond oil, massage into the scalp, and leave in for 20–30 minutes before rinsing.
2. A Face Pack, Mixed in the Kitchen
Some rituals were less routine and more seasonal. My mom would pull out a bowl, pour in chickpea flour, stir in a spoonful of thick yogurt, a pinch of turmeric, and a splash of water. This paste was gently spread across our faces, sometimes arms, and we’d sit by the window or on the swing, letting it dry into a thin mask.
We didn’t know then that this combination — a traditional home remedy across many parts of India — had antimicrobial, exfoliating, and cooling properties. We just knew it worked. It left our skin soft, smelled faintly floral, and made us feel… cared for.
Now, when the weather turns hot, I find myself reaching for the same ingredients, even if I’m far from home. It’s less about beauty, more about remembering.
Try this at home: Mix 2 tsp chickpea flour with 1 tsp plain yogurt, a splash of water, and a tiny pinch of turmeric. Apply, let dry, rinse with cool water.
3. The Winter Sweets That Strengthened Us
Come December, the kitchen shifted. The air was cooler, the breeze drier, and suddenly there was ghee in everything. That’s when my mother made God Papdi (Sukhdi), a dense, golden sweet from whole wheat flour, jaggery, and clarified butter — a small square you could hold in your palm but feel for hours in your belly.
Some called it a winter treat. But in our home, it was strength food — made to nourish and protect during the colder months, especially for growing children or tired adults.
Sometimes she made khajur pak, a version with pitted dates, nuts, ghee and a bit of dry ginger. These date-nut bites were shaped into logs, sliced into rounds, and stored in steel tins for anyone who needed a quick energy boost. Long before protein bars, we had these.
Now, I pick up both these treats from the local Indian store when winter sets in — not because I need a dessert, but because my body remembers what strength tastes like.
4. Raw Mangoes and Sweet-Spiced Summer Coolers
In the summer, there were green mangoes. Not the soft, juicy ones, but the tart ones that had to be boiled, peeled, and blended. My mom would make baflo, a drink from them — tangy, lightly sweetened with jaggery, spiced with cumin and salt, then thinned with water and served over ice.
We called it a summer cooler, but really it was the season’s medicine. It cooled the body from the inside out, soothed digestion, and quenched the kind of thirst that no plain water could touch.
Now, even in my Indian American kitchen, I’ll occasionally buy green mangoes and feel a familiar tug. I boil, I blend, and for a few sips, I’m back in the heat of my childhood summer.
Try this at home: Boil one green mango until soft. Scoop out the pulp and blend with 1–2 tsp jaggery, a pinch of roasted cumin powder, salt, and chilled water.
5. Fennel Seeds After a Meal
After dinner, my dad would slide a small container across the table — filled with tiny green fennel seeds. Just a pinch. Not for the flavor alone, but for the feeling it brought. Cooling, cleansing, and slightly sweet. It signaled the end of the meal. A closing ceremony of sorts.
Today, science tells us fennel helps with digestion and bloating. But we didn’t need research to tell us that. We just did it — because our parents and our grandparents did.
And now, after most meals, I do too.
Try this at home: Keep a small jar of fennel seeds on the table. Chew a pinch after meals for digestion and ritual.
6. Tulsi in the Balcony
On our balcony stood a tulsi plant — holy basil — with green leaves and a slightly spicy scent. We watered it each morning. Occasionally, we plucked a few leaves when someone had a sore throat or stuffy nose.
Tulsi wasn’t ornamental. It was sacred, medicinal, familiar.
Now living in the U.S., I don’t grow tulsi in the same way. But I keep tulsi tea in the pantry — often with turmeric or ginger — and when I brew a cup, I’m transported to the sound of sparrows, the texture of clay pots, the simple act of care in watering a plant.
Try this at home: Sip a cup of tulsi tea in the mornings or evenings. Let the warmth remind you of your health.
7. Seasonal Grains for Changing weather
Around the festival of Holi — when winter gives way to spring — a special gluten-free grain would appear in our home: puffed sorghum. Slightly chewy, mildly sweet, and nutrient-rich. It was meant to build immunity and prepare the body for seasonal change. The taste didn’t matter as much as the rhythm of it: when to eat what, and why.
We didn’t talk about inflammation or gut flora. But we ate with the seasons. And that knowledge lives in us, even when we forget.
Now, I try to cook with more intention around seasonal shifts — to honor what my body already knows.
Try this at home: Roast puffed sorghum (dhani) with a handful of salted nuts in EVOO as a seasonal snack.
8. Milk with Turmeric Before Bed
When we were sick with a cough, couldn’t sleep, or just needed comfort, there was warm milk — golden from turmeric, sometimes spiced with ginger and ghee. It wasn’t a trendy 'turmeric latte'. It was just what you did.
These days, I still make it when the air is dry, or the day has been too much. There's something about sipping that creamy warmth before bed that feels like a blanket — not over the body, but the soul.
Try this at home: Warm 1 cup of milk with ½ tsp turmeric, a pinch of cinnamon or ginger, and a little ghee to coat a scratchy throat. Drink before bed.
9. Lighting a Flame in the Morning
Every morning, someone in the house lit a small flame — a candle or lamp, set in a quiet corner. Yes, it was a prayer session, but more than that, it was about rhythm. A pause before the noise of the day. A silent breath. A flicker of intention.
Sometimes I’d watch the smoke spiral, other times I’d mumble a half-prayer under my breath. But even now, that two-minute ritual feels like a reset button — not just for the room, but for me.
Try this at home: Light a candle or lamp each morning. Let it mark the start of your day — with prayer, silence, or intention.
10. Chai as Connection
In our home, tea was never rushed. It wasn’t something you sipped while answering emails. It was a ritual. A way to gather, talk, pause. Chai came with cardamom, ginger, sometimes lemongrass and mint and a splash of milk — and always, conversation.
Even now, when I say, “Let’s have tea with Parle biscuits,” what I really mean is: Let’s take a moment.
Try this at home: Brew tea with spices you love. Share it with someone — or with yourself, without distraction.
11. Healing Spices in Everyday Food
Before I ever heard the word “anti-inflammatory,” I had cumin and curry leaves in my lentils, and turmeric, garlic, and ginger in my khichdi. My mom didn’t always explain their benefits. She just used them — intuitively, lovingly.
We didn't need labels. Food was medicine, and our kitchen was the apothecary.
Try this at home: Toast cumin seeds in oil before cooking. Add turmeric to soup, ginger to warm drinks. Let spices speak.
12. Breath and Movement, Done Quietly
My grandfather practiced pranayama each morning, seated by the window, long before anyone called it breathwork. Our parents taught us to stretch slowly on the floor and to hold poses — not yoga for exercise, but for stillness. There was no timer, no soundtrack. Just breath, body, and attention.
I come back to that now. In silence. In slowness. Because movement doesn’t have to be fast to be healing.
Try this at home: Sit or lie down. Inhale deeply, exhale longer. Even five quiet breaths can shift your state.
These Rituals Still Live in Me
What I’ve learned — through my research, motherhood, and my own quiet observations — is that culture isn’t always taught. It’s absorbed. It’s handed down in invisible ways: in the smell of warm oil, the clink of steel containers, the way your body softens at the first sip of spiced tea.
Wellness, for me, isn’t something new to discover. It’s something old to remember.
These rituals are how I stay connected — not just to where I came from, but to the people who shaped me. And now, they’re how I shape my own home. Quietly, intentionally. One Sunday massage, one face pack, one cup of tulsi tea at a time.
