Sustenance and Stories – Heritage & Hearth

The story of Indian sculpture and idolatry culminates in the Buddha. The Buddha is historically a human teacher, not a creator‑god yet in later devotional practice he is revered as if he were a god. This transformation is visible most clearly in the first human‑form Buddha‑statue, created by the Gandhara/Greco‑Buddhist artists of the 1st century BCE–1st century CE. That statue marks the moment when the Buddha becomes a fully visible, anthropomorphic divine‑like presence in religious life.

Before this, early Indians mostly avoided direct anthropomorphic statues of the Buddha. Instead, artists used symbols: the stupa, the wheel, the empty throne, the Bodhi tree, and footprints. These aniconic devices kept the Buddha conceptually beyond human form, emphasizing his transcendence rather than his physicality. It is only in the Gandhara region—where Greek and Indian traditions intersected under the Indo‑Greek and Kushan empires—that the Buddha finally receives a clear human‑form statue, and it is here that the first major “Buddha‑idol” is born.

Greek and Indo‑Greek sculptors in Gandhara drew on the Apollo‑type of classical statuary: youthful, serene, idealized, with wavy hair, a calm face, and a poised, upright body. They adapted this Hellenistic schema to the Buddha, giving him a god‑like aura while retaining fundamentally Indian elements: the monastic robe, the hand‑gestures (mudrās), the halo, and the lotus throne. The result is a Greco‑Buddhist Buddha‑statue that looks like an Apollo‑style Greek god from the front but carries the doctrinal and ritual weight of Buddhism. This is not a mere “copy” of Apollo; it is a selective modeling of the Buddha’s form on the Apollo‑type, while the meaning remains Buddhist.

The Buddha’s physical features in these early Gandharan statues further reinforce this quasi‑divine status. His head bears the uṣṇīṣa, the rounded top‑knot‑like protuberance that in Buddhist texts counts as one of the 32 major marks of a great being, is a symbol of wisdom and enlightenment. His elongated earlobes, another of the canonical marks, evoke his royal past and the heavy earrings of a prince, but in art they also suggest heightened capacity to hear the suffering of beings—an image of compassionate attentiveness. These features, borrowed from textual descriptions and earlier idea‑forms, are now hardened into stone, making the Buddha’s spiritual qualities visible and tangible.

Chronologically, these first Buddha‑statues are not the oldest idols in India. Stone and terracotta Yakshas and Yakshis date back to the 3rd–1st centuries BCE. Yakshas were not full‑blown cosmic gods but more like powerful spirits—guardians of trees, wealth, and sacred spaces. They appear in early Jain, Buddhist and Brahmanical thought as attendant deities, standing at the edges of the sacred.

Yet when the first Buddha‑statue appears in Gandhara, the religious center of gravity shifts. The Buddha, already a human‑born and human‑enlightened teacher, is now given a permanent, visible, human‑like body that can be worshipped, carried, and installed in temples and stupas. He becomes the central axis of the religious world: the Buddha‑statue now receives the primary focus of prayer and pilgrimage. In this devotional horizon, the Gandhara‑created Buddha‑statue can be seen as the first anthropomorphic representation of a religious figure who is later treated like a god.

Thus, the Buddha stands at the junction of human history and divine‑like reverence. The Gandhara/Greco‑Buddhist artists who first gave him a sculpted, human form did not invent the Buddha, but they did invent the Buddha‑idol as we know it: a figure at once youthful and timeless, Hellenistic in style and Buddhist in spirit, human in origin yet divine‑like in worship.

Milk has always been regarded as a complete food, but the way it is processed and marketed has created a distorted picture of its nutritional value. Whole milk, whether from cows or buffaloes, is naturally balanced, containing fat, protein, calcium, and fat‑soluble vitamins. Buffalo milk is especially rich, with higher calcium, protein, and vitamin D compared to cow’s milk, and its fat carries lower cholesterol despite being heavier in calories. This natural balance is not accidental. Vitamin D is present to enable calcium absorption. Buffalo milk with higher calcium naturally contains more vitamin D, while cow’s milk with lower calcium contains less. In this sense, whole milk does not need fortification, because it already has as much vitamin D as is required to utilize the calcium it provides.

The problem arises when milk is processed to remove fat. Skimming separates the fat fraction, and with it the fat‑soluble vitamins such as A and D. These nutrients are not destroyed or lost; they remain in the cream, butter, or ghee. But once separated, they are no longer available in the skimmed milk where they are needed to work alongside calcium. Vitamin D in butter or ghee has little use for calcium absorption, because the calcium is left behind in the skimmed milk. This separation breaks the natural synergy of milk’s nutrients. Fortification is then introduced as a corrective measure, but it is an artificial fix to a problem created by processing. In India, fortification policies have focused mainly on toned and double‑toned milk which are widely consumed in urban areas. Yet fortification is not universal and not all brands fortify their toned and double toned milk leaving consumers uncertain unless they check packaging carefully.

The promotion of low‑fat dairy has a history, shaped more by commercial interests than by science. In the mid‑20th century, saturated fat was linked to heart disease and industry seized on this narrative to market low‑fat milk as healthier. This was not simply about public health. By removing fat, companies could sell cream, butter and ghee separately turning one product into multiple revenue streams. Low‑fat milk became the “health” product, while the extracted fat was marketed as premium items. The science was simplified into a slogan—fat equals bad—ignoring the complexity of dairy fat which contains beneficial fatty acids and has a different cholesterol profile depending on whether it comes from cows or buffaloes. The result was a profitable system built on selective use of science in which low‑fat milk was promoted as superior even though it required fortification to restore nutrients displaced by separation. In India, this global narrative was imported into the dairy sector through the promotion of toned milk. Dairy Industry positioned toned milk as the modern and healthier option aligning with both public health messaging and commercial interests. Whole milk contains natural vitamin D for absorption of calcium. Toned milk when fortified may help address the deficiencies but fortification is voluntary and inconsistent.

Thus, milk processing undermines natural nutritional balance. Separation of fat removes vitamins from the fraction where they are needed, leaving calcium without its natural partner. Fortification is an artificial solution to a problem created by industry. The push for low‑fat dairy was not purely science‑driven but heavily shaped by commercial interests that misused selective evidence to create a profitable narrative. Whole milk remains nutritionally robust offering a natural synergy of fat, calcium and vitamin D. While low‑fat milk may have a place in certain diets, its promotion as universally superior reflects more of an industry ploy than a scientific truth. Milk is best understood as a natural food whose value lies in its unprocessed whole state and whose role in health depends on context, moderation and respect for its inherent balance.

Often overlooked in modern kitchens, the humble arbi, or taro root, is far more than just a starchy vegetable. While it is indeed rich in carbohydrates, this characteristic alone does a disservice to its remarkable nutritional profile, its deep-rooted history in South Asian agriculture, and its longstanding place in traditional medicine. A common misconception, fueled by a similarity in sound, suggests that the name “arbi” has something to do with the Arabian Peninsula. This is entirely incorrect. The word “arbi”, also spelled arvi, is not derived from “Arab” or any Semitic root. Instead, its origin lies in the ancient languages of the Indian subcontinent. Linguists trace it back to Ālukī or Kachchū, which then evolved into Prakrit forms like Alubbī or Arubbī. Some scholars also point to a possible Dravidian source, such as the Tamil word avi or the Kannada arve, referring to certain tubers. Regardless of the precise path, what is clear is that the name “arbi” is native to North Indian and Pakistani languages, and has no geographical or linguistic connection to Arabia. The vegetable itself has been cultivated in South Asia for millennia, with archaeological evidence and ancient texts confirming its presence thousands of years ago, long before any significant contact with the Arabian Peninsula.

This long history is reflected in the sheer variety of names for arbi across the subcontinent. In Bengali, it is called kochu; in Gujarati, alwi; in Marathi, alu. Down south, Tamil speakers know it as cheppankizhangu, Telugu speakers as chamadumpa, Kannada speakers as kesave or samagadde, and Malayalam speakers as chembu. In Odia, it is saru, and in Nepali, pindalu. This linguistic diversity is a testament to how deeply arbi is woven into the culinary and cultural fabric of South Asia, from Kashmir to Kerala, often growing wild in damp, marshy areas near riverbanks.

Beyond its linguistic and cultural roots, arbi is nutritionally dense. A typical serving contains a significant amount of energy-providing complex carbohydrates. Especially when the vegetable is cooled after cooking, these starches convert into resistant starch, which acts more like fiber, slowing digestion, promoting gut health, and preventing sharp spikes in blood sugar. Furthermore, arbi offers a moderate amount of protein for a root vegetable, around two grams per hundred-gram serving. While this is not high by legume or meat standards, it is a meaningful contribution in plant-based diets and, when paired with lentils, beans, or dairy, helps form a more complete amino acid profile. Beyond these macronutrients, arbi shines as a source of potassium for blood pressure regulation, magnesium for nerve function, vitamin B6 for metabolism, and significant amounts of vitamin E and manganese—antioxidants that protect cells from damage. It is naturally gluten-free, low in fat, and contains no cholesterol, making it an excellent alternative to refined grains for those with celiac disease or insulin resistance.

The wisdom of traditional medicine systems further elevates arbi from a simple food to a functional therapeutic agent. In Ayurveda, arbi is valued for its numerous health benefits, though with a clear caveat: it is known to increase Vata dosha, which can lead to gas or joint discomfort if not prepared correctly. This is why traditional recipes often pair arbi with digestive spices like carom seeds (ajwain) or ginger. Ayurvedic texts document using the juice of the arbi corm massaged onto the scalp to combat hair fall, and mixing it with buttermilk to relieve headaches. A few drops of leaf juice are traditionally placed in the ear for pain or discharge, while a paste of the leaves and stems with salt is applied topically to reduce inflammation. For internal ailments, a decoction of the corm is used for constipation, roasted arbi mashed into a bharta is eaten for body weakness, and the juice of leaves mixed with cinnamon and cardamom is prescribed for low appetite. Even high blood pressure and diarrhea are said to be managed with specific preparations of this versatile root.

Similarly, the Unani system of medicine, which focuses on balancing the body’s humors, embraces arbi within its dietary therapy known as Ilaj bil Ghiza. This approach considers food the simplest and most natural way to restore health, believing that nutrient-dense ingredients like arbi strengthen the body’s innate defense system, or tabiyat. While Unani texts classify foods by their temperament, arbi’s rich fiber and mineral content would be recommended to correct imbalances, particularly those affecting digestion and blood quality. Despite these immense benefits, both traditional systems advise caution. Because arbi can aggravate Vata, those with knee pain or inflammatory conditions should consume it mindfully, and in Unani philosophy, even a beneficial food can cause harm if eaten in excess or in a way that contradicts one’s unique constitution. In essence, when prepared thoughtfully and eaten in appropriate portions, arbi is not merely a carb-rich vegetable but a time-honored, nutrient-dense food that bridges the gap between sustenance, culture, and medicine.

Ashwagandha, a staple in Ayurvedic medicine, is widely used today for stress relief, sleep support, and general vitality. Its roots are valued as an adaptogen that helps the body cope with physical and mental strain, while its leaves have historically been used in traditional preparations as well. In recent years, however, both international and Indian regulators have raised safety concerns, particularly around the use of ashwagandha leaves and their extracts in food and health supplements. As of April 2026, the Food Safety and Standards Authority of India has formally banned the use of ashwagandha leaves and their extracts in health supplements and food products, while still permitting root‑based preparations. Around the same time, Denmark banned ashwagandha‑containing products as food supplements in 2023, citing potential thyroid and reproductive‑system effects. These regulatory actions reflect a growing consensus that certain parts of the plant, especially the leaves, carry a higher risk profile than the roots.

The core of this concern lies in the chemical composition of ashwagandha’s different plant parts. The leaves contain notably higher levels of reactive withanolides, particularly withaferin‑A, which is a more cytotoxic and potentially hepatotoxic compound. Studies from phytochemical and toxicology research show that leaves and stems often accumulate several‑fold more withaferin‑A than roots, while roots contain a different mix of withanolides such as withanolide A and withanone, which are generally associated with more favourable neuroprotective and adaptogenic effects. This does not mean the roots are inert; they still contain some of these reactive withanolides, albeit at lower concentrations and in a more balanced profile. The practical implication is that leaf‑based products are likely to expose consumers to a higher load of potentially toxic compounds, which is why regulators have moved to restrict or ban their use in food and supplements.

Given this background, the question naturally arises whether ashwagandha root preparations themselves should be treated with caution. The evidence suggests that they should be. While root extracts are generally considered safer than leaf‑based ones, they are not entirely risk‑free. Modern clinical trials and safety reviews indicate that standard doses of root extract—typically in the range of about 300–600 mg per day, standardized to around 5–10% withanolides for a few weeks to a few months—can be well tolerated in many healthy adults. However, data on long‑term use are limited, and there are well‑documented case reports of liver injury linked to ashwagandha products, even when only the roots were used. These cases underscore that “natural” does not automatically mean “harmless,” and that dose, duration, and individual susceptibility all matter.

Liver‑related adverse effects are one of the most serious risks associated with ashwagandha. The signs of liver damage are similar to those seen with other drug‑induced liver injuries and typically appear weeks to a few months after starting the supplement. Early warning symptoms include persistent fatigue, loss of appetite, nausea, and a feeling of being generally unwell. More specific signs are jaundice—yellowing of the skin or the whites of the eyes—often accompanied by dark‑coloured urine and sometimes pale or clay‑coloured stools. Pain or a feeling of heaviness in the upper right abdomen, just under the ribs, can also occur. In documented cases, blood tests reveal elevated liver enzymes (ALT, AST), increased bile‑duct markers (ALP, GGT), and raised bilirubin, reflecting a cholestatic or mixed pattern of liver injury. Importantly, these changes often improve after stopping ashwagandha, reinforcing the need for prompt recognition and discontinuation.

Because of these risks, anyone using ashwagandha root supplements should take a cautious, informed approach. It is wise to avoid very high doses or prolonged continuous use without medical supervision, especially if there is any pre‑existing liver condition, fatty liver, or ongoing treatment with other medications that can affect the liver. People with pregnancy, breastfeeding, autoimmune disorders, or thyroid disease should also be particularly cautious, since ashwagandha can influence hormone pathways and interacting with thyroid medications. Before starting or continuing any ashwagandha regimen, discussing the dose and formulation with a healthcare provider and, if possible, checking baseline liver‑function tests are prudent steps. If symptoms such as jaundice, dark urine, persistent nausea, or right‑upper‑abdominal pain appear, ashwagandha should be stopped immediately and medical evaluation sought. In this regulatory and safety context, the plant’s traditional benefits need to be weighed against its potential risks, with an emphasis on using root‑based preparations in moderate, time‑limited doses rather than as indefinite, high‑intensity supplements.