Kurukshetra on Your Plate: Escaping the Food Chakravyuha
In the great Indian epic Mahabharata, Abhimanyu knew how to enter the deadly Chakravyuha, a seven-layered spiral war formation designed so that once you go in, you almost never come out. On the 13th day of the Kurukshetra war, with Arjuna lured away, the Kauravas used this formation to trap the Pandavas; the only one who knew how to break into it was young Abhimanyu, who had learned the entry technique in his mother’s womb but never the way out. He still chose to enter, fought through layer after layer of enemies, and was finally surrounded and killed when no support could reach him. A warrior who could enter the maze, but not escape it.
Today, we are Abhimanyu in a new kind of Chakravyuha. The food Chakravyuha. Burgers, instant noodles, frozen parathas, packaged namkeens, sugary drinks, ready-to-eat curries, and app-delivered desserts promised to “save time” and “simplify life.” We stepped in eagerly, but like that war formation, this maze slowly closed around us. We traded hot phulkas for plastic-wrapped bread, fresh poha and idli for sugary breakfast cereals, and hand-cooked sabzi for deep-fried frozen snacks.
The result is brutal. Diabetes, obesity, and heart disease are exploding in India, striking people younger than ever before, closely linked to ultra-processed, high-sugar, high-fat foods. We saved minutes in the kitchen, only to spend hours in hospital queues and on lifelong medications.
Our ancestors had a different map. A simple home-cooked thali with roti or rice, dal, seasonal sabzi, a bit of ghee, curd or buttermilk, and pickle gave balanced carbs, proteins, good fats, fiber, and fermented foods that supported gut health and immunity. They knew when to fast, when to feast, and which herbs and spices healed.
The exit from this modern Chakravyuha is not another “instant fix” but a quiet return:
Swapping - packaged snacks for nuts, fruits, and homemade chivda.
Replacing - sugary drinks with nimbu pani, buttermilk, or plain water.
Choosing - simple dal-chawal, khichdi, idli, upma, or roti-sabzi over app-ordered junk most days.
Abhimanyu’s story reminds us what happens when we only know how to enter a trap, not how to leave it. This time, unlike him, we still have a choice. The way out begins in our kitchens, on our plates, and in the courage to walk back to the roots we almost forgot.