Returning to the Roots: An Ayurvedic Summer in Pune

This summer, during our trip to Pune, I was invited to speak at Savitribai Phule University on the topic of my Ayurvedic approach in the West. I was slightly surprised when I first received the invitation—after all, my audience would be Ayurvedic professionals in India, many of whom have gone through rigorous, hands-on training, sometimes even growing herbs and preparing decoctions as part of their education. Could I really add value? They persuaded me that they were deeply interested in how I approached my practice.

When I spoke, I shared something simple: my small garden where I grow a few herbs in pots, and my approach of understanding foods that grow locally, whether by following what appears at the farmers’ market or reviewing seasonal charts from the state where my client lives. These details make a tremendous difference. 

Food has always been close to my heart. I often joke that I am a kitchen connoisseur, but the truth is that cooking and local food sourcing are practices of love for me. They help me connect classical Ayurvedic principles with real life. The joy of cooking and tasting has supported my study of herbs and produce in a personal way. Over time, my lived experience with ingredients began to align with the teachings described in the classical texts. During my Ayurvedic studies, my weekly farmers’ market visits and curiosity about everything that grows locally in the Bay Area became an integral part of my pedagogy.

During COVID, one of my greatest joys was simply going to the grocery store to buy vegetables. It was such a mundane task, yet it awakened childhood memories of watching my grandparents and parents select produce with great care. There is an art to choosing vegetables. For example, when buying large eggplants for roasting, you have to feel them—gently press them, and when you lift them, they shouldn't be very heavy. The heavier ones often contain matured seeds, and my grandfather would warn that this could trigger itching in some people. I remembered this advice from my grandfather from my childhood, and saw it happen to a cousin every time she ate a matured eggplant, and also saw this cousin be fine with young eggplants. It wasn’t until I studied Ayurveda that I understood the logic: vegetables with matured seeds—eggplant, opo, even okra at times—are overly ripened, and therefore pitta aggravating. Pitta aggravation is correlated with skin sensitivity, which my grandfather had observed. I often suggest an experiment to clients who feel itchy after eating eggplant: try selecting one without seeds and see if you still react.

My talk at Savitribai Phule University was essentially about embracing local rhythms. When practicing Ayurveda in the West, the approach naturally differs from India—or any other country—because the first step is understanding the land itself:

What grows here?

What do people eat?

What is familiar to their bodies?

What are their bodies habituated to?

I spoke about this, about my small backyard plants, and about how understanding local foods helps me meet patients where they are.

Initially, I assumed nothing I said would be new to the professionals in the room. But my audience wasn’t made up of Ayurvedic practitioners alone. Savitribai Phule University has an innovative integrative science department, where researchers from diverse fields—statisticians, pharmacists, and other domain experts—come together to explore Ayurveda collaboratively. They bring their expertise into the Ayurvedic context and work with the Government of India on new research initiatives funded by the AYUSH ministry. 

As I spoke about truly understanding plants, listening to them, and recognizing that healing arises from our relationship with them—almost like sending a love letter across continents—it resonated deeply. I emphasized that a practitioner is a bridge: clinical wisdom plus love for the plants becomes the medicine.

I shared the story of a client—one of the most personal and transformative stories for me— where a client overcame depression from miscarriage after planting and nurturing a tulsi sapling. In her healing, I experienced my own. In Ayurveda, the healing journey often feels intertwined; we work through karma together. I am responsible for the client’s wellbeing, and in turn, they help me grow through my own inner work. And nature is our mighty ally in Ayurveda. I noticed that the room was moved, and I was definitely emotional sharing some of these stories, and then hearing from the participants about their own deep connection with plants.

As I walked out of the room, I felt grateful. What I had initially dismissed as too simple was exactly what needed to be said. Ayurveda is not only a system of medicine, it is a relationship with life. Sometimes a small garden, a single herb in a clay pot, or the act of picking vegetables with presence can bring us back to that truth.