In India, central and state governments have introduced countless schemes to reduce hunger and malnutrition. On the one hand, we have the vast network of the Public Distribution System and on the other–on the food production side–there exist various schemes which help small farmer communities with soil and water conservation, minor irrigation and related works.

Unfortunately, corruption—systemic and across various levels—often takes away a significant share of the benefits that people can get from these schemes. To counter and minimise the possibilities of this corruption, several social movements and organisations have emerged. These efforts received significant support when the Right to Information (RTI) legislation was enacted in India in 2005 at the national level. But even before this legislation, a few states had introduced their own RTI laws–like Rajasthan, which passed the Rajasthan Right to Information act in 2000. Though the RTI has been widely recognised as a crucial democratic right, its contributions to (and potential for) reducing hunger are not realised as widely.

This has much to do with the early beginnings of the RTI movement in India and its connection to grassroot struggles. This story starts where the RTI movement took birth: Rajasthan. The Mazdoor Kisan Shakti Sangathan (MKSS) had been working for the realisation of the legal wage rights of workers in drought-affected areas of the state. Whether a worker’s family would be able to eat food the next day depended on the breadwinner being paid their proper wages in time. It was in the course of these battles that the RTI’s power became evident.

More specifically, the MKSS workers and other activists understood that for such problems, it is vital to obtain official records on certain data, such as the number of workers employed at relief works, wages paid and works completed. With this information, it then becomes possible to make on-site inquiries in villages and compare this reality with the official records, to find out the pattern and extent of corruption and misappropriation of funds.

Also read: Hunger traps migrant workers in cycle of exploitation

Jan sunwais

Even before the RTI law had been passed in Rajasthan, MKSS activists had started informally obtaining essential information from the authorities on the basis of how ethically driven their efforts were. They employed the same approach of comparing official records to the starkly different on-ground reality, which prompted village communities to start organising public hearings (jan sunwais), with the help of the MKSS and related organisations.

At these jan sunwais, all the newly learnt facts and disparities were placed before the people of the village as well as eminent panelists. Those accused of corruption were also invited and given an opportunity to present their points of view. So effective were these community-level interventions that in places like Surajpura in Ajmer district, the accused agreed, right during the hearing, to return the pilfered resources–that could be used again for development tasks.

In the Kot Kirana village of Rajasthan’s Pali district, the public hearing revealed official records showing that villagers involved in the construction of minor irrigation works had received their wages–but in reality, they never did. Additionally, it was discovered that the construction itself was so poor that it was washed away in the subsequent bout of rains. The next public hearing at Rajsamand district’s Bhim Tehsil revealed that a huge payment worth Rs 30 lakh had been made to a fraudulent company–a non-entity that was merely a bank account made in the name of an official’s wife.

In Alwar, a public hearing revealed that unfair means had been used to grab fertile land –which was producing food crops–to set up a polluting unit for producing liquor. In the Janawad panchayat of Rajsamand district, a public hearing revealed corruption of Rs 45 lakh in the previous five to six years. The government then found itself pressured to order an official inquiry in the panchayat. Soon, it was discovered that from a total allocation of Rs 123 lakhs during a six year period, Rs 67 lakhs–over 50% of the allocation–had been lost to corruption and misappropriation. What’s more, as many as 49 development works out of the 141 that were examined by the official inquiry simply did not exist.

Also read: On the deadly cost of farmer debts

Ripple effects

Over the course of time, the public became aware about how funds reserved specifically for certain purposes, such as paying wages to workers, providing irrigation, water conservation and drinking water works, were simply not reaching the beneficiaries. These revelations, underscored by fact and detail, caught the eye of the media, resulting in greater pressure on the authorities to reduce corruption. At the same time, the movement pushing for a national-level legislation on RTI also gathered momentum.

Once the act was passed in 2005, several other organisations —now strengthened by a new law—also took up similar work.In Delhi, the Satark Nagrik Sangathan (SNS) had been working with the city’s slum settlements since 2003, and within two years, they were able to use the RTI effectively to improve the Public Distribution System in several of these areas inhabited by the capital’s marginalised population.

SNS first obtained information related to stock sales registers maintained by ration shops; by then studying and comparing these documents, they exposed the extent of diversion of food grain to the black market. In time, black-marketing reduced and the residents of these settlements started receiving ration more regularly.

Several single women, elderly persons and disabled people also faced difficulties in receiving their rations regularly. RTI activists’ fights also proved helpful for them.

Also read: This farmer collective is fighting for a fairer organic future

Potential unrealised

Strong, impactful movements like these could have been imagined and executed at the national level, but this progress has been hindered by problems related to the very implementation of the RTI law–which has steadily grown weaker with time, in several parts of the country.

This is partly due to a few legislative changes, and partly because the many vacancies existing in Information Commissions have not been filled. In many instances, applicants do not get proper information when filing an RTI, and when they appeal against this as per the provisions of the law, their appeals are often massively delayed, because there are a large number of appeals already pending in the Information Commission–due to the unavailability of information commissioners and the other important staff.

This is extremely unfortunate, as effective use of RTI can help make significant improvement in important schemes, including various works taken up under National Rural Employment Guarantee Law (NREGA); this is apart from improving the implementation of various food and nutrition schemes. All of these efforts, in turn, contribute to reducing hunger and malnutrition in the country.

While improving the implementation of RTI law is a wide democratic issue, the law’s specific, important contribution to reducing hunger and malnutrition should also be highlighted. This powerful purpose only strengthens the case for better, more effective implementation of RTI.

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Editor’s note: As a child, the experience of tasting different foods for the first time can feel primal—etched into the senses and memory. To an infant or toddler, nothing is as sweet as a ripe mango, or as tart as a squeezed lime. In the following excerpt from ‘Adukkala: Tales and Cuisine from the Kitchens of North Malabar’ by visual artist Bara Bhaskaran, a child’s hunger and curiosity prompt them to take a bite of raw elephant taro or Mundya—a plant whose stem and leaves are known to punish eaters with lingering stings. Will the child regret this discovery or cherish it in the years to come?

I stood up holding the door and pulled it open. Tender sunlight tumbled inside laughing, an invite to step out. Had barely learned to be on my feet. No wait, I could toddle. A belly crawl and then shuffle and stretch to latch on to the door. Waist bells tinkled. Steps, I could get down on all fours. Ahead, a long veranda. Elevated, made of cement, smooth. Moving sideways, holding on to the wall, led to a bathroom door. Inside, a hearth where a copper cauldron sat cavernous like hell. Water in it hot. But the pot couldn’t be scaled. Only if I could get down the steps. On my feet, impossible. I spread myself, stretching the legs on to the steps. A crawl down all three of them, on my knees. On the side of the bathroom drain stood the Mundya, an elephant taro, towering with massive leaves and stems. Leaves, dark green with veins. Watery and glazed, the light green stems looked bewitching in the sun. Laid supine and tilted while being bathed, I had pined for them. Lifting myself up wouldn’t do; I was now upright, gripping a Mundya stem. A hen on the black humid soil in its shade strutted away cackling with chicks and gawked at me jerking its neck with half-open beak. Except for them, not a soul was around. Sunlight and breeze tickled me together, laughing. I felt famished! The hunger was unbearable! Dark green leaves, glassy-green limbs! There was no one outside. On my toes, I grabbed the Mundya stem and pulled. Two thick pieces of leaf, a fistful, came off. The mouth opened wide to stuff them in and a torrent-like a scream birthed itself. The mouth stung, prickled, roasted! The house stood up on its feet, shook itself and settled. In a single leap, I was ejected to a sun-lit courtyard. Fire-drops filled the eyes. Someone held me, hearing the terrible screams. Who poured coconut oil into my mouth?

Through its viscousness, flowed screams and water breaching dykes. Both my hands were clawing the thighs. I was aflame and shrieking as if everything was being burnt down and pulled apart. Drooling, mewling, trotting under the sun, the scream show lasted many hours.

That child hollering from under the sun is my first memory. Nothing exists before that. All that I narrated here was aided by skills of mind, merging figments of imagination and memory. The door and the steps, the up and down climbs are all cut-up fragments of cloth, stitched around a scream.

It is from a time when I was a toddler and used to stay at the house of an uncle. The Mundya stood next to the bathroom of the house. It stayed in memory because its leaves were the first meal I had. For me it isn't just the first memory of hunger, it's my first ever memory. I have no recollection of anything before that. A memory that preludes it is a darkness that permeates the kitchen. A cat sleeping on the hearth, covered in ash. Nothing more.

Mundya koottukari

People carrying flaming torches made of dried coconut leaves walked helter-skelter but no fire mishap was reported even in summer nights. The story of the demonised elephant taro is similar. The leaves, stem and even the root of the incredible Mundya have the annoying ability to cause itching. Despite this, the entire village relished the ‘koottukari’ (mixed vegetable and legume curry) made with Mundya. No one felt the itch. 

A mature root, when dug up and peeled, is around four to five feet long. It has the appearance of the trunk of an areca palm, and inside, the redness of elephant yam. It may have reached north Malabar via the Konkan route. I have not come across giant Mundya roots being cooked anywhere. The Mundya ‘koottukari’ is often made during events where a large number of people assemble, like Theyyam rituals, weddings and the ceremonial feast called ‘Adiyanthiram’, held a few days after someone dies.

Koottu

• Mundya diced into cubes
• Raw banana diced into cubes
• Black chickpeas (small) soaked overnight

Peel the Mundya root and leave it to dry for four to five days. The three main ingredients—Mundya, raw banana and chickpeas—need to be cooked separately. While the Mundya cubes are cooked with salt, turmeric and tamarind water in a large cauldron, the raw banana and chickpeas are cooked with salt and turmeric. The cubes of Mundya are then transferred to a special wooden vessel called ‘mari’ and mashed lightly using a mallet. The mashing process is repeated after adding cubes of raw banana.

Dry round chillies and coriander seeds are toasted in coconut oil and powdered. They are then mixed with pepper, garlic, ginger, cumin seeds, green chillies and freshly grated coconut, and coarsely crushed on a grinding stone. Coconut oil is poured into a large ‘uruli’ (flat cooking vessel made of bronze) and tempered with mustard seeds when the oil turns hot. The coarsely ground coconut mix is added to the oil. Tip in boiled chickpeas and the mashed pieces of Mundya and raw banana. The curry is stirred with a large wooden ladle till it boils and everything merges together. It is then checked for salt and transferred to the wooden vessel.

Flakes of dried coconut and curry leaves fried in coconut oil are lavishly spread on the curry which is then covered with banana leaves. When it is time to serve, pour in some coconut oil and stir.

No one had fertilised the Mundya plant that stood in a corner of the courtyard. Yet it grew towering over the place like a giant. It fed hundreds of people in a village who cooked it collectively. None of them ever felt an itch.

An excerpt from Adukkala, tales and cuisine from the kitchens of north Malabar by Bara Bhaskaran, published by Manorama Books. Translation by Binu Karunakaran.

Hidden from the spotlight, this place is a treasure trove of indigenous wisdom. Inside the modest kitchen of a mud home in Gudiyapadar village in Chhattisgarh’s Bastar district, something beyond the usual utensils draws the visitor’s attention. Rows of dried corn hang from the ceiling, with kernels carefully stored in bamboo baskets and spread across supas (flat bamboo trays) used for winnowing paddy to separate the grain from the chaff. Alongside the corn, dried bitter gourd and mushrooms also make their presence known.

Gudiyapadar is a scenic village inside the Kanger Valley National Park, known for its caves, the Bastar hill mynah and the Tirathgarh Waterfall. Its Gond tribal residents originally came from the Sukma district in Chhattisgarh, about 131 km away, and settled here about two decades ago. In 2022, the village was granted the Community Forest Resource Rights under the Forest Rights Act of 2006. The provision ensures its residents enjoy full ownership and management rights over forest resources. 

As Sukka Markam shows us around his spacious kitchen, he explains the age-old practice of drying food for long-term storage. “All of us here dry bamboo shoots, mushrooms, tomatoes, bitter gourds and corn so that they can be consumed throughout the year,” he says. Even chicken is dried, lasting up to three to four months. “We roast it over the fire and store it,” Markam explains. Other dried foods can be preserved for nearly a year. When seasonal vegetables are scarce or missing from haats (weekly tribal markets), these dried ingredients step in, cooked just like regular sabzi.”

Seated on the floor, Markam says that the drying process is popular in all tribal villages of Bastar. If the sun's rays are strong, mushrooms can be dried within a day. For other vegetables, more time is needed.

Also read: Dried to last

A few decades back, certain food items were available only seasonally. So, drying ensured their consumption throughout the year.

Rupendra Kavi, a government official working for the Chhattisgarh Tribal Research and Training Institute, has been closely studying Bastar’s tribal culture for years. He explains that food drying is a traditional technique extant among tribals. “A few decades back, certain food items were available only seasonally. So, drying ensured their consumption throughout the year.” 

Bastar has seen significant change in recent years, with a growing influx of tourists drawn to its natural beauty. As a result, a variety of foods are now easily available in the markets. “But in remote villages where roads are scarce, the story is different,” says Kavi. During the heavy monsoon season, these areas turn inaccessible, making dried foods a lifeline for tribal families.

Also read: The surprising culinary uses of jasmine flower

Enjoying dried mushrooms

In the villages of Achanakmar Tiger Reserve, 462 km from Bastar, the prized Pihiri mushroom is foraged and sun-dried during the rainy season. At a tribal home, a man crafts a bamboo chalni, used for roasting these mushrooms, which, Markam notes, is a traditional instrument resembling one used in Bastar too.

Forest guard Brijbhushan Manikpuri mentions that sun drying and roasting of mushrooms are common throughout this tiger reserve, which shares a border with the Kanha Tiger Reserve in Madhya Pradesh. “The locals collect the mushrooms in huge quantities. While some amount is sold to traders at high prices, a substantial quantity is stored in the dried form. When people run out of veggies, they consume mushrooms.” 

Also read: Foraging in Bengaluru: A source of sustenance, flavour

Tribal communities dry various foods in the winter season… It is common to find sun-dried tamarind and roselle on the roofs of village homes. Apart from sun drying, smoke-drying fish, meat, and corn is also common.

Bhubaneswar-based chef Rachit Kirteeman occasionally experiments with tribal food. He once organised a pop-up in Kolkata featuring the red ant chutney; though popular in Bastar, Mayurbhanj has received the Geographical Indication tag for this product. “Tribal communities dry various foods in the winter season… It is common to find sun-dried tamarind and roselle on the roofs of village homes. Apart from sun drying, smoke-drying fish, meat, and corn is also common. Pork is cleaned and cut into small pieces. After that, the pieces are put on a bed of hay and slowly burnt. Sometimes, the pieces are either attached to a bamboo structure, under which a fire is lit for slow searing, or they are put on a mud chulha and kept in the sun for a few days,” Kirteeman explains. This is somewhat similar to drying mushrooms in Achanakmar, where chalnis are used inside rooms.

In the popular Bastar dish chaur bhaja—a rice and chicken preparation—the whole, skinned chicken is fire-roasted, cut into pieces, and cooked with rice and a few spices. “Food drying is common among all tribal communities in Bastar,” says Baliram Nag, a Dhurwa tribesman working with the Chhattisgarh State Renewable Energy Development Agency. It also prevents wastage when there is excess food.

Richness of tribal kitchens

Botanist Geetanjali Singh, an assistant professor at Dr. Shyama Prasad Mukherjee University’s Botany Department in Ranchi, Jharkhand, is immersed in the scientific study of mushrooms. “We’re working on their identification because many species share similar colours and features but are entirely different,” she explains. “Tribals, however, never get it wrong, thanks to traditional knowledge passed down through generations.”

This expertise was echoed by two female tribal guards in Kanha during a foot trail. They shared how locals instinctively avoid poisonous varieties, a skill sharpened by ancestral wisdom.

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Singh, who also studies traditional food preservation techniques, highlights the nutritional richness of tribal cuisine. Beyond mushrooms, she’s particularly fascinated by tender bamboo shoots. “During the early monsoon, bamboo shoots—locally known as kareil—are plentiful and cherished in tribal kitchens,” she says. “They’re a seasonal delicacy, enjoyed fresh or preserved in various forms.”

Fresh kareil shoots are often prized in their fermented form, sandhna, known for their distinctive sour flavour. Widely used to make pickles, sandhna can also be sun-dried into haruwa. Once rehydrated, haruwa is cooked with tomato paste and leafy greens, adding both variety and nutrition to tribal meals.

“Since kareil is available only during the monsoon, preservation techniques like fermentation and sun drying ensure its availability year-round,” Singh explains. “This method isn’t just for bamboo shoots. Leafy greens, flowers, tubers, and forest fruits are all preserved through sun drying, helping maintain nutritional security during off-seasons.”

Singh, who practices food drying at home, recalls how even cauliflower was once boiled, sun-dried, and stored for future use. Dried leafy greens, she notes, are sometimes ground into powder for easy consumption. But this traditional knowledge, she warns, is fading. “With greater market access and the rise of modern packaged foods, it’s disappearing. Readymade noodles, chips, cakes, and biscuits are now found in every village.”

Kirteeman adds that Indian chefs aren’t tapping into the potential of food drying. “European restaurants serve aged beef steaks, but in India, this technique remains underexplored.” Perhaps it’s time, he suggests, to revive and experiment with the rich preservation techniques hidden in India’s tribal kitchens before they’re lost.

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Ten years ago, organic food was a niche phrase in the country’s vocabulary.  Less than 1% of India’s agricultural land was sown for organic farming. By 2020, though, this number climbed to approximately 2% of India's 140.1 million hectares of net sown area. Slowly but certainly, the practice started to be discussed both in living rooms and in Parliament sessions. Many governmental programmes were introduced, bills were placed for policy consideration. But the transition to widespread adoption remains a challenge. Take the case of fertilisers, which prove to be both an essential necessity and cost to farming–both, conventional and organic farming.

For the financial year 2023-24, the government budgeted the total fertiliser subsidy at approximately Rs. 1.79 lakh crore. While chemical fertilisers receive substantial subsidies, natural or organic fertilisers do not receive similar privileges. Whether it’s about availing bank loans or getting fair compensation due to losses from natural calamities, organic farmers often get the short end of the stick.

A number of problems plague these farmers: a lack of subsidies, limited market accessibility, challenges in financing and a gap in policy implementation. But organic farming is important–not just to the environment, but to Indian farmers, too. Conventional agriculture hurts their soil and keeps their input costs at a constant high; moreover, organic produce can empower farmers to benefit from the premium prices that these products sell for.

So, what can organic farmers do about this?

The mission

In Tamil Nadu, there is a glimpse of the way forward. To address the challenges associated with organic farming and scale the practice altogether, a group of volunteers established a not-for-profit collective called the Tamil Nadu Iyarkai Velan Kootamaippu (TNIVK) in 2023. This collective, comprising civil society organisations, farmer producer groups, activists, seed conservators, and consumer organisations, is dedicated to mainstreaming organic farming in Tamil Nadu through government initiatives. 

Their efforts go beyond merely rejecting synthetic chemicals. In its one-and-a-half years of operation, the TNIVK has organised monthly organic markets in Chennai and Madurai, supported organic farmers affected by cyclone Fengal through crowdfunding and even conducted a one-month travel-based program to raise awareness among younger citizens about the seven agro-ecological landscapes in the state.

Tamil Nadu ranks 14th in organic production across India with a total output of 24,826 metric tons, which includes both farm and wild produce. For context, Madhya Pradesh produces the highest organically farmed produce in the country. In the year 2020–2021, Tamil Nadu exported 4,223 metric tons of organic products and generated a revenue of ₹108 crore. While there are clearly individual efforts across the state, there is a dire need to bring them all under a singular umbrella. That serves as the TNIVK’s mission. "Through our collective, we aim to bring together the decades of effort that has shaped the state's organic farming movement,” explains G Karthik, coordinator of the TNIVK.

Another hurdle is within the produce market. A significant portion of buyers still expects organic products to be priced similarly to conventional food items. Farmers relent, but the problem is that middlemen often end up reaping substantial profits in the process. “To address this issue and directly connect organic farmers with consumers, the government should designate public spaces, such as government school premises, to conduct Sunday markets in every district. Additionally, dedicated spaces should be allocated in Uzhavar Sandhais (farmers markets) for organic farmers to sell their produce,” suggests R Vetrimaran, a Dindigul-based organic farmer.

Watch: A beginner’s guide to growing organic food

Need for government participation

Perhaps one of the most significant aspects of the support that the TNIVK is rallying for, is alleviating the organic farmers’ financial problems. A study that looked at Wayanad’s organic farmers found that fluctuations in interest rates and the inadequacy of conventional financial support mechanisms are holding them back significantly.

The state government, alongside civil society and the private sector, can play a pivotal role in driving this transition through policies and effective implementation. "The organic farming movement in the state has stagnated now. Involving the government is necessary to push the upscale," states G Ananthoo, founder of the TNIVK.

Introducing traditional rice varieties and replacing palm oil with native oils like coconut oil in the breakfast and lunch schemes for children will ensure nutritional security.

Tamil Nadu recently launched the Organic Farming Policy, 2023 to promote chemical-free agriculture, a step that is meant to acknowledge the collective efforts of numerous organisations and individuals. However, the policy has been facing the heat from the organic farmer community. “The policy did not commit to any fixed targets,” explains Karthik, outlining one of the more significant concerns with the policy. “There is no action plan, no timeline and no vision.” While the state wants to focus on chemical-free agriculture, the policy does not reflect it adequately. “One of the biggest demands that the genetically modified seeds should be banned in the state was not incorporated in it either,” Karthik adds.

The collective is also urging the state government to procure millets and traditional rice for inclusion in school breakfast and lunch schemes. "The Tamil Nadu government is the largest provider of food in the state through the Public Distribution System (PDS), the Integrated Child Development Scheme (ICDS), breakfast and lunch schemes for children, and nutritional food kits for pregnant women,” says Karthik. By procuring 30% of its food essentials from organic farmers, as suggested by the collective, the government can open up the market for these farmers but not just that: it can successfully align with the state’s goal of providing safe food to its citizens–including children.

“Introducing traditional rice varieties and replacing palm oil with native oils like coconut oil in the breakfast and lunch schemes for children will ensure nutritional security,” Ananthoo says. Another one of the collective's goals is to integrate a curriculum on organic food in educational institutions that educates children about conscious eating and the disadvantages of processed foods.

Also read: Kerala collective leads the charge in organic rice farming

‘Include organic farming in the budget’

In the past year, the TNIVK has held multiple state level consultative meetings–along with their discussions, they collected powerful suggestions from 500 farmers, including: a scheme to establish community seed banks for traditional seeds, provide infrastructural subsidies to enhance access to organic input shops, and periodically incentivise organic farmers to deliver ecosystem services. The TNIVK then formed a drafting committee comprising organic farming experts. On January 6, the final recommendations were submitted to the chief secretary N Muruganandam, agricultural minister MRK Paneerselvam as well as the members of the agricultural department, seeking to incorporate it into the agricultural budget. The recommendations ranged from demanding a place in the agricultural budget to addressing water management and farm mechanisation. The final budget is awaited.

“The agricultural budget is not a unilateral exercise; inputs from organic farmers will also be incorporated into the final plan. Organic farming is gaining traction in the state, driven by community efforts such as TNIVK,” promises G Prakash, Principal Secretary to Government.

Organic farming aids in reducing carbon emissions, conserving biodiversity and enhancing soil sequestration. However, while chemical fertilisers receive substantial subsidies, natural fertilisers receive none.

TNIVK recommends that 30% of the total agricultural budget should be allocated to organic farming programs. This is a substantial increase from the previous year's allocation, which was less than 0.05% of the total agriculture budget. But consider that organic farming incurs higher costs at every stage. For instance, while conventional farmers use weedicides costing less than Rs 1,000 for three applications, organic farmers rely on manual labour, spending at least Rs 2,500 for a single day in the field on a 25-cent plot of land. “Using weedicides harms the soil. Aren’t we providing ecological services by avoiding them?” questioned R Vetrimaran.

“Organic farming aids in reducing carbon emissions, conserving biodiversity and enhancing soil sequestration. However, while chemical fertilisers receive substantial subsidies, natural fertilisers receive none,” says Jalakanteswar, an organic farmer from Ranipet.

Certain government schemes and subsidies provide in-kind support, such as seeds, but these may not align with the exact needs of organic farmers.  “For organic farmers, this support is of no use. Such policies need to be changed promptly,” Ananthoo says.

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In 2019, the leading international research journal Science reported‍ a rise in antimicrobial resistance (AMR) in central India. Two years later, the research platform Nature Communications identified wetlands in Kerala as emerging AMR hotspots. However, both studies were based on meta-analyses (a process that compares data from independent studies to draw broad conclusions) or indirect data. Researchers were left puzzled: there really wasn’t enough comprehensive ground-level data to validate these conclusions.

This gap in data motivated a team from the Drug Safety Division of the Indian Council of Medical Research (ICMR) – National Institute of Nutrition in Hyderabad, led by Dr Shobi Veleri, to investigate the prevalence of AMR in poultry.

In 2022, the team launched a study focusing on two states: Telangana and Kerala. The recently published research report revealed that the antimicrobial resistance profile in poultry in central and southern India is evolving with distinct features, thus validating the reports published by the international journals.

However, it stated that the severity of AMR profiles in the samples was relatively lesser than those seen in the poultry from the European Union (EU). AMR profiles from the Indian states have not evolved to the extent seen in poultry farms of the European Union (EU). “This suggests that India still has an opportunity to contain the AMR in poultry by putting in place stringent regulations,” says Dr Veleri, in an exclusive interview with GFM.

He also cautions that many farm owners are unaware of the risks of AMR. “Inadequate regulatory supervision contributes to the indiscriminate use of antibiotics. Overcrowding in farms and inadequate biosecurity protocols allow resistant bacterial strains to spread quickly in poultry populations.”

Edited excerpts from the interview:

How did you go about conducting the research?

We collected fresh, warm stool samples from poultry farms in Telangana during July and August 2022, and from Kerala during September and October 2022. Three samples were collected from each farm, separated by at least 3 km. We took a total of 240 faecal samples from 85 poultry farms. As many as 38 of them were located in Telangana, while the remaining 47 were from Kerala. Adhering to the international practice of masking the identity of individual farms, the samples were pooled zone wise. Kerala had three zones: north, middle and south. Telangana had three major mandals surrounding the Hyderabad metropolitan area, which has a large congregation of poultry farms. From the stool, genomic DNA was isolated and genome sequencing was done on an advanced automatic sequencing machine. The output data was analysed by a computer-based programme to avoid human interference.

The study was done by a four-member team from the Drug Safety Division of the ICMR - National Institute of Nutrition from Hyderabad, led by me. Ajmal Aseem, Prarthi Sagar, and N Samyuktha Kumar Reddy were the other members in the team.

What were your major findings from this process?

We identified over 169 distinct AMR genes from the samples. This included high priority pathogens such as E.coli, Enterococcus faecalis, Klebsiella pneumonia, Salmonella typhimurium, Staphylococcus aureus, Pseudomonas aeruginosa, which cause abdominal infections, respiratory tract infections (pneumonia, bronchitis), and urinary tract infections. Notably, southern India exhibited a significantly higher number of resistance genes, compared to central India.

What explains this prevalence of AMR genes in poultry?

All organisms have strong survival instincts. Bacteria, too, have an incredibly fast system to develop resistance against antibiotics that threaten their existence. The more the use of antibiotics, the more chances the bacteria will have to evolve resistance genes.

Antibiotics are used indiscriminately in poultry farms because of the inadequate regulatory supervision. We realised that many farm owners are unaware of the risks of AMR. What compounds the problem is the overcrowding in farms and inadequate biosecurity protocols, which allow resistant bacterial strains to spread quickly in the poultry population.

Environmental factors, too, play a crucial role. Improper disposal of animal waste often leads to the contamination of water sources, which introduces AMR bacteria into the food chain. The proximity of poultry farms to human settlements increases the risk of contact transmission.

How can AMR bacteria spread to humans and the extended environment?

Like most infectious diseases, AMR bacteria can spread through contact: animals to humans and humans to humans. AMR bacteria can also enter the environment through the faeces of humans or animals. A common route for bacterial contamination of the food chain is from faeces via soil to water–and ultimately, the bacteria reaches animals and humans.

Properly cooked food and meat generally degrade 95% of the contaminated bacteria and the DNA in them, except some spore-forming ones. So, avoiding chicken meat is not a solution against the threat of AMR.

The best option is to reduce indiscriminate use of antibiotics.

Also read: The looming crisis of post-antibiotic era

Your study mentions that “the samples exhibited a higher prevalence of gram-negative and anaerobic species”. What does this mean?

Our samples had 44% gram-negative, such as E.coli, Bacteriodes fragiles, Klebsiella pneumonia, Pseudomonas aeruginosa; and 79% of species were anaerobic, such as Clostridium perfringens, Enterococcus faecium, Staphylococcus aureus. Gram-negative bacteria have an extra layer of cell membrane protection: it’s almost like a helmet which protects your head during bike rides. These gram-negatives, upon acquiring AMR genes, get double protection against antibiotics–making it very difficult to kill them via antibiotics. If they evolve to overcome treatment options, we will be facing a serious health hazard.

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The study states that “the severity of AMR in Telangana and Kerala is lesser than European Union.” Does this mean that it’s safer to consume chicken meat in India than in the EU?

We inferred that the severity of AMR profiles in the samples was relatively lesser than those seen in the poultry from the European Union (EU). This is because we could not detect the recently-evolved AMR gene mcr-1, which is resistant to Colistin (a last-resort antibiotic on the World Health Organization’s essential list of medicines to treat AMR) and another newly-evolved resistance gene optrA in our samples. These genes are commonly found in AMR-affected poultry in the EU.

Additionally, the qnr gene, commonly found in the EU, was found at much lower levels in Southern Indian samples. So, AMR profiles from Kerala and Telangana poultry farms have not evolved to the extent seen in poultry farms in the EU. This might be because Indian farmers started using antibiotics much later than their counterparts in the EU. This suggests that India still has an opportunity to contain AMR by putting in place stringent regulations.

How serious is the situation?

AMR is an emerging global threat to the healthcare sector because [if this continues] we will run out of effective antibiotics to treat diseases in humans and animals. The World Health Organization has considered AMR among the top priority in its ‘Sustainable Development Goals’ under the ‘One Health’ practices and principles. The data indicates that AMR genes are in an alarming condition, at least in some regional hotspots in poultry farms. If we miss this opportunity to control its spread, we will be in for a huge health crisis. The findings underscore the urgent need for reducing indiscriminate use of antibiotics through proper stewardship, enhanced biosecurity monitoring measures–and targeted public health interventions to mitigate the growing threat of AMR in poultry as well as its spillage to other organisms.

Also read: What’s lurking in your chicken dinner?

Is it possible to completely avoid the use of antibiotics in the poultry industry?

While it is challenging to completely avoid the use of antibiotics in the poultry industry or any sector for that matter, it is possible to significantly reduce our reliance on them through improved hygienic animal husbandry practices. It is time the poultry industry utilised alternatives to antibiotics, such as vaccines, peptides, and bacteriophages, etc.

‍Also read: How bacteria evolve and survive antibiotics

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In Pune and some surrounding areas of Maharashtra, 140 cases of Guillain-Barré Syndrome (GBS)—a rare but treatable neurological disorder—have been reported over the last two weeks. GBS is an autoimmune disorder, causing one’s immune system to attack the body’s peripheral nerves. It is triggered by certain infections or illnesses. What this means is that, of a large group of people who have suffered an infection caused by particular bacteria or viruses, a small fraction will find that as they are recovering, their immune system mistakes their own nerve cells for pathogens, and attacks them.

Signs and symptoms

The initial symptoms include fever and diarrhoea, just like other commonplace infections. A few different bacterial or viral pathogens can cause the infections that lead to GBS–including Cytomegalovirus, Dengue virus, Influenza virus, Japanese encephalitis virus, Chikungunya virus, Mycoplasma pneumoniae, Epstein-Barr virus. But research has shown that there is a dominant bacteria in most GBS cases: Campylobacter jejuni. This bacterium, commonly found in poultry and animal feces, triggers GBS through molecular mimicry—its components resemble parts of human nerve cells, causing the immune system to mistakenly attack the nerves. Campylobacter jejuni spreads through contaminated water, raw milk or contaminated meat that is consumed uncooked.

All of this happens post-infection. A few days later, symptoms brought on by this kind of bacterial infection will diminish, and lead to sudden weakness and loss of sensation in all four limbs. In severe cases, the condition can make it difficult to walk, swallow, or breathe.

The disorder progresses rapidly, worsening over hours, days, or even weeks until certain muscles stop functioning. Some cases are mild, causing only brief weakness, while others lead to complete paralysis, sometimes requiring respiratory support. GBS can also affect your autonomic nerves–these are basically nerves that control the automatic functions of your body like blood pressure, heart rate and digestion. In the few cases that this happens, symptoms like cardiac arrhythmias, blood control issues, digestion problems may arise. These symptoms can easily be mistaken for a different condition, so it’s important to take note of them. When GBS affects a patient’s autonomic nerves, it can be life-threatening–but these are severe cases, and thus rare.

Also read: What happens when you stop taking antibiotics midway

Diagnosis and recovery

GBS is a fast moving disease. Ninety percent of patients report being at their weakest by the third week of experiencing symptoms.

The key here, much like other diseases, is to get an accurate and early diagnosis. An infection isn’t cause for concern, but if it’s followed by the symptoms of GBS, one should see a doctor immediately. 

Once diagnosed, you do have a tough few weeks ahead of you. But it’s crucial to be monitored in a hospital facility, so that symptoms such as fluctuating blood pressure or breathing can be managed. Patients may need respiratory care, blood clot prevention and tube feeding, too.

There is no cure for this syndrome, but doctors usually employ a couple of therapies that can shorten recovery time.

One of them is a plasma exchange. A machine draws out your blood, separates the plasma from it, treats it and then returns the plasma to your body. It filters your plasma of the antibodies that are attacking your nerves. This treatment is fairly successful; it shortens recovery time for patients significantly and is considered generally safe.

The second significant therapy employed is intravenous immunoglobulin therapy (IVIG), which entails doctors injecting proteins that your immune system naturally makes to attach invading organisms–this essentially shushes the immune system, making it calm down and reducing attachment to the body. IVIG is most effective when administered early, ideally within the first two weeks of symptoms.

Also read: How bacteria evolve and survive antibiotics

The good news is that most people recover, even from the worst forms, though some may experience lingering weakness. In this way, GBS differs from other autoimmune diseases: it is not chronic, and it will not plague you for the rest of your life.

Though Guillain-Barré Syndrome is classified as rare, cases emerge periodically. In August 2023, around a dozen cases were reported in Mumbai, and another surfaced in Karnataka the same year. A similar outbreak was recorded in 2011 along the US-Mexico border, prompting an extensive epidemiological investigation. Researchers linked that outbreak primarily to contaminated drinking water. 

As news of Pune’s rising cases spread on social media, many recalled the 2011 Mexico outbreak, which was also caused by Campylobacter-contaminated water.

What you should do

Avoid relying on WhatsApp forwards, which tend to hastily spread misinformation. Instead, rely on official health advisories. Many internet users are linking the outbreak to being a side effect of the COVID-19 vaccine, but no such claims have been confirmed by the health department or experts.

The Guillain-Barré Syndrome can be severe – but there are precautions you can take. 

- Do not self-medicate: Avoid taking antibiotics without a doctor’s advice. If you experience symptoms, see a neurologist immediately
- Boil water before drinking
- Strictly avoid street food
- Wash fruits and vegetables thoroughly
- Cook your meats to a safe, consumable temperature
- Maintain strict hygiene—wash your hands frequently, do not share utensils or water bottles, and follow basic sanitation practices

As investigations continue, authorities and health experts urge the public to stay vigilant and prioritise water safety.

‍Government response

‍A hundred and forty cases in Maharashtra may look like a small number, but consider this: only about 0.3 per lakh cases of infection caused by Campylobacter jejuni turn into GBS. This is a commonplace bacterium, hence, and usually doesn’t cause much harm. This means that 130 cases of GBS must have been spurred from lakhs and lakhs of infections–pair this with the fact that most of the cases in Pune have been reported from the single region of Sinhagad, and this becomes a significantly large outbreak.

A Rapid Response Team has launched an epidemiological and sanitary survey in the affected areas in Pune. Water and food samples from Nanded and nearby regions are being collected and tested. According to Dr Nina Borade, Pune Municipal Corporation’s (PMC) health chief, the affected areas appear to share a common water source. Local residents have reported sewage accumulation near water pipelines. As a precaution, officials have recommended doubling the chlorine dosage in water supplies. Additionally, a ₹400-crore water treatment plant has been announced to upgrade the region’s water supply system.

Laboratory tests confirmed the presence of Campylobacter jejuni in stool samples. Dr Rajesh Karyakarte, Professor and Head of Microbiology at BJGMC, Pune, stated, “We need to inspect poultry and cattle sheds in these areas to determine whether water sources have been contaminated. This is a zoonotic infection, and contamination from animal waste must be investigated.”

While PMC is responding and collecting samples, experts do alert of some caution: GBS is usually very rare, so this scale of outbreak indicates some shift in how the bacteria and virus (norovirus, which can also cause GBS) is behaving. But there’s no evidence to show any mutation in these pathogens.

So, what’s happening, then?

A team at NIMHANS studied the impact of antecedent infections in GBS patients from 2014 to 2019. Among other observations, one stands out: in the study, co-infection by multiple pathogens was more common, seen in about 65% samples. This suggests a complex interplay among various bacteria and viruses can impact the risk of developing GBS.

Back in Pune, Dr Sameer Jog at Deenanath Mangeshkar Hospital and Research Centre holds a similar view, observing that a combination of infections have affected people plagued by GBS.

Overall, experts in Pune agree that the source of this outbreak can be mapped back to contaminated water. Though this is a developing story, new GBS cases have also been reported in other parts of the country. In Rajasthan, four cases have been confirmed, and all patients are undergoing treatment. Unfortunately, Kolkata, too, has reported two deaths caused by GBS. 

Agriculture is pivotal to the curriculum at Vidyakshetra, a Gurukul-inspired school in Bengaluru established in 2016. It imparts life lessons through direct experience. Tending to crops teaches children patience, perseverance, and the resilience to face growth and loss. Whether in moments of abundant harvest or unexpected setbacks, the students are taught enduring values with every seed sown and nurtured.

“Belagene kushi!” (Kannada for starting the day with joy)—that’s how Mohit, the agriculture teacher of Vidyakshetra, explains the enthusiasm of the children working on the school farm every morning. After the morning prayers and chanting, the students and teachers begin working with seeds, soil, natural fertilisers and pesticides. For the younger kids, between the ages of four and nine, it’s more of a play. They sing songs and get their hands and feet dirty, while for the elder ones—between the ages of 10 and 21—it’s serious business, as they are trained to think and act like farmers.

Kalindi (name changed on request), a 13-year-old student at the school, says, “I feel great satisfaction to see the seeds grow. Earlier, when our crops failed, I used to feel bad. Now, I will ask why they failed and what we can learn from this failure.” With this mindset of discovery and experimentation, children learn the play of the seasons, multi-layer farming or intercropping, permaculture, mulching, composting and more. They have discussions to decide when to plant and what to plant. If children who grow up in the cities are reluctant to touch mud, here, the children aren’t squeamish about making fertilisers using cow urine and cow dung. In fact, Vamana (name changed on request), a 12-year-old student, says he loves the process of making organic compost and natural fertilisers like Jeevamrutha, a manure made with ingredients like cow dung, cow urine, jaggery, pulse flour, soil, and water. The school’s goshala or cow shelter—currently home to a cow and a bull—enriches their farming experience by allowing the students to engage with farm animals and understand their role in local agricultural ecosystems.

Also read: Tarachand Belji is turning farmers into eco-warriors

‘Eat what you grow’

The pedagogy and curriculum are built on four pillars: the self and the family, society, environment and spirituality. The school blends traditional Indian learning with contemporary subjects. One will find children practising yoga, kalaripayattu and dances that focus on improving their inner vital energy. Then there is agriculture, handloom, house construction, pottery, weaving, and woodworking, which focus on working with the hands. The students’ intellects are stimulated through experiments in the sciences, derivations of mathematics, and concepts of economics delivered through the school's entrepreneurial initiatives. These initiatives include the school making products like handloom cloth, pickles, soaps and incense sticks as a community activity, in which teachers, parents and children participate. Additionally, children in classes 10 and 12 also prepare for The National Institute of Open Schooling examinations, which are equivalent to the other state or central board examinations taken across the country.

When we feel connected to something or someone, we don’t exploit them; instead, we treat them as part of ourselves and show them respect. A child who grows rice will not waste rice.

Children between the ages of four and 10 go on weekly nature walks for ‘prakriti parichaya’ or to understand nature. This constant exposure to nature, observing insects, the weather, flowers, animals and water bodies, allows them to appreciate the interconnectedness of everything and engage with nature more profoundly. “When we feel connected to something or someone, we don’t exploit them; instead, we treat them as part of ourselves and show them respect. A child who grows rice will not waste rice”, says Muneet Dhiman, founder of Vidyakshetra.

These tiny hands are trained to grow tomatoes, lady’s fingers, chillies, leafy greens, and small portions of grains like ragi and turmeric. Like professional organic farmers, they pluck their produce and give it to the school’s kitchen. The children get to eat what they produce. Having seen and participated in the growing process, they have a respectful relationship with food.

The kitchen at Vidyakshetra is fully organic and runs according to the principles of Ayurveda. Since the school farm can meet only a small portion of the needs of the 135-children-strong school plus its teaching community, the kitchen also sources vegetables and groceries from other organic farmers. But insistently, whatever goes on every child's plate is grown organically and sustainably. The teachers and parents of the school also come together to make Indian sweets and snacks for the school community once every month. Everything is made by hand in unrefined, cold-pressed oil or organic ghee.

Also read: Salomi’s green revolution starts in the classroom

A way of life

Kishore Chandra, a parent of two Vidyakshetra students, says they hardly order in food from outside, as they prefer to make everything at home. His 14-year-old daughter dabbles in the kitchen, making delicacies from scratch using homemade ingredients. The school’s philosophy of conscious consumption—‘making’ and ‘growing’ more than ‘buying’—seems to have become a larger way of life for its students.

Chandra’s son, in fact, wants to become a farmer, and the school is keen to support his interests. However, the rationale behind including agriculture in the curriculum is not necessarily to create farmers but to nurture individuals who can work with their hands, grow their own food, and work with nature rather than against it.

The children embody “nidhaana”—or “unhurried calm” in Kannada—which Mohit says is one of the most valuable lessons students take away from his krishi classes. But why should they slow down? “When they slow down, the learning becomes deeper,” says Dhiman. With more profound education comes “viveka” or wisdom—the discretionary power that constitutes well-rounded individuals.

Currently, Vidyakshetra has only 135 students, but it adds 15 to 20 students every year. The institute is not in a hurry to scale up. Instead, it focuses on supporting interested individuals who want to start Gurukul-based schools across the country. It aims to create 108 such schools in the next 20 years.

(Banner image: https://vidyakshetra.org/)

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Sarjapura, a small town in the suburbs of Bengaluru city, was once a green, harmonious belt – over 150 years ago, it sat as a long stretch dotted with small villages of the erstwhile Sarjapur Taluk, an area now called Anekal. Small as it was, this town hummed with activity; it was a trade centre for cloth, most famous for its muslin and variety of silks. Every Sunday, the Sarjapura town would hold a fair to display its linens, muslin, silks and even cotton carpets. 

The town thrived, away from Bengaluru city’s clamour–until private institutions started setting up tents. Brutal concrete buildings cropped up in open spaces, followed by sprawling closed gate townships. As the area developed, the monetary value of the land shot up. One by one, the local residents decided to put their land up for sale. It was lucrative, with Sarjapura being eyed as a prime location, until the government put a cap on the market price–a move that upset the farming land-owners, who could not earn as much on their prized patches. The erstwhile ragi fields of Sarjapura were followed by greenhouse sheds, and finally by tall, grey buildings that remained under construction for years.

And so, the green treasures of Sarjapura have quickly turned into a buzzing concrete jungle. This had ripple effects on the local residents. Their entire lifestyle changed–including their eating habits. One of these habits, lost in this gentrification, was foraging in the wild for plants like Arru Nela Danthu (a type of Amaranth), sweet potato, Gongura, and Garganakka (a local variety of Bhringraj). “Traditional lake beds used to be the most interesting places for foraging. The water brought a lot of seeds and vegetation diversity,” recalls Suresh Kumar G., an artist-cum-farmer from Sarjapura who loves food and finding it in the wild. Conditioned to say ‘I am going to the city’ while travelling to central Bengaluru, Kumar believes that if you stay in a village or in a forest and a city comes to you, you still have to call it a forest.

Six years ago, he realised that somewhere between his ancestors and him, he had forgotten how to identify plants by their names, their distinctive smells, or discern which parts of them can be used as food or medicine. To relearn the art of gathering the food at his feet, Kumar moved back to Sarjapura after living in central Bengaluru during his childhood years. Thus began his engagement with the local women here, who forage regularly. 

Typically, foraging is seen as an activity exclusive to forests and green pastures. Kumar sternly disagrees with the notion. In the countryside, a lot of the land is used for cultivation, which means that the soil is disturbed every now and then. Conservationists are also focused on saving the tree canopy, an approach that disregards grasslands and their biodiversity. Urban areas, thus, offer an environment that the countryside doesn’t.

Kumar has seen the rarest of things — such as red manathakkali (nightshade) and Kuppamenia (Indian Nettle) — while foraging for plants in urban areas. “Some of them survive on the highways because they are hardly disturbed,” he explains. “Six years on, I am still learning. Every time I step out to forage, I am surprised by something new,” remarks Kumar.

Also read: Mindful eating: A wellness tool, or trendy byte?

Back to roots

Foraging, which started out merely as a quest, has turned into a purpose for Kumar. To impart this knowledge further–especially to the younger generation, whom he believes to be the torchbearers of food’s future–Kumar has started conducting a course on foraging at Azim Premji University. During a recent session, Kumar and his students harvested and cooked rice with wild greens to serve to roughly a hundred people. Some greens left from the batch were packed and delivered to customers who buy produce from Kumar’s own farm as well as other nearby farms.

He points to the remnants: a mix of Gongura, spinach, mustard leaves, sweet potato creeper and manathakkali (black nightshade), noting that during monsoon, the variety of produce increases by a number of times. These are called wild edible plants or WEPs–plants with at least one edible component that grow in their natural environments without any human intervention. While Kumar and others like him forage for these plants on the side, WEPs are actually the primary source of sustenance for people in many regions of the world.

Also read: Salomi’s green revolution starts in the classroom

Kumar’s consumers often send him screenshots scanned by Google Lens claiming some of the plants – like Nightshades – he sent to them are poisonous. “That’s in the European context,” he clarifies, “Traditionally, Indians have been eating these species for a long time.” The absence of this traditional knowledge on the internet as well as among urban dwellers is the gap Kumar is hoping to narrow.

Alongside the packets of foraged plants, Kumar takes an extra step to share recipes on WhatsApp groups that champion these plants. The idea behind his work is to change people’s larger perspective on these wild edible plants. He refrains from seeing them as merely medicinal; instead, he wants people to inculcate the habit of foraging and eating wild plants in their daily lives. Just like their usual veggie fare.

The urbanscape

Bengaluru is rich with diverse botany, and many of the city’s residents have joyfully learnt to sift through it to gather food. One of them is Janet Orlene, a climate crisis documenter, who has been experimenting with foraging since she was a very young child. “In my mind, there's no clear beginning to this journey. From hunting for Singapore cherries to climbing star gooseberry trees or mango trees in the summer, my childhood was filled with adventures in foraging throughout,” she recalls.

I'm always fascinated by exotic garden plants whose edibility is often overlooked. It brings a smile to my face to see people hurriedly buying vegetables while their well-tended gardens are full of edible bounty.

During the pandemic, she experienced a more formal reintroduction to this way of collecting naturally growing foods around: something she now understands as "foraging”. The pandemic months were brutal on most, and boring on others. Orlene, like many, started exploring a new hobby. She embarked on a quest to understand edible flora in metropolitan cities. “I quickly compiled a database of over 500 species, researching their edibility through academic papers, ancient manuscripts, renowned encyclopedias from various eras – and, of course, (understood) the associated risks,” she elaborates. She wanted to learn about the taste profiles of the plants and their cooking possibilities, rather than the recipes themselves. “I'm always fascinated by exotic garden plants whose edibility is often overlooked. It brings a smile to my face to see people hurriedly buying vegetables while their well-tended gardens are full of edible bounty,” she says.

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Orlene finds Bengaluru's edible landscape fascinating, with plants like Rosella (Hibiscus sabdariffa) that bloom in slightly unmanicured areas, Sessile Weed (Alternanthera sessilis) carpeting most of the city, and various floral varieties like marigolds, roses, and jasmines; there are even old recipes for rasam made with fragrant jasmine blossoms (the full recipe can be found at the end of this article). Other edible ornamental varieties include the rhizomes of the Canna indica. “And of course… where this ends, begin the various soppus,” she rightly states.

Chasing soppus

Normally, we may think of nature as a distant escape from cities. Seema Mundoli and Harini Nagendra, faculty at Azim Premji University, disagree. The duo decided to take an interest in the nature present right here in urban India and study the way people engage with it. Along the course, they discovered that many locals use a lot of resources that are found in public spaces–like lakes, empty plots of land, or parks. In Bengaluru, the sprawling Lal Bagh or Cubbon Park host green pastures as well as lakes to forage from.

The pair then published Chasing Soppu, a wild plant guide of 52 species that are used for food, medicinal and cosmetic purposes–that we often categorise as weeds. People are also known to collect viable firewood for heating water, because LPG can be expensive.

Mundoli pointed out these local foragers are most predominantly women from highly marginalised communities who reside in slums or in small huts. They have ties to the local lake and grazing areas, and when they see some soppu, they collect it. The authors found that these women collect the leaves and pods of the drumstick tree, so that on days when they can’t afford to buy vegetables from the market, they can swirl the foraged produce into their sambars, adding great nutritional value to their meals.

Similarly, they collect Onagana Soppu or Alternanthera sessilis from lake beds (which is used in sambar as well) instead of buying spinach. “The choice between both of these is made based on their needs. If you have no food to eat that day, then you will collect, clean and use the soppu. Since space is congested, people are looking at other options like rooftop gardens where one can grow creepers and wines,” explains Mundoli. 

Nature is not wild and food is not something that only a farm grows.

Foraging requires a certain level of expertise, as many distinct leaves can end up looking quite similar. It's important to be cautious–the wrong ones could be poisonous. Mundoli advised that this practice often comes naturally to grandmothers, who have a knack for identifying and gathering plants. "I used to forage with my grandmother," she adds. However, in cities, people no longer engage in foraging as much. While they may recognise certain plants, they often don’t know where to find them.

Passing on this knowledge can be difficult, since foraging as a ritualistic part of one’s daily life goes back a few generations. Mundoli mentions that the university has consciously included the intersection of sociology and ecology in its courses. “Science is necessary, but it is not sufficient enough to know about things like foraging,” says the researcher. “The kids who come here never knew of it as a practice unless they had a grandparent who took them foraging.”

She believes that children need to be taught early in their lives that “nature is not wild and food is not something that only a farm grows.”

Food sovereignty 

It wasn’t until her late twenties, while working in Telangana and Andhra Pradesh, that Shruti Tharayil felt a missing link to nature. As she spent more and more time with farmers from rural communities, she began to develop a connection with the land.  “During my time with women farmers, I became fascinated by how they interacted with the plants in their ecosystem, especially the uncultivated ones,” Tharayil recalls. “It was then that I began documenting how they cooked these so-called weeds, exploring the realities of food sovereignty that played out in their daily lives.”

After six years, Tharayil returned to the city, wanting to reconnect with nature in an urban context—having realised that nature wasn’t confined to rural landscapes. “I started paying close attention to my surroundings,” she says. “Patches of wild greens and shrubs were growing along roadsides, footpaths, even on road dividers. Nature finds its way, no matter how much we try to concretise our landscapes.” 

This led Tharayil to begin foraging in urban settings, a practice that took shape as Forgotten Greens in 2018. What began as a Facebook page to share wild plant knowledge and recipes, evolved into a larger platform encompassing urban foraging, decolonising food systems, and traditional knowledge.

Also read: Andhra Pradesh bets on AI to beat superbugs

The reality of Indian cities is that foraging along roadsides isn’t rewarding. There’s so much garbage, that you can’t forage freely. When I visited Cape Town, I was struck by how clean the roadsides were—clean enough to pluck and eat greens without hesitation.

Her work highlights another aspect of foraging: wild foods represent food sovereignty–the right to control what we eat and where it comes from. 

At a recent foraging walk in Bengaluru’s Lalbagh Gardens, a small patch of land yielded 15 edible plants, which were enough to feed 25 people. We underestimate the abundance around us, she believes. But she’s quick to clarify: “The reality of Indian cities is that foraging along roadsides isn’t rewarding. There’s so much garbage, that you can’t forage freely. When I visited Cape Town, I was struck by how clean the roadsides were—clean enough to pluck and eat greens without hesitation.”

Tharayil’s foraging has dramatically transformed her relationship with food. “I’ve become more mindful about what I eat and where it comes from,” she says. “Living in the city no longer feels like a barrier to connecting with nature. I hear people say they need to drive to a forest or trek on weekends, but I don’t feel that way. For me, nature is not ‘out there.’ It’s an integral part of our cities.”

Mallipoo rasam recipe:

Steam jasmine buds (preferably unopened ones) in an idli pot. Strain and reserve the water used for steaming. Soak tamarind in warm water and extract pulp-less juice from it. In a mortar and pestle, lightly mash whole peppercorn, cumin seeds, garlic cloves, green chilies, tomatoes, turmeric, salt, and herbs (coriander and curry leaves) by hand. Heat ghee in a pot/pan, temper mustard seeds in it, and add chili powder and crushed ginger. Stir in the tamarind mix and bring to a boil. Add the prepared jasmine water, boil briefly, and turn off the heat. Garnish with coriander leaves and serve.

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Read more:

Suresh Kumar G.’s farming project, Sarjapura Curries

Seema Mundoli and Harini Nagendra’s Chasing Soppu

The Forgotten Greens community on Facebook and Instagram, hosted by Shruti Tharayil

In India, where tea is more than just a beverage—it’s a ritual—detox teas have emerged as the latest wellness fad. They are sold as the ultimate shortcut to glowing skin, weight loss, and overall vitality. Influencers and celebrities have made them a part of their daily routines, claiming that a few sips can help you “flush out toxins” and cleanse the body.

Celebrity endorsements largely propel India’s wellness industry in the age of social media. As a result, many celebrities are taking to the internet to discuss their favourite detox drinks.

Celebrities alongside online fitness influencers have become major brand voices in India's wellness industry, particularly on social media, where many share their favorite health trends. One such trend is the use of natural ingredients like fenugreek seeds (methi) and apple cider vinegar, both promoted for their purported health benefits. Methi seeds are often soaked overnight and consumed in the morning, with claims that they help improve digestion and detoxify the body by flushing out toxins. Similarly, apple cider vinegar is widely touted by celebrities for its potential to support weight loss, improve metabolism, and aid in digestion. These natural remedies have gained traction as part of a broader movement veering towards health detoxes, with many stars incorporating them into their daily routines and vouching for them online.

While such an approach to detoxing might be less chemical- or drug-led, it fits into the larger cultural obsession with "quick fixes" and "miracle" products for health and beauty—especially detox teas. Similarly, many celebrities and social media influencers have contributed to the global—and Indian—detox tea craze, promoting products that promise weight loss, clearer skin, and a sense of rejuvenation. These endorsements, often posted with images of their toned physiques and glowing skin, propagate the idea that detox teas are a shortcut to wellness. But a much darker and complex reality lies behind the glamorous testimonials and influencer culture.

Unboxing detox teas

Detox teas, which promise toxic expulsion and improved digestion, often contain plant-based ingredients like herbs and spices. While these ingredients possess some herbal value, the reality is far from simple.

One common ingredient is senna, a natural laxative made from the leaves and fruits of the senna plant, which is commonly grown in India. While it may temporarily relieve constipation, excessive use of senna can lead to dependence and acute dehydration because senna forcibly clears out the large intestine to combat constipation. Gastroenterologists caution against the frequent use of senna, as it can disrupt normal gut function and lead to electrolyte imbalance.

Iman Hariri-Kia—a recovering bulimic—in her essay for Teen Vogue, underscores how senna-infused teas are a “form of bulimia”. She discusses how senna is viewed as a “natural remedy”, but the truth is that these teas are well-marketed laxatives. Regularly consuming these teas, even for the sake of detoxifying the body or going on a “cleanse,” poses fatal risks to the human body.

Also read: Traditional plant wisdom meets modern health needs

Caffeine, another frequent component of detox teas, offers a potent energy boost. However, caffeine consumption risks the disruption of digestion, and is a well-known cause for anxiety. Nutritionist Rujuta Diwekar highlights how caffeine is a stimulant, and consuming it in excess through detox teas can lead to more bloating and discomfort. Similarly, dandelion root, often added to these teas for its diuretic properties, seeks to reduce water retention and lend one a fleeting moment of lightness. However, contrary to popular myths purported by wellness brands, it does not aid in weight loss. Nutritionists have also noted that using diuretics like dandelion root may lead to fluid loss and dehydration, which can harm your body in the long run.

Ginger and peppermint are both ingredients in vogue, known to aid digestive issues. While it’s undeniable that some of these naturally occurring ingredients are a net positive for one’s health, do they actually fulfil the far-reaching, outsized, enticing promises of the brands selling them? While the consumer is entitled to a quick energy boost and improved moods, the vague promise of “immediate weight loss” packed as a quick fix is far from the truth.

While consumers may be enticed by the idea this kind of marketing pushes, these claims rarely reflect scientific consensus and can sometimes mask serious health risks. In the short term, such products might cause serious side effects like dehydration, heart palpitations, and painful digestive issues. Over time, reliance on these quick fixes can lead to more severe health problems, such as nutritional deficiencies, metabolic imbalances, and a slowed metabolism. Moreover, the weight lost here is often unsustainable, leading to a cycle of temporary short-lived results followed by a cycle of regaining weight, which can often contribute to a distorted and debilitating relationship with your body and fitness. 

Overdependence and duplicitous marketing

The allure of making detox teas a staple lies in its marketing as a quick hack to wellness. For a long time, the Indian diet has incorporated concoctions and brews of hibiscus, lemon balm tea, and cinnamon. Traditional teas like matcha, known for their high concentration of antioxidants and ability to boost metabolism, offer genuine medicinal benefits when consumed in moderation and as part of a balanced diet.

However, the problem arises when industries mislead consumers into believing they can ‘hack’ their health with one product. The way these teas are marketed in the public domain seldom includes precautions and moderation. For instance, the packaging of these ‘wellness teas’ claims to ‘reduce stress and anxiety’ and ‘promote overall mental wellness’. The credibility of these claims, however, is unsubstantiated.

Also read: The surprising culinary uses of jasmine flower

Nutritionists like Meera Bangera from Talwalkars, a chain of health clubs in India, have repeatedly pointed out that the ‘weight loss’ people experience is usually just a loss of water, not fat. As soon as the consumer cuts down their consumption of the tea, their weight tends to return. This illusion of the ‘miracle fix’ fosters an overdependence on these teas, creating a cycle of rampant consumerism, when in reality, these teas provide little to no sustaining health benefits.

Many teas contain laxatives like senna, which force out water and waste but are intended only for short-term use. Prolonged consumption of these teas can disrupt the body’s natural processes, leading to dehydration, nutrient malabsorption, and even dependence on laxatives. Detox culture further exacerbates this issue by perpetuating myths about the body’s ability to cleanse itself. Claims that the colon harbours "toxic sludge" or that detox products can resolve every ailment—from diabetes to fatigue—have no scientific basis. Our bodies already have highly efficient detoxification systems, including the liver, kidneys, and skin, which function far better than any commercial solution. Experts warn that these social media-famous detox teas and colon cleanse products often cause more harm than good, with risks such as dehydration, kidney damage, and even infections from invasive procedures like colonic irrigation, an invasive process that involves cleansing the bowel to prevent further constipation. 

When users become reliant on the tea to maintain regular bowel function, they are more likely to continue purchasing it, effectively turning dependency into a profitable cycle for the industry.

In a society that prizes thinness over genuine well-being, the growing popularity of weight-loss-focussed commodities reflects a troubling trend. Products like detox teas embody the allure of quick fixes, driven by the wellness industry’s push for immediate results over sustainable health solutions like food security and balanced nutrition. Often rooted in unproven claims, these fads have been known to prey on disordered eating habits, worsened by an obsession with idealised body images. Instead of promoting holistic health, they perpetuate a cycle of superficial solutions, neglecting mental well-being and sustainable practices that only serve a hyper-consumerist culture.