One sleepy Thursday evening, between two cups of tulsi tea, a patient of mine looked at me with her anxious eyes and asked, “Doctor, why did I get psoriasis? No one in my family has this problem.” I put down my pen and asked, “When did you first notice the patches?” She thought briefly and said softly, “It started after my bitter divorce. The stress was unbearable.”
Another patient, a middle-aged businessman with sugar levels swinging like a politician’s promises, said, “Doctor, no one in my family has diabetes. I got it after I shut down my business.” A software engineer, his face still flushed from the embarrassment of losing his job, asked, “Why do I have hypertension, doctor? No one in my family has it. I got it after I was laid off from my tech company.”
A schoolteacher once said, “Doctor, I never had acne, not even in college. But now, at 36, it’s showing up like unwanted relatives. It’s embarrassing.” She was juggling two children, a full-time job, and a phone that was her third baby. Another young woman said, “No one in my family has thyroid issues. But I got addicted to social media during lockdown. Scrolling reels till 2 am, sleeping at 3. Could that be the reason?”
These are real people, real stories. I see them daily in my Ayurvedic clinic in RT Nagar, Bangalore. And behind each disease lies a whisper of stress, a scream of burnout, or a silence too heavy to bear.
We often think diseases are inherited like sarees or silverware. “No family history, how can I get it?” they ask. But genes are not the script of a movie; they’re more like the cast. The story is written by life — your environment, habits, thoughts, and reactions.
Modern science has a name for this — epigenetics. Genes are like switches. They can be turned on or off by diet, sleep, emotions, pollutants, trauma, and even thoughts. You might carry the blueprint for a condition, but whether that house gets built depends on how you live.
Ayurveda knew this long before epigenetics became a buzzword. The doshas — Vata, Pitta, Kapha — don’t just live in your body; they dance with your emotions. Excess Vata (air and ether) from erratic sleep and anxious thoughts can trigger psoriasis. Pitta (fire and water), when flared by rage, frustration, and ambition, often shows up as acne or migraine. Kapha (earth and water), when sluggish with grief or emotional eating, may fuel thyroid issues or diabetes.
You see, diseases don’t always arrive with a family banner. Sometimes, they knock when life spins out of control. The body keeps the score.
I had a patient who developed alopecia after her husband forgot their anniversary three years in a row. Another started getting chronic urticaria after becoming a reluctant boss in a family business. One fellow developed acidity whenever he logged into Zoom for his US shift. It wasn’t the dal he ate, it was the deadline.
One of my favourite stories is of a 32-year-old man, a gym rat, protein-shake lover, who came to me complaining of unexplained fatigue and digestive issues. “My family is full of healthy people,” he said. “I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, I eat clean.” But he hadn’t laughed in six months. His calendar was tight enough to strangle joy. I prescribed a herb mix, yes — but also laughter therapy, weekly barefoot walks in the park, and phone detox after 9 pm. Two months later, he sent me a selfie from Coorg, smiling with his dog and saying, “Doctor, I feel human again.”
In Ayurveda, we speak of Pragyaparadha — the crime of the intellect. It’s when we go against our inner knowing. Skipping meals, staying up late, comparing our lives on social media, ignoring fatigue, numbing ourselves with screens — we know it’s wrong, yet we do it. That, more than any gene, is the real culprit.
Of course, there are genetic diseases, but they are fewer than you think. Most of what we see today — diabetes, hypertension, thyroid imbalances, skin disorders, insomnia, migraines — are lifestyle-triggered. They come not just from what you eat, but what eats you.
What can you do?
First, acknowledge your story. Connect the dots between life events and symptoms. That’s the first step. Second, learn to pause. Stress is not the occasional chaos — it’s the chronic refusal to rest, feel, grieve, and laugh. Third, honour your routines. Ayurveda thrives on rhythm. Eat on time. Sleep on time. Breathe like your life depends on it — because it does.
A small but potent practice I recommend: oil your feet before bed. Yes, really. It grounds Vata, soothes the nerves, improves sleep, and calms an overthinking mind. Mustard oil in winter, coconut oil in summer, a few drops, five minutes. It’s not just grandmotherly advice — there’s neuroscience behind it now.
Also, don’t underestimate joy. I once told a migraine patient to stop following the news for a week and watch Govinda movies. Her migraine vanished faster than I expected. Coincidence? Maybe. But healing often lies in the unexpected.
To every patient who asks, “Why me?” I say, “Because your body loves you enough to warn you before it’s too late.” Illness is often the body’s cry for help, not a punishment. Treat it as a message, not a curse.
And to those who ask, “Doctor, can this be reversed?” I say, “Not everything can be reversed, but a lot can be transformed.” With awareness, consistency, and a little humour. After all, what else can we do when the body becomes the storyteller of our suppressed emotions?
I just wanted to give you one more anecdote. A young woman with unexplained weight gain came in with tears in her eyes. “Doctor, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” After many questions, I asked, “When was the last time you felt truly relaxed?” She paused. “Maybe five years ago… on a train journey to Kerala with my father,” I asked her to retake a weekend train trip — no gadgets, just books and window-gazing. Two months later, she wasn’t just lighter physically; she was glowing.
The medicine is not always in the pill, herb, or test report. It’s in slowing down, listening, and finding your lost rhythm.
Your genes may load the gun, but your life story pulls the trigger.
