“Is it a good habit to take Isabgol daily, doctor?” asked a young girl, sipping on her cold brew like it held the answer. She was pursuing her master’s in nutrition, armed with Instagram Reels, Reddit threads, and a Google Phd. She had the curious mind of a researcher and the anxious gut of a 25-year-old.
Her question wasn’t new. What struck me was the tone—part curiosity, part dependency. Like asking if it’s okay to have one cigarette a day if it helps you think. Or like asking if texting your ex once a week counts as moving on.
Isabgol—also known as psyllium husk to the world and the baap of bowel movement to many in India—has become a household name, thanks to clever marketing and a society obsessed with clean stomachs. Every other influencer today swears by it: “Flushes out toxins,” “Great for weight loss,” “Cleans the colon,” they say, smiling in slow motion as the husk swirls into a glass of water.
But let me tell you a little story.
There’s Mr. Ramachandra, a retired bank manager who walks into my clinic every 21 days, religiously, not for his blood pressure or knees, but to stock up on Isabgol. “Without this,” he confesses, “my morning doesn’t start. One spoon, one glass, and I’m a new man.” He even travels with a pouch of it, as if it were his passport to peace.
Now, I’ve got nothing against Isabgol. It’s a wonderful natural fibre. Softens stool. Keeps the colon happy. But like that friendly neighbour who overstays their welcome, even the humble Isabgol can cause trouble if it becomes your emotional crutch.
See, our bowels are smart creatures. The colon is not just a pipe—it’s a decision-maker, a responder, a warrior that adapts. And if you spoon-feed it with fibre daily, artificially, without understanding why your gut is sluggish, it becomes accustomed to it. It waits for that external push instead of flexing its muscles. That’s how dependence creeps in—quietly, like background music you didn’t realise was playing until it stopped.
Many young women, especially those juggling demanding jobs and irregular eating habits, fall into this trap. Their bowels don’t move on time, they feel bloated, and in walks Isabgol like a hero. Initially, it works like magic. However, the dosage soon has to increase. From one spoon to two. From bedtime to twice a day. Then, one day, nothing moves—even with the double scoop.
That’s when panic sets in.
“Doctor, I haven’t passed motion in four days even after taking Isabgol!” a young techie told me once, almost in tears. I had to gently peel away her anxiety, find the real cause—turns out, she was surviving on Maggi, coffee, and panic. No water. No fibre. No peace.
“Doctor, can I take it for weight loss?” someone asked me last week. I said, “If weight loss were that easy, every constipated uncle would be size zero.”
The truth is, Isabgol can give you the illusion of weight loss because it clears the bowels and suppresses hunger for a brief period. But it doesn’t melt fat or increase metabolism. It’s not a miracle, just fibre. You’re better off chewing carrots and walking your worries away.
Some people take it at night. Others in the morning. Some mix it with milk (a bad idea), while others mix it with lemon water (a tolerable option). But many don’t realise—if your lifestyle is faulty, if your diet lacks real fiber, if your stress levels are sky-high, no amount of husk can fix your poop.
There’s the social angle too. There is a strange cultural obsession with morning bowel movements in India. It’s almost a spiritual experience. People cancel plans, skip weddings, or even delay trains if their “system isn’t clear.” I have seen newly married couples whisper to me about constipation like it’s a secret more scandalous than their honeymoon budget.
My take: Isabgol is not the enemy. But neither is it your saviour. Use it as support, not a crutch. If you’re taking it occasionally—say, after a heavy meal, during travel, or after antibiotics—it’s fine. But don’t make it your daily mantra without asking why you need it.
Do some people need it long-term? Yes, in cases of chronic conditions like haemorrhoids, IBS, or elderly patients with slow gut motility. But even then, it should be tailored, not templated and monitored.
Isabgol (also known as psyllium husk) is often hailed as a gentle, natural remedy for constipation. But long-term use comes with hidden risks. Over time, your body can become dependent on it to trigger bowel movements, leading to a sluggish colon that loses its ability to function independently. This happens because Isabgol acts as a bulking agent, doing much of the mechanical work that your gut muscles are supposed to do. When the gut gets lazy, natural peristalsis suffers.
What’s more, this fibre ferments in the colon, producing gas and bloating as gut bacteria feast on it. While some degree of fermentation is beneficial—supporting a diverse gut flora—excessive use may confuse the microbiome. Preliminary studies suggest that long-term fibre supplementation can alter the balance of microbial populations, though definitive conclusions are still lacking. Think of it this way: your gut doesn’t like being micromanaged, even by something as seemingly innocent as fibre.
Another overlooked consequence? Nutrient malabsorption. Over time, Isabgol may interfere with the absorption of essential minerals, including calcium, magnesium, zinc, iron, and vitamin B12. If not taken with enough water, it may even cause intestinal blockages.
In moderation and with proper hydration, Isabgol remains a safe tool. But chronic, unsupervised use can do more harm than good. A healthy gut thrives on rhythm, not reliance.
One interesting nugget—not many know this—but Isabgol isn’t even native to India. It originally comes from regions around Iran and was introduced into Indian medicine through Unani, eventually making its way into Ayurvedic formulations. It was never a staple until the last century. So, all this ancestral pride around it? Slightly misplaced.
I often ask my patients to take a one-week Isabgol break every two months. Please observe how your body reacts. If the gut goes on strike, that’s your clue to look deeper—maybe your gut needs movement, not just a mix in water. Perhaps it needs lentils, banana, ghee, hydration, and a dose of silence.
A 29-year-old school teacher told me, “Doctor, after quitting Isabgol, I just added a fruit a day and walked post-dinner. Took three weeks, but now I’m regular without any help.” Her smile said more than science ever could.
To the girl who asked me if taking Isabgol daily is a good habit, my answer is this: Habits are good when they empower you, not when they make you dependent. Isabgol is not evil, but your gut deserves a chance to work on its own. Give it that chance.
No matter what influencers say, nothing beats a quiet morning, a glass of warm water, and a little patience with your biology.
Let your gut lead gently.
