India is the Origin of Trendy Miraculous Golden (Turmeric) Milk

The Indian monsoon is often romanticized in poetry, song, and love stories. However, as a child in my hometown of Mumbai, its arrival usually meant a week of cold, fever, and a sinus infection. Though it would start with sniffles, it would quickly devolve into suffocating bronchial congestion and cough brought on by the humid weather. The family physician Dr. Mukherjee would make a house call, prescribe antibiotics, and write my medical excuse for school advising bed rest for a week. I’d have little choice but to stay home and ironically, watch the rain. Being an underweight child, illnesses like fever always destroyed my appetite and led to more weight loss. To remedy this, my mother and my grandmother would feed me nourishing, hydrating Ayurvedic remedies between mealtimes. To soothe the rib-rattling cough that came with it all, it was either a cup of an herbal decoction or my least favourite: turmeric milk. There were many reasons I didn’t care for turmeric milk as a child, including the stipulation that I had to finish it while it was still steaming hot and gulp down the turmeric in one go. Being sensitive to food textures and temperatures from a young age, I didn’t like the grainy turmeric paste that settled at the bottom of the cup and coated the inside of my tongue, mouth, and throat. Plus, I wasn’t allowed to wash it away with a sip of water in case it might undo the good it was supposed to do. My friend grew up in New Delhi where he was also prone to catching colds that quickly became sinus infections, like me. His illnesses weren’t related to the monsoons, as New Delhi is hot, dry and dusty. His mother would complement allopathic medicine with Siddha medicine, an offshoot of Ayurveda from Southern India, like the ones from her own childhood. She included a peppery version of turmeric milk in his healing regimen. For most children of Indian heritage, turmeric milk is likely tied to reminders of being ill, the loss of playtime, and missing out on the fun of being a kid. Although it’s always nice to be cared for, for me turmeric milk punctuates these cozy memories with reminders of a weak and aching body and the innocent longing to run outside and play with friends. My friend and I moved away from home long before we knew each other. For a few years, we each separately enjoyed the illusion that we’d never be forced to drink turmeric milk again. Of course, when the novelty of making independent adult choices wore off, we realized it was so much more than an unpleasant brew. It became an anchor in many ways: a reminder of the unconditional care of the people who nursed us back to health and the histories that stretch back into our ancestry. When we started our life together as a married couple, my husband and I both missed our homes and families, and phone conversations with family elders were laced with care and concern. If our voices betrayed a seasonal illness, we’d unfailingly be advised a range of healing measures, including the failproof staple: turmeric milk. As most young parents do, we debated over the best home remedies after our daughter was born. We each claimed our respective mothers’ remedies were the best. While our young child never cared for turmeric milk, her associations weren’t like ours. Rather than memories of missing out or the strong, bitter flavour, she likely associates turmeric milk with a strange mix of nostalgia, debate, and discord between her parents. This may be common among younger first-generation immigrants who miss out on the cultural, regional, and sometimes familial medicinal ties to everyday foods. Time and again, I’ve tapped into what I had learned or already knew about traditional Indian cures, particularly after I had a hysterectomy to correct chronic anaemia. During my recovery, I frequently sought turmeric milk to hasten healing, and began to love the easy and effortless care each cup offered, including offering time for introspection and quiet meditation. Not celebrating our cultural roots or ignoring regional nuances as valid expressions is a part of the legacy of colonization. Colonization creates a belief system that perpetuates exploitation by erasing context and silencing the voices that nurtured culture for centuries—including traditional medicinal practices. It’s a subtler version of the practices that nearly destroyed my birth country in the past. I love to have high Curcumin Turmeric Powder from Here. https://www.beherbal.in/collections/be-herbals-curcumin-turmeric-powder-500-gms-pack-of-5/