Diabetes runs in my family. I often joke that my grandmother—the absolute love of my life—wanted to give us grandchildren something meaningful. So, instead of money, she gave us white hair and diabetes.
I wear the white hair with joy and pride. To me, it’s the most beautiful color to have—why would I want black or brown when I can carry this crown of silver wisdom from my family lineage? (Note: My grandmother also lost a lot of hair as she aged– another heriditary trait I’m totally okay with. I may go bald one day!)
In fact, when I was about 32 and had just moved to India, I even sent a prayer to the universe: “Let all my hair be white by 35.” The universe responded kindly. Over the last decade, my smile and my streaks have grown in tandem. Check out my pics over the years:
I do not enjoy diabetes.
I first noticed something was off in 2018, after two intense months traveling through Bihar, Uttar Pradesh, and Nepal. The trip began with my best friend’s wedding in Bihar. In summer, it feels like a furnace. I stayed hydrated with sattu and lassi. After the celebrations, I joked that I needed a honeymoon for myself. So I traveled through Nepal and finally returned to India via Lucknow—feverish and fatigued.
Back in Bangalore, I was still unwell. A doctor diagnosed me with a UTI, but my blood sugar was high. Even after the infection cleared, the sugar levels didn’t return to normal.
That’s when I realised that despite my being a yoga teacher, and despite my healthy eating habits, I had diabetes.
I tried Ayurveda first, but the ever-changing medicines and extensive regimens were hard to sustain. This is something the Ayurveda industry really can work on in the future— making Ayurveda fit the needs of “busy” people today.
My HbA1c and fasting levels kept rising. Then Covid hit. I moved to Coimbatore, tried Ayurveda again—but eventually, I turned to Allopathy in mid-2021. I began taking Metformin, reducing my intake of South India’s favourite white rice, and in just over a year, brought my HbA1c down to 7.1. My doctor was optimistic—I was about to move to Banaras, planning to begin long-distance cycling, and he believed I could bring it below 6 with consistent effort.
But, as life would have it (and as I’ve written in other blogs), my health took another turn. The weather, my autoimmune condition and treatment, and inconsistency all conspired to spike my sugar levels again—well beyond mentionable range.
Two months ago, I came back home from 4 weeks of travel—without proper food, exercise, and friendships. My doctor gave me a prick test 3-4 hours after my lunch. My sugar levels were sky high (I might have been in a diabetic coma without even realizing it).
I resolved to take a few weeks off, relax, and get my health in order. 5 weeks later, he tested me again— 177.
I got tested twice in a day this week, by the nurse in my community. First, 1 hour after finishing breakfast (including 2 cups of strong filter coffee with milk)— 200. A little over 2 hours later, the nurse came again, and I was at 135. I waited 45 minutes, then had my healthy lunch—spinach and quinoa wraps with tofu, flax seeds, avocado, tomatoes, zucchini, onions. I stuffed myself on things that support my system.
Over time, I’ve learned a simple truth: diabetes demands discipline. And that discipline must be personalized.
For me, any deviation—travel, eating out, skipping exercise, changes in sleep—throws my body into imbalance. So I’ve stopped pretending I can fudge my routine.
Now, I pack my food when I travel—even if it means paying extra luggage charges. I carry my wrist weights. I politely decline snacks and drinks when visiting people. I go to sleep when my body asks, and I wake when it’s ready. I honor my system.
It hasn’t been easy, but it’s been deeply empowering. I’ve come to see diabetes not just as a diagnosis, but as an invitation—to listen, to care, to prioritize.
I have learned to understand my body— mine, and mine alone. I’ve found the practices that work for me.