I do have my cheat days, but I prefer to follow this vegan diet

In the gentle yet resolute words of Nushrat Bharucha, “I do have my cheat days, but I prefer to follow this vegan diet because it keeps my body and mind both happy,” there breathes an ancient balance—one of discipline and mercy, of devotion and delight. Her words echo not the rigidity of an ascetic nor the indulgence of the careless, but the harmony of one who has made peace between the needs of the flesh and the longings of the soul. This is the wisdom of moderation, spoken softly but glowing with the light of truth: that health is not built from denial, but from conscious joy.

To say “I do have my cheat days” is to confess humanity—to acknowledge that even the most disciplined spirit must bend lest it break. In the old temples of thought, the philosophers spoke of the middle path, the sacred road between austerity and excess. Bharucha’s words are an echo of this teaching. She does not condemn desire; she simply masters it. Her “cheat days” are not failures, but moments of mercy—reminders that life’s sweetness is meant to be tasted, not feared. The truly wise do not build their virtue on punishment; they build it upon understanding.

In ancient times, the Stoics of Greece and Rome—Zeno, Seneca, and the great Marcus Aurelius—taught that happiness is born from living in accordance with nature. To live thus is to recognize that the body and the mind are not enemies, but companions in a shared journey. When Bharucha says her vegan diet keeps her body and mind happy, she speaks a truth the sages would have honored: that inner peace begins with harmony between what we eat, what we feel, and how we live. The mind cannot soar when the body is burdened by regret or imbalance. The soul cannot sing when the body is heavy with neglect.

Consider the tale of Pythagoras, the philosopher who taught that the universe itself resounds with music—the music of the spheres. To hear this cosmic harmony, he and his followers lived on a simple plant-based diet, believing that to partake of the life of animals was to disturb the natural order of things. Their meals were humble, but their spirits radiant. They understood, as Bharucha does, that food is not only sustenance—it is vibration, energy, and reverence. When she says her diet keeps her body and mind happy, she continues the ancient tradition of aligning nourishment with virtue, of seeking clarity through compassion.

And yet, she is no fanatic. She allows herself days of indulgence, days when she steps lightly outside the circle of restraint. In this, too, she is wise. For even the Buddha, in his search for enlightenment, discovered that starvation and severity darken the spirit. It was when he accepted a humble bowl of rice from a village woman that he found the strength to awaken beneath the Bodhi tree. The lesson is clear: joy and balance are the twin wings of health. Too much denial blinds the heart; too much indulgence clouds the mind.

The vegan path, as Bharucha follows it, is not a prison of rules, but a practice of mindfulness. It is a covenant between the body and the earth, between hunger and compassion. In choosing plants over flesh, she honors life and lightens her spirit. In allowing herself “cheat days,” she honors her humanity—she keeps her heart kind, her discipline flexible, and her joy alive. Such is the way of the true seeker: firm in purpose, gentle in practice.

Let all who hear these words take this teaching to heart: seek not perfection, but harmony. Eat to nourish, not to numb. Let your choices be guided not by guilt, but by gratitude—for every bite you take is an act of creation, a shaping of self. Follow what brings peace to both body and mind, and let joy be your measure of health. Be compassionate to yourself as well as to the world around you, and you will find that even the simplest meal becomes sacred.

Thus, remember the wisdom of Nushrat Bharucha: balance is the true path to happiness. To live well is to live kindly—to eat in a way that honors both the earth and the soul, to forgive oneself when one falters, and to return always to harmony. For when the body is light, the mind clear, and the spirit at peace, life itself becomes a feast—one seasoned with grace, mindfulness, and quiet joy.