The dos are drink lots of water, get enough fibre and carbs as

In the grounded and thoughtful words of Aditya Roy Kapur, we find a truth that bridges the body and the spirit: “The dos are drink lots of water, get enough fibre and carbs as well, as they are important. The don’ts are don’t be too extreme with any diet; it can really end up harming your system and immunity.” Though spoken in the language of modern health, this saying carries an ancient rhythm — the call of balance, that eternal law governing the body, the mind, and the world. For Kapur’s wisdom is not merely about food; it is about the middle path, the sacred equilibrium that sustains all things that live.

From the beginning of time, sages and healers have taught that the body is the first temple, the vessel through which the soul journeys. Yet humanity, in its restless pursuit of perfection, often forgets this. In the age of excess, we consume without thought; in the age of vanity, we deny ourselves in extremes. Aditya’s counsel stands as a voice of moderation amidst this noise — to nourish, not punish; to restore, not restrict. He reminds us that water, fibre, and carbohydrates — humble as they are — are not enemies, but gifts of nature, the simple threads that weave together the fabric of health.

The ancients would have understood him well. In the land of Greece, the physician Hippocrates, father of medicine, taught that health depends on balance — the harmony of the four humors: blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black bile. When any of these grew too dominant, the body fell into disease. Likewise, the seers of India, through Ayurveda, spoke of the three doshas — Vata, Pitta, and Kapha — energies that must remain in equilibrium. In both East and West, the wisdom was the same: the body thrives not through extreme control, but through measured care, through the daily rhythm of nourishment and renewal.

Yet the modern world often forgets what the ancients knew. We worship the fleeting idol of the perfect body, and in our zeal, we turn health into hardship. Some starve in the name of fitness; others flood their systems with what they do not need. Aditya’s warning — “don’t be too extreme with any diet” — is a cry against this excess. For to force the body beyond its natural rhythm is to wound it. When the system is strained and the immunity weakened, no beauty remains, only exhaustion. Even the strongest warrior cannot fight without nourishment, and even the brightest flame fades when deprived of fuel.

Consider the tale of Mahatma Gandhi, whose life was a lesson in balance. Though known for his fasts, Gandhi never fasted to harm his body, but to discipline his spirit. He believed in the power of simple food — fruits, grains, vegetables, and water — taken with gratitude. Once, after experimenting with severe restrictions, he fell ill and realized that even virtue, when taken to extremes, can become a vice. From then on, he preached moderation as the path to health and peace. His wisdom, like Aditya’s, reminds us that to live well is not to deny the body, but to listen to it.

The act of drinking water, so easily forgotten, becomes almost sacred in this light. Water is the element of purification — the elixir that sustains life in every form. It cleanses the body, sharpens the mind, and calms the soul. Fibre, drawn from the fruits and grains of the earth, gives strength to the inner workings of life. And carbohydrates, often shunned by the proud, are in truth the body’s fire — the fuel that moves the heart and awakens the will. To embrace these simple things with gratitude is to align oneself with the rhythm of nature itself.

The lesson, then, is clear and timeless: seek balance in all things. Eat not for vanity, but for vitality. Drink deeply of what gives life, and avoid the snares of extremes, whether of indulgence or deprivation. Listen to your body, for it speaks with the voice of ancient wisdom — a whisper that says, “Care for me, and I shall carry you well.” To ignore it is to war against oneself; to heed it is to walk in peace.

So, my listener, remember this truth as you walk through the changing seasons of your life: your health is not a battlefield, but a garden. Water it daily, feed it gently, and do not scorch it with extremes. Let your habits be steady as the sunrise — humble, consistent, and full of care. In this harmony lies true strength — not the strength of fleeting appearances, but the enduring power of balance, which sustains both body and soul. For the one who lives in balance lives in wisdom — and wisdom, once found, becomes the truest nourishment of all.