A Series, Part One: Background. My Dosha Journey–A Personal Perspective on Ayurveda

By Guest Blogger Aekta Bandodker

Before our guest blogger’s series begins, I would like to extend gratitude to Aekta for sharing this extremely raw, beautiful, and introspective piece for Swellness Vibes readers. Your openness is a gift. This three part series connects all aspects of earthly existence through the lens of Ayurveda. Each week a new post will be released. Be sure to read it in its entirety. – Allison

You’ve probably heard about the 3 doshas and the ancient Indian science of Ayurveda if you’re involved in the yoga and mindfulness world (or you simply love personality tests). I personally didn’t take it too seriously until being out of balance had me wondering if I would indeed die at the ripe age of 27. 

Per Yogapedia, doshas can basically be defined as “a bodily humor (or bio-energy center) in Ayurvedic medicine. The term comes from the Sanskrit dosa, meaning “fault” or “disease.” There are three doshas in total: vata, pitta and kapha. Their energies are believed to circulate in the body and govern physical, mental and emotional characteristics”.

This story will attempt to take you on an Ayurvedic journey through several key phases of my life that led me to where I am today. That would be: not entirely out of whack; or wondering if I will die soon; or being too afraid of this to keep living. Today, as I write this, I feel centered, even “boring,” and definitely not wondering if I’ll die soon. I am also more or less okay with death if, & when it comes!             

Born of Indian heritage, I was a very fat and chubby baby, with lots of hair on my head coming out of my mother’s belly in my C-section delivery. Looking back at my baby pictures, I almost envy my 3 year old self and wonder, “Hey, how come I’m not that bubbly now? Where did all of my cute fat go?” 

I had lost all of my baby fat by age 4 & I’ve been a skinny little stick-ly figure since! I’m still not quite sure how I lost the fat or where it all went. My guess is that I just became more active and also suffered a few “scares” from my dad’s loud voice, yelling about things that I didn’t cognitively understand, but somatically internalized as something wrong with me. I believe this was enough for my body to change its appearance and affect me on a physiological level. 

I have a memory of being yelled at as a toddler. My father howled at me for messing something up while playing with some pots and pans in the kitchen. While I don’t remember what the actual crime was, I do remember the nerves in my body tensing up and my consciousness becoming hyper-vigilant. I remember feeling really small and powerless as my dad’s large, looming presence, accompanied by an equally large voice, hovered over me from behind telling me to get out of the cabinet where the pots and pans were placed. 

There’s also a vague memory of a time I may have gotten my fingers squeezed in an elevator by accident and then being yelled at for that, rather than offered words or an attitude of reassurance. 

Check off exhibit one of exasperating a highly sensitive nervous system. 

Here’s exhibit two & three of a supercharged nervous system. I remember my mother putting socks on my hands and then applying some chili powder to those socks before she covered my hands with them before bed. This may have started around age 4 and continued for a year or two. 

Why? She said I sucked my thumb too much at night and I needed to learn how to stop doing that. It worked!

I also began getting nightmares at a very young age. Right around 4 years old is the earliest I can remember being highly anxious at night. I wanted to cling to my mother for comfort and sleep in her bed in case I was wakened by a nightmare or mini panic attack. 

Regardless of whether I was genetically predisposed to anxiety or whether my parents’ conditioning of me worsened the tendency, it was very clear to my parents that I was an anxious, albeit quiet, child. Having a harsh father and not the most emotionally attuned mother only made my sensitivities increase. I suppose I’m lucky that at a time when I needed nurturance the most, I had a very calming, soothing, funny, and present grandmother as an occasional babysitter because I can only think of her, and perhaps one of seven aunts, who were emotionally present role models in my early life. Most of our adult patterns are shaped and formed in those very early childhood years. 

Alright: so I was an anxious child with limited adult reassurance who was developing a tendency towards panic attacks and nightmares. I was becoming more and more quiet as I went through my elementary school years upon learning that my blatantly honest attitude and expression were not very welcome amongst the gossiping, shame-filled, shame-inducing, and dare I say, often two-faced groups of aunts and uncles and just Indian adults specifically. 

To my little developing brain which wanted to point out and explore things as I saw them–not yet understanding the societal “rules” of what was appropriate to say, when and to whom, and what things “should” be kept to myself or never shared–it was all very confusing. It was especially confusing when those social rules were not explicitly stated and I was punished for breaking rules I didn’t understand or wasn’t even aware that I was breaking. 

Did anyone think of getting me tested for potentially being on the autism spectrum? No. I was “a smart kid,” at least school-smart, and only failed with social rules as my parents saw it. Also, from my little experience in India and general observations about the Indian community, there isn’t a tendency to try to diagnose kids for things unless it’s causing more trouble than what a parent might consider the average amount of “trouble” that kids cause. 

I suppose my parents did not find the way I showed up socially significant enough to wonder if I was on the spectrum or if there was something different about me that needed further attention. In fact, my mother was pretty good about noticing my artistic and linguistic gifts and encouraging it, which is something I remain grateful for, along with her ability to see that I was more empathetic than the average person. She did have my back a few times if it was clear I was feeling too pestered by other adults.

Thank you, mom. 

The next post, How our Doshas Develop, will be released next week.

Aekta Bandodker is a lover of knowledge and an artist through and through. She believes in the healing power of self-expression and story-telling and the liberation that it provides in transforming trauma. She loves to help people change their inner narratives so that they can take back ownership of their lives. Her favorite activities include spending time with close friends and family, listening to music, learning through audiobooks and podcasts, writing or creating art, and spending time in nature. Check out her website here!