Why we lose ourselves in WiFi, and find ourselves in the mountains.
We, the millennials and Gen Zs of the metro cities, scrolling through reels on mental health while gulping cold coffee and juggling multiple internet tabs. Somewhere between grocery home deliveries and soft boards that look straight out of a murder mystery, we’ve turned life into a never-ending to-do list. Meanwhile, India’s indigenous communities, often dismissed as “backward,” are out there living lives of balance, groundedness and joy that most of us only dream about during spa sessions that we schedule on Urban Company. This isn’t about romanticising rural poverty or denying progress. This is about acknowledging the gaps where we forgot to look.
With this post, I’m exploring what city culture could probably relearn from our indigenous roots. Spoiler: It’s more than just ayurveda and slow living. We’re talking food, medicine, cultural stories, identity, work, even the way we breathe.
1. Packaged Masala Oats vs Besan Chilla: What’s on our plate says much more about who we’re going to be in the future.
City people eat quick, physically as well as metaphorically. We microwave stuff, we multi-task when we eat, and so much of what goes into our mouth is random munching. Our food summary: what has 50% off upto INR 120 on Zomato, what diet burns carbs fastest — Keto, Paleo, IF — what influencer-approved cafe has stuff made of oat milk, soy milk, hemp milk, lactose-free, gluten-free, joy-free.
In contrast, our indigenous communities cook with a sense of purpose towards our bodies and in alignment with our seasons. From the forests of Chhattisgarh, and the coasts of Odisha to the hills of Nagaland, indigenous diets across India are deeply local and seasonal. I should know, for my grandpa is a 70-year old man in Odisha, who is cutting his harvests even today. These communities often rely on traditional farming, sometimes foraging and food systems that align with their biodiversity.
The Gonds consume kodo and kutki millets, forest mushrooms, and tendu leaves. The Santals eat rice, leafy greens like phutka saag. The Irulas of Tamil Nadu forage for roots, yam, honey, and forest fruits. In the Northeast, tribes like the Nagas and Khasis include bamboo shoots, fermented soybeans, and smoked meats. In Odisha, tribal groups such as the Kondh and Saora rely heavily on forest produce and traditional farming. Seasonal fruits like mahua flowers and forest honey are common, while small-scale paddy cultivation complements their diet. Hunting and fishing also provide additional protein sources, often consumed fresh or smoked. — of course, I don’t know all this by memory. A little Google Search and ChatGPT research helped.
The point being: unlike urban diets shaped by supermarket packaged-food and social media viral-eats, indigenous food systems are shaped by the land itself. They are deeply sustainable, rich in nutrients, and culturally meaningful. Their eating habits reflect centuries of adapting to and respecting local cultures.
2. Googling Symptoms vs Daadi Knows Best: Does our medicine listen to our body?
In metros, we’ve reduced our quality of health to prescription pills and fitness apps.
You feel anxious? Take a pill.
You feel tired? Take a pill.
Menstrual cramps? Take a pill.
Every doctor that I’ve visited has very nonchalantly handed me a prescription, with only one local doctor out of 18 advising me against medicines and actively pushing me towards only lifestyle modifications for better health.
Traditional medicine, on the other hand, is less about silencing your symptoms and more about listening to your body. In traditional healing, illness can be spiritual, social, or seasonal. Daadi ke nuske is a real thing. The smaller issues that medicine treats violently today can as well be treated at home with simple but effective remedies. We don’t need a pill for everything.
3. Saving Nature Connect for Weekends and Long Trips. Why?
Metro India has this bizarre relationship with nature. We buy indoor plants but we forget to water them (hehe, guilty), we take selfies in parks, and escape to the mountains to feel alive. We vibe with the pahaadon ke peeche wali duniya in Laila Majnu for a reason. We’re so out of touch with our nature that we feel like we need to move cities to relate to it.
Indigenous cultures don’t escape towards nature; they live with it. For them, nature isn’t something scarce or hard to find. It’s all around. The Dongria Kondh worship the Niyamgiri hills which are located in the Rayagada and Kalahandi districts of Odisha. The Bishnois protect animals with their lives, especially the blackbuck and the chinkara. Trees are considered to be our elders. Rivers are considered to be our mothers.
Metro life has turned nature into a bucket list whereas indigenous people treat nature as the north star.
4. Storytime on Instagram vs Folktales — storytelling at its best?
Today, we consume stories through reels, vlogs and binge-worthy TV shows. While our stories are made for an algo-friendly world, indigenous storytelling is actually lived. The folktales don’t just tell stories — they transfer the age-old knowledge and wisdom about how the world really works. So many of these indigenous folktales were passed down to me through my mumma, maasi and nani.
A tale about a river and gold warns us against greed. A ghost story might warn against cutting sacred forests. Stories from our mythology teaching us about how various religions did not just survive eras together, but lived with harmony, peace and joy.
These oral traditions are guides in real time. Meanwhile, in the city, we are busy outsourcing our memory to Google Drive and Apple Cloud. We hardly care about what we had for breakfast an hour ago, leave alone reflecting on our timeless history and culture.
5. Our Rituals Are Pretty Shitty and Meaningless. But Of Course, We Don’t Care.
City rituals are… pretty stupid. But also insta-worthy.
They are aesthetic brunches. Birthdays on WhatsApp video calls. Holi parties with organic colors and panic about skin, hair and sun damage (excuse me, what?). Diwali celebrations that look like frat parties.
Indigenous rituals aren’t planned — they’re aligned with the season. If the river floods, there’s a cleansing ritual. If the crops bloom, there’s a harvest celebration. If a girl gets her first menstrual cycle, there’s a Kumari Pooja. Our city rituals enable consumerism. Theirs enable conservation.
6. We Believe in Horoscopes but Not Forest Spirits.
We mock traditional beliefs and then check our horoscopes religiously, blaming our zodiacs for all our personality traits. Urban India likes its spirituality filtered through memes on astrology and crystal purchases from tarot readers. Traditional communities, however, hold belief systems that are more symbolic. A taboo against cutting a tree is climate activism in disguise. A story about a mountain spirit is conservation but with a poetic touch. We could call them superstitious — or we could call them sustainable with drama.
7. Hustle Culture vs Freedom and Flow
Work in a metro city is a non-stop marathon. We glorify hustle, we normalize burnout, make jokes about mental health and call exhaustion ambition. Work is monetized, digital, and endless. Indigenous work is seasonal and sacred. Farming, fishing, textiles, local art — it all happens in flow with nature. Labor isn’t separated from leisure. Rest isn’t a reward. Time is more elastic. Tasks are more collective. Efficiency doesn’t come at the cost of exhaustion. The environment decides your pace.
We Don’t Need to Go Back. But We Definitely Need to Look Back.
You probably got my post all wrong because I know what it looks like. But this isn’t a vendetta against city life and progress. This is not “let’s go back 100 years and work on mortar-pestel rather than machines.” There is genuine appreciation for the world that we are in, and how we’ve all come to witness progress — industrial and individual — over the years. But the truth is, in our rush to make quick progress, we’ve lost sight of practices that could actually make us feel more human.
Indigenous communities aren’t just our past — they are also our teachers. There’s a reason why so many of us are looking backwards for healthier, more sustainable ways to live today. Because we’ve exceeded our timeline extensively. We’re growing faster than we expected, but we’ve not stopped to question which changes are really helping us and which ones are deteriorating our quality of life.
So the next time we post a quote about slow living or buy a plant to feel better, let’s question: are we imitating something we once had, but forgot to value?
Scroll less. Sit more. Listen deeper. Live better.
Clap, share, and sip on this reflection with your next chai break.
