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At its core, food is energy. Every morsel we place into our bodies carries not just nutrients, but also the subtle vibration of its source—how it was grown, prepared, and consumed. When we eat natural, wholesome foods grown in harmony with the earth, we invite purity and vitality into our systems. Such foods elevate our prana, or life force, sharpening our awareness and calming the mind. On the other hand, overly processed, chemical-laden, or harm-inflicted foods can dull our consciousness, creating heaviness not only in body but also in spirit. This video from my time living at the Sivanada yoga ashram explains the philosophy of the Sattvic diet and how food affects our temperment.
Furthermore, spiritual eating encourages us to act with compassion. Many choose a vegetarian or plant-based lifestyle not only for health, but to honor the sacredness of all life. Eating becomes an ethical choice, a declaration of unity with all beings. In this way, our daily meals become extensions of our spiritual values—non-violence, respect, gratitude, and self-discipline.
Toor dal is otherwise known as yellow English split pea. This recipe about making dal, or lentil soup, is quick, easy, healthy, and delicious! Another one of my mom's amazing recipes.
In this video, I demonstrate how to make paneer, or channa, at home. It's easy to do and requires kewra water, kafir lime leaves, cinnamon, caradamom , whole milk, and a cheese cloth. The health benefits of kewra water are discussed. Sara Banerjee taste tests once the paneer is made. I end the episode with a spiritual quote about making choices. Disclaimer: I try to eat vegan most of the time so this is not a dish I make often. The China Study has shown that consuming 11-22% of your total caloric intake from dairy (protein) causes cancer because at these levels, casein, a protein in dairy, acts as a carcinogen.
This video features the recipe for a traditional vegan Bengali dish made with either butternut squash or pumpkin and potatoes in a tomato paste seasoned with chili pepper, cumin, asafoetida (hing), fenugreek (methi), ginger, and curry leaves in olive oil. This video also educates the viewer about the medical benefits of butternut squash. Sara Banerjee taste tests at the end!
Try this traditional Indian recipe at home! The airfryer saves so much time and because you use less oil it’s much healthier than traditional pan fried dishes. It’s vegan and sattvic because no onions or garlic were used, and it still tastes #delicious!
I used my mom’s vegan recipe last night to make chole and it turned out amazing! I sometimes refer to my mom as Ma Yashoda, Krishna’s ‘foster’ mom, because of Ma Yashoda’s reputation of being the best cook in all of Vruj, the small village where Krishna grew up. My mom is such a phenomenal cook I reason that only Ma Yashoda could have cooked like my mom! Because my mom cooks so much and so well, it’s something that helps me to feel connected to my mom even when I am not with her. I am grateful for all the time and effort my mom put into making farm to table a regular part of our family’s lifestyle and for opting out of a life of convenience when it comes to healthy eating.
Today I’m making vegan chole burritos with my left over chole from the other day! First I prepped all of the veggies I’ll be adding to the burrito: red onions, chopped kale, fresh basil, cilantro, diced cucumbers, tomatoes, and avocado.
For this vegan burrito, I’m going to drizzle some extra virgin olive oil inside and add some green chutney. The Indian green chutney is easy to whip up in a blender and it’s made with lime juice, fresh cilantro, basil, mint and chat masala. I’ll post a video about it later. Green chutney can also be found at any Indian grocery store.
After making burritos you can pack them for lunch or take them with you for school or work, and it’s a creative way to put a new and healthy twist on left overs that may start to feel monotonous after the novelty of when the dish was just made wears off. Let me know how your’s turns out!
Making a traditional vegan Bengali side with my mom!
Raised in the heart of cultural Hinduism by immigrant parents who traded spiritual practice for survival in a foreign land, food—though central to ritual and identity—was never a spiritual conversation in my upbringing. Aside from a quiet cultural whisper that “eating cows is bad,” there were no prohibitions, no rituals, no sacred instruction. Food was functional, often assimilative. Its purpose was to keep us nourished, fitting in, and moving forward in a world that didn’t always understand us.
And yet, something in me always yearned for a deeper truth. As a spiritual aspirant, I found myself floating between contradictions—gurus who ate meat and those who didn’t, religions that sanctified animals and others that sacrificed them. It wasn’t until I began my own spiritual sadhana that I started asking the deeper questions: What am I consuming? And what is it consuming in me?
When I asked my guru, Sai Ma, why she—an enlightened master, a divine mother, a healer—ate meat, her response was characteristically simple and elusive: “Karon amar bhalo lage”—“Because I like it.” Ma’s guidance was never dogmatic. Her love was vast, unconditional, but not prescriptive. In her presence, I realized that the spiritual path is not always about rules—it’s about resonance. She taught me that every seeker must find their own way through the fog, walking barefoot across the terrain of doubt, experience, and ultimately, surrender.
So I began my own pilgrimage, not to temples, but through the kitchens of the world’s religions and philosophies. Sadhguru said, “You become what you eat,” and it made me wonder—what vibration do I want to embody? Shivani BK taught me that food absorbs the energy of the thoughts we project while cooking. I thought about the prayers I whisper into a pot of lentils, the vibrations of fear infused into a mother’s hurried meal. Food, I realized, was not just matter. It was memory. It was energy. It was emotion made edible.
In Tantric Hinduism, I learned that even meat can be spiritual—if the mind is mastered. In the Vigyan Bhairava, Shiva reminds us that often what is forbidden in the physical may be transcendent in the spiritual. And yet, my own experience kept nudging me: just because something is permissible does not mean it is aligned. I had to find the ingredients of my recipe for spiritual awakening.
Baba’s teachings, too, offered a paradox that puzzled me—eating goat with fakirs, but advocating vegetarianism for Hindus. Was it hypocrisy or something more profound? I came to see it like Indian cooking: each spiritual path has its own recipe. You don’t throw garam masala into a mango chutney. The spiritual path, like a well-made thorkari, must honor the timing, quality, and combination of its ingredients. Baba, in his omniscience, was maintaining the sanctity of each tradition—because all roads, when walked with integrity, lead to the Divine.
My understanding deepened further through my medical training. I studied the biochemistry of stress, the cortisol spike before slaughter, and I couldn’t ignore the vibrational residue of suffering left behind in meat. When I tasted yogurt from cows raised in confinement, my body rejected it—not because of the flavor, but because of the energetic memory it carried. There was bitterness in the aftertaste, a whisper of grief that lingered long after the last spoonful. In contrast, dairy from peaceful farms left me feeling nourished and serene. The cows were not just better treated—they were at peace. And I could feel it.
The more spiritually activated I became—especially during periods of high Kundalini flow—the more sensitive I grew to the vibrations of what I consumed. A meal was no longer just about taste; it was about transmission. Onion and garlic made my thoughts more scattered. A sattvic diet calmed the waves of my mind, allowing space for intuition to surface. The food I ate became either a bridge to my Higher Self—or a barrier.
And food didn’t just affect me spiritually—it revealed me energetically. As a Kundalini Yoga instructor, I began to notice that my cravings were diagnostic tools. When my root chakra was imbalanced, I reached for fiery chips and diet soda, craving grounding. When my solar plexus felt shaky, I craved carbs—seeking false accomplishment in fullness. When my heart chakra ached, I sought comfort in sweets, trying to substitute sugar for love. These weren’t just indulgences. They were cries from within. Echoes of unresolved wounds, seeking expression through the spoon.
Spiritually, emotionally, energetically—food mirrors our state of being. It’s the language of the body, the soul’s daily dialogue with matter. And just as trauma stores itself in our tissues, so too does nourishment—if chosen with care—begin to heal them.
Ultimately, I’ve come to believe that food is not a rule to follow or a punishment to endure. It is a teacher. It is a reflection of where we are on the journey and a compass pointing us home. When I eat with awareness, when I cook with reverence, when I choose ingredients that honor life and light, I find that I don’t just feel better—I become better. My energy stabilizes. My thoughts uplift. My heart expands. And most importantly, I begin to live—not just from the body, but from the soul.
As Sai Ma often says: “Mon ta bhalo rako. Shanti thako. Tahale shob theek hoye jabe."
“Keep your mind calm. Stay in peace. Then everything will be alright.”
And so I do. I eat in peace. I eat in prayer. And I allow food to become the sacred bridge between my physical life and my spiritual path—one mindful bite at a time.
It's about balance, moderation, and service.
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