The Paradox of Ashwagandha: Tradition vs. Modern Wellness

KaustubhaReflections

Jun 18—2025

“Maasi, is this the ‘ashwagandha’ that costs ₹1800 on Instagram?”

That was Chinni last Sunday, holding up a sleek black jar that looked more like it belonged in a Paris perfume boutique than in my kitchen cabinet. The label read MoonRoot Botanics: Stress Defense Elixir – With Wild Ashwagandha Root. It was nestled between a glass straw and a note promising “adaptogenic alchemy.”

“Sort of,” I told her, “but also… not really.”

Because while the plant inside that jar is indeed Withania somnifera—known for centuries in Ayurveda as a rasayana, or rejuvenator—what’s wrapped around it today is something else entirely. A marketing aura. A wellness persona. A paradox.

Let me explain.

A Root Older Than Language

Ashwagandha has walked quietly through Indian medicine for millennia. The Sanskrit name itself means “smell of a horse,” referring not just to its musky scent but to the vitality it was believed to impart. In Charaka Samhita, one of Ayurveda’s foundational texts, it is described as balya (strengthening), rasayana (life-prolonging), and nidrajanana (sleep-inducing).

Its role in traditional formulations wasn’t glamorous. It didn’t get paraded on silver thalis or offered at temples. It was ground in iron mortars, mixed into warm milk or ghee, and quietly slipped into the diets of those recovering from fever, heartbreak, or exhaustion. Soldiers took it before war. Widows, after trauma. Farmers, in the lean season.

It was not a “superfood.” It was survival—rooted, humble, essential.

Enter the Adaptogen

In the 1940s, Soviet scientists coined the term “adaptogen” to describe herbs that helped the body resist stress in a non-specific way. Ashwagandha fit the bill perfectly—and slowly began its east-to-west journey.

Fast forward to today, and it’s hard to scroll through wellness Instagram without stumbling on ashwagandha in some form: gummies, lattes, capsules, serums, powders. It’s hailed as a natural stress reliever, a libido booster, an energy tonic. Gwyneth Paltrow swears by it. So does your startup founder friend who drinks “mood-shroom matcha.”

But here’s the paradox: The more global it becomes, the more removed it seems from its roots.

Science Catches Up

Let’s be clear—ashwagandha isn’t just old wives’ wisdom. A growing body of clinical evidence supports many of its traditional uses.

A 2012 double-blind, randomized controlled trial found that 300mg of ashwagandha root extract significantly reduced cortisol levels and perceived stress scores in adults under chronic stress.[1]
A 2020 meta-analysis reviewed five randomized controlled trials and confirmed improvements in sleep quality and anxiety reduction among those who used ashwagandha supplements.[2]

But—here’s where Maya, my ever-skeptical best friend, usually interrupts me—“Isn’t everything a super herb if you cherry-pick enough studies?”

Fair point.

Because while the science is promising, it’s still early. Dosages vary. Extract types differ wildly. And most studies focus on concentrated, standardized forms—not the powdered roots your grandmother mixed into warm milk.

From Kadai to Capsule: What Gets Lost

The traditional use of ashwagandha involved more than just the plant. It was often decocted in milk or ghee—both of which aid fat-soluble compound absorption. It was rarely taken alone. It was part of a seasonal, personalized regimen. And crucially, it was offered with ritual and rest.

Now compare that to the freeze-dried capsules you pop between meetings. Or the “stress-fighting latte” you sip while doomscrolling Twitter.

Mr. Raghavan, my spice vendor, once said, “You cannot take the root and leave the soil behind.” That’s what we’re doing—lifting ingredients out of context and expecting them to perform miracles.

It’s like expecting tulsi to save your lungs while puffing on a vape. Or drinking golden milk after five Red Bulls and calling it “balance.”

The Dosage Dilemma

Another twist in the paradox is dosage.

In Ayurveda, dosage depends on prakriti (body constitution), vikriti (imbalance), age, season, and other herbs in the formulation. But modern supplements often come with a one-size-fits-all dose—sometimes too low to help, other times high enough to cause side effects.

I once had a client—a 30-year-old startup founder—who began taking two grams daily of high-concentration ashwagandha extract for “mental stamina.” Within weeks, she developed heart palpitations and severe insomnia.

Turns out, she was Vata-predominant. In her case, a gentler nervine herb like brahmi might have served her better.

But nuance doesn’t trend well. Simplicity sells.

The Taste of Stress Relief

Let’s not forget: Ashwagandha tastes awful.

Bitter, earthy, slightly sour—like chewing on the monsoon mud outside my childhood window. And yet, that taste was part of the medicine.

In Ayurveda, rasa (taste) isn’t just sensory—it’s the body’s first form of medicinal recognition. Bitter tastes, like ashwagandha’s, stimulate vata and balance over-exerted nerves. When masked, you lose the signal before the body can respond.

According to the classical texts, rasa isn’t just flavor—it’s information. The taste tells the tongue what the gut and mind should prepare for. When you capsule it, candy-coat it, or bury it under chai syrup—you sever the line of communication.

Even Chinni, after her first taste, grimaced and said, “It tastes like the smell of Tuffy’s paws.” (She wasn’t wrong.)

Cultural Appropriation, or Global Acceptance?

Let’s also talk about the uneasy global rise of ashwagandha.

It’s wonderful that the world is finally discovering the power of plants we’ve known for centuries. But too often, this rediscovery is packaged with erasure.

Western brands rarely cite Ayurveda. Traditional healers are left out of the narrative. And prices skyrocket—not for Indian farmers but for global CEOs. I once saw a US brand sell ashwagandha gummies at $65 a bottle—more than a week’s groceries for the very communities that cultivated it.

Wellness, in its modern form, sometimes feels like colonization with prettier fonts.

Asha’s Reflection: How Do We Reclaim It?

So what do we do with this paradox?

We don’t throw away the new—we don’t need to shame people for discovering herbs via YouTube shorts. But we do need to reclaim the whole story. The soil, the context, the preparation, the ritual.

When I give ashwagandha to clients today, I often ask them to take it in warm milk, after dinner, with five minutes of silence. Not because the silence is “scientific”—but because it returns the herb to its rhythm.

And sometimes, I ask them to smell it first. To remember that vitality often comes dressed in discomfort.

Final Thought: What Are You Really Healing?

In a world of constant pings, blurred boundaries, and burnout masquerading as ambition—maybe the real power of ashwagandha isn’t just what it does to your cortisol.

Maybe it’s what it asks of your life.

To slow. To notice. To taste bitterness and still trust its medicine.

So yes, Chinni—that jar may cost ₹1800. But the real cost is forgetting what the root once asked of us.

Footnotes

[1] Chandrasekhar K, Kapoor J, Anishetty S. A prospective, randomized double-blind, placebo-controlled study of safety and efficacy of a high-concentration full-spectrum extract of ashwagandha root in reducing stress and anxiety in adults. Indian J Psychol Med. 2012;34(3):255–262.

[2] Pratte MA, Nanavati KB, Young V, Morley CP. An alternative treatment for anxiety: a systematic review of human trial results with ashwagandha (Withania somnifera). J Ethnopharmacol. 2020 Jan 10;247:112112.

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