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Following my thrilling cycling escapades to Kalinchok, Sailung, Tarke Ghyang, and Chitlang, my 13-day trek to Upper Mustang in 2018 was the absolute humdinger. The rugged terrain, the breathtaking views, and the camaraderie with fellow trekkers and cyclists, who became more like a family, made it an unforgettable experience.

I then set my sights on the iconic Annapurna Circuit for 2020, the prize trail coveted by international and domestic trekkers and cyclists. Spring (March-May) and autumn (mid-Sept to mid-Oct) are the shoulder seasons for trekking the Annapurna Circuit.

The Circuit offers a feast for the eyes, with breathtaking views of the Himalayas. The majestic Annapurna massif, Annapurna I to IV, stands tall, followed by a whole shebang:  Dhaulagiri (8167m), Manaslu (8156m), Nilgiri (7061m), Machhapuchhre (6993m), Hiunchuli (6443m), Lamjung Himal (6983m), Tukuche peak (6920m), and Tilicho peak (7134m), among others (43 peaks overall).

Deemed as demanding, the trail/dirt road rises from as low an elevation as 760m to a soaring 5,416m (Thorang La pass). The Circuit, which encompasses 230 km, gets underway from Beshisahar, Lamjung, traverses Manang across to Mustang, and culminates at Beni, Myagdi.

The Annapurna Circuit also distinguishes itself for Yak Attack, touted as the highest and most challenging mountain bike race on earth with extremes of temperature and the harshest terrains.

The global pandemic, a force beyond our control, abruptly halted our plans for 2020, including the Annapurna Circuit. In early 2020, Covid-19 hit Nepal hard, followed by frequent blanket lockdowns, and life seemed to come to a grinding halt. Given the Covid-19 fallout, Mustang and Manang officially drew the curtain for visitors, and uncertainty loomed over the future of adventure travel.

Raju, my trusted cycling companion, and I meticulously planned our 13-day tour itinerary of the Annapurna Circuit. After the government lifted all Covid-19-related restrictions in the first week of March 2022, we began our preparations in earnest. We studied the weather patterns, mapped the route, and prepared our gear. After much brainstorming, we finally set out our trip following the Dashain holidays, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Both Manang and Mustang had opened their doors to visitors, and Kathmandu gradually saw the influx of foreign tourists, but uncertainty and doubts still hung in the air. “Something could go wrong any time,” said Raju.

However, our journey was not without its share of unexpected challenges. Just before Dashain, a sudden bout of precipitation caught the country off guard. It persisted throughout the festival, triggering a series of landslides and flooding on the road from Beshisahar to Manang, bringing all traffic to a standstill.

We had no choice but to hold back with a snowball’s chance in hell for the roads to open shortly. And the Tihar festival was around the corner into the bargain. But we didn’t give up. Thankfully, the fogs cleared—the rains ceased, and the roadway opened. And we scheduled our delayed expedition after the Tihar festival in the second week of November—our fingers crossed.

The big day arrived for our epic ride, and we shuttled our bikes to the Gongabu bus terminal. We planned to take a bus, but the hassle and chaos at the bus station made us change our minds, and we opted instead for a public Hiace van with our bikes adequately loaded on the roof.

“Finally, we did it; nothing can stop us now—until the kingdom comes,” Raju exclaimed with a mix of relief and excitement as the van started moving, Besisahar-bound—the kick-off point for our thrilling cycling adventure.

After four hours of a bone-jarring ride on the Prithivi Highway to Dumre, the once-paved road to Beshisahar was challenging. It was reduced to anything but pits and potholes, causing us to pitch and toss as the van lurched along almost the entire journey. 

What bothered us most was the plight of our bikes on the van’s roof. We ensured they were well-secured each time the van pulled up for lunch or tea breaks.

Phew! After almost four hours of a bone-jarring ride, to our great relief, we finally arrived in the late afternoon at Beshisahar, 178km away from Kathmandu. Beshisahar, day one on our itinerary, was our stopover for the night and the onset of our cycling to Manang. We checked into a nearby hotel.

Contrary to our expectations, Beshisahar, the district headquarters of Lamjung, turned out to be a large city with fancy houses, trendy shops, and a score of eateries, including in-vogue fast-food joints and diners. The Bazar area bustled and crawled with people; hawkers peddled their wares, and the traffic flow remained steady.

Less than 800m from the sea level, the weather of Beshisahar, even in mid-November, appeared balmy and rather pleasant. The urban sprawl extended to the banks of the Marshyangdi River. The bluish-chalky river kept us company without a break throughout our ride from the town of Dumre.

After a brief stroll across the town center, we returned to the hotel to check our gear and make the last-minute preparations. The thought that we would spin off the next day made us so thrilled we could die!

I, for one, had a mix of excitement and nervousness.

As I gazed at the rugged landscape and the daunting hills ahead, I couldn't help but wonder: Was I pushing past my limits, no longer a spring chicken at age 70? But the thrill of the adventure and the unwavering camaraderie with Raju made me all the more stubborn and dead set.

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Our last day's adventure at the Jungle Island Resort (read previous story), Bandarjola, Chitwan National Park, was a sightseeing tour of the Magar crocodiles and the inimitable Gharials. That meant almost a two-hour ride in a narrow dugout canoe in the Narayani River. It sounded great to my family but me. It was a no-go for me flat out because I was too scared of water—virtually to a fixation.

I had reasons for my fear of water, and the story behind it goes like this: Once, in the lake city of Pokhara, I went fishing in a narrow two-person dugout with a local guy in Lake Phewa. Everything was going fine, and we managed a few catches, too.

But the weather turned sour without any warning, and we were caught unawares by a massive thunderstorm. Barely had we made half the distance to the banks across the lake when the narrow dugout started filling with heavy rainwater almost to the level of the hull.

Panic-stricken, I frantically bailed the water out with a small bucket we carried while my local guide furiously worked the paddles. Suddenly, I realized that I didn't know how to swim!

After what appeared like a half-hour, the dreadful ordeal ended, though. The rain fell back, and we made it to the safety of the banks. Phew! "That was a close call," I mumbled to myself. From that day onwards, I never considered doing a boat ride again and steered clear of even a swimming pool in the bargain.  

I walked my excited kids and wife to the riverboat yard and waved them goodbye as the canoe slid into the water. I had two hours to kill before they would be back. I spotted a shack with a few chairs and benches close by. It turned out to be a tea shop.  

The tea made from buffalo milk had that typical Terai hallmark—thick and cloyingly sweet. I could not resist and went for a second cup. As I was about to sip my tea, my eyes fell upon a distant elephant hulking down in my direction. At a closer look, the mounted figure looked very familiar. Wait a minute! He was none other than Kumal and the elephant, every inch, Laxmikali.  

I greeted him with a wave and asked him to join me for tea. He was all smiles to see me and broke into a chuckle when I told him sheepishly my excuse for not joining my family for the canoe ride.

As our chat followed, I suddenly observed a scar running on his face from the left side of the lip and cheek to almost the side of his temple. I missed the scar the previous day when we were on the mind-boggling elephant ride. I could not help asking him about it. And my jaws dropped when Kumal recited the story that took place several years ago.  

"The incident took place while I was doing a routine safari ride for two foreign guests," Kumal said. "I had with me the same elephant, Laxmikali." Kumal pointed his finger at the nearby Laxmikali, tugging at a patch of sod with his trunk.

"Shortly, we ran into a sloth bear right on our track," he continued. The bear stood guard for her cub perched on a Jamun tree (java plum) branch some 15 feet above the ground. Jamuns are a favorite of bears. Kumal's long experience in the park's forest told him a lone bear, except for a brief display of aggression, did not pose a genuine threat to humans.

But a mama bear in her cub's company could turn into quite another story—the most unpredictable. She can turn nasty and is as often as not likely to attack, even if the least provoked.

Instinct made Laxmikali stop in her tracks, but she did not take alarm. Such encounters were not uncommon during safari rides. Kumal thought it better to give the bear a wide berth, though. The last thing he wished for was a face-off.

It was too late! Without warning, the mother bear swung around towards Laxmikali and charged at a run with a blood-curdling growl, baring her fangs.

From 15 yards, the mother bear closed in on a bound and kept coming! She stopped at a few paces, stood on her toes, and snarled. Laxmikali froze, so did Kumal. 

The moment of truth had arrived, thought Kumal. The silence behind the howdah also spoke about the guests' plight. As Kumal's concern was their safety, the only course left for him was to make a slow retreat. But as he nudged Laxmikali with his toes to step back, the bear struck, taking a nasty bite of her trunk. Everything happened in the blink of an eye.

Before Kumal knew it, mayhem struck, and Laxmikali went berserk. She retaliated with an ear-splitting trumpeting that shook the ground, the sound tearing for miles into the dense forest. Still, in a befuddled state, Kumal watched in dismay as Laxmikali bounded for the tree instead of turning up on the bear. She lashed her trunks onto the branch to pull the terrified cub down. The guests watched from the howdah, stunned.

The drama seemed unrelenting as the desperate club clutched a tree branch for dear life. Stupefied by Laxmikali's unexpected onslaught, the bear wavered and backed off but resumed her vicious lunges again. Thank heaven. So far, no harm had come to the guests, mused Kumal, sweat running down his forehead, almost blinding his eyes.

However, he realized the situation was getting out of hand. He tried his best, but no coaxing or sharp clouting worked to curb Laxmikali's fury.

Frothing at the mouth, she flailed her trunk wildly to knock the bear cub down. Meanwhile, the mother bear's challenging huffing, woofing, and lunges appeared feeble. She likely thought better of it against the animal ten times her size.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack. Before Kumal could gather his wits, a stout branch came crashing down, hitting him in the chest. Another hit the side of his face, almost knocking him off Laxmikali's back. He blacked out, a searing pain gripping his chest.

The traumatic state must have lasted a few seconds before Kumal recovered. He instinctively felt for his face to find a bruised lip and a deep gash on the side of his face. His fingers came back sticky with his warm blood.

Alarmed, he turned back. His eyes fell on one of the howdah supports, broken in two. Horrified, he looked at the guests. His guests, though almighty shaken, remained safe. He took a sigh of relief.

With blood streaming down his face, he tried to size up the predicament. Laxmikali's hulking flanks still twitched with intense rage, and she seemed prepared for another attack. The drama took a sharp turn, though—the cub hurtled down to the ground and scampered to its mother. Two meters from Kumal, the mother bear held her ground and continued the face-off. The little cub cowered, huddling behind her.

Providentially, two safari elephants converged on the scene for Kumal's rescue at that very moment. Guided by the shouts and commotion, they had decided to dash to the spot. Upon seeing two more elephants as backup, the bear thought it wise to slink away with her cub, ending the gory drama. "I had to have seven stitches to my face. It took over a month for me to recover," said Kumal.

As Kumal wrapped up his story, I could still feel the hairs on my arms stand on end. After an exchange of pleasantries, Kumal left for his quarters with Laxmikali striding along proudly. The duo soon disappeared into the vernal woods as I ordered a third cup of tea.  

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In 2010, for a holiday spree with my wife and two daughters, we visited the Island Jungle Resort in the Chitwan National Park (mid-west Nepal). At the time, several safari resorts operated within the national park perimeter, as did the Island Jungle Resort. 

With the memories of our previous visit to Sauraha still fresh, we yearned for a new wildlife experience, something off the beaten path. And so, with a stroke of luck, we found ourselves at the Island Jungle Resort in Bandarjhola, a unique and secluded spot about 35 km northwest of Narayanghat. 

The choice we made paid off. Nestled in a dense riverine forest and surrounded by vast grasslands, the Island Jungle Resort in Bandarjhola, about 35 km northwest of Narayanghat, offered a unique setting. Unlike the resorts in Sauraha, it was hemmed in by the river Narayani on two sides, with the other two sides ringed by the river’s subsidiaries, giving it the charm of an island. The resort’s name was a perfect fit. 

And, what’s more, my two daughters were thrilled to bits when we took a boat ride across the Narayani River, the only approach to the resort. With no other nearby resorts, the wilderness seemed absolute, as wild and natural as possible. “Wow, it’s different from Sauraha,” our youngest daughter, Bubul, hollered gleefully. The rest of us nodded, grinning from ear to ear.

In 2012, the government announced the closure of luxury jungle safari hotels inside the protected zone, citing possible harm to the park’s ecology, and issued eviction notices to all seven luxury resorts there, including the Island Jungle Resort. The decree, however, allowed the resorts to relocate outside the national park perimeter.

Upon arrival at the resort, our excitement snowballed to find the setting done in genuine aesthetics, in harmony with the natural surroundings and small cozy cottages amidst a spacious garden decked with diverse trees, plants, and shrubs. The dining hall was delightfully expansive, with a well-stocked bar and seating arrangement that extended outdoors with a wooden deck almost at arm's length to the rippling waters of the Narayani River. Sheer bliss! 

Our schedule was packed with thrilling activities, including a jungle walk, a canoe ride, and the much-anticipated elephant ride. The sight of our elephant, Laxmikali, and her mahout, Kumal, working in perfect harmony was a sight to behold. The elephant ride itself was a wild adventure, leaving us all exhilarated. 

The first hour of the safari offered close views of deer, including the imposing sambars, along with a motley of birds such as jungle fowl, black partridge, a covey of quails, and the ubiquitous peafowls, not the least startled by our approaching elephant—appearing almost tame.  

But we fancied seeing a lumbering rhino, if not the most elusive of all, the mighty Royal Bengal Tiger, albeit we knew it stood a fat chance—one in a million. 

But the real excitement began when our elephant, Laxmikali, led us past a freshly stirred mud wallow, followed by fresh footprints. It was clear that a rhino had recently taken a mud bath and wandered into the woods, leaving a hot trail. ‘A rhino,’ Kumal whispered, and our pursuit began as we followed the footprints. 

Kumal masterfully navigated Laxmikali through the elephant grass, the woods, the seemingly impenetrable scrub, and thickets with spiny thorns—nothing seemed to stop Laxmikali.

The trail suddenly went cold when we assumed we were closing in. It was almost 6 pm, and the fading light reminded us that we had very little time before it would get too dark to continue. Kumal led Laxmikali to take a detour. With our fingers crossed, we kept our eyes straining hard to penetrate the thick undergrowth, trying to catch sight of our quarry as our tusker lumbered. 

As the setting sun reddened the horizon, sending diffused crimson rays through the woods, the jungle burst into life. The bulbuls, the barbets, the orioles, and a myriad of avian species that abounded the rainforest commenced chattering their loudest.

Jungle fowls fell in, calling each other lustily, and then a distant peafowl let out a shrill ‘meow’' All the resident birds seemed to join in a chorus to announce that dusk approached close—time to turn in for the day. Wait a minute! We suddenly stumbled upon the lost spoor! 

With renewed hopes and a redoubled pace, we crashed through the foliage. Twice, my foot got trapped in jungle creepers, swinging branches lashed at my face, thorns clawed at my arms, and I virtually got banged by overhead branches for all I cared.

My co-riders (my wife and daughters) were in no less harrowing condition—but no less excited. We continued our pursuit, albeit the chances of spotting the animal appeared slim. And as Kumal nudged Laxmikali back towards camp, our heart sank. Hang on! We had barely taken a few strides when we virtually bumped into it! “There it is,” Gun Bahadur Kumal called, almost in a whisper, and pointed to a clump of thorny bush.

And there stood our fearless quarry eyeing back at us, almost five feet at the shoulder and nine feet long, the pride of the Chitwan National Park, the inimitable Greater One-horned Rhino. Our pursuit had paid off.  

On our way back, Kumal suddenly stopped Laxmikali at a spot, dismounted, observed closely at some footmarks, and even ran his fingers over them. To our amazement, they were the fresh pugmarks of a male tiger. ‘Darn it! We missed the tiger by just a minute or two,’ said Kumal, shaking his head. We all froze in awe. ‘Only a few minutes? Oh, no,’ said Smi, my eldest daughter, sounding frustrated. The tiger had eluded us, leaving us in awe of its stealth. 

Back at the resort with a mug of chilled beer, I sat on the deck close to the water, enjoying the bracing breeze as I watched the nearby Narayani roll by in the darkness, the ripples mirroring the glimmer of the moonlight.

My mind kept recalling the day’s mind-boggling ride—a real humdinger. The only thing that bugged me was missing out on the privilege of clapping eyes on the king of the jungle, the Royal Bengal Tiger. Dang it! I said to myself and swore aloud. 

Just then, a night heron wailed plaintively close from the darkened river bank. Then I froze, goosebumps exploding all over my body. From the deep recesses of the jungle, a tiger roared.

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En route to Manang, after our layover at Syange (1,100m), we hopped onto our saddles early the next morning. We had to make it to the day’s stopover scheduled for Dharapani at 1,860 meters, some 25km away. If the ride to Syange was challenging, the pedaling subsequently proved more testing as we had to navigate the tricky, narrower dirt road, gnarly and riddled with rocks with debris left by the recent landslips—the elevation gain pushing us from the tropical to the subtropical zone.

The demanding ride had its typical chiseled charm, though, as we moved past cliffs, feasting our eyes on the greenery and the landscape with many a massive waterfall that stole our hearts. We learned we were still in Lamjung and would step on the Manang soil only after Dharapani.

And to our delight, we often stopped to regain our breath, take a respite and much-need cup of tea and light nibbles at fetching towns with rows of back-to-back tea shops and lodges with slanting colorful roofs, mostly two-storied, flanking the road. 

The notable quaint towns and scattered settlements included Ngadi, Bahun Danda, Ghermu, and others. The light began to fade as we got a bird’s eye view from a steep ridge of Tal way down across the Marsyangdi River—pretty as a picture.

In between, the crashing and tumbling Marshayngdi that had kept us company right from our kick-off spot from Beshisahar and the perpetual distant snow-clad mountains served as fascinating interludes. Darkness enveloped us by the time we struggled it to Dharapani—the chill in the air pronounced.

In Nepal, the phase for people to recognize and appreciate avocado as a healthy, nutrient-dense fruit goes back over a decade, and its popularity gradually took on among fruit enthusiasts. Today, the consumption of avocado has almost become a household essential, especially in big cities like Kathmandu, Pokhara, and others, during its peak harvesting season. 

It has even appealed to Nepali farmers for its potential value as a cash crop and a substantial income resource. Dhankuta, in eastern Nepal, is known for extensive farming of avocados and has even bagged the title of avocado capital, Koshi Province.

Native to Mexico, the pear-shaped avocado with coarse rind was named amusingly the ‘alligator pear.’ It’s also called butter fruit in Europe and America for its creamy pulp. This pit-bearing fruit got its name, avocado, worldwide in 1915 when Californian farmers initiated its farming. Today, although the fruit is grown globally, Mexico stands as the largest avocado producer in the world. 

Among many varieties, the Hass and Fuerte are widely preferred by avocado lovers, the former blackish and the other with a green shade and thinner skin. Of the two, the coarse-skinned Hass is favored more than its cousin, the Fuerto, for its soft creamy pulp and smaller pit.

Incredible as it may sound, avocados pack nearly 20 vitamins plus minerals, and they are the only fruit that contains a substantial amount of monounsaturated fatty acids. 

As little as half an average-sized avocado packs almost 140 calories and 15 grams of fat—75 percent of the total fat is healthy monounsaturated. It is cholesterol and sodium-free, rich in fiber, and packed with folates and vitamin E. Likewise, dense in potassium, one-half of the avocado contains more potassium than a medium banana—487 mg against 422 mg, respectively. Health food buffs have touted it as a ‘Superfood.’ 

Now, the health benefits of avocado appear staggering if introduced into our meal plan. Let’s consider looking into the health rewards of the nutrient-dense fruit.

Supports the cholesterol level

Our body comprises two kinds of cholesterol: the ‘good,’ called HDL (high-density lipoprotein), and the ‘bad,’ called LDL (low-density lipoprotein). A severe hike in LDL can lead to life-threatening outcomes, running the risk of heart disease and stroke. The HDL absorbs cholesterol in the blood and transfers it to the liver to flush it out from the body.

Science backs it that avocados are loaded with oleic acid (omega-9 fatty acid) and the richest source of cholesterol-lowering nutrients called Phytosterols, boosting the healthy HDL and cutting down on the culprits, the LDL and the triglycerides. 

Research published by the American Heart Association maintained that daily intake of a single avocado can lower the LDL level. Clinical studies on individuals with high cholesterol levels furnished compelling evidence for this finding with remarkable results. Following a week-long diet of avocado, the analysis led to a 22 percent drop in the LDL and triglycerides while the HDL elevated by 11 percent.

The significant risk factors for cardiovascular disease are bad cholesterol and saturated fat. Again, rich in monounsaturated fat, folate, fiber, potassium, and a plant compound, beta-sitosterol, avocados help keep the cholesterol level in check. 

People with diabetes are supposed to tread a fine line between healthy meals and sugar spikes. Given that, the high-fat content in avocados might sound contradictory, inviting a bad rap. 

A medium-sized avocado contains about 22 grams of fat (15 grams monounsaturated, 4 grams polyunsaturated, 3 grams saturated). Thus, avocados with loads of ‘good fats,’ with an insignificant amount of saturated fat, still offer health benefits for diabetes patients.

Clinical observation has testified that a diet high in monounsaturated fat supports insulin sensitivity and advances the GLUT4 glucose in the cells.

Low in sugar content and dense in dietary fiber, soluble and insoluble, the consumption of avocado enhances glycemic management and stalls blood sugar spikes. It also helps spur better digestion and may reverse insulin resistance in type 2 diabetes.

Keeps the kidneys safe

Maintaining a healthy heart is crucial, as is the delicate care and safeguarding of our kidneys lest they run high risks of harm with critical results. A rich source of vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants, a single avocado packs over 480mg of potassium, which nourishes the kidneys. Specialists maintain the intake of a moderate amount of avocado in their diet, even helping chronic kidney patients in a critical stage.

Even tea made from avocado leaves works as a kidney cleanser, flushing wastes and toxins from the kidneys.

Keeps our eyes healthy

Avocados are rich in vitamin E and compounds like lutein, zeaxanthin, and carotenes. Research studies maintain that it supports eye health. With antioxidant properties, they also assist in fighting off eye diseases that come of age, such as macular degeneration and even cataracts.

Incorporating avocado into your meal plan helps keep your eyes healthy. It is rich in compounds called lutein and zeaxanthin (belonging to the carotenoid family). They maintain your eye health with antioxidant properties and fight off eye diseases that come of age, such as macular degeneration and even cataracts. 

Nourishes the skin

Besides, ladies also try a thin slice of avocado peel or a fruit paste mixed with almond oil under the eyes, thought to remedy dark blotches. For the oil content in the peel, too, rubbing the peel on dry skin of the face works wonders, they claim. Women also use the creamy paste of the fruit as a DIY face mask to hydrate and moisturize the skin. It is supposed to make the face skin soft and silky.

Some tips

When buying avocados, widely available in Kathmandu fruit stalls, go for the firm ones, discarding those with soft, dark, sunken spots or bruises. You can store them in the refrigerator for ripening, which takes four to seven days. If you wish to ripen them earlier, stow them in a paperback in your pantry; that takes less time to ripen. 

Like all other fruits, avocados are eaten raw. The pulp mashed into a fine paste makes a superb spread, substituting butter for bread, sandwiches, and rotis. It works wonders as a salad accompaniment. Or slice it and eat it by scooping its creamy fruit.  

Or, if your taste buds crave a seasoned sauce or spread, mash the fruit, add lime juice, and season it with a pinch of salt and cilantro. Voila, you have blended it into an incredibly popular Mexican condiment. 

Small wonder, the fantastic avocado has won over the hearts of people across the globe today. The bottom line? The splendid nutritious fruit worth its weight in gold is, by all counts, a ‘Superfood!’ Indeed!

References: hsph.harvard.edu/nutrition source; cdc.gov; medicalnewstoday; healthline.com; bbcgoodfood.com; nutritiofacts.org; breathewellbeing.in; avo.com.np.

Disclaimer: The views expressed in the above text are solely research-based, not medical advice; the author solicits readers’ discretion and cross-references. 

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Dieticians maintain that eating fiber-rich food offers a load of health benefits. You may have a clue that fiber found in foods is known for its faculty to prevent or relieve constipation.

That’s, however, only the tip of the iceberg. A fiber-dense diet furnishes several other dominant versatility to maintain overall good health, cutting the risk of chronic diseases such as diabetes, coronary ailments, and even some cancers. Before launching into the health benefits of fiber, some knowledge about dietary fiber might be helpful.

So, what’s dietary fiber? Also dubbed roughage, it includes foods from plant sources our body cannot absorb or digest. Surprisingly, it also falls under a type of good carbohydrate (polysaccharides).

Contrary to food ingredients like fats, proteins, or carbohydrates comfortably expended by our metabolism, fiber, when consumed, remains undigested. Strangely, it travels relatively unbroken through the stomach, small intestine, and colon and exits out of the body.

For us, this may sound contradictory. Still, medical dieticians and nutritionists argue that our body needs it, and we can’t do without it for its outstanding role in helping maintain reasonable health and wellness, keeping us at bay from chronic diseases.

In recent decades, our diet took a sharp switchover from our conventional fiber-based nutrient-rich to ultra-processed and junk food lacking dietary fiber, more so in Westernized societies, triggering high risks of chronic diseases.

Our bowels work as digestive or gastrointestinal apparatus, which take on the responsibility of helping the body absorb essential nutrients and fluids from the foods we eat and drink. After obtaining everything the body needs, the bowel expels the leftover waste. To that end, maintaining a smooth bowel function is pivotal in sustaining good health in general. Dietary fiber combined with ample fluid intake is consequently indispensable.

Fiber has two classifications: soluble and insoluble. Soluble fiber dissolves in water to turn into a gel-like substance. It can be eaten from oats, beans, legumes, apples, citrus fruits, carrots, barley, and green peas, to name a few.

Insoluble fiber promotes the mobility of ingested food through our digestive process and boosts stool bulk, helping those with constipation. Foods like whole wheat flour, nuts, beans, and vegetables, including green beans, kidney beans, potatoes, and cruciferous vegetables such as broccoli, cauliflower, Bok choy, and cabbage, are excellent sources of insoluble fiber. You may not know that roasted soybeans pack a very high fiber content.

Benefits of a high-fiber diet

Besides normalizing bowel movements and fine-tuning our metabolism, a fiber-dense diet provides various other health benefits. Let’s take a look at some helpful healthcare benefits of fiber.

• Beneficial to diabetes: A high-fiber diet improves glycemia and insulin sensitivity in non-diabetic and diabetic persons. Since our body cannot absorb and break down fiber, it does not set off blood-sugar spikes like other carbohydrates.

As stated by Harvard Medical School, “People whose diets are high in fiber are less   likely to have problems such as metabolic syndrome, which can be a precursor to diabetes.” Thus, fiber-rich meals help maintain, organize, and stabilize blood sugar to a healthy level.

• Helps promote cardiovascular disease: The soluble fiber we derive from food helps reduce LDL, maintaining an overall cholesterol level by binding with cholesterol particles in our digestive system and pushing them out of the body before they’re absorbed.

High fiber intake lowers blood pressure and serum lipid concentration to aid cholesterol levels. Besides enhancing blood lipid profile, scientific observational studies showed that fiber helps whittle coronary heart disease (CHD) risk by stabilizing blood pressure levels and improving insulin sensitivity and fibrinolytic activity.  

• Stave off hemorrhagic stroke: Science-backed research and cohort studies highlight that regular consumption of fiber-loaded meals is instrumental in reducing the risk of strokes. Replacing refined grains with fiber-rich whole grains in the diet can lessen the stroke threat by a whopping 36 percent.  

• Colorectal cancer and fiber: Colorectal surgeons contend that a fiber-rich diet can help lower the risk of contracting colorectal cancer. Colorectal cancer relates to cancers of the colon and the rectum. While colon cancer initiates in the colon, rectal cancer matures in the rectum. 

They justify that eating a regular high-fiber diet helps prevent colorectal cancer from evolving. According to the American Cancer Society, colorectal cancer stands as the third most common cancer doctors diagnose in adults in the United States. 

What’s more, a copious intake of fiber diet can support and alleviate:  

• Gastrointestinal disorders, including gastroesophageal reflux disease, duodenal ulcer, diverticulitis, and hemorrhoids.
• Clinical studies suggest fiber-packed meals provide a wide range of benefits in areas such as bowel function, gut health, and the immune system defending the body against chronic inflammation and infections.
• Normalizes bowel movements and health.
• Provides for a healthy weight.     

Caveat: High-fiber foods are vital, but people should tweak more fiber into their regular diet regimen in moderation to avoid possible backlashes like intestinal gas, abdominal bloating, and cramping. That allows the natural bacteria in our digestive system to adjust to the change. Also, drinking plenty of water and fluids is essential so the fiber absorbs adequate moisture to keep the gut health in good order.  

In a nutshell, our diet must incorporate adequate fiber for our body to run efficiently and allow a wide berth to chronic diseases. In essence, fiber in our daily meals is crucial in sustaining our overall health and nourishment and curbing the risk of chronic diseases.  

Although, as an option, people can go for fiber supplements, readily available over the counter, the experts still advise sticking with foods that meet dietary fiber requirements. The American Heart Association Eating Plan, too, suggests eating a variety of food with fiber sources and not supplements.  

Only eating nutritious foods with high fiber content cannot, albeit, serve the purpose. Striking a balance would help cultivate the habit of adhering to a routine workout regimen (jogging, walking, cardio, cycling, etc.). 

References: hsph.harvard.edu; clevelandclinic.org; ncbi.nlm.nih.gov; mayoclinic.org; betterhealth.vic.gov.au; cdc.gov; ucsfhealth.org; npr.org, medilineplus.gov; hopkinsmedicine.org and others.

Disclaimer: The views expressed in the above text are solely research-based, not medical advice; the author solicits readers’ discretion and cross-references or consulting a healthcare provider for further verification.

Medically reviewed by Prof Dr Sunil Shrestha MBBS, MS (Gen Surgery), and fellowship upper; HPB Surgery (Royal Prince Alfred Hospital), Sydney, Australia.

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Some two decades ago, rosemary (Salvia rosmarinus ) was almost unknown in Nepal. It was only used as an imported dried herb by exclusive Kathmandu restaurants and star hotels for seasoning foods, especially in continental cuisine, for its unique aroma. But in later years, rosemary plants were readily available in pots in the nurseries around the valley and soon turned into exotic household shrubbery in people’s garden collections. Rosemary is an aromatic, perennial evergreen shrub belonging to the mint family (Labiatae), native to the hills along the Mediterranean, Portugal, and northwestern Spain but now grown worldwide. 

Generally erect with needle-like, gray-green leaves, the shrubs can grow from four to six feet high. You only have to pinch or squeeze a few leaves between your fingers to check its sharp and zesty redolence. You can’t help but utter the word: Wow! Besides, rosemary serves as a condiment in culinary usage to accentuate the flavor or pair it with poultry, fish, lamb, soups, sauces, stews, and potatoes or pizza-garnishing. It can also jazz up non-alcoholic beverages like sparkling water, iced tea, and lemonade to turn them into a healthy drink.

For its woodsy solid flavor, slightly bitter and astringent, you must use it sparingly lest it gets the better of other spices and spoil your savory dish.  Further, the production of cosmetic and toiletry items, such as perfumes, soaps, creams, and lotions, utilizes rosemary. In Nepal, people also burn it as incense. And to go by history, the therapeutic herb, since times immemorial, has been used in folk medicine to alleviate several ailments from headache, stomach pain, arthritis, gout, and epilepsy to rheumatism, spasms, anxiety, hysteria, anxiety, depression, and dysmenorrhea. 

In Ayurveda treatments, too, the essential oil extracted from rosemary, known as Rujamari, is said to ease off in our metabolism, excess dosas like Vata and Kapha, and boost the Pitta. The oil extract from rosemary also serves as a tonic for the hair, improving negative thoughts and relieving fatigue. 

In both in vitro and in vivo investigations, the analysis led to the wonder herb’s rich source of iron, calcium, copper, and magnesium, with several vitamins like A, B, C, and E, as well as riboflavin and folate. Let’s look at other peer-reviewed and science-backed health-promoting benefits of rosemary, including folate and riboflavin.

Potential against the risk of Cancer

• Rosemary comprises carnosic acid and carnasol, compounds known for their potent antioxidant properties. Clinical studies have discovered that these elements help delay the progression or reproduction of cancer cells, reducing the risk of developing tumors.

Helps fight Diabetes

• Rosemary contains potent micronutrients like rosmarinic and carnosic acids, which exert insulin-like outcomes to help lower high blood sugar levels by promoting glucose absorption into body muscle cells. Clinical analysis shows rosemary extract and its polyphenolic constituents contain ant-hyperglycemic properties.

Improves blood circulation

• Efficient blood circulation in our body cells is crucial for our organs, like the heart, lungs, and muscles, to function adequately. The antioxidants and anti-inflammatory substances in rosemary help improve blood circulation and cardiovascular health. 

Aids and reinforces the immune system

• The carnosic and rosmarinic acids in rosemary arm the herb with efficacious antiviral, antibacterial, and antifungal qualities. Regular intake of rosemary herb can lower the risk of infection and help the immune system.   

Supports brain health

• The potent properties inherent in rosemary upgrade mental health and promote memory by boosting the acetylcholine in our nerve cells, acting as neurotransmitters, our body’s prime chemical messengers. Scientific studies have supported that the carnosic acid content in rosemary helps fight off damage by free radicals in the brain. 

Clinical studies have shown that rosemary may boost cognitive function and prevent memory loss in older adults or as we age. Believe it or not, scientists claim sniffing at rosemary improves memory by as high as 75 percent.

Fights stress and anxiety

• Rosemary may be used as a snuff to enhance mood as a part of aromatherapy, which remained practiced since ancient times. Simply inhaling the strong whiff of rosemary supposedly aids in lowering the cortisol levels in our blood to lower stress hormones, alleviate stress and anxiety, and improve sleep. 

Protects vision

• Research has led to the finding that the carnosic acid in rosemary slows down the age-related macular degeneration of our eyes, a leading cause of vision loss among the elderly.

Aids digestion and gut health

• A cup of rosemary tea after a meal serves as a remedy for digestion-related issues. It boosts the balance of healthy gut bacteria in our body, thus supporting digestion. 

Clinical studies have also shown that treatment with rosemary extract was effective in reducing colon tissue lesions, colitis, and irritable bowel syndrome. Furthermore, it was traditionally used as a natural cure for gastrointestinal issues like upset stomach, constipation, gas, and bloating, as it helps relax the intestine muscles. 

Good for respiratory health  

• For containing a property called cineole (eucalyptol), rosemary also treats inflammatory respiratory disorders, such as the common cold, bronchitis, and sinusitis. Drinking rosemary tea can offer relief if people get mucus buildup in the lungs. 

Regarding how to brew a cup of healing rosemary tea, pour boiling water over a fresh rosemary sprig or dried rosemary leaves, cover it, let it stay for 5 to 10 minutes, and then strain it. Voila, your healing herbal tea is ready.

Caveat

Care and caution are essential when you introduce rosemary into your diet plan. Maintaining moderation should take priority. The herb is usually safe when taken in low doses. Albeit side effects in ingesting it are rare, massive doses could cause possible side effects like: 

• Vomiting
• Spasms
• Coma
• Pulmonary edema (fluid in the lungs), its 
• Further, pregnant women and children should avoid the intake of rosemary for its possible adverse effects

References: ncbi.nlm.nih.gov; webmed.com; himalayanhaat.org; aanmc.org; organicfacts.net; researchgate.net; mediaindia.net; pharmaeasy.in; medicalnewstoday.com; flushinghospital.org; intrepidmentalhealth.com; plantcraze.com

Disclaimer: The views expressed in the above text are solely research-based, not medical advice; the author solicits readers’ discretion and cross-references or consulting a healthcare provider for further verification.

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Albeit, age has caught up with me—past my mid-sixties today—every Dashain, when kites dot the sky in a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors–red, blue, yellow, green, you name it, the sight mesmerizes me to take a flight down memory lane to my childhood fantasy—flying and fighting kites.  

Bygone memories surge back, and the image of a skinny little boy swims before my eyes. Oblivious to the rest of the world, he totes a lattai (wooden reel), his eyes glued on his red kite pivoting, spinning, and diving in the sky in the sweltering midday sun, his face turned ruddy swathed in sweat and grime—for all he cares. 

Just then, out of the blue, a yellow-n-black bi-colored kite looms, spoiling for a fight. The boy watches the adversary and, with bated breath, braces himself. The challenger soars up, whirls, and tears down upon his kite. 

Attaboy! The boy smartly outwits the blitzing onrush, propels his kite above the opponent’s, and, gaining the upper hand, zeroes in on it before it can get its bearings. The duel kicks off, both fixated on a kill as lines get fed, and the warring kites spin away. 

Hardly past a few moments, the bi-colored contender, unawares, totters and plunges earthward in a pathetic glide. ‘Chait’, bursts out the boy, bellowing at the top of his voice—his cheeks flushed florid.  

How can I forget those stirring moments drenched in excitement and drama, let alone the wide-eyed, heady little lad flying his kite? Because, dear readers, I was ‘he’.

In the 1960s, in Kathmandu, with no telly and dreary delays (some for months) for movies to switch at the handful of theaters, for the youngsters, the only way out to unwind during the Dashain holidays was to fly kites, run kites and fight kites.

I was 10/12 years old, and my passion and obsession was flying kites. And to satisfy my craze, I would go to any lengths head over heels. I whined, scrounged, stole, threw one too many tantrums at home, and did not mind trading mom’s thrashing for a day’s kiting. 

Following the Dashain escapades, what stood out as endearing reminders were the tell-tale cuts, gashes, and rashes, all so gallantly endured during the time, and the sudden nostalgic feeling a cherished season had again gone by a little too early.

The historical Asan Tole, in those days, with a sprinkling of kite shops, was the hub for all the kiting paraphernalia. Unlike the ready-to-use glass-coated strings (available in later years), we had to do with plain strings. The kites came from Kolkata and Patna (India), the strings from Bareilly (India), while the local carpenters made the wooden reels.

There was more; we could not just yet have a go at flying, as we stood no chance of sparring it out with other flyers without applying the maza on the string—a concoction of alas (flax seed), arrowroot powder, sago grains, a slippery extract squeezed out of a cactus plant called ghyukumari (aloe vera), and powdered glass (pounded electric bulbs). 

We brewed the whole gamut of ingredients into a thick consistency and then applied it to the string and let it dry in the sun; every kiter prided himself in his maza recipe, which he kept hush-hush for success at kite fighting, rested upon it.

I was not an ace fighter, but I held some clout over my neighborhood peers. In my elements, I downed seven or eight kites in a day against a loss of two or three, a feat my local pals admired. But there were days when only frustrating defeats stared me in the face. 

I had friends who were great at kite running, but I needed a stomach for it as it called for speed and brawn that I lacked, and as often as not, such runs ended up in brawls.

One Dashain, our neighborhood was in for a big jolt—an intruder had trespassed our territory, blazing a cutting spree across our sky, spelling doom for every single kite that dared cross its path. None stood a chance, and none—spared. A confrontation for me was inevitable, but I was not the kind to be intimidated that easily. But, it looked like I was fated, too, like the other kiters. It hurt bad when I lost kite after kite to this formidable adversary.

What confounded us most was his style of launching an attack, which was weird to all flyers of our genre. The rule of thumb for us was to secure an upper hold over the opponent’s line and feed the line in a steady, unhurried motion after complete contact. To our disbelief, this fellow did the contrary by engaging his line from below. Incredible!

The kite approached from below, lifted straight up in an unexpected rush, and before we could grasp what was happening, our lines snapped as if a razor had touched them off. Just like that, no kidding! The cutting binge continued for days; all we could do was gawk at our hapless kites. None of our ruses worked against this seemingly invincible invader.

Overnight, this stranger had turned into a superstar, talked about in hushed tones whenever the boys met in the alleys of our neighborhood. Words flew around that this fellow was from India visiting an uncle in our neighborhood.

Near desperation, I decided to visit this mystery fellow, a dark horse—just a spitting distance away from my house. When I dropped by the house, to my great surprise, I found him flying his kite with his bare hands, the reel held by another chap. 

Whoa! No boy in Kathmandu then flew with bare hands! Even as I watched, dumbfounded at the ease, the flourish, and the control he displayed at tugging and jerking on his line, he downed two kites to their doom.

I cautiously approached him, anxious to get to the bottom of this mystery, “Wow! That was superb—two kites downed in less than ten minutes. You know this is the first time anyone has struck off kites in this style in our neighborhood.”

“Well, there is nothing special to it. In India, we fight kites this way,” he smiled. Fascinated, I decided to pry into the matter, pushing on, “It beats me how you do it ‘cause we only spar by paying off our line.”

“Simple,” he volunteered. “If you are mounting your attack by hauling your line, you have to pilot from below when you go for the coup de grace. You need to maintain the upward surge at a very fast and unbroken pace. If you stick to a rapid drag, keeping your line taut, it devastates your opponent.”

“So what’s the other guy supposed to do to foil this attack?” I egged him impatiently. “No sweat! All he has to do is make a dive for it to meet the surge as fast as he can until his line gets into full contact and let go of his line. This way, the other guy won't stand a ghost of a chance.” For me, it was a sensational revelation.

As expected, I had a showdown with him the next day; I launched an attack following the newcomer’s instruction to the letter. I could not believe my eyes when down went his kite; the day followed with three more victories for me against him with just one loss. 

So, after all, this guy was not as invincible as all the local boys and I had come to believe. One should have watched me then, swaggering down the street, my chin held high, my neighborhood boys eyeing me green with envy!

 Most admittedly, the chap from India had caused quite a stir in our neighborhood like never before. The dog-fights between us continued for two more days, each vying to outwit the other, scores almost nip and tuck. Our kites dominated the sky as if the rest did not exist. However, we all this time shared a strange camaraderie despite our kites being in perpetual warfare.

Following a week of our tug of war, I was all set as usual, with a renewed enthusiasm for a face-off. But the sky was conspicuous by the stranger’s kite’s absence. I frantically scoured the sky for his kite to appear almost the entire day, followed by a disappointing two more days–to little avail.

I learned he had left for India. For many Dashains that followed, as the pirouetting kites flashed in vibrant hues and shades against the indigo sky, I really and truly missed the invader from the blue.

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