Karkaru: A Pumpkin With Two Personalities
Growing up in a North Indian Bengali family meant our meals carried a blend of Eastern and Northern traditions. One principle I learned early on was simple but profound: no part of a plant goes to waste.
Take the pumpkin plant, for example. Every single part had a purpose in our kitchen:
The unripe white pumpkin (shada kumro) was cooked as a savory vegetable.
Once ripe, its natural sweetness made it perfect for Bengali mixed vegetables, or, in a North Indian style, as a standalone dish or even a dessert.
Long before the fruit was ready, we’d harvest some blossoms for fritters while leaving others to mature.
Even the leaves and tender stems were sautéed with richer vegetables like ridge gourd and pumpkin itself. Their mildness balanced stronger flavors, creating a dish that was both nutritious and comforting, full of fiber and subtle sweetness with minimal spices.
The thick peel had its own special place—it was collected and sautéed into a simple, earthy side dish.
Years later, when I tried growing pumpkins in my Bay Area backyard, they completely took over—an abundant sprawl that reminded me of home. Here too, I noticed a fascinating diversity: from familiar sugar pumpkins to heirlooms and sturdy butternut squashes, and even wild varieties whose leaves and stems bristle with thorns. These untamed cousins reminded me just how versatile and resilient the plant truly is.
At the local farmers’ markets, the riot of pumpkins and squashes each autumn feels like a celebration of this abundance. They are not only delicious but also deeply nourishing, a truth held by both modern nutrition and Ayurveda.
The classical texts capture this wisdom beautifully:
“Kūṣmāṇḍī tu bhṛśaṃ laghvī karkārurapi kīrtitā ।
karkārugrārhiṇī śītā raktapittaharā guruḥ ।
pakvā tiktāgnijanāni sakṣārā kaphavātnuta ॥”
And what a story it is!
When young and tender (Kūṣmāṇḍī), pumpkin is feather-light to digest, cooling, absorbent, and used to calm fiery conditions like raktapitta (bleeding disorders).
As it ripens into Karkaru, it takes on a new personality: heavier, slightly bitter, with an alkaline edge that stokes agni and steadies Kapha and Vata.
The same plant, two very different gifts—depending on when you harvest it.
This is Ayurveda’s wisdom in action: nature doesn’t offer one fixed answer, but meets us in cycles and stages. From blossoms that taste like golden sunshine, to thorny leaves that ground us in late summer, to peels that become their own dish, and to the fruit itself—light when you need cooling, grounding when you need fire—the pumpkin is more than food.
So, when you next cut open a squash this season, remember: it isn’t just food, it’s a living lesson. Light when you need cooling, grounding when you need fire—Karkaru reminds us that medicine can taste as comforting as autumn itself.