Rethinking India’s Weight Crisis

India’s rising rates of overweight and obesity are real—and concerning. But the way we talk about them matters just as much as the numbers themselves. Alarmist headlines and oversimplified narratives risk doing more harm than good. If we want meaningful change, our public health messaging must be nuanced, evidence-based, and empowering.

The Numbers Are Rising—But What Do They Mean?

India’s weight crisis is no longer confined to urban elites or middle-aged adults. According to the National Family Health Survey, the prevalence of overweight and obesity among children under five rose by 127 per cent in just over a decade—from 1.5 per cent in 2005–06 to 3.4 per cent in 2019–21. Among adolescents, the surge is even sharper: girls saw a 125 per cent increase (2.4 per cent to 5.4 per cent) and boys a staggering 288 per cent rise (1.7 per cent to 6.6 per cent). Adults aren’t spared either—obesity among women nearly doubled (12.6 per cent to 24 per cent), and among men, it more than doubled (9.3 per cent to 22.9 per cent).

If current trends continue, India is projected to be home to over 27 million children and adolescents living with obesity by 2030, accounting for 11 per cent of the global burden.

These figures are striking—but they must be interpreted with care. Numbers alone don’t tell the full story. How we frame them can either motivate action or trigger fear.

Overweight vs Obesity: Let’s Not Conflate the Two

One of the most common pitfalls in obesity discourse is the conflation of overweight and obesity. While both are associated with increased health risks, they are not the same—and treating them as such distorts the picture.

Obesity carries significantly higher risks for conditions like type 2 diabetes, hypertension, and cardiovascular disease. Overweight, on the other hand, often presents modest or variable risks depending on other factors like waist circumference, physical activity, and metabolic health. Yet, many reports lump the two together to inflate prevalence figures or extrapolate consequences indiscriminately. This not only misleads but also fuels unnecessary anxiety among individuals who may be overweight but otherwise healthy.

We must communicate the difference clearly. Relative risk statistics—like “three times higher risk”—can sound terrifying, but without context, they obscure the actual likelihood of disease. Absolute risk numbers, which show how many people are truly affected, are far more informative and less fear-inducing.

Beyond Biscuits and Burgers: The Home-Cooked Blind Spot

Another troubling trend is the singular focus on ultra-processed foods (UPFs) as the primary culprit. Yes, UPFs like chips, sodas, and packaged snacks are increasingly consumed in India. But they still account for a relatively small share of total calories—far less than in Western countries.

The real issue may lie closer to home. Traditional Indian meals, though lovingly prepared, are often high in refined carbohydrates and oils, and low in fibre and protein. Excessive use of white rice, wheat flour, and deep-frying techniques can contribute to insulin resistance and weight gain—even without a single packet of chips in sight.

Romanticising home-cooked food as inherently healthy misses the mark. We need to re-examine our everyday diets, promote balanced meals with whole grains, vegetables, and lean proteins, and reduce reliance on calorie-dense staples. Public health campaigns must broaden their lens to include home food, serviced food, and processed food alike.

The Automation Paradox: Less Drudgery, More Inactivity

India’s rapid urbanisation and technological advancement have brought undeniable benefits. Tasks that once required physical effort—washing clothes, fetching water, grinding spices—are now automated. But with this convenience has come a steep decline in physical activity.

According to recent WHO data, nearly half of Indian adults are physically inactive. Among adolescents, only 15% meet recommended activity levels. This sedentary shift is a major driver of weight gain, independent of diet.

We must acknowledge the paradox: while automation has relieved us of daily drudgery, it has also robbed us of incidental movement. The solution isn’t to bring back manual labour, but to encourage purposeful physical activity—walking, cycling, dancing, playing. Leisure time should be reclaimed for movement, not just screens.

Messaging Matters: From Fear to Empowerment

Perhaps the most urgent reform needed is in how we communicate about overweight and obesity. Scare tactics—especially those relying on relative risk figures—can backfire. They create panic, guilt, and stigma, pushing people toward extreme diets or unsustainable routines.

For example, when we say obesity triples the risk of a disease, it sounds alarming. But if the actual risk rises from 2 in 100 to 6 in 100, the increase—while real—is less dramatic than the phrase suggests. This is the difference between relative and absolute risk. Public health messaging must make these distinctions clear, so people understand their true risk and respond with informed, not fearful, choices.

Instead, we must frame health as a journey, not a punishment. Small, achievable changes—like walking 30 minutes a day or swapping refined grains for whole ones—can significantly reduce disease risk. Campaigns should highlight these wins, celebrate progress, and avoid moralising weight.

Importantly, we must stop equating thinness with health. Many individuals with higher BMIs are metabolically healthy, while some with “normal” weight are not. Let’s shift the conversation from body size to body function—from fear to empowerment.

A Way Forward

India’s weight crisis is complex, rooted in changing diets, declining activity, and evolving lifestyles. Tackling it requires more than blaming biscuits or broadcasting scary statistics. It demands thoughtful, inclusive messaging that respects people’s realities and motivates sustainable change. Let’s stop shouting about obesity and start talking about health—clearly, compassionately, and constructively.

Views expressed are personal. The writer is a public health and nutrition researcher. He was a former Director of Nutrition at Tata Trusts