More than two thousand years ago, Indian physicians described a condition that made urine “sweet like honey”. In the Sushruta Samhita, it was called ‘Madhumeha’ — what we now know as diabetes.

The language is ancient, but the reality India is facing today is urgent. There is a lot of misinformation about diabetes. It starts with stereotypes — that it affects someone older, someone inactive, or someone responsible for their illness. These stereotypes are not just unfair but dangerous. They delay diagnosis, silence families and fuel stigma.

I learned this not from medical journals, but from my own home. My introduction to Type 1 Diabetes came through my husband Nick. He was diagnosed at 13 and has lived with this condition for almost two decades now. When we first met, I was struck by how intuitive he was about his own body. He could wake up from deep sleep because he could sense his blood sugar dipping or from the effects of an unexpected or frustrating high glucose. He would go from a concert stage to a glucose check, with the same calmness and precision.

Watching him manage T1D while building a global music career, touring the world, acting, writing, starting companies, all this while caring for himself, opened my eyes. By his thoughts and actions, he showed me what is possible. He taught me that T1D is not a limitation. It’s a responsibility.

This spurred me on to join Nick in Beyond Type 1, the non-profit he co-founded. And I have learned about extraordinary stories of young people.

I think of Geethanjali. At 18, she was married instead of being allowed to attend college. Six months later, she fell gravely ill. She was finally diagnosed with T1D, a condition she had never heard of. Terrified of injections and struggling to afford insulin, she began skipping doses. One day, overwhelmed, she asked her doctor when she would die.

He reassured her that with proper care, she could live a long life. He then offered her a job. It allowed her to earn, learn and regain control. Over the years, she raised two daughters, became a pharmacist and a counsellor, and used her experience to support others.

And then there is Mehrin, diagnosed with T1D at 11 and told to slow down. She refused. Mehrin became a karate champion, training hard and pushing her limits with astonishing spirit. She reminds us that diabetes does not choose the size of your dreams.

There is a lot of misinformation about diabetes. It starts with stereotypes—that it affects someone older, someone inactive, or someone responsible for their illness. These stereotypes are not just unfair but dangerous. They delay diagnosis, silence families and fuel stigma

But for every story of triumph, there are hundreds we never hear. Because stigma works quietly. It tells families to keep a child’s diagnosis a secret. It convinces parents that their child won’t get married, succeed, or live fully. For many families in India, courage isn’t the only challenge. Insulin and testing supplies are expensive.

India can change this. Across India, remarkable work is already being done by teachers, doctors, parents and community advocates who refuse to let diabetes go unnoticed by recognizing the early warning signs like excessive thirst, frequent urination, exhaustion, unexplained weight loss. What inspires me most is how local leaders are driving change by connecting families to information, ensuring children stay in school and building understanding through compassion and care.

T1D is part of many Indian stories, including mine. For many, it is a daily negotiation of care, cost and courage. Yet, in those everyday acts of perseverance lies something powerful: a refusal to be defined by diabetes.

India has the compassion, ingenuity and collective strength to support people with diabetes. Let us give every person with diabetes the chance to live a full, limitless life.