Welcome to
YTM Family
Our soil gives us the treasure by which our Ayurveda and Herbal products are made, which gives us a long and healthy life.
YTM, Our Country's pride and strength, now brings to you the most powerful system in Direct Selling Networks. We all know, Health, Beauty and Wellness are the fastest growing segments in today's industry, and a lot of people will benefit and grow with this segment.
Our
Vision
"To be the most admired and trusted direct selling network in the world of traditional Ayurveda and Natural Cosmetics, known for setting the gold standard in safety, effectiveness, and affordability.
We aspire to lead the industry by relentlessly pursuing innovation, upholding our commitment to the ancient wisdom of Ayurveda, and delivering products that enhance the well-being of our customers while empowering our network of distributors."
“To create Billionaire Network marketors " and we are passionate to achieve our Mission. We have Strong strategy and clear Direction to achieve our Mission.
Then Bomma Simham prowled out, mane painted gold, claws clicking. Raju lowered his voice. “There was a festival, and the lion wore a crown that did not fit. He roared to hide his fear.” With a tiny, perfectly timed pause the puppet’s roar turned to a sneeze; the crown toppled and revealed a kitten painted inside the lion’s jaw. The village burst into laughter, remembering that bluster often masks trembling.
As the last child walked home, the small wooden lion peered from the box and seemed to wink. The zip had done its work—fast, bright, and safe in the heart’s pocket until the next telling.
“Tonight,” Raju announced, “is not just any show. It’s the zip—quick, sharp lessons wrapped in laughter. Watch and learn.” thelugu dengudu kathalu and bommalu zip
Raju the dengudu—mischief wrapped in dhoti, eyes like polished tamarind seeds—sauntered into the village square with a grin that could start a story. He carried, tucked under one arm, a box of bommalu: wooden puppets with painted smiles, jointed limbs, and secrets.
If you’d like this expanded into a longer tale, a puppet script, or translated into Telugu, tell me which and I’ll craft it. Then Bomma Simham prowled out, mane painted gold,
“Gather round!” he called, voice bouncing off the mud walls and banyan roots. The children ran first, then the elders shuffled in, fanning themselves with battered palm leaves. Even the temple priest peered from the shadow, curiosity tucked under his saffron cloth.
At the end, Raju closed the box as the moon climbed higher. “Remember,” he said, voice softening, “stories are like seeds and puppets—they move when we move them. Care for them, or they care for you.” The crowd dispersed with pockets full of chuckles and heads full of new reckonings: a promise to tell truth a little truer, to laugh at pride, and to listen when others speak. He roared to hide his fear
Satyavati took center stage next. Raju’s fingers coaxed the puppet into a dance of gossip. “Satyavati spread a small tale about her neighbor’s goat. In two days, the goat became a prince, then a monster, then a singing scholar.” The kids laughed as Satyavati’s tongue wagged wider with every twist. The zip: stories grow like vines; truth gets tangled if you don’t tend it.
