Inside me live two travellers. There are days when I feel my mind being pulled in two directions, as if I am standing at a great crossroad where both paths are mine, yet each demands my whole being. One road shine with the silence of philosophy and spirituality, the eternal call of the inner self. The other echoes with the clang of dumbbells, the scent of iron, the pulse of discipline, and the fire of bodybuilding.
As an Indian, and more so as a Tamilian, my upbringing instilled a deep understanding of spirituality: that to walk the path of inner growth, one must renounce meat, eggs, and even the smallest indulgences of taste. Vegetarian food was equated with purity. A simple robe, a long beard, an ascetic lifestyle—these were symbols of depth and holiness. But deep within me, I always knew: eating habits or appearance alone cannot move even a single step closer to true spirituality. What matters is not the plate, but the heart. Not the robe, but the awareness. Not the ritual, but the surrender.
And yet, my other love calls me—the gym. The moment I step inside, the air changes. My body wakes up, my will sharpens. My entire being aligns with fitness, discipline, and the beauty of strength. I feel alive with each rep, each drop of sweat, each small victory over my limits. But the body has its own demands. For muscles to grow, for recovery to happen, protein is the foundation.
Here lies my struggle: the philosophical and cultural voice whispers, “Stay vegetarian, stay pure.” The practical voice of fitness replies, “Your body needs more. An egg is not against spirituality—it is a fuel for your journey.”
When I sit for meditation, my thoughts flow toward silence and surrender. When I enter the gym, they turn toward building strength and form. Both paths, though seemingly opposite, are not enemies. They are two aspects of the same truth. Two rivers flowing into the same ocean.
I am learning that perhaps spirituality is not about rejecting the body, nor is fitness about rejecting the spirit. The two can walk together. The dumbbell can be as sacred as the mala beads. The sweat of the gym can be as pure as the tears of meditation. Maybe eating an egg for protein is not a betrayal of philosophy, but an acceptance of life’s balance. After all, true spirituality does not lie in the plate but in the heart; not in the withdrawal from life but in living it fully and consciously.
My confusion, my experiment, my search. Between the dumbbell and the divine, I walk—sometimes torn, sometimes whole, but always learning.
And I have made a quiet decision: I want to live this episode of my life as my own. Not as a copy of anyone else’s character, not as a borrowed script, but as the authentic expression of who I am. I believe this episode—the life I am living now—is my last one. So I want to live it fully, with awareness, with courage, with depth. I want to fulfill the character that has been given to me—not half-heartedly, not in confusion, but as a complete and unique act of creation.
I no longer want to imitate the lives of saints or bodybuilders, monks or athletes. I want to be the monk in the gym, the athlete in meditation, the seeker who lives his own truth. This episode of my life is not for escape but for embodiment. Not for rejection but for realization.
And so I walk on—between silence and strength, surrender and sweat—turning my confusion into clarity, my struggle into a sacred experiment. Because to me, this is not just fitness and spirituality. This is life itself calling me to be whole.
Superb