18th May 2018

Sweat glistened on Gautam's forehead as he approached the entrance. The doorman smiled at him with a practiced efficiency, and Gautam responded with a nod. As the door swung open, his cotton shirt fluttered in the cool breeze from the air conditioner. His damp hair clinging to his forehead breathed an air of relief. The chill was a welcome contrast to the oppressive heat outside. A lavender scent wafted through the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The gentle breeze whispered in his ears, gradually dissipating the perspiration on his skin, leaving him feeling invigorated.

The restaurant was sparsely populated, and Gautam chose a corner table by the window. He settled into the small space and sipped water to calm his parched throat. Sunlight pierced the windowpane like sharp arrows, the bright light almost blinding him. He marveled at the contrast between the cold interior and the scorching heat outside. Flipping through the menu for a few minutes, he finally gestured to the waiter, placed his order, and closed his eyes as the waiter's footsteps trailed away.

2nd August 2016, an hour before noon

The tin hissed open, and the fizzy liquid cascaded onto his hand, spilling onto the couch. Tiny bubbles danced in his mouth, a burst of flavors tingling his tongue. He smacked his lips as he flipped through the channels on the television, his sticky fingers leaving imprints on the remote. He stuffed chips into his mouth, the crunching noise reminiscent of dry leaves crackling underfoot. Music blared from the television, a jarring sound that grated on his nerves. He grunted as the screen hopped from one disappointing channel to another.

"Go to the market and buy some vegetables, Gautam," his mother called out, the whirring of the mixer grinder punctuating her voice.

"Please Maa, not now. I get to relax only on the weekends, and you want me to work even today," he whined, glued to the television.

His mother's hands suddenly picked up speed, the knife and chopping board creating a discordant symphony.

"I'll get it while returning from the office tomorrow, Maa, I promise," he said, only turning his neck while the rest of him remained sunk into the couch.

"I received a message saying the store has stocked fresh veggies today. I wanted to make something nice for you," she replied, her voice laced with increasing emotion.

"Okay Maa, I will go now. You win," he conceded reluctantly and finally got off the couch.

He walked to his room and searched for a pair of trousers that would fit his burgeoning belly. He took a deep breath and tried to squeeze into a pair, but failed each time. Dejected and exhausted, he sat on the bed, huffing. Sweatbeads trickled down his brow and merged into the pool forming on his neck. He raised his arm to wipe his forehead, the fabric absorbing the droplets of sweat that had gathered there. The broad expanse of the garment showed visible traces of sweat. Finally, he slipped into a pair of worn-out joggers- the one he had worn countless times but refused to give up on him. They hugged his expanding waistline like a loyal friend, concealing his extra flabs.

"I'll be back," he said as he picked up the keys and left.

The grocery store was a short walk away, but he chose to ride his bike instead.

"It's an efficient use of my time", he thought, even as he doubted the truth of his words.

 The tires plunged into the potholes, and the murky water from the puddles spraying all over the passersby. His headphones were booming with music, muffling the incessant honks of nearby cars. The road was still wet from the previous night's downpour, adding to his woes. Residual droplets of rain, shining in hues of red, dribbled from the traffic signal. Mist formed on the lenses of his thick-rimmed spectacles, compromising his vision. Suddenly, his bike skidded, the brakes locked up and before he could take control of the situation, he landed afar on the road, his head hitting against the road divider. He lay on the road, crumpled like a piece of paper, blood dripping from his head. In a semi-conscious state, he reached for his phone buried in his pocket and dialed his mother's number.

"Maa, accident... blood..." were the last words he said before losing consciousness.

2nd August 2016, a little after dusk

The dull walls and white curtains surrounded the tiny, matchbox-sized room. A liquid dripped steadily from the IV cannula into the tube. A piece of gauze covered the wound on his forehead. As he opened his eyes slightly, the bright light blinded him momentarily. He shielded his eyes with his palm, accidentally twisting the IV tube in the process. Pain surged through the steady stream flowing in his body. He winced the sound, a low grunt from deep within.

"Gautam, you are awake," said his mother, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Maa.." Before he could finish the sentence, the door flew open and a doctor entered the room.

"Hello, Gautam, how are you?" she asked, flashing a radiant smile.

"I'm okay doctor, except for the pain," he said, blinking his drowsy eyes.

"I'll be prescribing you some medication for the pain and you will be fine in a week. Your injuries weren't serious," she said, her smile fading.

But was there a catch? He sensed that something bad was coming. He frowned, deepening the lines on his forehead. In the heavy silence, he could hear the droplets plopping into the IV tube.

"It's not the injuries I'm worried about," said the doctor, breaking the silence.

She paused as if to collect her thoughts, and before continuing, "You are diabetic and hypertensive, Gautam."

His mouth gaped open in disbelief, raw, unfiltered emotions leaving him speechless.

"It can't be true," his mother exclaimed, clasping his hand tightly.

Caught in a whirlwind of despair, he nodded in agreement. The doctor's gaze alternated between Gautam and his mother, and finally, he spoke again.

"He is diabetic and hypertensive, I'm afraid," she stated firmly, addressing his mother.

"I'm finished. It's all over," cried Gautam, burying his face in his palms.

"It's not the end of the road, Gautam. You can reverse the condition with the help of medication and some effort on your part. I'll refer you to Dr. Madhav, a diabetologist. He will help you navigate this journey," said the doctor, handing him a visiting card.

Gautam looked at her, still in shock, unable to respond.

"We will book an appointment with Dr. Madhav," said his mother, her previously dried tears leaving her cheeks flaky.

"You will be fine. Make some lifestyle changes and believe in yourself," the doctor said, her voice calm yet resolute.

"Yes...doctor...thank you," he managed to speak, his speech slurring through tears.

"On a brighter note, you can go home tomorrow," the doctor added before leaving the room.

Gautam closed his eyes, the rhythmic hum of the air conditioner and the jingling of mother's bangles breaking the haunting silence. In the stillness of the night, his heartbeat became more pronounced, its steady rhythm echoing the constant ticking of the clock. His mother had dozed off, her small form resting against the wooden frame. He stared at the fluttering curtain, the swaying fabric reflecting his straying thoughts. The glistening beads trickling into his bloodstream worked their charm. Suddenly, he felt at ease; the pain was minimal, and his anxiety faded into the background. The creases on his forehead relaxed, and his eyelids grew heavy. The edges of these thoughts blurred, and his worries dissolved, pushing his mind into a dream-like state. His muscles seemed more relaxed, the subtle sounds faded, and he felt himself slipping into a sojourn of dreams.

3rd August 2016, 11 AM

Bright light poured in through the windows, banishing the shadows of gloom. Gautam walked into the living room and lounged on the couch, his right leg lazily sprawled across the cushion while his left leg hung in the air. His cushiony happy place felt like a throne of thorns. Suddenly, he stood up with a jolt and limped to the room. The long, large mirror encased in one of the cabinets bore a silent testament to the changes in his appearance: a receding hairline, a bulging waistline peeking out from his oversized sweatshirt, and the dark hollow around his eyes. He looked a decade older.

As he focused on his reflection, scrutinizing every inch of his body, his breath quickened. Each inhalation and exhalation felt labored, noticeably forceful. Sweat poured down his face, soaking into his shirt. His heart thudded in his chest, as though trying to free itself from some invisible bondage. His muscles tightened, his vision turned fuzzy and his legs no longer supported him. He collapsed onto the bed, his back protected by the soft mattress while his legs dangled midair.

"Gautam," he awoke to his mother's voice and her comforting touch. Drops of water rested on his face, and a glass in her hand suggested he had lost consciousness for a while.

"Get hold of yourself, Gautam. You cannot afford to be weak. Strength and perseverance will help you through this situation," his mother said, her hand shaking as she gripped the glass.

"I'm diabetic and hypertensive," he said, fear throttling his words.

"Yes, and you can reverse that if you have the will. It's a long road and a tough one, but only you can cross it," she said, her voice steady.

"I've booked an appointment with Dr. Madhav for tomorrow evening. Be ready and take some rest now," she said and left him alone.

Dazed and unable to respond, he looked away and closed his eyes, trying to shut the world around him. He listened as his mother's footsteps faded away in the distance. When did it all start? He had a happy childhood, and no past trauma to blame. His life had been uneventful until that fateful accident. A simple blood test had opened the can of worms, and now the worms crawled all over him, a feeling of disgust creeping under his skin.

4th August 2016, 5 PM

"Let me get straight to the point," said Dr. Madhav.

Gautam looked at the doctor, anticipation weighing him down. Thin-rimmed spectacles framed the doctor's deep-set eyes. His demeanor, though relaxed, conveyed an uncompromising presence. Certificates and awards adorned the walls of the dreary office. The doctor appeared much younger than his age. In the corner, a photograph showed him grinning while displaying a medal with the words "I'm a finisher" written below.

"A fitness enthusiast," thought Gautam and images of his paunch filled his mind, making him feel worthless.

"You can conquer these demons with grit and perseverance,"   the doctor said, interrupting Gautam's saga of self-pity.

Gautam straightened in his chair, his eyes fixed on Dr. Madhav.

"You need to make lifestyle changes, Mr. Gautam. Aim for an hour of exercise five times a week and adopt healthy eating habits. Once you get accustomed to it, gradually increase the duration of your exercise. I'll write you a prescription," said Dr. Madhav, scribbling on paper.

"Meet the nutritionist, she will guide you further," he said, adding, "Follow up after three months."

Gautam stood up, trying to absorb the flood of information that had just been thrown at him. He nodded partially and glanced around the room one last time before leaving. The nutritionist, a young woman with a somber expression, greeted him with a brief smile. Using a practiced tone, she reached for a paper hanging from the printer and handed it to Gautam.

"Begin your day with a glass of lukewarm water. This should be followed by a cup of black tea and five almonds. Later...." she continued speaking, but her words seemed to fail for Gautam.

His mind froze at the mention of black tea. Usually, his day began with a steaming cup of cardamom tea and biscuits. The woman, who wore thin-framed spectacles, and had tiny eyes accompanied by a booming voice, asked him to give up his morning brew. For him, tea was non-negotiable. There was no way he was going to abandon his morning ritual.

"Mr. Gautam, do you understand?" she asked, her brows arched in annoyance.

He looked at her, contemplating how her small frame and shrill voice were such a stark mismatch, and his lips cracked into a tiny smile. 

"Here's your diet chart, Mr. Gautam. We will review it during your next visit," she said, her words pulling him back to reality.

He grasped the paper with the tips of his index finger and thumb as if it were repugnant.

"You might want to read it over. Contact me if you have any questions," she continued before returning to her typing.

Exhausted from all the listening, he walked out of the room, relieved that the session was over—yet ignoring that the end of the grueling appointment marked the beginning of a challenging journey ahead, a journey where quitting wasn't an option.

His mother read and reread the diet chart as if it were his grandfather's will. That night, she served him vegetable soup accompanied by grilled vegetables. The dinner plate was a canvas of colorful vegetables cut in various shapes.

"Maa, I can't eat this," he said, his nose scrunched up, his mouth pucker and lips curled in a snarling frown.

"You are not alone, Gautam. I'm eating it too," she said and gulped a spoonful of soup.

Frustration radiated from him, manifesting in every line of his body. His eyebrows were knit together in a deep furrow. His mouth twitched like he wanted to say something but refrained. He gulped the soup and vegetables in vexed silence, walked for a bit, and crashed on the bed. The calorie deficit didn't let him sleep. He tossed and turned the whole night, sleep eluding him. The next morning, he woke up exhausted and red-eyed, his hair disheveled and floating in a sea of despair.

5th August 2016

"It's exercise time," his mother entered the room, dressed in track pants and shoes.

"From tomorrow, Maa, I promise," he said, hiding under the blanket.

From under the blanket, he heard footsteps approach him. His mother hurled the blanket away and exposed him to sharp rays piercing the windows. She looked at him, her eyes fierce, and almost dragged him out of the bed, pushing him into the bathroom.

"This is tyranny," he shrieked, only to be met with stark silence.

An hour of walking later, they reached home. He felt as though his energy had been sapped. An unstimulating cup of black tea was followed by salad and a cup of oats. He swallowed the food and pushed it down his digestive tract with water.

"I'm diabetic not a criminal," he muttered, dropping the plate in the sink with a bang only to be silenced by his mother's glare.

The monotonous ride to the office felt excruciating. Time felt stretched making it difficult to grasp the sequence of events. A foggy haze blurred his mind, smudging the lines between reality and perception. His stomach pulsated, pangs of discomfort enveloping him. There was a palpable sense of unease, leaving him unsteady. Clarity became elusive making it difficult for him to concentrate at work. The calorie and sugar deficiency left him in a state of absolute wreckage. A throbbing headache held him captive and he spent the day trapped in a sea of confusion, his eyes darting between the clock and cafeteria. He returned home that evening yearning for normalcy. He wished everything was just a dream but the contradictory reality stabbed his silent manifestation in the gut. The gym bag awaited his return. After a full day of exertion, he wanted a cup of hot steaming coffee and a series to binge-watch. His muscles creaked and crinkled from the morning walk, shrieking for mercy. But the ebbing sugar levels in his blood needed to be controlled. His feet dragged across the floor, his slouched shoulders carrying the weight of his reluctance.

He entered the gym in the community hall, surprised to find it fully functional. He almost crawled on the treadmill and by the time he sat on the stationary bike, he was inoperative. Every bit of him ached, his muscles groaned, and his heart functioning fully for the first time in years was elated. Blood gushed under his skin spreading warmth all over. His cells breathed a fresh lease of life. That night, sleep enveloped him in a comforting embrace.

6th September 2016

One month had passed, and he had grown accustomed to his new life. Whether he liked it was another question entirely. It was the assessment day. He stepped on the weighing machine, the glass plate groaning under the weight of his cold and clammy feet. A sudden jolt swept through his body and mind as he glanced at the numbers on the digital scale. His eyes widened as he struggled to comprehend the reality of the situation. The clock ticked more loudly, the curtains appeared more colorful, and the aroma from the kitchen felt tantalizing.  Time stood still as he rubbed his hazy eyes. He stepped off the scale and then back on, repeating the process until he grew weary. Eventually, he plopped on the bed, covering his face with his hands.

"I lost weight," he said again, his voice slowly gaining strength.

His mother rushed into the room, glanced at the number on the scale, took some kohl, and placed a dot of it behind her son's ear.

"I'm proud of you, Gautam," she said, happy tears streaming down her cheeks.

The walk that morning felt different; it was reinvigorating and enlivening. His work output was greater than usual. He felt calm and peaceful, if not euphoric. Weariness lingered within him, but his mind's canvas was no longer dull - it was now touched with a hint of color.

10th November 2016

Shedding the initial bulk had been easy. He felt a sense of lightness, increased agility, and a boost in energy. However, the journey ahead was filled with challenges and obstacles. The path was uneven and rugged, putting his grit and endurance to the test. Walking down the dark tunnel felt lonely, and the metaphorical light eluded him like a mirage. The world around him challenged his fortitude. E-commerce websites, advertisements, and banners displayed colorful images of burgers and pizzas with cheese dripping from them. These platforms lured him in with extra discounts and coupons, but he stood his ground. His resolve, though firm, would occasionally waver. Nevertheless, he managed to rein in his thoughts and prevent himself from straying off course.

The uphill journey sapped his energy. His body ached from continuous movement; his muscles burned, and his joints groaned with every step. Moments of doubt sprinkled the road, the destination seemed distant, and the arduous trek tempted him to give up. Still, his deep-rooted determination pushed him through the exhaustion, helping him inch closer to his goal.

20th November 2016

The white walls, adorned with framed certificates, loomed over him. As he looked at Dr. Madhav, anticipation and anxiety enveloped him like clouds shrouding the morning sky.

"Good job," the doctor said, his chiseled jaw and rounded cheekbones evident as he smiled. "It seems you've taken my prescription seriously."

Gautam beamed, happiness surging through him like a wave. The doctor's praise reminded him of school, where a little star drawn on a notebook felt like a trip to the moon. Nostalgic moments of craving his teacher's approval flashed before him, and he smiled.

"The same prescription continues," Dr. Madhav stated.

"Thank you, doctor," Gautam replied, feeling overwhelmed. The receptionist, with an authoritative tone, congratulated him on this small victory.

"I can give you one cheat meal," she said, her eyes twinkling with generosity.

"Thank you, but I will celebrate the day I reach the finish line," he replied, sounding like a subject refusing the king's gift.

"The choice is yours," she shrugged, unfazed.

The changing dates also altered Gautam’s perspective. With his perseverance, he had turned the tides in his favor. He began enjoying morning walks and workout sessions. He signed up for a trekking group and spent weekends outdoors. Cooking simple and nutritious meals became another accomplishment. From being a couch potato to participating in marathons, there was a profound shift in his mindset.

16th May 2018

A notification popped up on his laptop, and the words "lab reports" filled him with dread. After a year and a half of hard work, he wished for good news. His index finger trembled as he clicked on the unread email. Seconds later, the truth was out. He searched for the numbers printed in red, flexing and relaxing his left hand. He sighed, almost emptying his lungs. The sense of relief was palpable as he read the word "Normal" aloud. He read and reread it until his throat went dry.

"Maa, normal..." he cried, tears flowing down his face.

He felt a weight lift off his shoulders. That night, sleep eluded him, but he lay awake reliving past moments. In the darkness, under the yellow light, his reflection looked back at him. The shirt that once fit snugly now hung loosely. His once chubby face was now more defined, radiating success. While there was still a lot of work to be done, he felt confident; there were miles left to travel, but he wouldn’t get lost, as he knew the route to his destination.

17th May 2018

"Hearty congratulations," Dr. Madhav said, his usual composed demeanor replaced with evident joy.

"No more medication for you, only exercise," he added, beaming.

Gautam left the doctor's office, pride radiating from his face.

"It's cheat day today," he declared, stopping by the nutritionist's desk.

"Only one meal," she replied, concealing a smile beneath her strict facade.

He nodded, raising his fist in the air—a sign of victory.

18th May 2018

"Enjoy your meal, sir," said the waiter, jolting Gautam back to the present.

He gently sliced into the soft gulab jamun, with a stream of sugary syrup oozing out, teasing his taste buds with the promise of sweetness. The slightly firmer outer layer melted in his mouth, giving way to the spongy interior. Each bite was a burst of flavor, making the wait worthwhile. Suddenly, a bright light flashed before him, obliterating the darkness. The tunnel he had traversed vanished, and an elegantly manicured garden sprawled out before him. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He felt lighter and at ease; everything around him seemed a tad brighter, and a sense of fulfillment filled his heart. A smile lit up his face as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the stainless-steel cup. He ran his hand over his stomach; his skin wasn’t taut, and he didn’t have a six-pack to boast about. Reflecting on his journey filled him with contentment. This small victory instilled in him the courage and endurance to explore uncharted peaks. The joy, though fleeting, would remain etched in his memory—a treasure trove that would never cease to inspire. His transformation, akin to a metamorphosis, was a gift that would keep giving.

5th September 2018

Recognizing his victory, his captors finally surrendered. They applauded him and freed him from captivity. Medicines no longer held him hostage; life had given him a second chance, and he seized it with both hands. It felt as though he had been reborn. He was active and agile, both physically and mentally, and fitter than ever. On his way home from work, he inadvertently stopped at a McDonald's. As he stepped into what had once been his favorite fast food joint, he was about to order a burger when an invisible force stopped him. He left the restaurant and drove home without looking back, as if under a sorcerer’s spell. Ignoring his temptations made him feel victorious. He felt as if a thousand suns were shining within him, and his heart thumped with the rhythms of happiness. For the first time, he experienced unbridled joy. Suddenly, the proverbial sour grapes tasted sweet.