Chapter 5: Jogging Toward a New Life

Arjun Sharma hadn’t exercised in years. At 1.85 meters and ~100 kilograms, the 45-year-old carried extra weight, his health teetering. His old job’s grind and Meera’s endless chores—ironing her saris, cooking her favorite biryani—left no time for fitness. Now, divorced from his “psycho” ex-wife, life was simpler. Cooking for himself and Priya was a breeze, and a weekly maid handled the cleaning.

For his Midlife Mastery System’s 2 km jog, Arjun dug out his 2006 college sneakers, bought for ₹400 with air cushions long gone flat. They still fit—feet don’t change. Good enough for a walk-jog, he thought, lacing up. “Priya, I’m heading out! Stay in tonight,” he called to his 20-year-old daughter, likely out at Bandra’s cafes.

He locked his Andheri flat, descended the creaky stairs of his 2006 wedding home, and crossed a bustling road to Juhu Beach. The evening crowd—joggers, couples, and chaat vendors—filled the sandy stretch under Mumbai’s humid glow. Nearby, a 2018 luxury condo tower loomed, its 30-story flats once sold for ₹25,000 per square foot. Meera had nagged him to buy one, then raged when their savings—drained by her designer bags—fell short. “Useless!” she’d posted online, ignoring her own spending sprees.

The condo boom had fizzled post-2020, with 30% of units vacant, now rented for ₹40,000 a month. Juhu’s nice, though, Arjun thought, eyeing the beach’s breeze and nearby malls, schools, and clinics.

His phone buzzed: “Midlife Mastery System: Host in check-in area. Start jogging?” Arjun tapped yes, adjusting his breath. At 100 kg, a light jog strained his knees, so he switched to a brisk walk, sweat soaking his kurta in Mumbai’s muggy heat. The first 500 meters left him panting, but his steady breathing signaled his body could cope. Sweating’s good for fat loss, he reasoned.

The Juhu Beach promenade, ~3 km long, bustled with walkers and cyclists, like Marine Drive’s smaller cousin. Arjun had seen Marine Drive on work trips—stretching over 4 km, far grander. When I’m under 90 kg, I’ll get a cycle, he planned, a sea breeze cooling his face.

“Arjun!” a voice called. He turned to see Aunty Shalini, a neighbor from his Shivaji Park complex, waving. “Out for a walk?”

“My yoga group’s over there,” she pointed to a dozen women practicing asanas on the sand, Bollywood music blaring from a speaker.

Shalini, a community volunteer, had known Arjun for 15 years. “You and Meera divorced?”

“Finalized today,” Arjun said. “She took the ₹500,000, left me the flat and Maruti 800.”

Shalini sighed. Meera’s extravagance—splurging on jewelry while neglecting Priya—was no secret. “Good riddance,” she said softly. “What’s next? Found a job?”

“Driving Ola for now. Earns enough,” Arjun replied, thinking of his ₹2,000–₹2,500 daily goal and the ₹15,600 in his account.

“Have you thought about remarrying?” Shalini asked, eyes twinkling. “I know a sales manager, Radhika, 32, single, earns big. Perfect for you!”

Arjun laughed, incredulous. “Me? A 45-year-old divorcee with a college kid and a bald spot? She’s got better options.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Shalini insisted. “You’ve got a flat, a car, no debts, and a steady income. Plus, medical insurance!”

Arjun smirked. His “flat” was a crumbling relic, his “car” a beat-up Maruti 800. Mumbai’s marriage market wants Bandra penthouses and SUVs, he thought. Still, Shalini added him to Radhika’s WhatsApp. “Chat with her. What’s the harm?”

She rejoined her yoga group, leaving Arjun to resume his walk. Recharged, he finished the last kilometer in 10 minutes, his phone buzzing: “Midlife Mastery System: 2 km check-in complete. ₹2,000 reward credited.” A bank alert followed: “SBI: ₹2,000 deposited to account ending 6867. Balance: ₹17,600.”

A WhatsApp request popped up: “Radhika, via Shalini Aunty.” Arjun hesitated. Shalini was kind, always checking on neighbors, so he accepted out of respect. Her profile read “Radhika_R,” a sales manager vibe.

Radhika: Hi, Shalini Aunty’s intro?

Arjun: Hello.

Radhika: Age?

Arjun: 45.

Radhika: Own a flat? Car?

Arjun: Yes.

Radhika: What kind?

Arjun: Three-bedroom flat, Maruti 800.

Radhika: Seriously? A rundown flat and an old car? I heard you’ve got a grown daughter. We’re not a match.

Arjun gripped his phone, staring at the moonlit waves. Two rude women in one day—first Anjali, now this, he thought, exhaling sharply. Meera’s “psycho” jabs—mocking his looks, his earnings—had stung enough. I’m 45, done with this nonsense.

Arjun: Not a match? Cool, find someone else.

Radhika fit the stereotype: polished, single, 30s, trampling others to feel superior. Later, she vented to her roommate: “Can you believe men these days? 45, divorced, with a kid, driving a Maruti 800, living in a dump, and still on blind dates!”

Arjun shook his head, walking home. The Midlife Mastery System had his back—₹17,600 and counting. Priya’s college was covered, and Meera’s chaos was history. Juhu’s breeze felt like freedom, and Arjun was ready to run toward it.

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