I do weight training and follow strict diet. It is very important

In the words of Alia Bhatt, “I do weight training and follow a strict diet. It is very important to look a certain way. I don't think being extra skinny and thin is desirable, but you have to be fit.” Thus speaks a truth forged from both discipline and self-awareness—a truth that the ancients, too, once knew: that strength and balance are the twin pillars upon which beauty and vitality rest. Her words are not of vanity, but of harmony—a reminder that the body is both a reflection of the soul and the instrument through which life’s great song is played.

The ancients often spoke of the Temple of the Self. They believed that one must tend to the body as the sculptor tends to his marble—not in harshness or pride, but in reverence. To train the body is not to enslave it, but to honor it; to follow a strict diet is not to punish oneself, but to discipline desire so that it serves the higher will. In this, Alia Bhatt’s words echo the wisdom of the ages: that form follows essence, and that fitness is not measured by the thinness of one’s frame but by the strength of one’s spirit made visible through the flesh.

There is a tale from ancient Greece of Milo of Croton, the legendary wrestler who carried a calf on his shoulders each day. As the calf grew, so too did his strength, until he could lift the full-grown bull. His power did not come from sudden struggle but from daily devotion, from the steady rhythm of progress. Like Alia’s weight training, his practice was one of patience and constancy. And though centuries have passed, his lesson endures: strength is built in silence, through persistence, not haste.

When Alia says that being “extra skinny and thin is not desirable,” she defies the illusion of perfection that haunts the modern world. The ancients, too, warned against such delusions. The philosopher Lao Tzu wrote that the bow too tightly drawn will break, and the string too loose will make no sound. To pursue appearance without substance is to hollow oneself from within. True fitness, he would say, is a balance of body and mind, a merging of grace and power. In this balance lies beauty—the kind that endures long after fleeting trends fade.

The path of fitness, then, is also the path of character. It teaches endurance, humility, and respect for one’s limits. The athlete who trains learns to listen—to the heartbeat, the breath, the body’s quiet language. He learns that mastery is not domination but cooperation. So too must we learn to treat our bodies not as burdens or ornaments, but as allies. For in every flex of strength, there is a whisper of courage; in every repetition, a reminder that progress is not given—it is earned.

The ancients saw in the disciplined body the reflection of the disciplined mind. The warrior who maintained his form was also the poet who maintained his purpose. The philosopher who fasted to clear his thoughts understood that discipline in the body births clarity in the soul. Alia’s call for fitness is, therefore, not a call to vanity—it is a call to self-mastery, to rise each day and sculpt not only one’s body but one’s will.

So, let the teaching be this: seek not to be thin, but to be whole; not to be admired, but to be capable. Let every meal be taken with mindfulness, every motion with gratitude. Do not flee from the labor that strengthens you; embrace it, for it will forge your resilience. Feed your body with nourishment, your mind with focus, and your heart with self-respect. Remember always that the truest beauty is not carved upon the skin but radiates from the vitality within. To be fit is to be alive with purpose, strong in form, and serene in spirit—and in that sacred balance lies the glory of being human.