I get up at 6 A.M. after sleeping for six hours, as I feel that

"I get up at 6 A.M. after sleeping for six hours, as I feel that is the ideal time that my body needs. I start my workout at 7 in the morning, with 10–15 minutes of warming up." Thus speaks Sangram Singh, the wrestler and warrior of our time, whose life is a testament to discipline and perseverance. His words, though spoken in the quiet rhythm of daily habit, carry the thunder of an eternal truth: greatness is not built in moments of glory but in the rituals of dawn, in the unseen hours where body and spirit are forged together.

The rising at 6 A.M. is more than a number on the clock. It is the declaration of mastery over sloth, of victory over the temptation of indulgent rest. To sleep the precise six hours his body requires is not to indulge in excess, nor to starve oneself of strength—it is to walk the golden mean of balance. Here, the wisdom of the ancients echoes: that the body is the temple of the soul, and the temple must be cared for with precision, neither neglected nor overindulged.

At 7 in the morning, when many still wander in the fog of sleep, he begins his workout. This is no mere exercise of muscle but a ritual of awakening, a summoning of energy for the day’s battles. Even the warming up, those 10–15 minutes of preparation, bear the stamp of wisdom. For he knows that rushing into action without readiness invites injury and defeat. How many warriors in history have perished not for lack of courage, but for lack of preparation? Sangram teaches us that to warm the body is to prepare the spirit; that small acts of readiness are the foundation of great victories.

Consider the life of Alexander the Great, who rose before his soldiers, marched beside them, and never asked of them what he would not do himself. His conquests were not merely the fruit of ambition, but of relentless training, both of body and of will. Like Sangram Singh, he understood that the day is won first in the morning, before the sun fully rises, in those hours when the weak still sleep. Alexander’s empire has long crumbled, but the principle remains: discipline at dawn is the seed of glory at dusk.

Yet there is also gentleness in these words. For Sangram does not speak of punishing the body, but of listening to it—finding the ideal time of sleep that his body needs, not more, not less. In this lies humility: the recognition that the body, though strong, has its rhythms, its wisdom. The true master is not the one who abuses his vessel but the one who harmonizes with it. This is not tyranny over the flesh but partnership with it, and from such harmony springs enduring strength.

The lesson is this: life’s victories are carved not in the noise of the arena but in the silence of early hours. To rise with the dawn, to give the body its due rest, to prepare it with care, and to labor with constancy—these are the practices that transform an ordinary man into a legend. The world may see only the triumphs, but the foundation lies in the unseen discipline of mornings.

Practical action must follow. Seek the rhythm of your body: know how much rest sustains you, and honor it. Rise early, not in haste but in intention. Begin your day with movement—stretch, breathe, prepare yourself for the battles to come. Let no day pass without a ritual that awakens both body and spirit. For the man who governs his mornings governs his life, and the one who governs his life shapes his destiny.

Thus Sangram Singh, through his simple words, offers a teaching as old as the Vedas and as enduring as the warrior’s oath: conquer the morning, and you will conquer the world.