I love this planet and I feel that depriving yourself from

Host: The morning had just begun to stir. A thin mist floated over the lake, dissolving slowly into the first threads of sunlight. The air was clean, alive, and scented faintly of wet grass and orange blossoms. Somewhere nearby, a lone runner passed, the rhythm of their breath blending with the distant call of a bird.

On the terrace of a small countryside retreat, overlooking the rippling water, Jack and Jeeny sat facing each other. Between them: a bowl of fresh fruit, two steaming cups of tea, and the quiet serenity of a world not yet awake.

Jeeny was barefoot, her long black hair tied loosely, strands brushing her face as the wind moved through. Jack, ever the skeptic, leaned back in his chair, his grey eyes half-shielded by the rising light.

Jeeny: (reading from her notebook, voice soft but bright) “Pooja Bedi once said, ‘I love this planet, and I feel that depriving yourself from anything which this planet has to offer is taking you backwards on your road to fitness.’”

(She smiled as she closed the notebook, gazing at the sunlight scattering over the water.) “Isn’t that a beautiful way to think about it, Jack? Fitness not as denial—but as celebration.”

Jack: (snorts lightly) “Sounds like something a lifestyle influencer would write between yoga poses and avocado toast.”

Jeeny: (laughing) “And yet, you’re here, sitting in nature, sipping tea. Maybe you’re more of a believer than you pretend.”

Jack: “Believe me, I didn’t come here for enlightenment. I came because my doctor said my blood pressure’s one bad week away from catastrophe.”

Jeeny: (teasing) “Ah, the pragmatic pilgrim. Always dragged to salvation.”

Host: A small butterfly drifted past the table, landing on the rim of Jeeny’s cup. The light caught its wings—blue, fragile, shimmering like a fleeting thought.

Jack: (watching it) “So, this quote of yours—she’s basically saying indulgence equals health?”

Jeeny: “No. She’s saying harmony equals health. That the planet offers balance, not restriction. We forget that the earth gives us what our bodies already understand.”

Jack: “You make it sound mystical. But most people don’t want balance—they want control. That’s why the wellness industry exists: pills, diets, rules, guilt. Control masquerading as virtue.”

Jeeny: (smiling faintly) “And look where control has gotten us—disconnected, tired, terrified of our own appetites.”

Host: The sun climbed higher, its light spilling over the table, turning the fruit bowl into a small universe of color—the deep red of strawberries, the soft green of pears, the golden blush of peaches.

Jack: “You talk like nature’s some benevolent therapist. But this planet isn’t just kind, Jeeny. It gives life, sure—but it takes it without mercy. Floods, droughts, diseases. Why should we treat it like a friend?”

Jeeny: (her tone deepening) “Because friendship isn’t about perfection. It’s about relationship. Yes, the planet’s wild—but so are we. We forget we’re part of the same heartbeat. When we isolate ourselves—when we treat the earth as a gym instead of a home—we lose the rhythm.”

Jack: “You’re saying modern fitness has become... unnatural?”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Fitness should be about connection, not punishment. It’s not about depriving yourself—it’s about participating fully in the planet’s abundance. Eating real food. Moving under real sunlight. Breathing air that isn’t manufactured.”

Jack: (half-smiling) “So your cure for the modern soul is sunlight and strawberries?”

Jeeny: (grinning) “And a little rebellion. Against the idea that denial equals discipline.”

Host: The wind brushed through the trees, carrying the faint sound of water lapping against stone. Jack’s expression softened, the cynical edges fading into something more reflective.

Jack: “You know, when I was a kid, I used to climb trees just to eat mangoes straight from the branch. I’d come home with sticky hands and a guilty smile. My mother would scold me, but I’d feel... alive. And I haven’t felt that kind of joy in years.”

Jeeny: (smiling softly) “That’s exactly what she meant. The planet teaches joy, not guilt. You were in rhythm then—you didn’t think about nutrients or calories. You just lived.”

Jack: “And now we call that living—unhealthy.”

Jeeny: “Because we’ve forgotten what real health looks like. It’s not measured in apps or abs, but in aliveness. In wonder.”

Host: Jeeny’s eyes caught the light, and for a moment, she seemed almost luminous against the world’s soft chaos. Jack looked at her—really looked—and something in him flickered, an echo of a forgotten simplicity.

Jack: “You think loving the planet is enough? We’ve polluted it, stripped it, poisoned it. We talk about harmony while building empires of plastic. Loving the planet feels... naive.”

Jeeny: “No. It’s radical. Because to love something broken is to commit to healing it.”

Jack: (quietly) “Even if it doesn’t love you back?”

Jeeny: “Especially then.”

Host: A long silence settled—warm, reflective. The sunlight was full now, coating the terrace in gold. The fruit gleamed, the air shimmered, and the world seemed to hum with invisible conversation.

Jack: (after a pause) “So you really believe denying yourself takes you backward?”

Jeeny: “Yes. Denial shrinks the soul. Every time we refuse the world’s beauty—its food, its laughter, its scent—we move a little further from being human. Fitness isn’t about escaping pleasure; it’s about deepening our capacity to feel it.”

Jack: “But pleasure’s dangerous. It can turn to addiction.”

Jeeny: (nodding) “Only when it’s disconnected from gratitude. When you eat without reverence, consume without awareness—that’s when abundance becomes poison. Gratitude turns indulgence into harmony.”

Host: The camera lingered on their faces—his thoughtful, hers serene. A bee hovered near the bowl of fruit, unhurried, part of the world’s quiet labor.

Jack: (half-smiling) “You make fitness sound like philosophy.”

Jeeny: “It is. The body is the earth’s oldest poem. Every breath we take writes another line.”

Jack: (softly, almost to himself) “And every time we hold that breath, we erase one.”

Jeeny: (smiling) “Exactly. So breathe, Jack. Eat. Live. The planet’s already teaching us—we just stopped listening.”

Host: The wind stirred again, scattering petals from the trees above. They drifted over the table, landing gently among the fruit. Jack picked one up, a single white petal, fragile against his rough hands.

Jack: “You really think this planet forgives us?”

Jeeny: “It doesn’t need to. It just keeps giving.”

Host: The camera widened—capturing the full terrace, the lake, the sunlight. The world seemed to breathe with them, alive, forgiving, endless.

Jeeny: (raising her cup) “To the planet, then. To its gifts, its patience, and its stubborn beauty.”

Jack: (lifting his cup in return) “And to remembering we’re still part of it.”

Host: Their cups clinked softly, echoing against the stillness. The sun rose higher, burning away the mist. And in that moment—two figures, a table, and the living world around them—everything felt perfectly, achingly whole.

Host: “And as the day unfurled in light, her words—Pooja Bedi’s and Jeeny’s—lingered in the air like the scent of rain on leaves: that fitness is not the art of restraint, but the courage to embrace the planet in all its messy, glorious fullness—to eat, to breathe, to feel, and to love what the world so freely offers.”

Jeeny: (quietly, smiling at the horizon) “The planet doesn’t ask us to be perfect, Jack. Just present.”

Jack: (with a rare softness) “Then maybe that’s the real definition of fit.”

Host: The camera rose slowly, capturing the shimmering lake, the sunlight, and the two small souls below—alive, grateful, and finally, in rhythm with the world.