I work out like a maniac, three times more than anything I did in

The words of Sanjay Dutt, “I work out like a maniac, three times more than anything I did in the past. I am off carbs, salt, sweets, and live on a fish diet. And I promise I am not going to indulge in food again. See, when I was 49 years old, I was fine, but the moment I touched 50, I felt that something within me had changed drastically. My metabolic rate dropped,” are not simply the reflections of a man speaking of age and discipline — they are the lament and the awakening of one who has felt the great turning of the years within the body and has chosen to fight not with despair, but with will. Beneath his words runs a universal truth: that the body, once a faithful servant, becomes with time a teacher, reminding us that nothing material is eternal, and that strength, to endure, must be born not only of muscle, but of resolve.

In the ancient world, this realization was known as the turning of the second fire — the moment when youth’s flame gives way to endurance’s glow. It is the time when a man must cease to live by momentum and begin to live by mastery. When Sanjay Dutt speaks of working out “like a maniac,” of renouncing indulgence and reshaping his life through discipline, he echoes the wisdom of the warriors and sages who came before him. For every great soul, whether soldier, artist, or philosopher, reaches this crossroad: the moment when effort must rise to meet decline, when passion must bow before discipline.

The ancients often spoke of this shift through the story of Heracles, the hero of strength. In his youth, Heracles conquered through power — slaying lions, lifting mountains, defying gods. But in his later years, his strength alone could no longer save him; he had to endure through wisdom and restraint. So too with Dutt: the body that once burned through life with ease begins to slow, and he must now rule it with intention. The metabolic rate he speaks of is not merely a biological change, but a symbol of this universal transformation — the fading of effortless vitality and the birth of conscious effort. It is a moment all who live long enough must face, and only those who adapt survive it with grace.

In his words there is also the sound of repentance, of a man who once indulged in the pleasures of life — food, freedom, excess — and now returns to the path of control. “I promise I am not going to indulge in food again,” he says, as though making a vow before the gods of time themselves. Yet this is no vow of misery. It is a declaration of awareness. For to abstain is not to punish the self, but to honor the body that carries the soul. The renunciation of carbs, salt, and sweets is a symbolic shedding of excess, a purification — the same act that ancient ascetics practiced when they withdrew from the noise of the world to purify their minds.

But Dutt’s transformation also reveals a deeper truth about mortality and humility. For all his fame, power, and experience, he cannot halt the laws of nature. At fifty, he realizes what emperors and conquerors once learned in their twilight years: that no man, however mighty, can outrun time. Yet it is in accepting this truth, not resisting it, that greatness is reborn. The ancient philosopher Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome, once wrote, “The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way.” So it is with age: the slowing of the body becomes the awakening of the spirit. What once came easily must now be earned — and in that effort, meaning is found.

To “work out like a maniac,” then, is not merely an act of fitness, but of defiance — a declaration that even as the body weakens, the will must grow stronger. It is an act of remembrance: that life is not defined by what fades, but by what endures. In choosing to discipline his body, Dutt honors not his youth, but his continuance. The body becomes a temple again, and the soul its humble worshiper. This is the way of the ancient warrior, who, when strength leaves the limbs, sharpens the mind, deepens the breath, and lives not in decline but in renewal.

Let this, then, be the teaching: do not curse the passage of time — master it. When youth departs, do not grieve; let discipline take its place. When the body slows, let awareness quicken. Tend to your health as you would tend to a sacred flame: feed it with care, protect it from excess, and honor its light. Balance indulgence with restraint, work with rest, and body with spirit. For the measure of a man is not how long he holds his youth, but how nobly he carries his years.

And as Sanjay Dutt reminds us, there comes a moment when one must no longer chase strength, but cultivate endurance — when one must not cling to who they were, but rise into who they are becoming. The metabolic fire may dim with age, but the fire of will — that divine spark within — can burn brighter than ever. Those who embrace this transformation do not grow old; they grow timeless.