As far as I know, the most bang-for-your-buck stuff that able bodied people can do for "fitness" if they have the time is
-Diet: Add fiber and protein to every meal (Goal: 10g fiber per meal, and an amount of protein per meal equal to 0.16g per lb bodyweight or 0.35g/kg bodyweight... all assuming 3 meals per day) Build up the intake gradually.
-Cardio: Do interval walking. This means sets of 3 minutes slow walking followed by 3 minutes fast walking. (Full benefits at total 30 mins per day so 5 sets of the above)
-Resistance training: Do some squat variation and some pushup variation which are difficult enough such that the maximum amount you can do is somewhere between 5 and 30. Do sessions of 3 sets of each to failure, at most 3 times a week. (Save time by alternating them like squats-pushups-squats-pushups-squats-pushups so that while doing one set, the muscles for the other are resting)
The benefits of these three things are mostly independent.
Justifications:
-Adding protein and fiber has health benefits independent of a person's other nutritional intake. Other recommendations like calorie counting take such a tremendous amount of effort to learn that it's not worth the average person's time to get good at it and maintain the skill. (To say nothing of the negative physical and mental effects that can come from restricting calories by any amounts other than the most conservative. To be pedantic, the increased protein and fiber intake will probably raise the satiation of each meal to the point that net calorie intake will be reduced anyway)
-Interval walking gives more benefits (heart strength, blood pressure reduction, etc.) in less time than normal walking, and is still easy enough that a person can focus on other things while doing it. Also, it has an easier time being used for commuting than more intense cardio, so it can save time by being used this way.
-Squats and pushups are chosen because they can be done without equipment, and the muscles involved are large enough that the muscle gained will be significant enough for benefits like blood sugar regulation. Technically it would be better (less fatigue, same muscle gain) to recommend an intensity and rep count such that failure is achieved only at the end of the final set, but it's simpler to recommend going to failure each time.
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Khushi answered without turning, her head resting on the window sill as she studied the moon. “I don’t know.”
It’d taken a long time to escape to the room she shared with her sister after they’d first stepped through the doors. First, Amma had asked about the hospital visit, making Khushi recite everything the Doctor Sahib had said while Bua-ji interrupted often to ask questions. Babu-ji had soon taken over, asking to see the paperwork Khushi had collected and asking a few questions of his own. Still full from the gol gappe, Khushi had nibbled on some puri under Jiji’s watchful gaze while the family considered the payment plan the clinic had laid out.
Luckily, no one had asked exactly how she’d gotten home.
“You were in his car, Khushi.” Jiji came to stand next to her, her tone coloured with disapproval.
“The auto broke down. He was driving past.”
“He, of all the people in Lucknow and Delhi, just happened to be driving by? At the exact moment your auto broke down?”
An odd defensiveness flared in her chest, words popping out of her mouth before she’d thought them through.
“What can I say, Jiji? My phone’s battery was dead, it was dark. He offered to drop me home.”
Jiji reached out to touch her shoulder. “Did he fight with you again?”
No, he bought me gol gappe.
“No more than usual,” Khushi tried to smile at her sister. “I’m fine. Really. He drove me home. That’s all.”
Though she looked unconvinced, Jiji stepped away with a nod to ready herself for bed. Khushi waited until she was alone to snatch her bag from where it hung on a hook. Her searching fingers found the business card he’d offered.
“Well, it’s just that you like arguing so much, and we argue so often … I think we should keep in touch.”
At the time, she’d been so startled that she’d simply taken the card and slid from the car without answering. Jiji, fortunately, had been too busy scowling at him through the windows to notice as she’d slipped it into her bag.
The card was thick, the surface almost velvety to the touch. It sported a bright red logo in the top corner and announced his name in crisp black letters — ARNAV SINGH RAIZADA. Khushi shook her head to clear the unbidden memory of correcting his name on hundreds of letters.
The writing on the card included a number she recognised for the reception desk at the head offices and an email address that his managers monitored. But he’d scrawled another number untidily along one side with a black pen.
His personal number, Khushi realised with a jolt.
It felt strangely intimate, though logic reminded her that she’d had the same number saved in her phone before he’d broken it on the storeroom floor.
Why is he still in Lucknow?
On the heels of this thought came another: Why should I care?!
Her mind was suddenly awhirl with memories — raised voices and shouted words, a fall from his window, the broken door to the storeroom. His airs about money and power. The terror of the guesthouse.
Khushi ripped the business card in half, her breath coming in rapid pants, and then tore it into even smaller pieces. Tears stung in her eyes. She scrunched the pieces into her palm as Jiji returned to the room.
“Make sure you wake up early tomorrow,” her sister draped her towel near the window. “We’re going to the temple.”
“Okay.”
Waiting until Jiji was occupied with something in the cupboard, Khushi returned the ruined card to her bag. In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and washed her face before studying her reflection. Her pulse was a chaotic drumbeat in her body, her thoughts a wild tangle. And underneath it all was something that thrilled and scared her at the same time, something that had followed her to Lucknow.
                  #####
“Everything leads back to him,” Jiji had groaned, rolling on her side on the bed they shared. “Just go to sleep quietly.”
It had been a week since they’d returned to Lucknow, and Khushi had been comparing the price of potatoes between Lucknow and Delhi. Or at least, that was how the conversation had started. She couldn’t remember how they’d gotten to talking about that Laad Governor.
“You’re right Jiji. We’re in Lucknow now and we’ll soon forget that we ever went to Delhi. Or that we met such cruel, haughty people. Although … Anjali-ji had such sweetness in her. It’s a shame that we had to leave without saying goodbye to her. At least we met one nice person in Delhi. Oh … and Nani-ji. Maybe two nice people. And Aakash-ji, I suppose, though —”
“— Khushi! Are you going to count out every member of his family? Your mind is like a compass that’s always stuck on him!”
“And why wouldn’t it be?” Khushi had asked hotly. “He sent me there to do some meaningless task, knowing the place was about to collapse.”
“I know. You’ll never have to see him again, Khushi. You resigned from that awful job, you gave him an earful, and now you’re here and he’s there.”
The words should have elated her, but they only left her feeling strangely hollow.
                  #####
That hollowness sat heavily inside her as Khushi joined her sister in their bed a few minutes later, sliding between the covers with a sigh.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jiji’s voice was soft in the dimness.
“Yes.”
“You barely ate dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
A short silence, in which Khushi’s mind unhelpfully replayed the way she’d fallen into his arms yet again.
Oh Devi Maiyya, couldn’t you find another place to make me slip? You mustn’t have liked the offering I left you this morning.
“I’m glad we came back to Babu-ji,” Jiji said softly. “I can’t imagine being away from home at a time like this.”
“The doctors said that as long as he rests properly and takes his medicines, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“He isn’t resting nearly enough, even with both of us at the shop.”
Khushi nodded her agreement, “He’s worried about the bills.”
“Bua-ji and Amma are talking about selling some jewellery. I thought I’d give them my bangles.”
“I have bangles we can sell too.”
It took a while for Jiji’s breathing to fall into the deep, slow rhythm of sleep. Khushi lay awake, her thoughts chasing each other in ever-tightening spirals.
The night of the photoshoot. The softness of her pallu as it slipped. The scorch of his gaze as it roved over her body and left her feeling singed. The electricity between them on Teej, every touch a bolt of lightning. The weight of him pressing into her in the storeroom.
She flushed, skin prickling and warmth blooming in secret places.
Stop it, Khushi. A handful of gol gappe is all it takes for you to forget his cruelty?
She turned onto her side with a huff. Sometimes it felt as though her life had been split into Before and After, as though falling at the fashion show had created an entirely new Khushi Kumari Gupta. A Khushi who was strangely compelled towards him, a Khushi who’d come dangerously close to swooning in his arms today. A Khushi who wanted something she had no name for.
“I didn’t know the situation at the guesthouse was that bad!”
“Do you really think I would’ve sent you there if I’d known? Is that what you think of me?”
For the first time, she allowed herself to entertain the idea that he hadn’t sent her there on purpose.
So what if he hadn’t? I was still trapped there for an entire day. He was wrong.
But the thought was impossible to dislodge now that it’d wormed into her mind. Having assumed he’d wanted to argue every time he’d approached her, she now considered whether he might have been trying to explain. She saw their interactions in a new light. The sweets, the cheque.
Did he feel guilty? Was he trying to say sorry?
She eventually fell into an uneasy sleep, tormented in her dreams by his eyes, his voice, the memory of his touch. She woke just before dawn, breathless and damp with sweat, the sheets tangled with her legs. Flinging them off, Khushi sat up in bed. Her sister made a questioning noise.
“Sleep, Jiji. It’s not time to wake up yet.”
A nameless storm raged in her chest, making it hard to breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut.
I should hate him.
A lurch in her tummy.
But I don’t.
Padding slowly over to her bag, she fished out the pieces of the business card one by one. There was a roll of tape amongst the paper and pens scattered on the table in the corner. Khushi glanced back at her sister as she sat. It took a few minutes to line up the jagged edges, to press the tape along them with trembling fingers until she could read his name again.
He’d set down a challenge. She wouldn’t back down.
  ********
Thanks for reading :) I know some of you may be disappointed with the level of introspection in this chapter and where I chose to end it. Tere Bin is Arnav’s story, one where he has to work out what he wants and how to get it while Khushi is in Lucknow. While I intend to dip into Khushi’s point of view where the story demands it (and I feel that her presence greatly improved Chapters 6 and 7), it will focus heavily on Arnav. I am not intentionally writing something to annoy or disappoint readers. I’m trying to do something very specific with this story, and like all experiments, I’m learning as I go :)Â
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Whumpee stood in the corner in the elegant ball room, terrified. They worried at their hands, chewed their lip, glanced their eyes around the room. Whumper had said that tonight was to be a cocktail party, and that Whumpee was the star. Whumpee had counted; almost a dozen Vampires and just one whumpee.
They were going to die.
Even if only half of them were hungry, and they took the bare minimum, whumpee would still die. Whumpee refused to let themself feel guilty. No, this was not their fault, they told themself. They couldn’t be expected to feed all of these vampires by themself. Whumper could have easily had three, four humans here; why just them? Were they bad? What did they do that warranted death?
Whumper had said over and over again that Whumpee was their favorite. Whumpee didn’t question it, since being the favorite gave them better housing, more food, access to the library, but now all they could do was wonder if it was all some elaborate joke.
“There you are, Sweetheart. Come join us at the table,” Whumper cooed as they took their arm and led them to the table. They sat Whumpee down in front of a plate of decadent desserts; petit fours, tarts, mousse, crème brulees. Whumpee’s mouth watered as they stared at the pale colors of the frosting and garnish. Whumper hadn’t given them anything to eat in a few days, and their stomach felt as if it were trying to digest itself. They reached for one of the small treats, but Whumper hit their hand away. They looked up with a little whine, cradling their hand.
“No, no. This first,” Whumper chastised them, sliding the plate away and setting a tall wine glass in its place. They filled it high with a rich, dark red wine. Whumpee didn’t reach for it, instead staring back at Whumper with wide, confused eyes. Â
What kind of a last meal was this?
Whumper tsked softly and held the wine glass to Whumpee’s lips. “Drink this and then you can eat.”
A sick feeling was brewing in Whumpee’s gut. Something was off, they didn’t want to drink it. It probably wasn’t poisoned, but the thought of taste on their lips was enough to make them tremble. This was very, very unlike Whumper.
Whumper grew impatient, frustrated by their disobedient pet in front of their friends, and grabbed Whumpee’s jaw. Whumpee realized their insolence the moment they felt the bruising grip of Whumper’s fingers and opened their mouth quickly. The wine pooled in their mouth, and they tried their best to swallow in regular, even intervals.
Whumpee drained the full glass before it was taken away. Their heart was beating in their chest, breath a little raspy from stress. Whumper smiled and slid the plate back over. Whumpee would have preferred food, real food, over dessert, but they were too hungry to complain. They took one of the small cakes and ate it quickly. It was sweet and melted in their mouth.
Quickly, they reached for another. Quickly, but not quick enough. Whumper snatched the plate away again, replacing it with a smaller, stout glass in front of them. Whumpee bit back a whine. They didn’t want drinks, they wanted food.
Whumper filled it with water, which only confused Whumpee more. What where they playing? Some of the other vampires loomed around, like vultures circling a dying rabbit.
Whumpee took the small glass, and drank it, trying to get it over with. The moment the liquid touched their tongue, they almost gagged. Whatever it was, it wasn’t water. It burned and seared the inside of their mouth and throat. They nearly spit it out, but one glance at Whumper’s expectant expression and they forced it down. They placed the empty glass down and coughed.
“Good.” Whumper smiled and slid the plate over.
This repeated over and over, until Whumpee’s head was spinning. Their face was flushed, their cheeks feeling warm. Once Whumper decided it was enough, they ordered Whumpee to stand.
Getting out of the chair was easy enough as they had something to hold onto, but standing was more difficult than expected. They swayed on the feet, grabbing onto the chair again for balance. Whumper took their arm and led them to the center of the room. There was a low couch behind them, pressing against the back of their calves.
Whumper stroked a hand over their face, then pushed them back lightly. Whumpee lost their balance almost immediately, crumpling back onto the couch. The room was spinning, they felt so dizzy, their teeth ached from all the sugar they had eaten.
Whumper was above them, saying something, but they couldn’t follow the words. The other vampires gathered around, peering. Whumpee felt like they might cry, or were already crying, or maybe they had been the entire time. They closed their eyes and curled up, wishing to disappear onto the couch.
Hands came from above and pushed their shoulders until they were laying flat on their back. Legs came and straddled them, and Whumpee’s eyes shot open. It wasn’t Whumper, it was a younger vampire they had seen eyeing them the entire night.
“Finally. I haven’t felt a buzz since I was human,” they mummered as they pushed Whumpee’s head to the side, bearing their neck. Faster than Whumpee could follow in their inebriated state, the vampire’s fangs were in their neck, biting down. Whumpee clenched their jaw and waited for the venom. It was the only good part of being bitten; making it feel like it was all okay, like it was worth it.
They waited and waited for the relief as they could feel the vampire on their skin. They waited, but it never came. Hands grabbed that their arm, pulling out from under the vampire that pinned them down. More teeth, more pain radiated from their wrist. Whumpee cried out hoarsely, trying desperately not to struggle. Hands took their other arm, feeling teeth bite down on the wrist as well as the forearm. More hands, more teeth, more pressure weighing down on them. And still, no relief, no venom to make them feel warm and still.
The vampire on their chest stood, only to be replaced with another seconds later. This Vampire didn’t bother to speak to Whumpee, rolling their head to the other side and biting down.
It felt like it lasted ages. There would be still moments when vampires took turns, but there was always at least one leeched onto Whumpee. They were weak, dizzy from blood loss and drink, sore and pained. Lines of fang marks ran down both sides of the neck, wrists, and arms. They had been left alone for a while, although they had no idea how long. There were tears running down their face, desperate for some relief, some comfort. They were so cold. Their eyes were screwed closed, breath labored and shallow.
They whined and whimpered as they felt another body straddle them. This time, a hand came and brushed their sweaty hair away from their face.
“There you are sweetheart. You did so good for us, didn’t you?” Whumper caressed their faces as they spoke. Whumpee’s eyes fluttered as they tried to open them, but they couldn’t quite keep them open. They tried to speak, to beg, but they didn’t have the strength.
“Shh, here.” Whumper lifted their wrist, marked and bruised by over eager jaws, to their mouth. They bit down on one of the previous marks, and Whumpee whimpered pitifully.
Whumper took only a few sips before they injected as much venom as was safe. Whumpee was naturally sweet tasting, but the sugar and alcohol in their blood was just divine. Whumper could feel the tension melt away from Whumpee under them. The pained furrow of their brow melted away, the slight tremble of their limbs stilled, the harshness in their breath faded away.
Whumper closed the bite, as well as a few others that hadn’t been closed in the frenzy. They picked up Whumpee’s light frame, carrying them back to their room. They already had some other servants ready to care for them.
This cocktail party had been a huge success, and they were eager to have another in the future. Just as soon as Whumpee could. Â
