Am I a Coward?

The question didn’t come from anyone else.

It lived quietly inside him.

Every morning, when Aariz stood in front of the mirror of the hostel bathroom, that question waited for him between the fog and the cracked glass.

Am I a coward?

His mother would laugh if she heard him think that.

“You’re strong,” she always said on video calls, adjusting her dupatta and squinting at the screen. “Smart body, sharp mind. You’re just like your father at your age.”

Aariz would nod. Smile. Agree.

But when the call ended, when the room fell silent again, when the mirror reflected his narrow shoulders and soft arms, the smile vanished.

He didn’t feel strong.

He didn’t feel brave.

He felt… unfinished.

1. A Body That Didn’t Match the Dream

College life had introduced Aariz to a new kind of awareness—one he wasn’t prepared for.

In school, uniforms hid differences. In college, everyone wore confidence like a fashion statement. Tight t-shirts. Rolled-up sleeves. Broad chests. Easy laughter.

His classmates didn’t say anything directly, but the comparison didn’t need words.

At the cafeteria, the boys discussed their gym PRs and protein shakes. In the corridor, someone flexed jokingly. In class, a senior walked in with arms that looked carved from effort.

Aariz sat still.

He wasn’t unhealthy. He wasn’t sick. But he wasn’t strong either.

And worse than that—

He knew what he wanted.

He imagined himself stronger. Taller in posture. Firmer in presence. Someone who walked into a room without shrinking.

He watched workout videos late at night. Saved routines. Read about discipline. Motivation. Transformation.

But every morning, the alarm rang…

and he pressed snooze.

“I’ll start tomorrow,” he whispered like a promise that no one was there to hear.

Tomorrow became next week.

Next week became next month.

And the mirror stayed the same.

2. The Weight of Laziness

Aariz hated the word lazy, but it clung to him.

He wasn’t lazy in his studies. He met deadlines. He attended lectures. He did what was required.

But improvement demanded more than requirements.

It demanded discomfort.

The gym near campus smelled of iron and sweat. The first time he entered, his heart raced—not from exercise, but fear.

Everyone looked confident. Everyone seemed to know what they were doing.

He picked up a dumbbell, felt its unfamiliar weight, and suddenly felt small.

After ten awkward minutes, he left.

“I’ll come back prepared,” he told himself.

He never did.

Instead, he stayed in his room, scrolling through transformation reels that both inspired and insulted him.

If they can do it, why can’t I?

What’s wrong with me?

That question came back again.

Am I a coward?

3. The Day Something Changed

Change didn’t arrive with dramatic music or a motivational speech.

It came on a normal afternoon.

Aariz returned from class to find his mother’s message waiting.

“I found your old school uniform today. You were so thin, yet you carried yourself with such confidence. Strength isn’t only in muscles, beta. But if you want to grow, don’t insult yourself by staying stuck.”

He read it twice.

Then a third time.

She didn’t call him lazy.

She didn’t call him weak.

She called him stuck.

That night, he didn’t open YouTube.

He didn’t scroll.

He wrote in a notebook instead.

I don’t hate my body.

I hate that I keep lying to myself.

The honesty hurt—but it also cleared something inside him.

4. The First Real Step

The next morning, Aariz didn’t aim for greatness.

He aimed for small.

He didn’t join a gym.

He didn’t buy equipment.

He did ten push-ups in his room.

They were ugly. Shaky. Slow.

But they were real.

The next day, he did twelve.

Then fifteen.

Some days he skipped. Some days he felt lazy again. But this time, laziness didn’t win completely.

He learned something important:

Discipline wasn’t about never failing.

It was about returning.

Weeks passed.

His body didn’t change dramatically—but his mind did.

He stood straighter. Walked faster. Ate with intention.

And slowly, the mirror began to argue less with him.

5. Facing the Gym Again

Two months later, Aariz walked into the same gym.

This time, his heart still raced—but his feet didn’t turn back.

He didn’t compare himself.

He didn’t overdo it.

He lifted light. Learned form. Asked questions.

Some days were frustrating.

Some days were satisfying.

But every day, he left knowing he had shown up.

The laziness didn’t disappear.

But it lost its control.

6. Growth Beyond Muscles

Strength crept into other parts of his life.

He spoke more in class.

Maintained eye contact longer.

Stopped apologizing for existing.

One afternoon, a classmate said casually, “You’ve changed, bro.”

Aariz smiled—not wide, not proud—but real.

He hadn’t become a model.

He hadn’t become massive.

But he had become consistent.

And consistency, he realized, was courage in disguise.

7. The Answer to the Question

Months later, during winter break, Aariz stood in front of the mirror again—this time at home.

His shoulders were broader. Arms firmer. But more than that, his eyes looked different.

Calmer. Certain.

His mother passed by the door and stopped.

“You look… settled,” she said.

He laughed softly.

That night, Aariz opened the same notebook and wrote one final line under the old question.

Am I a coward?

Below it, he answered:

No.

I was just afraid of starting.

And I finally did.

He closed the notebook.

For the first time, the question didn’t follow him to bed.

The End