Mumbai's evening heat hit like a tandoor, 38°C even at dusk, the asphalt radiating warmth. Arjun Sharma, 45, 1.85 meters, and ~100 kg, stepped out of his Maruti 800 near his Andheri flat, the monsoon humidity clinging to his skin. No dinner tonight, he decided. Just fruit.
He'd earned ₹3,400 driving Ola—10 rides averaging ₹220, doubled by the Midlife Mastery System's no-commission perk. Keep this up, that's ₹90,000 a month, he thought, grinning, outpacing his IT job's peak of ₹50,000. Cashable daily via UPI, his balance sat at ₹19,850. His phone buzzed: "Midlife Mastery System: Stellar hustle! ₹5,000 cashback voucher for shopping." Perfect for a fruit spree.
Arjun strolled to "Fruit Fiesta" near Shivaji Park, a rare indulgence. Meera, his "psycho" ex-wife, had controlled every rupee—scolding him for ₹100 mangoes or a quick online cricket game. "Wasting my money!" she'd rant on Instagram, while splurging on ₹20,000 lehengas. Now, divorced, Arjun's cash was his own. He slept when he wanted, ate what he craved, and skipped laundry—same as marriage, minus her tantrums. No warmth, no point, he mused, savoring his freedom.
Inside, Alphonso mangoes glowed at ₹500/kg, Kesar mangoes at ₹210/kg, and peaches at ₹250/kg. Pricey, he thought, recalling childhood summers in his village, stealing sour mangoes from orchards, chased by farmers. Those tart fruits turned sweet by August, like the Kesar mangoes here. Worth it.
"Arjun bhai!" a voice called. Sanjay Patil, a neighbor from Shivaji Park, waved, holding a half-empty bag. "Buying fruit too?"
"Sanjay! Kesar mangoes, huh?" Arjun grinned. Sanjay, about his age, was a government technician , earning ₹15,000/month—down from his peak of ₹40,000 before layoffs cost him ₹4,00,000. His daughter, 20, scored 520 in her entrance exams, just shy of Priya's 521.
"Living large post-divorce, eh?" Sanjay teased, eyeing Arjun's empty basket. The complex knew about Meera's exit.
"Gotta treat myself," Arjun said. "How much you got?"
Sanjay showed his bag—2 kg of mangoes. "Enough for the family," he said, smirking. "You buying or what?"
"Watch this," Arjun said, filling a bag with 5 kg of Alphonso mangoes. Not stopping there. He grabbed another for 5 kg of Kesar mangos, then added 5 kg of peaches. Sanjay's eyes widened.
"You didn't check the price, did you?" Sanjay said, expecting Arjun to flinch.
At the scale, 5 kg of mangoes (₹2500) and 5kg of Kesar ( 1050), 5 kg of peaches (₹1250) totaled ₹4800. Not bad, Arjun thought, the Midlife Mastery System's voucher easing the sting. He sampled a peach—juicy, sweet, a far cry from his village's tart nectarines.
"₹4800 on fruit?" Sanjay gasped. "Meera'd have your head!"
"Divorced, bhai. No one to nag," Arjun laughed. "I earn, I spend—on me."
Sanjay shook his head, envious. His wife rationed every rupee, making 2 kg of fruit a splurge. If I were single… he thought, trailing off. Arjun's freedom stung—once a mid-level IT manager, he'd bounced back, unlike Sanjay's post-layoff grind.
"Fruit's pricey, but I'm not," Arjun said, paying ₹4800 via UPI. His phone pinged: "Midlife Mastery System: ₹4800 spent, ₹5,000 cashback credited." Then: "SBI: ₹5,000 credited to account ending 6867. Balance: ₹20,050."
"Sanjay, I'm off. Catch you on WhatsApp," Arjun said, hefting his bags.
Sanjay watched him go, his own bag feeling light. Arjun's divorce, once a neighborhood scandal, now looked like a win. With ₹20,050, Priya's college covered, and the Midlife Mastery System fueling his hustle, Arjun felt alive. Meera's "psycho" chaos—rants over spilled chai—was gone. He was free, savoring the sweet taste of his new life.