Vishal Saini

Back in 1997, in Agra, I first picked up a cricket bat. I had no idea that this small moment would define so much of my life. Cricket wasn’t just a sport—it was everything to me.

My father, a cricket enthusiast himself, saw something special in me. He believed in my talent so much that, in 1999, at just Eleven years old, he made a bold decision—he sent me to a boarding school in Chandigarh to train and play at a higher level.

Life at the hostel wasn’t easy. The food? Questionable. Homesickness? Relentless. But cricket? That kept me going. Over the next ten years, I played for Chandigarh’s junior and senior district teams, competing at the state and national levels. The dream was crystal clear—to wear the Indian jersey.

I played in three national tournaments—under 14, 16, and 19—organized by the School Games Federation of India (SGFI). I also had the honor of representing India at Asian-level school cricket tournaments hosted by Delhi Public School.

Beyond that, I participated in elite matches like the Katoch Shield and JP Atray Tournament, sharing the field with some of India’s top players. The Ranji Trophy and IPL felt just within reach.

But fate had a different script in mind.

In 2006, just when I was pushing myself harder than ever, life bowled me a vicious bouncer. I was diagnosed with kidney stones, gallstones, and a severe urinary tract infection. The pain was unbearable, but the mental struggle was worse.

For six years, I was caught in a relentless cycle of medications that drained me physically, emotionally, and financially. Cricket—the one thing I had devoted my entire life to—was slipping away. But during this time, I discovered something that would change my future forever: naturopathy.

Desperate for relief, I started experimenting with natural healing methods. Slowly, my health improved. By 2012, I faced a life-changing decision—undergo surgery to remove my gallbladder or trust my body’s ability to heal itself.

On the day of my surgery, I was sitting in the hospital, dressed in that unflattering blue surgical gown, when my gut told me something wasn’t right.

And so, I did something completely irrational—or maybe it was the most rational thing I’ve ever done.

I ran away.

My parents were horrified.

My doctors were furious.

But deep down, I knew I had made the right decision. I would heal myself, no matter what.

The consequences, though, were severe. My cricket career was over. My family had spent every penny they had on my medical treatment. I was lost, with no career and no direction. But the one thing I did have was an unshakable faith in the body’s power to heal itself.

By December 2012, I was back in Chandigarh, trying to rebuild my life. Cricket was still on my mind, but something else had started to take over—a deep curiosity for natural healing.

And then, life threw me another bouncer.

In 2013, while trying to transport my bike from Chandigarh to Agra, I made a classic “guy” decision—why go through the hassle when I could just ride it home?

It was just another road trip. Until Mathura.

A horrific accident left me with three broken bones and a doctor looking me straight in the eye, saying:

“You will never walk normally again.”

I refused to accept it.

For months, I lay in bed, unable to move, watching my cricket dream fade further. But once again, I turned to naturopathy. My mother, using Japanese healing techniques, massaged my wounds daily, convinced that I was meant for something more.

Four months later, I was walking again.

But cricket? That dream was now officially over.

In 2014, I took up a job as a sports teacher. It wasn’t cricket, but it provided stability. Over time, I ventured into corporate training, placement support, and personality development coaching. The pay wasn’t great, but it was something.

Meanwhile, my obsession with naturopathy kept growing. What started as a way to help friends and family slowly turned into something much bigger.

By March 2014, I launched my first tiny clinic.

First patient? Paid me ₹25 rupees.

Not exactly millionaire status, but it was a start.

So, in 2015, I took the biggest leap of my life—I quit my job to pursue naturopathy full-time.

It wasn’t easy. There were months when I couldn’t even afford rent and had to move back in with my parents. But I didn’t quit. Slowly, I built a name for myself, raised my consultation fees, and started doing group sessions.

By 2018, things exploded. My programs were now helping thousands of people reverse chronic illnesses.

And then—the pandemic hit.

While the world was in lockdown, I saw an opportunity. I pivoted online and started using digital platforms to reach a wider audience.

Today, my community has grown to over 9,500 members, and out of those who took personal consultations, 70% are now completely off medication. My team and I have successfully helped clients reverse chronic diseases—even cancer.

But through all of this, there was one person I wished could have seen it—my father.

In 2019, I lost my biggest supporter. He had believed in me from the moment I picked up that bat. His loss was devastating, but it made me even more determined.

That same year, I joined Internet Lifestyle Hub (ILH) under Siddharth Rajsekar—a moment that felt like flipping a switch, completely altering the way I saw my potential.

By April 2020, I was hosting webinars, sharing my knowledge with the world.

And today? My business has generated ₹12.5 crores in revenue—not just in money, but in lives changed.

Back in 2018, I was just another guy watching ads.

By 2019, I was buying ads.

By 2020, I had hit the Hall of Fame.

In 3.5 years → I made ₹1 crore.

In 5.5 years → That number jumped to ₹10 crore.

The secret? The Internet Lifestyle Hub & the Freedom Business Model.

The real game-changer was mastering the community model—leveraging ‘one-to-many’ selling to expand my impact while genuinely serving those who needed it most.

And for that, I owe everything to my mentor, Siddharth Rajsekar.

If you had told the nine-year-old boy swinging a cricket bat in Agra that one day he’d be leading a movement in naturopathy, he would’ve laughed and gone back to perfecting his cover drive.

If you had told the man lying in a hospital bed in 2013 that his body wasn’t breaking—it was preparing him for something bigger—he wouldn’t have believed you.

And if you had told the guy watching a random YouTube ad in 2018 that he was about to step into a world where he’d not just survive, but grow a thriving naturopathy practice, help thousands, and make a real difference—well, he might’ve clicked “Skip Ad.”

But here’s what I’ve learned—sometimes, the best things in life come disguised as setbacks.

Cricket, healing, business—it was never about any of that. It was about resilience. It was about choosing faith over fear. It was about embracing the detours instead of fighting them.

And now?

I’m not just in the game—I’m changing it.

Because the scoreboard isn’t just about numbers anymore. It’s about lives changed.

And this?

This is only the warm-up.