The Brothers Who Built A Body—And Then A Brand

On the ground floor of a leafy Bandra bylane, next to a bridal atelier that once bustled with fittings and silks, there’s a gym that doesn’t look like a gym. No machines. No LED signage. No motivational wall art screaming about pain or gain. What you’ll find instead: a pull-up bar, a dip bar, a handful of kettlebells, and a steady stream of people walking out looking wrecked—in the good way.

This is Anti Gravity. It was founded in 2018 by two brothers: Yudhishthir and Karan Jaising. They used to be national-level swimmers, born into a prominent Mumbai family known for both fashion and discipline. And now, they’re personal trainers. Kind of. Kind of not.

Anti Gravity Club

A few years ago, if you asked brothers Yudhishthir and Karan Jaising what they planned to do with their lives, the answer probably wouldn’t have included “build one of Mumbai’s most recognisable boutique fitness clubs.” The two were national gold medallists in swimming. They knew how to win. What they didn’t know—yet—was that they’d trade chlorinated pool lanes for pull-up bars, and that what began as an experiment would soon be a full-blown cultural shift in how a generation thinks about fitness.

“We stopped swimming around 13–14 years ago,” Karan tells me. “And we had all this energy, all this discipline we’d built through years of sport. We had to use it somewhere.”

That “somewhere” turned out to be a tiny upstairs room next to their mother’s bridal boutique in Bandra, Mumbai. Their dad gave them the space—and the startup capital—with a challenge: “You’re not doing much with your life. Why don’t you do something here?”

So they did.

In 2017, Yudi left for Loughborough University in the UK—a mecca for sports science—and Karan would visit often. Their favourite shared activity? Not pub crawls. Not football games. They hit the gym. But not the glitzy, high-tech kind. One spot in particular stood out: a spartan calisthenics gym, “probably double the size of this room,” Yudi says, gesturing around us. “It had a pull-up bar, a dip bar, some kettlebells. That’s it.”

But it was transformative.

“There was no one there,” Karan adds. “You could take off your shirt, play your own music. It was just you, your coach, and the workout. That freedom, that energy—we loved it.”

More importantly, they realised what made the biggest difference wasn’t the gear. “The coach mattered,” Yudi says. “His vibe, the way he pushed us—that was more important than having a thousand machines.”

So when they got back to Mumbai, they brought that philosophy home.

They cleared out racks of wedding lehengas and turned the bridal floor into a gym. Pull-up bars went up. So did dip bars.

“We had no fancy equipment — just pull-up bars, dip bars, dumbbells, kettlebells, and some weird sense of belief that this would all work out,” says Karan. “It looked exactly like that London gym we fell in love with.”

And then they needed a name. Their dad pitched it: Anti Gravity.

“We thought we’d discovered fire,” Karan laughs. “It sounded so cool, and it meant something. Everything we do—calisthenics, lifting—is about defying gravity. And metaphorically, it was perfect. You come in here, and you feel detached from the world.”

When Anti Gravity opened in September 2018, it wasn’t a gym. It was a “club.”

They chose the word deliberately.

“There wasn’t a sense of community in most commercial gyms,” Karan explains. “We didn’t want people to think this was another fitness centre with blaring music and steam rooms.”

Instead, they banked on something far more exclusive: themselves.

“We told people—our friends, friends of friends—just come for a free trial,” Yudi says. “And people came. They knew us from our swimming days. They trusted we weren’t going to give them garbage advice.”

The response was overwhelming. Within months, they had more clients than they could handle. “We had no idea what we were doing with accounts or pricing,” Karan says. “We were like, ‘Okay, how much should we charge?’ We literally sat with our dad to figure it out.”

What they did know was how to train. Every workout was tailored. Every client got personal attention. Group classes? Rare—and only under tight supervision.

That insight is the foundation of the Anti Gravity training model: controlled, customized, and completely personal. “We’ve done group classes. We’ve offered them, very occasionally, just to build community,” Karan says. “But we don’t believe in eight people doing the same workout. No two bodies are the same.”

“We’re not against group classes,” Yudi clarifies. “But they’re risky. Too many people get injured. You pay 800 rupees for a high-intensity class, you’ll sweat, your Apple Watch will say you burned 450 calories. But has it really done your body justice? That’s the question.”

The brothers are obsessed with quality control.

Even now, when they train, they ask Anti Gravity coaches to coach them.

“We need someone to push us,” Yudi says. “We may look like we’re always motivated, but honestly? We’re not.”

Karan nods: “Ten years ago, we were chasing PRs. Now it’s about longevity. You can’t give 100 percent at work and expect to hit personal bests every time you train. Now it’s about showing up at 70 percent, but doing it consistently.”

Consistency, as it turns out, is also the beating heart of India’s quietly growing fitness revolution. The brothers see it every day. More people are lifting. More people are supplementing. Hell, even Amul—yes, that Amul—has launched a protein product line.

“This is the wellness era,” Karan says. “Alcohol consumption among Gen Z has dropped. Ice baths and saunas are trendy now. People want to feel good.”

And data access is accelerating the shift. “In India, data is practically free,” Yudi says. “People can understand a fitness reel in ten seconds. They’re learning about creatine, protein, workouts for back pain—stuff that used to be taboo.”

But there’s also noise. For every useful video, there’s a dozen that mislead. Karan calls it “step two.”

“Step one is watching the content. Step two is figuring out what’s true and what’s BS. And unfortunately, you have to go through that yourself. Just like investing. You’ll make mistakes. That’s how you learn.”

It’s also how they learned. Apart from their fitness certifications, the Jaising brothers also credit a lot of their training to information they sought online. “It’s a combination of years of training, failing, tweaking, and constantly learning and un-learning,” they said.

Today, Anti Gravity has multiple locations, a waitlist, and a loyal following. But the brothers haven’t changed the formula.

“It still has to be the best hour of your day,” Karan says. “Whether you’re training three hours a week or five, that interaction—that session—has to be top notch.”

And India? It has miles to go.

India’s gym penetration remains among the lowest globally—well under 5%, by some estimates. But the Jaisings don’t see that as a deterrent. Quite the opposite.

“It’s changing. People's incomes are growing. Fitness isn’t just for the elite anymore.”

Karan agrees: “The runway for India is the longest in the world. And that’s a good thing.”

For now, the brothers are still in it—pulling the weights, answering questions, sweating through sets. It’s their business, their lifestyle, and their quiet rebellion against bad form and bad information.

If you ask them what they’re most proud of, it’s not the bodies they’ve built—it’s the one hour they offer every client. “That hour should be the best part of your day,” says Karan. “You spend five hours a week here. That’s more than some people see their partner. It has to matter.”

Even today, the mission hasn’t changed.

“It’s still about keeping the vibe right,” Karan says. “It’s still about showing up, doing the work, shutting the world out, and walking away stronger.”

Yudi nods. “That, and never skipping leg day.”