Hello dearest Reader,
January has begun with an aplomb. My 2025 top 10 list had a note which clearly required me to do something which I have never tried before. Of all the things I listed down, this one kept pulling me. Now those who don’t know me well, I’m not an adventurous sort. To top it, I’m extremely lazy. You literally need to pay me to have me move my limbs. Given this context, I was at my wits end as to should I try my hand at. Usually, I stick to new cuisines, or visiting new places or to the most picking up a new hobby. But all those have been done.
So I kept wracking my brains. One thing I have in oodles is courage. I usually don’t fear anything. And I have an affinity to the air element. Case in point airports relaxes my nerves.Turbulence in flights lulls me to sleep. My favourite pass time is to catch the glimpse of sunlight underneath the wings of a flying eagle. These birds pull me as they float across the sky, solo or at times with a mate.
I can spend a night gazing at the starry sky or romancing the moon. The night breeze whispering in my ears sweet nothings. My childhood saw a lot of thunderstorms. Bengal and its countryside is a sight when cyclone hits. The gust of wind whirls the dry dust and leaves into its embrace. I would sit in wonder and watch as the storm raged across the surrounding vistas. Peeking through the windows or sitting close to the balcony watching with glee as the wind twirled my hair and kissed my cheeks.
So I decided that I should try my hand at going with the wind. Paragliding would be my adventure of choice. The thrill of leaving the solid stability of earth and gliding across the sky on the wings of the wind was a charming thought. More so cause, no effort was required. You have an instructor, the vehicle from the nearby Homestay takes you to the flying spot, the crew secures you in the entrapment and attaches you to the parachute and you’re ready to fly. The only thing you need to do is jump off the cliff, which was no big deal. At least for me, it was the least of the worries.
The Homestay, we often visited was cosy little place just beside the Pawna lake in Kamshet. The room painted sunny yellow opened into a courtyard canopied with white blossoms. The sequinned Rajasthani bandhni curtains fluttered in the January breeze. We checked in. My man decided to accompany me, quite nervous that his only wife might fly away and never return. However much I insisted that I’m capable enough to survive this adventure solo, but he was adamant. You see, he had a very opposite kind of emotion attached to this flying, the mysterious wind and a human floating away. He cursed the day when such a thought made home into my heart and for his own peace of mind decided to follow me.
My destiny was planning slyly behind my back. It decided to crack a joke at my expense and was truly conniving to make me do what exactly what I detested. Make efforts. I was warned that wind might play truant and if the wind is not on your side, then such flights are cancelled without notice. We came in for a day. I was jittery that if luck doesn’t favour us then my trip to Kamshet will go futile. In the meanwhile my instructor Vinod came by to meet me. He wanted to check if we can take the flight next day morning instead of the noon trip which was scheduled for the day. When I asked curious why such a sudden change of plans, he mentioned that the wind is playing truant and to catch the wind we need to trek for 10 minutes from the spot where cars can take us. Nearest to flight site.
Nervous me, didn’t want to take the risk of pushing it to the next day. God forbid if wind decides to abandon me the next day, then my fancy plan would go for a toss. So I pushed Vinod to go ahead with the afternoon’s plans. That was my doom. The 10 minute trek was as elusive as a mirage in the desert. The car stopped at the side of semi barren farmland which stretched for miles, till the rocky crop of the Western ghats. The dry winter turned every blade of grass a golden hue.Vinod sweetly smiled and said the flying spot was right at the top of that rocky slope of the Ghats. He pointed at some Mango tree which my naked eyes couldn’t see. That he said was the destination and our flying spot.
My dear reader, I cannot tell you what my poor untrained legs had to bear for the next 50 minutes. There was no road, no trail, and we had to meander through barren and rocky farmland. We walked for more than a mile and half. Panting and gasping under the blazing sun, somehow I managed to reach the foothills. My dreams of flying in the sky without an iota of effort evaporated in the hot afternoon. But then started the treacherous climb. Again barely a trail. Steep rocky slope. I was crawling like a clumsy tortoises in search of the sea. Toehold slipping and me desperately clawing at the dry grasses. Thank God my man was there to lend a hand. He was 10 times fitter than I was. Finally I managed to reach the flying spot. I was super proud that I didn’t collapse on the way making a fool out of myself.
The rest was the least of the ordeal. Entrapped to the gear and latched to my instructor we waited for the right gust. Once the wind swept us up, the only thing required was to run towards the cliff and leap. That was a surreal moment when my feet left the solid ground and the invisible strength of wind took me up in the sky. When I looked down everything looked like miniature countryside. Dotted mini cowherds grazing, huts and toy cars racing on the ribbon like roads. Different shades of green laid like carpet below, covering the planet which we call our home. The sky, daffodil blue, pulled me towards it and such calmness enveloped me that I fail to describe in words today. The sound of the wind and the stillness of space took me to a meditative enamour. I stayed cantered and still within as I glided across the hillside. A few stunts later, my instructor guided us down.
My relieved husband vowed never to try this for himself. Gladly took handover of his wife and climbed down the hill, happy that his ordeal was over. I think he was mighty pleased that his only wife didn’t fly away to some fairyland leaving him behind.
One more adventure in my pocket, I spent the evening watching the sun go down the lake and the full moon rising in the horizon. My dearest reader given a chance try your hand at something new, something a tad difficult and different. Life is to be lived. Fill your pockets with memories and your heart with dreams.
Till I see you again with another story, stay well.
Always yours,
Pocket full of life
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