Wednesday, May 29, 2013

I flew

Last weekend, I flew.
With a huge nylon wing tied to a cushioned bucket I sat in.
I did not have to do much.
My seat was attached to a pilot’s belly.
I told him I felt like a baby kangaroo.

I knew I was going to fly when I got to the base camp.
But I wasn’t really thinking about it much.
I was with a friend and his friends
And I was looking forward to spending time with them.
Strangely, I had for company
two business journalists, a market researcher and an entrepreneur.
My phone; switched off, was in my bag. My bag with its mouth open was in Sheesh Mahal.
A hurried lunch later, we left for the flying zone
and waited in the sun for the angry winds to simmer down,
armed with nothing else but bottles of water and some senses of humour.
Even birds don’t fly in winds like that.
They just sit and chillax somewhere.
Except for the vultures there. With huge wings,
those guys can do whatever they want.
I’m just glad they didn’t vomit acid on or around anyone that day.
Guess they are used to flying humans by now.
So anyway, when we were ready to fly,
the instructor asked who’ll be the first one to fly.
Now, I’m learning to raise hands at every given opportunity, especially for when someone says ‘Hands up!’
So the instructor, Yogi shook confident hands with me.
Then he told me that we’ll have to run a bit before the wind can meet us.
Meanwhile, the assistants buckled and strapped me everywhere.
Yogi said, ‘Right after we take off, sit into the cushioned bucket.’
We took off and I sat back and relaxed.
What I saw next, blew my mind.
I would be a loser if I mentioned Farmville here.
But I saw tiny matchbox-sized farms and G.I.Joe-sized people
and trees that look like dummies from an architect’s model building.
I couldn’t believe I was flying.
It’s like being in an open aeroplane. You are flying but with the wind in your face.
If I didn’t wear the helmet, my hair would be in my mouth.
But what the instructor said next put my balls in my mouth. He asked if I would like some acrobatics.
I thought I was brave and said yes. After all, I must try new things, right?
I suddenly remembered why I hated that particular ride in Esselworld.
My stomach felt that familiar premonition you feel before you dispense a projectile vomit.
I don’t remember screaming but those down apparently heard me.
With eyes shut tight, I told Yogi that I had had enough of the sommersaults.
Just flying was enough of an accomplishment for me.
We hummed some songs and tried to whistle.
It’s difficult to whistle with wind trying to force its way into your mouth
(try doing that at the train door sometime).
Soon enough, Yogi says,
‘Right before we land, try to stand up on your feet.’
And I did just that and landed on the ground like a falling cat.
This smile on my face on a photo someone clicked of me when I landed, I want to see more of those.
I clicked some of the others flying higher, faster, sommersaulting and playing with the wind.
Friend is going to take a flying course. Not me though.
I like the view from the road better, from my cycle.
One thing I do want to learn is how to swim.
What do I tell you about the sexy Indrayani  River?
She takes you in and keeps you in.
Talk to her, talk to yourself or talk to the tiny biting fish.
Talk to your companions or talk to the humming water purifier.
Talk to the birds or that crow as big as a cat.
The river won’t talk back. She’ll write to you instead.
In waves. In a language you will not understand as a city-slicker.
Make time for her and maybe she’ll teach you to read her mind.
But tell her what you are thinking and she will listen to you with calm.
You can hear her even more clearly if you put your head underwater.
The water tickles and enters your ears like jelly earphones
And then she giggles and gurgles inside your ear.
Come here if you want to fly.
Come here if you want to swim.
Come here if all you want to do is lie in the water all day.
Come here if you are a boy who wants to bajao the scenes, baba.
I don’t know what my reason is but I am definitely going back there
Because as someone famously said on the Whatsapp Group after the trip,
‘Ýou can check out any time you like but you can never leave.’



Tuesday, May 28, 2013

My Litchi Story


I was on my way back from the Neighbourhood Library in Navagaon, Dahisar this evening after picking up two Asterix Comics when I suddenly remember my craving for litchies. I hadn’t had them this season.

Usually, I stick to the Link Road and try to make it home quickly because all the honking from others really gets on my nerves. Today, I swerved into every gully of the IC Colony and dashed into every corner of LIC Colony on the way only to find fruit sellers with no respect for litchi. King Mango rules everywhere. But Litchi must be the Earl or something somewhere no?

I suddenly remembered that a few guys kept Litchi near Borivali station. On impulse, I rode all the way to the station like a madman on a concoction of adrenaline and serotonin until I found two people with a basket full of what I was looking for.

I told him I had rode all the way from Dahisar for the Litchies. His eyes widened. I think I gave him business hope. He gave me the two dozens I asked for and added a couple more, for the effort probably.

I thought I must write about this. It’s not always that victory comes in Litchi flavor!