Anywhere the wind blows, doesn’t really matter to me…’ Well, now it does. Freddie Mercury must’ve sung those words just to make his ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ sound better, but to someone who climbed a hill with the most uncomfortable ‘driving’ shoes and a wish in her heart, it makes a lot of difference. Why, you will soon find out.
That was the day when it was officially announced that our beloved Jazz’s tenure with us was coming to an end. Naturally, this little trip of ours was the last one and it ought to be a good one. So along with the Christmas mistletoe, the Jazz’s last carnival in the CI headquarters was accompanied by some flying, some speed, some bumps, some berries and a lot of excitement. 
After Himalayan fish, Lonavala’s chikki, zorb balls and horse rides, Alibag’s crazy jet-skis, banana boats and kayaks and Rishikesh’s holy white water rafting, the Jazz had marked her presence in the hydrosphere and stratosphere and now was the time for atmosphere! So, Mahabaleshwar was the location and paragliding was on the cards. After about a week’s Google search, homework and reconnaissance, the Jazz and I were prepared to fly somewhere over the rainbow. Here’s a brief account of how we celebrated our Christmas.
The journey was a modest 120 kilometres, so we planned for an easy start and left Pune when the sun shone bright. Gliding through the old Katraj highway, we soon hit the Pasarni ghat and saw a couple of gliders overhead. This was enough for us to visualise how our day was going to be. With ‘Sweet child of mine’ running on the USB, the Jazz enjoyed the loop of dedication I had on offer, while I excused myself through the weekend traffic and made my way towards Panchgani to meet my wings. After reaching the Sydney Point, we were asked to wait and pray for some good wind for a safe and fine take-off. Then we had wind, but flowing in all directions and absolutely unsafe and least recommended for a flight (the reference to the song applies here). After about 90 minutes of sitting and chit-chat about the Jazz with fellow fliers, the much-awaited announcement about commencement of flights was made.
Paragliding is actually a kind of recreational sport where the flier, always at the mercy of the wind, controls the direction of the glider with the strings, somewhat like flying an enormous kite. The height, however, is governed by how strong the wind is. At the same time, a very strong current is a strict no-no. A flier can shoot in the sky independently after a formal training, but first-time fliers like me must be accompanied by a trainer. Gearing up in the harness, we took baby steps downhill. The little tip-toes transformed into giant leaps and in seconds I could see myself going down the valley, with no contact left with the ground and the sight that followed was indescribable.
I was in the air! I was flying!
After I had successfully been in the air for over five minutes (and all my nightmares of crashing down the hill had vanished in the thin air), I wanted to ring up my mother and tell her how much I loved her, for this appeared to be my re-birth after that exaggerated near-death experience. And then I wanted to post a poser update on networking Websites about how good it felt to experience weightlessness despite being pulled by gravity. However, the very thought of letting go off my harness to reach for my mobile phone gave me the shivers and I marked this task in my mental to-do list. Aloft some 100 feet above the tallest tree visible, I could see the Jazz amid the other gliders lying and waiting for their turn to vie with the birds. I have never suffered from acrophobia, so looking down at an undulating green carpet of pines waiting for Santa this year was nothing short of a triumphant feeling of looking at the world as God sees it.
