Paragliding and farewells to Jazz

“Anywhere the wind blows, doesn’t really matter to me…” well now, it does. Freddie Mercury must’ve said (actually sang) 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 are soon to find out.
That was the day when it was officially announced that our beloved Jazz’s tenure with us was over and it shall go back to where it belongs very soon, this little trip of ours was the last one and it ought to be good. So along with the Christmas mistletoe, 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 fishes, Lonavala’s chikki, zorb balls and horse rides, Alibag’s crazy jet-skis, banana boats and kayaks and Rishikesh’s holy white water rafting, Jazz had marked her presence in the hydrosphere and stratosphere and now was the time for atmosphere! So, Mahabaleshwar was the destined location and Paragliding (!!!!!!!!) was on cards. After about a week’s Google search, homework and recce, Jazz and me were prepared to fly somewhere over the rainbow. Here’s a brief account of how we celebrated our Christmas.
The journey was a miniscule 120 kms, so we planned to have an easy start to the day and left Pune when sun shone bright after rubbing its eyes off the morning fog. Gliding about the old Katraj highway, we hit Pasarni ghat and saw a couple of gliders over our head. This was enough for us to visualize in the nth of a second how our day was going to be. With “Sweet child of mine” running on the USB, 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. Reaching Sydney point (Mahabaleshwar sure gets an Oscar for having such interesting names of places worth a sigh), we were asked to wait and pray to Lord Indra (the Hindu God of wind) to bestow us with some good wind for a safe and fine take off. Then we had wind, but like a juxtaposition of thoughts in my mind- 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-chatting about the Jazz with fellow fliers, the much awaited announcement about commencing of flights was made.
Paragliding is actually a sort of recreational sport where the flier, much to the mercy of wind, controls the direction of the glider with the strings, somewhat like flying a ginormous kite. The height is however governed by how strong the wind is, but at the same time 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 whatsoever and the sight which followed later was indescribable. I was in air. I was flying!
After I had successfully been in air for over 5 minutes and all my nightmares of a failed attempt at flying and crashing down the hill were buried in thin air, I wanted to call my mother and tell her how much I love her (for this appeared as a re-birth to me after that exaggerated near-death experience). And then, I wanted to post a poser update on networking website about how good it feels to experience weightlessness despite being pulled by gravity, but the very thought of letting go off my harness to reach my pocket gave me shivers and I marked this task in the to-do list in my mind. Sitting some 100 feet above the tallest tree visible, I could see Jazz amidst the colours of other gliders lying and waiting for their next prospect to accompany the birds. I have never suffered from altophobia, so looking down at a green carpet of pines waiting for Santa this year, was nothing more than a triumphant feeling of looking at the world as how God sees it.
After 15 minutes of being on top of the world (quite literally), it was time for us to come back to the ground of reality and the trainer accompanying me started pulling the strings in as we headed back to those who stood looking at us and passing awes of envy. The glider flapped like an eagle’s wings before coming back to its nest and we landed a few steps away from the same place where we took our flight from. The landing was a reverse with a thud jump and some hurried running with the glider behind, before reaching a final stand-still. I turned around and my smile depicted the stamp I had left on the sky.
Great as it was, but this just wasn’t enough of a farewell to my friend in good times, the Jazz. Thanking the crew and wishing others waiting for their turn a safe flight, we headed towards making our day as thrilling as it could possibly get. As how everyone knows it, Mahabaleshwar is very famous for its crop of Strawberries. So, we raided a nursery to get a closer view of these juicy sugar candies and dear Mr Friendly owner of the nursery even let us pluck a few of them. A little ahead, we saw a miniature of the Sriperumbudur race track, where a crowd of over enthusiastic tourists howled as they ran their kart cars into their friends’. Why not do it, I said and Jazz most happily agreed with me. So there I was with a broken yet mandatory helmet on my head and a cranky kart in my hands, flying dust away on that little but very curvy track showing those who stared that how that day belonged to me. After some heart-filling 10 laps, I surrendered to the heat and dragged my feet towards Jazz to get a bit of its air conditioning before I gave my heart away to something else to add a feather to that day’s carnival. As expected, we took the next stop very soon and this time for a rather bumpy ride- the ATVs. My itinerary for the day had already expired after the paragliding session and all the unplanned activities that followed confirmed my belief in Forrest Gump’s statement- life is a box of chocolates; you never know what you get. Another 5 laps on that heavily dosed bumpy track, my body oscillated like a tuning fork. It was only after this merry making that I officially retired for the day and gave a nod to the proposal of going back to Pune.
From what I remember of our drive back, for me it began only before we crossed Harrison Follies and resumed as I saw a hand asking for toll money at the end of the highway at Khedshivapur. Maybe because the exhaustion from the enthusiastic events of the day took me to land of nod in the meanwhile and brought me back to reality just before the final countdown of Jazz’s separation began. Rightly so, because when you have seen the sun setting over Jazz in Alibag, morning dew marking a silver lining on its curves in Tirthan valley and splashes of the Ganges washing its feet in Rishikesh, watching it going away in the dark of the night does feel gloomy.
As this trail of adventures with the Jazz ends, I wish everyone in the Honda Siel family a happy new year and wish the good times return soon.
Goodbye Buddy!