Sometime back I had read this somewhere
"When was the last time you did something for the first time?"
And believe me, that’s what I repeat under my breath every time I come across anything new. When you keep guessing when was that last time you really didsomething new, something exciting, never hesitate...just jump to the opportunity.And probably that is how some 17 lunatics, in search of a new adventure, stumbledupon the beach parasailing itinerary organized by a local adventure group. Everyone seemed to have enjoyed a lot and been left wanting for more!!
"Bon voyage"
We embarked for the coast on a crispy October night. I was in a mood to doze off immediately, since had to dash across from my place to the super market and back for some last minute shopping and was running a bit late. But before the weariness could take control, we started with dumb-sharades. The "dumbs" in the bus had volunteered for the game and were having a blast trying to enact movies and other outrageous"home productions". Later on, it got even more interesting when other joined in. I was pretty amazed at my skills at the game. Had a rocking time acting out some movies.
This would have carried on all night long. But then came a call to put out the lights and catch some sleep. Fair enough, the lights were out, but everyone had hard time catching up some sleep, all thanks to the beautiful road conditions.
"Destination : Diveagar"
I must have dozed off some time soon, coz when I woke up later on, we had already reached the accommodation facility. The bed mattresses were some relief from the treacherous bus, I would say. But the excitement was still high, and after everyone else had retired to the cottages, me and three others made our way to the beach. At 4.30 in the morning, the sea waves were calling us. It was a very enticing experience. And though we could hardly see a thing in the dark, we knew that when daylight would break, we would be assured of a great time on the beach.
"Wake up call"
Came back from the beach, and had a sound sleep for the remaining time until our team captain came to wake everybody up. And in no time the place was alive with the morning hustle-bustle. After some tea and snacks, all headed for the beach.Wind did not favor us for the first half of the day. But the time was worth fully spent playing some beach ball. Well, we were playing less and bickering more over how low the ball was and it qualified as a net and a re-serve!! Then there was a quick change of plan amidst all the fun, and people headed for the sea fort - Murud Janjira. What better way to start that run than to sip on natural coconut water. Simply perfect.
"Enroute conquering Murud Janjira"
The army then set out to conquer the sea fort of Murud. Equipped with loads of excitement and singing songs all way long, I never realized when we reached the ferry point.The ferry trip to the fort and back was nice. And my heart sure missed a beat when the load on the small boat was imbalanced to the verge of toppling over.
"Enjoy the meal"
After the victory at Murud, the army certainly deserved a sumptuous meal. And as we made our way back, lunch was ready, typical Konkani style of food preparation complete with specialities like "Ukadiche Modak" and "Solkadhi". After the lunch, I just wanted to retire to my cottage and sleep like a baby. But thenwe weren’t here for that, were we?? Just a few moments later all started for thebeach again and this time it was to "fly high! sky high!!"
"Showtime"
When I reached the beach, first few guys had already done their part. The sight itself was thrilling and I wondered how it would feel to soar that high in a matter of seconds. Was having an adrenaline rush and goose bumps at the same time.Equipped with the handycam, I wanted to take footage of the flight from up there.Gradually as people were taking their turns to imitate the birds, I was getting readyfor the ride of a lifetime. Of course there was never a time when I had done this for the first time.And then the moment of truth. With the parachute canopy swelling to the fullest behind my back, and the jeep idling ahead ready to launch, I took my first steps of flight. And before I knew it, I was up there seeing tiny people waving there hands at me and some toy car trying to pull me. Initial few seconds of the flight were just complete chaos. It took me some time to gather my bearings and aim the camera at something worthwhile to shoot.I was having a feeling that the harness tied to me was gradually slipping away. And to make the freaky moment even more freakier, I remembered someone telling how a girl had fell of some 10 feet since the harness was not tied properly. Well 10 feet is okay, but you don’t want to fall from the roof of a building. I had little choice but to scream from up there, vainly telling the jeep fellow that I am slipping off theharness. I would have wanted to sing "I believe I can fly...I believe I can touch the sky..." but with the chaos and excitement coupled together, I managed to utter the veryversatile "F" word to describe how beautiful it is from up there.
When the jeep slowed down and I gradually descended before another tug launchedme back to where I was, I became more comfortable with all the "loose harness" thing. Just some stupid concern about safety. And now that I had the confidence, I started shooting the trees, mountains, sea, sunset and of course the parachute that was holding me up there.It is really amazing to experience flight. Something which we knew we could never do, until this day. And now am left wanting for more !! The touch down was like a feather.Smooth and perfect.
"The Video Footage"
My immediate reaction, after I was free from the harness, was to rewind the tape and check all that had been caught on film. I wasn’t disappointed. But the camera cannot even get close to the trill one experiences when airborne. Itwould be just a reminder of the awesome adrenaline rush within that short time.‘Mission : accomplished’
"What a day!"
After my turn, I had some time to spare in the murky waters of the beach. Watched the sun go down and disappear. And while other were finishing their turns at the parasailing, I relaxed and settled down to call it a day. A day planned beautifully and made worthwhile by all the lunatics and fanatics on board the‘Fun Express’.
"Final retreat"
After a relaxing bath and some more refreshing tea, we all started back.And this time the "back-benchers" were in full form. Singing timeless classics that reminded us of our merry childhood.The crusade carried on till a stop for dinner. Personally I don’t want to recollect thatat all. The menu should be best forgotten.
Slept like a baby in the final lap. Touch down at 2 am. A bit delayed, but who cares... after a day like this, it did not matter. And I had already decided to call in sick the next day. So Monday was a sick leave from work for me. Spent most of the time sleeping lazily around the house.
Yes, this is yet one of those trips that are worth remembering and moments worthreliving again and again.
"What next?"
Now the next plan has caught my imagination, Scuba diving and snorkeling on the beaches of Lakshwadeep. Seems to be out of this world. May take lot of planning and coordination and most important, begging for holidays to make it a success. Seems difficult, but then ...
"When was the last time you did something for the first time?"...
...flashback from October 2005
Jun 15, 2006
Jun 9, 2006
A World Of His Own
Om is different from other children of his age. GOD has made him special. At age 15, while other boys are out in the field playing football, Om cant even stand on his feet and has trouble counting his fingers. With bulging eyes, always wandering around, he makes desperate attempts to speak flawlessly. His life is confined to a wheel chair, at the mercy of any help at hand.
But there is one thing that makes his eyes gleam with excitement and utter words of joy - colors. Colors that he paints on the canvas. Struggling with the crippled grip, he leaves the world behind and gets started with what he loves most.
For him, colors are a way of expression. Be they the colors that were painted by his brush or those smeared on the canvas with his bare fingers. Om sometimes spends time endlessly, bringing out the shades on the canvas, as if wanting to say something.
His colors speak for him. Sometimes red blares its anger, yellow and orange show how bright and lively life is, while shades of black and grey say that Om is gloomy today and there is no one to cheer him up.
But the canvas has just colors all over it. No shapes, no sceneries, no flowers, no people. Nothing. Just colors. Each having its own persona and each saying something new, everytime. Certainly, Om is not the best painter, but his painting is what he does best.
It is a world of his own. Each day he is thankful to the colors for being his media of self expression. And that is what inspires him to live for another day and another and another...
But there is one thing that makes his eyes gleam with excitement and utter words of joy - colors. Colors that he paints on the canvas. Struggling with the crippled grip, he leaves the world behind and gets started with what he loves most.
For him, colors are a way of expression. Be they the colors that were painted by his brush or those smeared on the canvas with his bare fingers. Om sometimes spends time endlessly, bringing out the shades on the canvas, as if wanting to say something.
His colors speak for him. Sometimes red blares its anger, yellow and orange show how bright and lively life is, while shades of black and grey say that Om is gloomy today and there is no one to cheer him up.
But the canvas has just colors all over it. No shapes, no sceneries, no flowers, no people. Nothing. Just colors. Each having its own persona and each saying something new, everytime. Certainly, Om is not the best painter, but his painting is what he does best.
It is a world of his own. Each day he is thankful to the colors for being his media of self expression. And that is what inspires him to live for another day and another and another...
Jun 2, 2006
Little Angel
I was standing at that phase of life where school and college had done their best to groom me and a brand new world was waiting for me to reach out. Soon I took up a job and was excelling well. Being grateful to the education I have had, I took the privilege to live a well to do life, away from the real struggles.
During course of a seminar that I attended, there was an appeal for people to come forward and give back to the society, starting in any humble way one could. They were arranging a field trip to the areas of the city where people were less privileged. Curiosity got the most of me and I went along. The sight that met my eyes was not a pleasing one.
People were living, rather surviving, devoid of basic education bringing in unemployment and poverty. The NGO volunteers were explaining how all could help to levitate these people from their plight. While listening to their plea, I glanced across to a little girl playing by herself, unaware of what was going on around her. "Hello there. What is you name? What do you do?” I asked. She looked back with bright eyes and a vibrant smile. "I am Jyoti. I would like to go to school”. That reply caught my attention. She deserved to go to school, but poverty was holding her back. I decided to do something. A humble way to repay the society. I volunteered with the NGO to bear the expense of Jyoti's education. My eagerness was rightly aided by the NGO volunteers and I was promised that they would watch the progress of the girl and keep me informed.
Jyoti started her schooling soon. She was a bright student. The brightest of all, doing well in Math and English. I arranged a visit to the school, later that month, to see her. She had written her name on a slate and was showing it to me with great pride. The little angel was getting what she deserved.
Soon, I moved out of the city and took a job elsewhere. But the NGO kept me aware of Jyoti's excellence at academics and other socio-cultural activities. As her name suggests, she was a bright light that would shed the darkness of illiteracy and ignorance. Over the years, I stopped getting letters from the NGO. "Obviously", I thought. She must have moved on from school to college and then to wherever destiny would take her.
I am retiring next year. Life has had its pace. And today as I see my children do well in their professions, somehow I am reminded of the little angel who must be about their age. Just a bit older.
Last month, some money matters took me to a bank. With all the advances in the banking procedures and influence of technology, it was rather difficult to find out things as simple as opening an account. But the banking executive assured me with all the formalities without much waiting. I was gratified with such warm treatment. "What is your name young lady?", I asked. There was a moment of silence.
The little angel then drew a slate from under the table and wrote her name for me.
During course of a seminar that I attended, there was an appeal for people to come forward and give back to the society, starting in any humble way one could. They were arranging a field trip to the areas of the city where people were less privileged. Curiosity got the most of me and I went along. The sight that met my eyes was not a pleasing one.
People were living, rather surviving, devoid of basic education bringing in unemployment and poverty. The NGO volunteers were explaining how all could help to levitate these people from their plight. While listening to their plea, I glanced across to a little girl playing by herself, unaware of what was going on around her. "Hello there. What is you name? What do you do?” I asked. She looked back with bright eyes and a vibrant smile. "I am Jyoti. I would like to go to school”. That reply caught my attention. She deserved to go to school, but poverty was holding her back. I decided to do something. A humble way to repay the society. I volunteered with the NGO to bear the expense of Jyoti's education. My eagerness was rightly aided by the NGO volunteers and I was promised that they would watch the progress of the girl and keep me informed.
Jyoti started her schooling soon. She was a bright student. The brightest of all, doing well in Math and English. I arranged a visit to the school, later that month, to see her. She had written her name on a slate and was showing it to me with great pride. The little angel was getting what she deserved.
Soon, I moved out of the city and took a job elsewhere. But the NGO kept me aware of Jyoti's excellence at academics and other socio-cultural activities. As her name suggests, she was a bright light that would shed the darkness of illiteracy and ignorance. Over the years, I stopped getting letters from the NGO. "Obviously", I thought. She must have moved on from school to college and then to wherever destiny would take her.
I am retiring next year. Life has had its pace. And today as I see my children do well in their professions, somehow I am reminded of the little angel who must be about their age. Just a bit older.
Last month, some money matters took me to a bank. With all the advances in the banking procedures and influence of technology, it was rather difficult to find out things as simple as opening an account. But the banking executive assured me with all the formalities without much waiting. I was gratified with such warm treatment. "What is your name young lady?", I asked. There was a moment of silence.
The little angel then drew a slate from under the table and wrote her name for me.
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