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Journalism of Courage
IN medieval times in Europe, boulders etc were slung across city and fortress walls, courtesy huge catapults or trebuchets. Circa 2004, it’s an adventure sport, and instead of boulders, thrill-seeking humans are the ones to be catapulted (at Rs 400 a shot).
While I’m usually content with life, here I was at Koregaon Park, Pune, getting a hang of the sport where you get thrown 140 feet into the air in just about three seconds.
Think of it as the reverse of bungee jumping, say the organisers. A bungee cord is attached to a crane that is hooked onto the parachute harness (which you wear).
The participant is anchored to a counter weight while the crane begins to move up (thereby stretching the bungee cord). Once that’s done, boom! The participant is unhooked and shoots sky high! It works just like a yo-yo, you keep bouncing up and down.
It sounds horrifying, and I need some reassurance as I step forward to get strapped. I make a quick call to a friend for moral support. All he does is ask me whether I’m insured.
Evidently it is too late for all that as I am about to be unhooked and in a matter of seconds, an uninsured me shoots up, level with the 10-storey buildings around. Or is it higher?
People around are like ants—small and insignificant. What’s worse, it seems like it’s all in slow motion. And then I come racing down.
I close my eyes at first and when I open them, I’m looking up at the clouds and have nothing to hold on to. I grab the straps and realise I’m turning (turning is what happens when you reach the highest point possible and start heading back) and this takes forever.
The sudden drop has me all horizontal. My fear is that when I get to four metres above the ground, the cord will jerk, breaking my back. But thankfully that doesn’t happen and it’s more like smooth sailing.
And so, when I bounce up again, I’m more relaxed. Until the turn, that is.
And even as I try and observe things around me, my heart is thudding its way out of my rib cage and all my muscles suddenly appear frozen.
The third time on the yo-yo round, I plan to simply enjoy the moment. I begin with smiling and feel the wind whooshing past my face and experience the nothingness of being up there.
What was going through your head, everyone asked me later. It was like a Bollywood movie (mind you, a slick flick) where there were flashes from my life, of people I love and of times to come.
Squeezing into this trail of thought was, ‘‘Is this an adrenalin rush or a cardiac arrest?’’
And then, all of a sudden I had my feet on the ground and I’m peppered with “You okay?” queries from all around.
Back in office people ask, ‘‘Where were you in this heat?’’ Matter-of-fact, I say, ‘‘Out on assignment.’’
