<p>On a chilly December morning, as we travelled from Dalhousie to the picturesque town of Khajjiar in Himachal Pradesh, each of us was lost in our own reveries. What more could one ask for on a winter vacation amid the breathtaking Himalayas? My husband and children were buzzing with excitement, looking forward to the day’s paragliding adventure. Meanwhile, I had resigned myself to being a spectator, convincing myself that paragliding wasn’t for the faint-hearted. Or so I thought, until we reached the ticket counter.</p>.<p class="bodytext"> Before I could protest, my husband surprised me by asking for four tickets, completely disregarding my reluctance. I was taken aback, realising I now had to go through with it. There was another practical reason, too – the takeoff and landing spots for paragliding are often far apart, making it difficult for me to join them later. After learning this, I knew I had no way out whatsoever.</p>.<p class="bodytext">By this time, we were already at a high altitude. A vehicle took us even higher from where the last leg of “300 m” – as claimed by the team – was to be covered by foot. That was perhaps the biggest lie, as it turned out to be the steepest, toughest, and farthest ascent I’ve ever undertaken.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Every two to three steps necessitated a breather as I was getting utterly breathless. As we trudged along the arduous path, I admired the people carrying the bulky paragliding equipment and kit upon their backs, sweating profusely despite the chilly weather. Finally we made it to the top, and one by one, we geared up to soar the skies. With my heart still pounding due to fatigue, I watched as the others prepared for take-off--belts were buckled, straps tied and harnesses got strapped. Then it was my turn. I was good to go. With a short sprint down the hill, my feet lifted off the ground, and the wing lifted me up. Wow! I was gliding up through the air!</p>.<p class="bodytext">Having noticed my prior hesitation, the pilot was kind enough to check on me to see if I was comfortable. To my pleasant surprise, there was not a hint of fear by then — perhaps the strenuous climb had diverted my mind and distracted me from my doubts.</p>.<p class="bodytext">I was absolutely revelling in the cool air and the magnificent views of the Dhauladhar and the Pir Panjal mountain ranges, green meadows, and dense forests of deodars and pines in the vicinity. I felt like I was flying like a bird. One moment, it felt like a dream; the next, as if snapping out of it, I was back on the ground.</p>.<p class="bodytext">This experience turned out to be the best I have ever had. If my husband had given in to my concerns, I would have missed out on something incredible. Thanks to him, my adventurous nerves were especially enthralled. How unexpectedly a dreamy day had offered me a once-in-a-lifetime adventure!</p>
<p>On a chilly December morning, as we travelled from Dalhousie to the picturesque town of Khajjiar in Himachal Pradesh, each of us was lost in our own reveries. What more could one ask for on a winter vacation amid the breathtaking Himalayas? My husband and children were buzzing with excitement, looking forward to the day’s paragliding adventure. Meanwhile, I had resigned myself to being a spectator, convincing myself that paragliding wasn’t for the faint-hearted. Or so I thought, until we reached the ticket counter.</p>.<p class="bodytext"> Before I could protest, my husband surprised me by asking for four tickets, completely disregarding my reluctance. I was taken aback, realising I now had to go through with it. There was another practical reason, too – the takeoff and landing spots for paragliding are often far apart, making it difficult for me to join them later. After learning this, I knew I had no way out whatsoever.</p>.<p class="bodytext">By this time, we were already at a high altitude. A vehicle took us even higher from where the last leg of “300 m” – as claimed by the team – was to be covered by foot. That was perhaps the biggest lie, as it turned out to be the steepest, toughest, and farthest ascent I’ve ever undertaken.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Every two to three steps necessitated a breather as I was getting utterly breathless. As we trudged along the arduous path, I admired the people carrying the bulky paragliding equipment and kit upon their backs, sweating profusely despite the chilly weather. Finally we made it to the top, and one by one, we geared up to soar the skies. With my heart still pounding due to fatigue, I watched as the others prepared for take-off--belts were buckled, straps tied and harnesses got strapped. Then it was my turn. I was good to go. With a short sprint down the hill, my feet lifted off the ground, and the wing lifted me up. Wow! I was gliding up through the air!</p>.<p class="bodytext">Having noticed my prior hesitation, the pilot was kind enough to check on me to see if I was comfortable. To my pleasant surprise, there was not a hint of fear by then — perhaps the strenuous climb had diverted my mind and distracted me from my doubts.</p>.<p class="bodytext">I was absolutely revelling in the cool air and the magnificent views of the Dhauladhar and the Pir Panjal mountain ranges, green meadows, and dense forests of deodars and pines in the vicinity. I felt like I was flying like a bird. One moment, it felt like a dream; the next, as if snapping out of it, I was back on the ground.</p>.<p class="bodytext">This experience turned out to be the best I have ever had. If my husband had given in to my concerns, I would have missed out on something incredible. Thanks to him, my adventurous nerves were especially enthralled. How unexpectedly a dreamy day had offered me a once-in-a-lifetime adventure!</p>
