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Taking a plunge to glide over my fear of heights
Acrophobia, the fear of heights, has haunted me ever since childhood
Acrophobia, the fear of heights, has haunted me ever since childhood. I remember being afraid of standing near the parapet or the railing of a bridge. I don’t know where the fear of heights stemmed from, but it certainly grew with age. I avoided elevators, high-rise buildings, standing in the balcony or for that matter even driving in the hills gave me anxiety attacks.
But somewhere in my heart, I nurtured a wish to break the shackles of my fear. Whenever I watched people paragliding in the hills, I yearned to fly like a bird, too. But I couldn’t gather the courage to take the plunge.
This summer, I decided to give wings to my desire and fly over the steep hills of Bir-Billing in Himachal Pradesh. When I shared my yearning, my wife laughed it off. “Leave aside the jump from the top of the hill, I doubt if you’ll even make it to the hilltop without a panic attack,” she chided. Somehow, I persuaded her to accompany me to the haven of paragliders.
A friend provided me with the contact number of an expert at tandem paragliding. An amiable and energetic guy, he assured us of a safe and smooth sailing and lodged us and the paragliding equipment in an SUV before taking us on a 12-km perilous ride through the dense forest to reach the highest peak of Billing.
A thick canopy of clouds and the lush surroundings at the height of 8,000 feet were absolutely surreal. A paragliding wing and harness were tied to my waist and a selfie stick with a camera was handed over to me to record my adventure. When the pilot paraglider was apprising me of the dos and don’ts, I went numb with fear. I was supposed to run down towards the edge of the hill for my paragliding wing to trap the wind in its sails to help me fly over the hills.
While the pilot was urging me to run with the maximum strength, my heart was thumping aloud, and I was sweating profusely in the freezing cold. I found it hard to take even a single step towards the edge of the cliff. “Okay dear, I quit. I will come back tomorrow,” I pleaded with my mentor. “No sir! This is an adventure sport. If you don’t do it today, you won’t be able to do it ever again. Remember ‘darr ke aage jeet hai’,” he said before giving me a gentle push towards the valley.
With my heart in the mouth, I gingerly darted towards the gorge. A trot of merely 10 steps and a strong current of the wind filled the canopy and took control of the paraglider. There I was! Sailing over the clouds and verdant hills dotted generously with Rhododendrons, deodars and oaks, like a bird. In the blink of an eye, I was in serene heaven and my fear of heights had vanished into thin air.
A smooth landing after half an hour of flying was the icing on the cake. I bade farewell to my paragliding pilot, Yash Thakur, with the promise to return in winter to fly over the snow-laden hills to experience the sublime divinity, once again. rajivsharma.rs201067@gmail.com
The writer is an Amritsar-based freelance contributor
