"What the hell am I doing here? Why did I even think I could do this? Oh my God I can feel the wind on the soles of my feet through the grating.. Oh nooo..." These were the kind of thoughts racing through my mind as I was being prepared for my very first (and till date, only) bungee jump.
I went from Hyderabad in Central India all the way to Rishikesh in the foothills of the Himalayas, just for this. Well, not quite. There was also another jump (a canyon swing) and white water rafting on the Ganga. We were a bunch of adventure enthusiasts, and I was the only girl in the group. After braving a 21 hour journey by sleeper class train, we reached New Delhi, and another 6 hour drive took us to the campsite.
There was thankfully enough time for a nap, after which we all got ready for the day and explored the camp a little. It was breath-takingly beautiful. There were rows of tents on a sand embankment, and beyond them was the river, on the other side of which loomed a hill. There were mountains all around, and the river meandered through them on its way to the plains. It was a bit of a hike to reach the road where the vehicle was parked, but none of us minded.
The road to the "jump site" wound through the same Shivalik range. We caught sight of the jump platform first -- a yellow metal rigged structure with a bridge to the actual platform from where we would jump. That was the first time I realised I would jump from the road level to the valley far, far below. 82 feet doesn't sound so very scary on paper, but looking at it made me so afraid I almost turned back then and there.
The others were also a little scared under their bravado, so I knew I wasn't alone. We filled out a form absolving Jumpin Heights (the company taking care of the whole bungee setup) of blame should anything happen to us.
And then, we walked to the platform. We were there. This was the whole point of the journey -- the jump. The staff were all quite calm (of course!) and friendly, and tried to put everyone at ease. Then when it was my turn to be harnessed, they said I couldn't jump in my shoes, because the hooks for the laces could scratch the bungee cord. The floor of the platform was actually a metal grate sort of thing.
Taking off the shoes and feeling the wind tickle my soles through the grating was terrifying. I had come all this way to find out if I had it in me to take the plunge. The knowledge that my feet were firmly harnessed to the bungee cord didn't help much. The rational part of my brain must have fled long ago. It was time. They led me to the edge, until my feet were half in the air. I could feel the edge of the platform pressing into my instep. I almost turned back there. Then I looked straight ahead. The jump master, an awesome lady from the Netherlands, tried to calm me down. I told her to give me the count right then, because I felt reason and courage both slipping away. I knew that the longer I stood there, the more scared I would feel, and in the end I might not jump at all.
I think she understood. I heard the count , "One, two, three.. BUNGEEE!". And I jumped. For the first few milliseconds, I was sure I was going to hit the ground and get my brains splattered all over the valley floor. But I didn't, of course. The adrenaline kicked in, and then the bungee cord pulled me upwards again. It was an amazing moment, with the blood rushing to my head and the landscape (oh, wait, that was me actually) bouncing up and down.
In that split second before the jump, at the edge, I really didn't know if I was going to actually take the plunge. Then, when I heard "BUNGEEE!" I decided I'd come too far along to give up at the last moment. I told myself there was no going back from here, only down. And then I was falling. And flying, and falling again. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
The whole experience taught me that whenever I felt scared, or that I couldn't do something, I just had to take one step forward, into the unknown. There's no way anyone can predict the outcome of their effort with absolute certainty. The thing is to push ahead, regardless.
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