To Jump ..or not to Jump.. On Skydiving and in Life.

"I Did it" my 11 year old daughter gleefully runs, looking for her friends, as soon as her tandem harness is released .. Have just seen a quantum of joy in those few nano seconds, as my camera shutter closes .. and the moment is captured. The sense of pride, achievement immediately radiates... From her to me.

"I DID IT " Rehane Gleaming after her Jump

We're on the beach at Senegambia (in The Gambia) where she has just jumped for the first time of her life.  Skydived from 14,000 ft! Egged on by her close friends Pranalee, Disha and little 7 year old Garv, who have just completed the jump a few minutes ago. My hearts been beating, progressively faster, ever since the telephonic discussion the previous night with Garvs father, Manish. "We've managed to get Rehane a slot too" he says! Wow.. I happily, but reluctantly hear the news. I'm giving my daughter permission to leap off an aircraft.  Jamila, my wife, is far more visibly concerned & reluctant. We have a little argument, which I half-heartedly want to lose, but habitually invoke that terrible, all powerful fatherly VETO and walk away from the inconclusive discussion.  Tomorrow we will decide whether we let her or not be a part of this skydiving madness. In the back of my mind, I un-trasnparently hope there's no place on the list. I believe I am successful in not letting my real emotions show. I am, after all, that modern, brave father letting my darling daughter do equally modern and brave things.

Tomorrow, will expose me.

Tomorrow comes. We are a nervous wreck of a family..arguing on virtually everything :  appropriate skydiving clothes, using more obvious as ever, arm twisting method to raise objections. Loose shirts out, shoes with laces, clothing colour - all matter! I scream that were late, trying to disguise all nervousness with a loud voice.  Jamila, opts to stay at home and follow later. I ride the bike with Rehane to Senegambia.  Hidden within my helmet, my thoughts get juggled all the more. I fear we're late only to find that everyone is as late as well. All are arriving as we do. A long walk to the beach and we find that all skydiving slots are pre booked.  Slight relief and disappointment are the immediate respective emotions emerging from the two of us.  But then the ever friendly Belgians, speaking a heavily accented English, countering my efforts to impress them with my French, say they will try and find a slot for Rehane. Emergent emotions reversal  is evident.

But its now time for the first batch to head to the Airport.

The First Group : Pranalee, Disha Garv and Manish

I accompany the first group of four to the airport.  I ride the bike intending to follow their bus, but in a brief jiffy, lose sight of them in my helmet encompassed eyesight.  Accelerating, I eventually reach the Airport well before them, and spend a few long minutes in confused thought. Manish, Disha Garv and Pranalee, the first batch of Indian friends doing the jump soon arrive and are quickly briefed, strapped up. They make a few calls from my phone and then before I ride back quickly to Senegambia,  I see them walk a spacemanish walk to the aircraft. A brief glimpse of the Cessna Caravan on the Tarmac has already taken me back to my aircraft maintenance engineering days. I remember Victor Golf Sierra  (VT-EGS), our own 172 and memories of joy with friends like Javed  and Sree ... Thoughts drift to HIET days with classmates Zohreh n Reza, Theo, Robert, Mohammed .. Mazi...And Ofcourse the wonderful meetings at the reception with John, Swaroop, Joe, KT, Marianne, Kalyani and Bhama... Nice thoughts whiz past, as I zip back to the present and reach Senegambia.

I thought I was quick on the bike, but as I reach Senegambia and briskly walk to the Beach, I see that they have already jumped.. Pop pop pop pop four orange chutes open after a few other coloured ones... And reality sinks in. They've actually jumped! Did we hear anyone scream "PUSH ME..." The dialogue from Farhan Akhtars film "Zindagi ne Milegi Dobara" flashes in my head, as I imagine one of the four friends having to be pushed out of the aircraft...and I see the whole film in a flash in my head.

This was the film that actually started the trend .. the want, for a group of friends to taste adrenalin rushing fantasies of the others. Three friends scoot off to Spain for a Pre wedding bachelor party , each one having to give a go at a sport chosen by the others.. Deep sea diving, skydiving and the Bull Run are their chosen sports. An interesting love story with adventure of the nouveau riche .. Makes great watching with great songs and locations. ... We've been planning an adventure trip to Spain ever since.. Manish has already got himself a Landrover Discovery.. mine is on its way .. A beautiful 4x4 car that features in the film.  The stage is set.....  And then one Sunday at Coco Ocean, we see this Belgian team of skydivers land on the beach in front of us. And theyre advertising Skydiving here in The Gambia. Right  here in The Gambia....!!! The first proposal comes from Manish. Bhavishya, Vipul's bubbly, energetic and fun loving spouse is the first to say YES. The kids are thrilled in unison. Prachi and I have subtle smiles.. I guess we share similar thoughts with Vipul...We'd rather watch. If everyones going to jump, whos going to watch and be impressed?? We joke and laugh (in relief) as we now stand armed with cameras, watch their descent.

The 2nd Group Ronit Rehane Bhavishya & Sachin

Garvs gleeful touchdown

• Whooshing away, the first lot begin touchdowns.... Expecting to see wide open, scared eyes.... am surprised to hear gleeful screams of joy as Pranalee Garv and Disha land first. I capture in amazement, 7 year old Garv gurgling in excitement, wanting to jump immediately again. Pranalee runs to Rehane ..and the two engage in rapid chatter at would've made monkeys or even an AK 47 jealous.  Rehane is all over me.. "Papa, please, please, please..."... and I trudge, confused, to the registration desk.  The next batch, save for Bhavishya, is not yet there. They need to leave for the airport after filling up the registration as well as signing a declaration .... The form says that the maximum insurance they'll pay out is 15,000 Euros... We joke about who's going to benefit, laugh a bit, and then the thoughts get more serious when the lady at the desk says, that if the next lot is not here, and asks if we have anyone else from the remaining bookings.  No one else is there. My heart sinks while Rehanes leaps with joy as her name gets taken down onto that list. Mahesh and Neha quickly volunteer their sons, Sachin and tiny 7 year old Ronit. They will all jump with the leader, Bhavisha.  Rehane opts to ride with me on the bike to the airport. This time I know I can't wait till they've left for the aircraft to leave. My phone once again makes the round. Everyone wants to speak to the family waiting back there at Senegambia. But then as I leave, I realise that my phone is with Ronit , being spoken to rather that peaking to his parents.. . 

The Leap

Free Fall

Touchdown

I rush to the gate and get my phone back and then drive like the devil to the Senegambia. 21 kilometres whiz past.. I don't stop running as I lug my bag, Rehanes helmet and my weighty feelings ... 100 metres short of the beach I hear the aircraft ...and the orange and other coloured parachutes open. No thoughts here and I struggle with my breath to yank out the camera and start shooting pictures .. Not wanting to miss my daughters heroic jump. Now that the parachutes are open, so do my thoughts of worry now change to pride and exaltation. Rehane is the last to land. Bhavisha is loudly screaming and thanking her tandem instructor as well as the camera woman and quickly pointing out that the other cameraman is her husband. I try to rush forward to get a frontal view of Rehane landing but trip on the sandbags and fall into the water. Cricketing experience helps me keep the camera above. I get up and run towards the spot where Rehane is landing. I reach her all excited saying 'awesome, awesome'... Hugging her instructor, running ...  Vipul too gets a gleeful hug, I get an armful bundle and then she runs to spread and share the joy with Pranalee....

It's been a few days and several others have jumped. Ponchy too, egged on by his sisters and cousin. He does it with a slightly humorous belly landing, but is up in a jiffy smiling.  Everyone I know has jumped .  The Evenings are spent at homes watching photographs and the videos.  All posted on Facebook ..mailed to friends and relatives.

I boast that letting someone close to you jump is as difficult as jumping.

Real life decisions make a parallel. To do it or not to do it.

I try to analyse the mindset.. Sitting at the edge of the aircraft door... Why is it that you think, not of the beauty and joy, but of impending disasters ?

Will we ever break this negativity that encompasses us?

My daughter has.. as with the others who jumped. 

Will I be able to overcome this fear?  

I'll never know until I do it. 

The end song of Zindagi ne Milegi Dobara rings in my head and I subconsciously hum it...'Sooraj ki baahon mein... Ye mera Zindagi...' (In the arms of the sun, this is my life....)... And I realise that's it's absolutely true...

I Look around.. I smile. "I've done it" I say to myself.

Re-discovering my African "roots"

My African Roots? ... am not trying to do a Kunta Kinteh here. Alex Haley wont have grounds to sue me for plagiarism :-)
Well, Neither have I ever thought that I don't belong here!
But guess calling it "Roots' may be a bit far fetched..

Well, a few months ago, on a two night transit halt at Addis, enroute from a meeting with old friend Prakash Nainani in Nairobi, Kenya, I decided to take a trip down "memory lane". Not much a 1 to 3 year old would remember I guess... But if you had a dad like mine, who photographed virtually every moment that we lived in Ethiopia ( and elsewhere, until we , the kids took over his cameras , used and abused them and finally lost them too!! ), then youd have something to remember. And his prowess was not just taking photographs. It covered the somewhat painful task of converting them into slides and thus "slideshows" in the old fashioned original sense. Every party that we had at home, involved the somehow, initially exciting yet painful petite task of first arranging the slides, taking care to ensure they were straight, into those plastic trays called magazines.  Then watching these beautiful pictures over and over again, each exercise making us slightly more reluctant volunteers for the task. Every slide that appeared reverse or upside down would bring about the accusatory groans from the viewers. But the pictures gradually became imprinted in our memories. I guess , that built a kind of "factoidish" memory.. to a large extent making us all believe that we actually remembered those photographed events. As we grew, we'd continue to recount stories of African life in Ethiopia. Recount them with a conviction that we were really there and remembered every vivid moment.

And those memories came out all the more vivid today as I drove through the streets of Addis. Each monument matched those amateur professional looking pics that Dad took with exacting clarity.

Fekadu Hailu with his Mercedes Taxi

"You were ONE year old"!!! my hired taxi driver-cum-guide, Fekadu Hailu, disbelievingly asks me if I could really remember??

Ras Hotel

The Lion in fron of the Commercial Bank

HE Haile Sallassies "Indian" Throne

A Slightly out of focus Plaque on the Throne

One of my first stops , after driving past Ras Hotel, the Commercial Bank and its Lion statue that was typical of anything to do with Haile Selassie, is a visit to the LUCY Museum. I run through the museum, quite more out of nostalgia than historical interest.  But Haile Selassies throne in the "Lucy" museum catches my attention. Not for its size and state of wear, but a little plaque on it.  This is one that Dad didn't photograph. But its the sign that calls for my attention. Gifted by the Indian Community to Emperor Selassie in 1935!! Stolen by the "fascist" Italians ( Berlousconis ancestors were not much different in character) and returned in 1972 ( Guess the Berlousconis had shifted their attention to 'other' stuff by then.

Lucy herself is not there, but a copy ( not clone) is theree for unsuspecting visitors like me. Who and where (*** ****) is Lucy?? Shes apparently travelling around museums all over the US of A. Mental images of Lucille Ball float past. I mentally smile, while my museum guide tries to figure out what he said to make me smile. Australopithicus ..he continues giving me the genus of the oldest fossil ever found ... Resembling us humans.... .. Guess a lot of it all started here... The parallel betwen Lucys beginings and mine make me smile.

It started for many of us here in Ethiopia. My begining of an African sojourn and the entire Human race as well. The blogger in me gets that tingling feeling. I share something in common with humankind.

A lot of our history is here in Ethiopia, as is mine.

For humankind it's being eked out out of fossils. For me, from fossilised photographs!

St Georges Beer, Injira, Fresh Meat with Me

Alex Haley would have been proud of me. Both as a hunter of my roots and my efforts to write.

Ram
in Addis, Ethiopia

Why does Obamas Election Mean so much to Me?

On why Obamas election was so Important to me.

I am neither American nor involved in Politics.

Yet I followed the US Election as though it meant more to me than the Elections back home in India. While not wanting to be seen as dis associated with Politics in my own country, I'd like to clarify that the difference between an Indian election and the US Election, is that in India, while externally which ever politically party wins, their policies are never diametrically opposed, and thus doesn't really matter to an everyday citizen like me. However, in the US and especially this election, the difference between the Republicans and the Democrats (or rather should I say Obama) would have a paradigm shift on world issues of peace and safety and thus economics too.

A US President who has any of the tendencies or ignorance of the George Bush era, in today's world of mayhem and madness, could easily affect lives of people living elsewhere. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan may not have been entirely necessary - or their objectives could have been achieved in a far more sensible manner with someone like Obama at the helm.

The chain reaction of years of Bush Policies with madmen like Cheney and Rumsfeld running amuck has created the evil that we see in our daily lives.

Mistrust of the non radical Muslim, the ever growing hatred against the Jewish state and the combined effect of these, have made the world an unsafe place to live. Photographs and images of Muslims being massacred in Burma, most of them morphed, results in bloodshed all over the world.

The reluctance of the Republican regimes to sanction madmen who instigate religious hatred and harmony has led to further hatred.

Obama on the other hand has not hesitated to call a spade a spade. He distanced himself from the radical outbursts of his own mentor, yet without being radical himself. 

A very human Obama, with tears in his eyes, thanks his campaigners for their effort. The only thing that brought Romney close to tears was the shock at his own defeat. A moment that was quite poignant, emotional, yet an event that has left me with hope that the world can after all become a safer place.