Some famous person concluded that fear is a state of mind. I forget whom, but a recent event in my life has made me arrive at a conclusion that is au contraire to the aforementioned personrsquo;s. I say this with complete sanity (yes, tis true, sanity does exist in this insane world), that when fear does attack, the mind is the least attacked area. Believe me, I have breathed fear, tasted it, felt it creep into my abdominal regions squeeze hard, my limbs have gone into numb shock, my heart has thumped so hard with it that I have almost overbalanced, except for the fact that my limbs were numb with shock didnrsquo;t really facilitate my overbalancing. Lest I confuse you (now confusion is definitely a state of mind ), let me begin at the beginning.
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It all began in the month of September. Some adventurous highly optimistic soul (bless him ) decided to introduce the normal, sane ( I did mention that sanity does exist ?) people of Bangalore to the insane thrill of�Bungee Jumping. As a child I was the proverbial tomboy, never shying away from the forbidden the insane. Back then Fear was only a heard of term. Back then that is. I didnrsquo;t quite outgrow my ldquo;tomboyishrdquo; phase; just tried to suppress it. Now at 21, I have achieved a degree of normalcy in my life; that measure of boring rational thought dignity common to most adults. There are times though, that the tomboy in me stirs tries to break away the chains of suppression. This was one of those times.
�
Well, getting back to the essence of my narration. A few days before my 21st birthday, a friend invited me to join him in the insane leap. I didnrsquo;t have to think twice. I was suffering from pre-birthday blues; getting one year older not necessarily wiser. I needed this. An impulse to make me feel, I donrsquo;t know, more Me I guess.
�
The plans were laid. The parents were told, not asked but told that their younger offspring would be leaping off a 120 ft high tower attached to, well, only a rope. They refused (like all good parents should), remonstrated, protested, argued, pleaded, threatened, narrated gory accidents, sulked finally tried inventing excuses for me to stay at home.
�
At the stadium. The day was fine. No unusual signs from the Lord telling me not to do it. Not like in Caesarrsquo;s time. It was blazing hot. No, definitely not an unusual sign.
Standing on firm ground, looking up at the ldquo;leapersrdquo;, it looked easy. Monotonous rather. Couldnrsquo;t understand what all the fuss was about. The Utility building was higher.
I went through the usual medical procedure. I suppose to judge whether I could weather the shock of flying through the air attached to only a rope. I passed with flying colors. Ha Talk about idiosyncrasies.
�
I waited my turn. For hours. Did a lot of thinking during those hours. (Did I mention that it was a symptom common to most adults?). My primary thought was whether my bowels would hold up under the pressure of submitting to gravity at extremely high speed. I tried not to nourish my digestive system. The spirit is willing but the flesh is , oh so weak. I ate immediately felt the pangs of regret.
�
The sky was darkening. Was this the unusual sign? Trsquo;was just the natural transition of day into night. Happened all the time. Finally. My number was called. I emptied my pockets, wrapped a rosary around my wrist (just a precaution really) entered the arena. There I suffered my first indignity. I was fitted with a harness, which resembled a Roman gladiator nappy. Definitely not flattering to the female species, to which, I may add, I belong.
There I witnessed many a brave man climb down, defeated demoralized, unable to face that oh so judgmental society(of which, I am saddened to say, I am a prominent part ).
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The climb. I started off with vigor enthusiasm. Less than half way up my vigor enthusiasm waned. Painfully. I was panting, sweating. I looked down. Instant regret. My guts squeezed so hard, they almost emerged through my ears. I could turn back. Then I remembered those brave, defeated demoralized men.
I climbed after what seemed like a very traumatic eternity, I reached the top.
�
Up there I met many more like me. Brave, enthusiastic exteriors liquid interiors. We exchanged pleasantries, exclaimed over the view (the view from down below was silently appreciated better), asked the usual rhetoric question, ldquo; are you nervous?rdquo;
Or just plain dumb to want to do this?
�
The Leap. I smiled my way to the edge, obligingly got buckled strapped to that rope that made the difference between life death. The brave optimistic soul who introduced this insanity to Bangalore reassured me that I was safe (sure, as long as I was on the tower).
And then he said those fatal words. ldquo; Donrsquo;t look downrdquo;. Human nature. I was compelled to submit to it.
Look before you leap. Time stopped. I think my heart did too. I know my mind definitely did. I had looked now, I couldnrsquo;t leap. Everything I mentioned in the 1st paragraph of my narration happened here. Fear is not a state of mind. Itrsquo;s a bodily reaction. ldquo; I want outrdquo;, echoed throughout my numb brain. ldquo; I want my mummyrdquo;, echoed throughout my numb body.
The adult in me rationalized. I could leap or climb back down that ladder, defeated demoralized. I could die young or make it to my 21st birthday. Alive, but defeated demoralized. I chose the former.
�
People told me I leapt a very audible leap. My aching jaws tortured tonsils are testimony to that fact. But I did it. And my bowels held. They were shocked into immobility. Good show
�
Back on firm ground with mental capacities once more activated, I wondered how so many suicide cases threw themselves off buildings bridges. And with no rope I would definitely never choose that way out.
�
The high you experience after that is not easily explained. Only a fellow leaper would truly understand.
�
Sometime recently I met a friend told him about my leap. ldquo;Thatrsquo;s it? Only 120 ft?rdquo;
I say this with all certainty; the world is bereft of justice
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