The pilot guided me as we ran off the slope of the cliff - almost as if we were daring the wind to give us a lift-off. And a lift-off sure it was!

I was paragliding! The wind caught perfectly in the parachute and sent us soaring into the sky. Oh! What an amazing experience! I felt as though I was born to fly high, into the sky! Oh yes, I have tasted the joy of a bird in flight.

2nd May, 2015

We set out from Mumbai and as we enter the train that will take us to Delhi, my sister and I whoop with joy. This is the first time we will be travelling in a long-distance train! It is so much like the cabins of the Hogwarts Express and the trains Feluda travelled by, except for the fact that those were seats and we are in a sleeper train. Bonu (my sister) and I clamber up the stairs on either side, claiming the top bunks for ourselves. Mamma doesn't usually like trains but seeing our reactions, she gives Baba an approving look. Travelling via different modes of transport is an experience enhancer for us. This will be no less.

The railway station offers so much scope for creativity- of all kinds. There are people from different societal strata and one with an observant eye can make up stories from the smallest detail. There are people who set up beds, waiting for a late train or their names to be confirmed out of a waiting list. There are people who look upon those slumbering with contempt and disgust. There are people from the southern part of our country, dressed in traditional sarees and dhotis. There are foreigners in faded shorts, skirts and shirts (probably the India sun did it!). Then come the little stalls. There are tea stalls that also sell eggs cooked in different ways. There are water bottle booths, and book shops (I am told the same 'Wheeler' guys existed when my grandparents were kids!) that stock comics and novels alike in various languages. But what I really love about a station is its commotion. This noise typifies India.

On the train, the stewards hover over us, catering to our every need and pampering us with food till we can have no more. I spend most of the sunlit hours looking out of the window. I feel ensconced in relative luxury of a clean air-conditioned space as opposed to the dusty, grime-ridden populace I cross ever so rapidly. We pass a 'Parle G' biscuit factory and a number of rivers. Sadly though, what were once mighty, brimming rivers, have been reduced to less than half their original size. They look like pathetic shadows of their former selves, yet they are true to their nature - still flowing and attempting to sustain life with their poisoned waters. I feel that we really must do something to put an end to this. But have no idea as to what and how!

Rivers are the source of life in a country like India. They mustn't be exploited. But they are. They should be worshipped and cherished as ones who care and nurture us. But they aren't.

After dark and dinner, I climb to my pre-claimed top bunk and am lulled into a sleep, wakeful yet deep, by the ever-changing rhythm of the moving train- very like a strong hand pulling the strings of a cradle.