Climbing the stairs of the bungee jump tower, my sickness increased with each step. My legs became hot and heavy. They trembled too. It made the stairs feel steeper than they were. Where were the people who had been right behind me? They’d vanished. I was climbing up to my doom all alone.
When I reached the top it was a relief. There were other people up there, sitting, waiting and I received a warm welcome from one of the bungee employees. But then to my horror, due to my weight, I was fast tracked right in front of all these people. Just before I went however, one girl waiting with the rest joked that today, Indians would get their revenge on British Colonization. I gave a nervous laugh and went forwards to my doom.
I was back in Rishikesh. My time at Camp Hornbill was over and I’d come back to the holy city for one single reason. To face this monstrosity. The dreaded Bungee…
Now there was another excitable employee helping me put on my harness and asking where I was from. Their excitement was encouraging. I sat next to a guy from Indore – though I did not know he was from Indore yet. He said he was working and living in San Diego. He seemed a bit nervous but not as much as I was.
I watched him as he dropped over the side. He went silently with his hands crossed on his chest. It was eerie how silently and swiftly he fell. When it came my turn, I was going to open my arms wide as I fell. That’s what I told myself. I can’t believe I actually thought that.
When they coaxed me towards the sky and my toes went over the edge my arms snapped to my sides. There was no controlling them. I couldn’t possibly get them to open. I felt sick as hell and didn’t dare look down in case I lost my nerve and couldn’t jump. And they said “three… two… one… BUNGEE!” And I let myself drop.
And fuck me it was hell. Truly next-level terrifying. The wind rushed right through me, my heart screeching in terror. I was helpless. And then I was swinging back up and the hell was all encompassing and unrelenting. Down I came again, more hell. Like the most insufferable roller-coaster I’d ever been on. I was shouting and screaming and swearing at the top of my lungs. It was the only thing I could do to try and cope with the terror. It was ridiculous.
I opened my eyes and the ground spun far below me. I could no longer feel the harness, I felt that I was only being held by my ankles and that the person holding me would let go any second and I would go plunging fifty feet to grizzly death. I summoned my courage and opened my arms, letting out a yell of exhilaration. Then I promptly snapped them to my chest again because it was fucking terrifying.
But the swing of death was over now – or at least the worst of it. And I spun around in the heat, dizzy as hell and surprised I hadn’t yet passed out, wondering how sun burnt I was going to be by the end of the day. I was being literally roasted in the sky.
The ground spun closer and I saw a group of guys raising a stick for me to grab onto. I reached out and caught it. Finally, a connection to the solid earth. This was my favourite part of the bungee. They pulled me down with the stick and lowered me like a baby onto a mat. I had hardly conquered the bungee. I’d only survived it. But that was enough for me. It felt like a triumph.
Mohsid, who I soon found out was the name of the guy who went before me came up to me and embraced me. I was ecstatic now. We watched some of the other jumpers fall and jump as we waited for our videos. The girl that came after me looked deadly emotional. She said she had suppressed her emotions right up until the moment she jumped.
I wanted to get a really nice breakfast to celebrate. The Secret Garden Café was extremely busy so I ventured back down the hill to Ira’s kitchen where I ordered the muesli and fresh fruit bowl with coconut cream and peanut butter toast. I felt sick immediately after finishing it and this created the conviction within me that it was this very muesli bowl that caused me my sickness last time, and perhaps not the lemon water by the Ganga, although I can’t possibly know for sure.
Thanks to the 1 single cafe in Rishikesh which serves alcohol however, this uncomfortable sickness was soon alleviated…
In the company of Rajesh – a former employee of the Pink Cafe, I kicked off my shoes, lounging in one of the Pink Cafe’s many booths. I drank Kingfisher light and Raj drank Budweiser Gold. The waiter’s gave us poppadoms… and I realised that the Pink Cafe is the first place in India where I have seen poppadoms being served… I’ve never seen them anywhere else…
The poppadoms and the beer seemed to cure my stomach pretty quickly. Maybe there was nothing dodgy about the Muesli fresh fruit bowl after all… Perhaps, my sudden sickness was simply the combination of falling and swinging from over a hundred feet in the scorching sun, getting dizzy as hell and then eating a huge bowl of coconut cream. That is indeed a more reasonable explanation. Nothing wrong with a bit of coconut cream…
