Did I tell you about the time I flew? No seriously.
I was always the quintessential only child – held back from most physical activities because of the degree of preciousness that my parents attached to me. As a result, most activities which children take for granted were completely removed from my life – like sneaking up and making your own Maggi (the fire could burn me and I could die), flying a kite (I could fall off the balcony and die), riding a cycle (I could fall and… you get the drift).
As a result, when I got married, I put down a task list that my husband was to go about executing as a part of taking on the job. First on that was teaching me how to ride a bicycle. The expedition lasted for a couple of sessions over two days – however, on the second day, as my feet got off the ground, the stagnant, humid air turned into a gentle breeze, brushing every strand of my hair, passing through the collar of my shirt, ballooning up the sleeves, and causing goosebumps to surface through my skin.
And as air touched every part of my being, dear reader, that is how I flew for the first time. At least till gravity and the fears of my parents caught up.
*This piece was written in response to a writing workshop prompt by Unboxed Writers. Duhita is a starving writer who rarely finishes any writing that she starts. It may be the hunger. She is always hungry. Aside from the fine art of procrastination, Duhita has been in the business of understanding consumer behaviour/ design thinking/ innovations for over a decade. If incentivized well enough, she can even have a conversation with a tree.