Learning to Fly.

The plane lifts off, an explosion of defiance against the first man who denounced the concept of human flight. Who said, ‘It cannot be done’. A cheer goes up within the aircraft; a family (company granting confidence) yells with the same joy and in the same spirit that the first man who flew had, who thought: ‘It can be done’.

And we’re airborne.

The thrill of speed gives way to the sudden exhilaration of unrestricted movement. One that cannot be expressed in words, but still one tries, for the wonder is too great.

We’re Learning to Fly.

And we gaze out, unto the city.

Freedom.

All our troubles are relevant 37000 feet below, not here.

A child cries, not understanding.

The adults understand, and hence feel no reverence.

Shards of ice form on the window. You touch the window; it is unyielding.

And all the while, the aircraft climbs higher.

Floyd plays in the background.

The strength of human will and individuality echoes out a half read Rand novel.

We reach Kashmir.

We touch ground.

The roar of an approaching reality, and the speeding tarmac,

Hits us.

We’re in a spoiled paradise.