The sky below moved as I sat mid air. Static in space. Not moving. But I was. And fast. This was my first brush with wings. And that too at night. (Night flying comes to the privileged few, the captain had said). I had suddenly grown wings right above my head that evening when my friend had pressed my hand and whispered:"We are flying!"

Minutes later, looking through the copter window, it was a sight too spread out. And it took a dimension to catch my eye. The lake... a bucketful of water spilled out, the roundabouts ...ride on a maypole, sector-17 ...blocks and moving dots ...I could play Chinese checkers. My eyes couldn't get huge enough, nor my mouth even as I kept making bigger circles with it to keep the ears from bursting. The neons blinked below ...I could recognise them, not by reading but by making out the locations. Identifying marks down there was like... I am still groping for a word. Comfortably familiar? Yes, this comes close. And so was the moon besides me.

I lived a world somewhere in between. A lifetime in the air. And the one below looked like a shred.. on a joy ride.. mapped out..in a circle. It was on a move. I had felt it before. Now I knew it... it took me a flight to see. For there had been times when the world down there had stopped suddenly as if someone had pressed a `stop' button somewhere. But it never did. Same as it was here ...mid air. The wings above my head had ceased making noise. And a lot other noises too went. For now I saw...Nothing is too big. Nothing is too much. Nothing is the ONLY ONE ....From a distance.

I landed with a smile. Thanks Captain.