Snake charmers. Chicken tikka. Bollywood.. and Slumdog Millionaire.

A list of just a few things people expect from you if you're Indian:

-You eat chicken curry all day, everyday.
-You come from an esteemed lineage of rope climbers and snake charmers.

-You're very spiritual and pray to random animals on the street.
-You must have sacrificed atleast one goat to satiate one of your 33 million gods.

-Being Indian, you must be quiet and shy, submissive and docile, always smiling and nodding head. Bull's eye.
-Your spoken English must sound as if you're singing (out-of-tune) and you must nod your head every time you say "Hello!"

*Good lord. I have no idea what he's
 saying. Note to self: Smile when he
smiles, make  sure to nod head and
look intelligent*

-Your English has hands down, the most incomprehensible accent ever. And if you speak fluent English and aren't talking&nodding your head at an alarming rate, you probably grew up abroad.

-Your pets must be the street cows.
-Eating beef = Instant one way ticket to the gates of burning hell.
-You've never heard of Steak or Lasagna. Let alone pronounce it right.

-You wear strange clothes.
-You have to get married really young.
-P.S: You want atleast 15 kids (cricket team+extras, they always come in handy).

-Slumdog Millionaire is the biopic of every living man in India (How do you think Mittal became the man he is? He grew up in the slums, danced around for a solid 15 minutes, entered a contest and voila, hello Forbes.)
-If you're Indian, you must do Bollywood dancing at clubs. Just like the Irish do the Riverdance everytime they go clubbing.

-Bollywood movies are a true representation of how Indian couples do the courting ritual.
-True. We meet someone, definitely from a different caste and social class, fall in love against everyone's wishes, fly to the Alps, make sure we profess our love to each other with atleast 3 situational love songs across the Swiss countryside with atleast 5 costume changes from the latest Armani &Versace Spring line with 50 random and befuddled white backup dancers wondering how on god's green earth they ended up in a Hindi movie (perhaps its time to reevaluate your life choices).

Clichés. Stereotypes. Do you love them just as much as I do?

A dose of Los Cojones

Mid-June, a sunny Saturday (with the usual probability of turning into a stormy afternoon, courtesy: perpetually stoned Dutch weather), us walking towards the Scheveningen beach in Den Haag, pretending to  care two hoots while my insides were on their very own multi-level uber queasy roller coaster ride. Yowza. Entered the premises, signed the "we-are-not-responsible-if-you-meet-your-horrible-end" form; such a great way to calm my already over-hyped nerves I must say. A foggy horizon view of the North Sea and oh, a horde of gleeful strangers staring at the bunch of us wondering if we had the cojones to take the plunge, their way of getting a major adrenalin rush for the day. Pansies.

Which brings me to: Did I have ze famed cojones?

The flight&fight stress response in me had gone completely haywire by now: my right leg wanting to make a dash for the nearest tram and never again seeing my date while my lefty TRIED taking a bold step forwards. Holy crap, is this that shitting-in-your-pants feeling? Maybe calming myself down would help. Next thing I know I'm humming Mariah Carey's "Emotion". Sure, by now people think I'm completely cuckoo including the hottie beside me but atleast I didn't scream "We're all going to DIE!" and flee. 

Chanting "ImOkayOwC'monI'veWantedThisForeverHolyCrapWhat AmIDoing HereToHellWithTheDateRunForYourLifeEeeyaaah" I strapped on the cords and stepped into the cage.

Oh.Hell.Yeah.

By now, just by the looks of the people looking at me I felt like a total rockstar. No superstar. Well, both. I was already super ecstatic by now, there was really no way of looking back unless I made a dash with the ropes tied around my feet and trip atleast 10 people on the way.

With Mariah Carey's Emotion playing on full blast in my head, I stepped in the cage, shot a winning smile at my date (tell me you bought it, J) and proceeded to be lifted 60 metres up in the sky, over the ocean.

I wasn't scared or anything at this point, really pepped up and excited- this is what I'd always wanted to do. Any second now, the instructor would tell me to place my feet over the end of the cage and just jump.

And then fate/destiny/universe/bad timing/bad luck decided to get my cage stuck mid-air. There I was, dangling 60m above sea level, staring at ant-sized people pointing at me and clicking photos. 

Cue to my head thinking *...blank..*. At this point, some fear and severe flight-reponse started creeping up. Trust me, stuck hanging on a swinging cage 3 floors above the sea is not something you'd look forward to. Anyway, after a few minutes, I was given the green signal. 

Of course, my guts/confidence/cojones had long left while I stared at my feet, heels over the cage plank and toes in mid-air. I really couldn't turn back- so I took a deep breath and.. started singing Emotions out loud.

"I don't know if you're for real~~

But I like the way I feel.. insaaaaIIIIAAAAAAAAAAWHOOOOAAAAAeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaa!!"

Bungee jump baby!  It was the most incredible feeling in the world, this wave-a surge of uncontrollable adrenalin shooting through my head, my entire body, I never knew I could get this heady.

By the first tug, I had taken the entire feel in a stride and was just enjoying the free fall. By the second tug, I tried doing some cool poses for the camera- sadly they all came out looking like the chicken quack dance. But the rush of adrenalin- holy guacamole. I knew I'd become an adrenalin junkie. 

One of the best moments of my life. I've loved speed and the adrenalin rush all my life. I always knew I wanted to do the bungee if only to test if I had the guts to voluntarily step off a plank into thin air. It wasn't just about the sport, it was about testing myself.

And hell, I was proud of myself.