yahopoooo

Pilot

He is the pilot…since the first day I’ve known him-I’ve known him as a pilot…taking high flights in the sky…sky of the imagination…high- high flights...as a free bird who sore in the open horizon as if its only his...and no one else’s…yes, certainly he is that bird, free bird…who never have known nor realized the limitation of sky nor any boundaries…the bird singing his own hymn...own rhythm...own humming…the beauty in itself!
Whenever I saw him humming his sweetest song in his full charm...just forgetting the whole world...forgetting that any other being or things exists beside him and his sky...I every time recalled the most beautiful poem ever written by Keats-“Ode to the Nightingale” and that reminded me the lines…sweetest songs are those…having sad songs in it or so...long time I’ve read Keats poem with passion...but even if the lines are not well remembered...themes never are forgotten…yes...his songs ever reminded me of Keats sad songs…and ‘ode to the nightingale’...making high flights in the sky...he my pilot...he is exactly like that care free nightingale...humming sweet sad song that echoed from the core his heart…!

No plane is needed to be a pilot…no flying schools are necessary…nor the text and trainings…those dead factors produce materialistic pilots that every one can easily be! But some are in born pilots…born loving just sky...and sky...and the heavenly flights…and yes, my pilot is of that kind…distinct…unique soul with lots of hidden beauty inside making a halo all around his face whenever he talked of flying and even plane.

Oh! So sweet…so little kid...even a toy plane can give him a complete satisfaction…in fact a bliss when he touched it...felt it...as if he is going to take a flight moving it...changing its direction...Oh! he can move the plane...he can take it wherever he wants.

About myself...I was always a sort of coward...especially when planes or aircrafts are concerned….I never ever can fully depended in its perfection…or to say I really not ever believed the invention of Wright brothers inventing the first flying object named aero plane...I ever felt and believed that it is the utmost unsafe thing that gets neither the support of the land...nor even the water...but the air...the vacant...the sky...nothing in fact…! I ever disbelieved the power of plane and even the pilots. I ever thought they are crazy...wanting to be birds…to fly in the open sky…oh ! they are stupid for me…until I knew him. Here comes the full stop! 

What a paradox of life...sometimes I think…I who ever afraid plane and flights…started having faith on the person who never learnt flying…who never seated in the cockpit and touched the machinery...and ever tried to move it...But yes, I believed him...I ever have believed him…and its my word. I said he is the inborn pilot! Oh! I’m not lying...I can rely on him and be willingly ready to be on his side to watch the first sunrise from the sky...not from the land…nor of the sea...but of the sky…and from the sky….as the heroine watched in the movie “Pearl Harbor”…oh! That’s divine. When I saw his hands and the movement it makes...being thrilled to the nerves talking about plane…and the beaming halo of his face...oh...that is ecstatic…I’ve ever wished since the day I knew him that I’m going to see the beautiful mountains…sunrise and sunset…and lots many places from above...above the sky being seated in the cockpit of the aircraft he moves…even the coward me...wishing to see the world from the sky...from the halo…from the air...from nothing in real…coz I’ve strange strong faith for him…for his powerful hands…more than that for his passion of flying...passion for sky and free flight...and that he never ever is going to make an accident of plane...the plane he touches and takes in his hand never ever fails to miss its way….he was an in born pilot!!

But who knows what comes next?? who knows who cheated whom? And who is going to be the next victim… He is killed in the plane crash on the way to home from abroad...he is killed...my pilot is killed…I didn’t cry hearing that news on the radio...nor reading it in the newspaper, nor told by friends…For me...he never was dead...how he could be? But after that news was broken, I felt myself even more strong, having the pride that if that plane would have got the fate of handled by my pilot…that was never going to be crashed…yes...my pilot never crashes the plane...he is strong...he is able…he is living...he even today is singing...humming his favorite song taking high flights as Keats’s Nightingale takes...soaring in the open sky…dancing with the clouds…sprinkling as the first shower of the monsoon and falling as the first snow of the Christmas…oh! Every time I see a bird fly in the sky...or the plane...it doesn’t make me any difference...I feel he is there…yes, my pilot is dancing there in the sky….he ever does...coz he is born loving sky…loving flights...loving air and not the earth...he doesn’t belong to the earth…rather the heaven...heaven where he can take any flights he wants…farewell to him….!!!

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