It's Ping time
Rustling through the dust, running through the crowds, I finally reached the ground where a colorful group of people engulfed me as their own. We were all waiting for the same erratic experience to get a turn to ride the biggest ride of the season. It was a swing as high as a 2-storied building; it was made up of crisscrossed intertwined bamboo sticks and coarse ropes. This swing or “ping” as we children called it, was particularly built for the special occasion of “Dashain.” My favorite national holiday had come after a long anticipation. As I waited for my turn amongst sweaty tall people, I felt a rush of cool air hit me. I looked up to notice the girl on the swing soar like a fearless eagle. Amidst the speed of the swing, her face was unreadable. All I could hear was the volume of her screams going up when she was facing the sun. As her “ping” swung back like a pendulum, I could see her attempt at flipping her legs to gain more speed. I could not wait to get on this bundle of energy. As her ride came to a stop, I felt a firm muscular hand grab my elbow that made me glide past the crowd. All tall heads disappeared. I could see this “ping” in front of me, looking glorious as ever. A piece of plank never looked so comfortable to sit in. I jumped aboard, gripped the rope like my life depended on it. The rope was so thick I could not touch my index finger with my thumb. Behind me, somebody gripped my rope, took me back about three feet and gave me the push of my life. I got such a rush that I felt like I was flying on air, with no strings attached. I could see the crowd below getting smaller, tiny figures on rooftops, different shaped clouds, and a picturesque city. When the ping descended, my heart dropped. I felt as if I was going to crash hard on the ground. I knew I wouldn’t. I let out a scream enjoying the rush to the hilt.