Umbi-Jumping

As told by - The Umbrella

‘Umbi-jumping’ is a little known extreme sport once mastered by two little cousins trying to elevate their summer vacation to the adventure sport levels. The practice sessions were conducted outdoors, under an oath of secrecy, in the blistering heat of the hot summer afternoons. This was a necessary precaution. The watchful and much harassed mothers inc. took a much- needed nap to recharge. Wishing this siesta, to be of a longish duration, the cousins went about their practicing as quietly as possible.

“But what is umbi-jumping? You haven’t explained”, asked the cordless. The umbrella looked with compassion at this new member. “Oh, you were not born then. Well, You see, umbi-jumping is some-what unknown sister of skydiving. The essential difference is that of black umbrella vis-à-vis a parachute and an airplane vis-à-vis a window ledge. But the courage and the skill involved is same.”

For a six year old, courage and skill is needed to- firstly, jump from a height of about eight feet on a hard ground without hurting himself. And secondly, not getting caught doing so. After many such practice sessions, of jumping from a ledge on top of a window, with an open width of an umbrella held on top of their heads to counter the gravitational pull, being exerted on their collective weight of about forty kilos, our little friend came up with a brilliant idea. He thought big. He persuaded his cousin to try out a terrace jump. Only then, he felt, they would be eligible for a mention in any book of world records. So both the jumpers trooped up the stairs to a terrace of a double-floor house.

“What happened? Did they break their nose or leg, maybe?” enquired the VCD a tad enthusiastically. “No, in fact this great historical event died a premature death. The watchman spotted the duo poised on the edge of the parapet, ready, for their first true blue umbi-jump.”

There was a collective sigh of disappointment from the younger lot. The VCD felt that all watchmen should be barred from watching. “Wait, there is more,” the umbrella continued. “Somewhat dampened but still in high spirits, our friend came up with an alternate plan. Top of the garage, he thought would do just as well. After all, it was twelve feet high. The watchman watched. Apparently, he did not want to deprive himself of the pleasure, of seeing the two pranksters take a knock on their bottoms. I surrendered to my fate. I had no choice. I folded backwards, trying to balance the laws of gravity. The result was inevitable. The descent was fast, ending in a THUD. The wind was knocked out of our umbi-jumpers and for a while they could not move. I spied a rather sadistic smile on the watchman’s face. The hard hit to their backsides, decided, fate of the game. With great reluctance, and a lot of experienced common sense, the sport was given a premature burial in the yet unpublished book of great adventure sport not yet discovered.”
The cordless couldn’t stop ringing. “Ouch! Must have smarted. I wish I had been there to pass on the news to the whole world.” Our little friend had company that day, as his cousin stood facing the opposite corner.” The umbrella rested against the wall, with a satisfied grin. The big load was off its chest. Once for all, it had clarified all accusations regarding its upbringing. Now all knew why its spokes had been visible, so ungracefully