Rock And Hard Place

Few roads are spoken of in more hushed tones than this one. Dangerous often describes it. We had to see for ourselves

- Debabrata Sarkar

There’s a rather irate policeman glaring at me through the driver’s window. He cannot fathom why I should have trouble moving over on a stony track with a few inches of leeway on either side of my tyres to give him way. All the while, my hands are getting clammy, terrified from trying to make a choice between a rather steep unguarded edge on one side and a jagged rock face on the other. I finally resort to a sort of half-standing position on my seat, to get a better view, while the photographer has his head stuck out of the other window to keep watch. As the glare intensifies, I manage to squeeze into a crevice in the rock face, away from the cliff and the local policeman drives away in disgust, mumbling a few words of choice as he does. Boy, am I glad to be in the XC40, anything bigger would’ve possibly seen a scratch or my heart jump out of my mouth from all the manoeuvring.

Breathe in; breathe out.