When I was in India I embraced the thrilling scene before me everyday. On a usual soaked in scorching 40-degree sunshine day, I stumbled on the dusty rubble roads and streets where rickshaws skidded around me, horns tooting and cars running around like a mad bull.
I would then climb into an Auto rickshaw. The driver was always an expert, he weaved between cars, as I slid back and forth on the seat, wondering whether I was more likely to be hit by a car on the right or left side. I was always on my toes alert and vigilant. Oh and they don’t have seat belts. It was fun, scary and exhilarating at the same time.