At times death-defying, at others awe-inspiring. In this story for The Independent I drive the length of India in a tiny rickshaw with four of my oldest friends.
For hundreds of miles, we pushed on through rice paddies, sugar cane and tea plantations, stopping for impromptu games of roadside cricket and posing for selfies at the request of bemused but enthusiastic locals.
“We are driving across India in just two weeks,” I explained to the reporter of a regional newspaper as his cameraman hurriedly snapped us checking into a guesthouse, in the north-eastern town of Bhagalpur on the banks of the Ganges. We felt like celebrities, albeit grimy ones covered in petrol, dust and two-stroke oil.
Read the full article here.
December 5, 2015