india in an instant., c/o : Rebecca Priddle.,

The cacophony of horns buffets my ear drums in relentless waves as we join the morning traffic that is clogging the one road leading west out of Delhi.
Through the open window, hot, sticky air enters the car. It is heavy with the sickly sweet smell of spices and closely packed people that beautifully characterises the city. I am almost sorry to leave the persistent clamour behind.
The queue’s initial absence of speed gives poverty stricken children the opportunity to dart amongst the traffic, performing acrobatic tricks in the narrow spaces between cars and trucks, narrowly avoiding countless collisions with impatient drivers.
As I watch them back flip, my head is nearly caught up in a travelling tangle of limbs and I quickly withdraw it to safety as a rickshaw shucks past, slipping between the disorderly lines of traffic. Its tiny engine is protesting against the weight of the ten teenage boys that are clinging to any of the vehicle’s graspable surfaces - arms are linked through the flimsy bars across which the tattered roof tarpaulin is stretched, feet are precariously placed on anything that juts from the rickshaw’s frame.
Close behind comes a battered looking moped, carrying a middle age Sikh couple - the husband with only his turban to protect him from a confrontation with the dusty road, and his wife with less than this! I cringe as I imagine the worst. When I lean into the front of the car to ask how aware people are of the dangers of poor road safety - being an eternal pessimist I am fascinated by this apparent flippancy - our tourist driver, Sammy, confidently informs me that there are only three things required to survive the mayhem of these roads, “Good Brakes, Good Horn and Good Luck”. He says this whilst looking back at me in the rear view mirror and overtaking five vehicles at once by crossing to the relatively empty opposite lane. My stomach leaps up dangerously close to my mouth, head and neck lean as far back as my seat will allow, and I press the imaginary break to the floor under my right foot as we swerve back into our lane, and almost into another car, to avoid the brightly painted truck that steams past us, horn blaring and dust rising in its wake.
I am inclined to agree with Sammy on this instance, although I am afraid that “good luck” may play the biggest part in our survival!
As the jumble of vehicles finally begins to gather speed, I ponder the long journey we have on these hairy roads. Leaning back out of the window, this time more cautiously and very much aware of any further hazards coming my way, a thrill of excitement runs through me. I am home.