More than a decade ago, our family set out to the pilgrimage place of Mantralaya in our old Maruti 800 car, leaving behind our sedan, an unwise choice at the outset, for a journey of around 330 kilometres on uncertain roads. The visit was excellent, and we left the place for our home town in a relaxed mood. It was my husband, my daughter Rukma, and I in the car with me behind the wheel. We left early in the evening after tea so that we could reach base by dinner time. The journey was along hot and dry roads with no signs of weather impediments. After a couple of hours, our journey took us along a narrow, uneven road that stretched for around 10 km. All was well for a while until the road narrowed down so much that we had to partly drive on the mud pathway to avoid hitting oncoming vehicles. And then it happened.