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“Put your hands back inside!!!”. My father yells at me from the driver’s seat. Mildly startled by dad’s sudden reaction, I stop surfing the wind outside our car. He masterfully makes another sharp turn on the curvy road leading us up the Western Ghats. It’s early in the morning and my view of the beautiful valley outside is obscured by the fog. Dad takes his gaze away from the rear view mirror for a second and seizing the opportunity, my hand starts creeping up the window frame. “You know this car has a side mirror too, right”? Dad asks me in his peculiar stern yet steady voice. I pull my hand back in. The automatic windows of the car go up and he turns on the child lock. Dad’s instant remedy to my disobedience might seem appropriate for a toddler, but I was about to turn 27 in less than a month that year. It didn’t matter, within the confines of the family car, Dad is boss, end of story. “He started doing that a few years ago”. Mom adds to the imp