For the love of a wife, for the love of a daughter | Sumit Kashyap | Rishikesh | October 2026

Our seven-night stay in ethereal Rishikesh came to an end. Sachin, our regular driver whilst we have been in the northern state of Uttarakhand, contacted us to let us know that he wasn’t able to fetch us from Rishikesh for the 40-minute drive to Dehradun Airport but, “not to worry, my friend Sumit is on his way”. We had spent enough time with Sachin to have no doubt that Sumit would arrive as promised.

This he duly did and off we set, armed with a final protein shake from our regular early morning stop, Cookie Lady. We will miss those shakes. We chatted with Sumit as we drove through stunning indigenous forests.

“You see the trees that have been cut down?” he said “us young people fought against this. We protested for weeks, many of us. We all came. Eventually they stopped cutting. This is a place where we have visited for many years. It is important to us”. We established that the felling of the trees is intended to widen the road. To be honest the road does need some widening but we can understand the anger.

Sumit is from nearby Dehradun. He is 32 years old, with a wife and a 3-year-old child. He tried to join the army as a young man but got rejected because of “incomplete paperwork”. He told us that he managed the 1.6km run in less than the required 4-and-a-half minutes. That’s pretty quick compared to what we had to do in South Africa during our compulsory military service. What was it again – 2.4km in less than 10 minutes?

“Every family in this region will have at least one family member who is with the army. My uncle is just about to retire. My brother also tried”. There is heavy military presence in Uttarakhand (a relatively new state that was formed only in 2001) and there are many bases in Dehradun, Landour and Rishikesh where we have been for the last two weeks. After all, China is less than 300km away, as the crow flies, and the history between the two countries is littered with military altercations.

He asks where we are from. “South Africa! I have been there! I was on the ships for seven years.” He tells us that he wasn’t able to disembark as he was on an oil tanker when he went past, “but I saw big fish. A whale. It made the spray out the water”. He has been all over the world, including Australia and New Zealand, where he was able to visit Sydney, Melbourne and Auckland. “I did everything. Onboarding, offloading. I even steered the ship one time”. He shows us a photo of him in his uniform on board one of his ships. So confident and proud in the photo, a harbinger of what lay ahead.

“I made good money” he tells us “US$1600 a month”. He tells us that he saved enough to set up his taxi business. He has a wife, Vandana, and a daughter who he clearly dotes on, Prisha. “I stopped the ships because I couldn’t bear to be away from her”. He tells us that he now owns three vehicles, all operating as taxis.

We asked him what his wife Vandana does – “does Vandana work?”. “Why does she need to work? I give her everything she wants. Clothes, gold jewellery, whatever she needs. I also give Prisha my daughter 500 rupees a day”. 

“Are you thinking about another child – a brother or sister for Prisha?”. “Not planning yet, it is expensive. But yes, one day. A boy and a girl, that will be enough”.

Our conversation shifted to relationships between Hindus and Muslims. “Hindus and Muslims live together here. No problem. I have Muslim friends. Nobody thinks about what religion people are here.  We breathe the same air and we all have the same colour blood.”  I couldn’t help but think that Sumit’s wisdom should be shared with a wider audience. As I write France is burning and the one-eyed of this world are pinning the blame on immigrants, with thinly veiled insinuations that Muslim immigrants in particular are behind it all. How soon we forget – echoes of “it’s the Jews”.

We drive past a vehicle owned by the same company as the car that Sumit is driving. The two drivers wave and greet each other. “That’s my friend Sundeep. He is engaged! I am so happy for him”.  Engagement and marriage are huge in India, way more publicly celebrated than back in South Africa. A topic that I will explore deeper elsewhere.

We get nearer to Dehradun Airport, crossing the completely dry Jakhan River.  “In monsoon season this river is full” says Sumit. I can well believe this. The dry river bed of the Jakhan is broad indeed, reminiscent of so many similar rivers in the Karoo in South Africa. When they are dry, they are so very dry, but when they are wet, they are so very wet. I think of the Groot Rivier in particular, we have seen both versions in the last year.

Our journey with Sumit ends at the compact and pleasing-to-the-eye Dehradun Airport, where everything is brand spanking new. The best thing about Indian airports is that, aside from staff, the only people allowed into the airports are those that are flying. This cuts the throngs by half and makes for a far more enjoyable experience.

We take team photos, Sumit, Carla and I. “Please send some photos of your family” I ask Sumit. “Of course,” he replies. Later that evening in Jaipur, Carla’s phone gets pinged with a machine-gun salvo of dozens of images of Sumit and his family.

They are truly lovely photos of a family that is so obviously happy. Sumit is so proud, he does what he does for the love of a wife, for the love of a daughter.