Our driver had  become a travel companion. But we saw the real Dorjee – the man who packed a punch in his wiry frame,  a tough and strong man who would brave anything . It happenned on the fag end of our Ladakh trip when we were returning to Leh via Tso kar .We had just entered the Taglang la pass at 17,500 feet when it started to snow. While I started taking photographs , Dorjee frowned. Coming from a man who would throw caution to the winds, the frown meant trouble. He urged us to get into the jeep and we barely crossed the pass when the snow storm started. Dorjee spied a truck on the opposite end struggling its way.

 We stopped and so did the truck. A bus with the local police force arrived behind us They walked around and threw up their hands .The snow filled up the roads steadily as more vehicles piled up on either side. It slowly became an hour and then many hours.  Dorjee shrugged when we asked him our chances. He said nonchalantly either the truck had to be thrown into the valley or we would have to wait and it could be days if the storm did not subside .  But we sensed the worry in his voice. Suddenly he lost patience. He stepped out into the storm amidst our protests. Then I saw him through my binoculars, there was our man in  a cap, wearing a  thin navy blue jacket and ordinary shoes removing the snow from the road with his own hands.  Some foreigners joined him and they picked up a crude instrument. We offered to join him, but he told us to head back to the jeep.  Many hours later the road was cleared by Dorjee and a troop of men, while the police and other tourists sat in the jeeps and watched . “ Happens all the time, but you are my responsibility, ‘ he said, dusting the snow from his jacket as he got into the jeep.