They say school friendships are like fine wine – they get better with age. Or maybe they’re more like pickles, getting spicier with time! Either way, our recent Ranchi school reunion proved some bonds are truly unbreakable, no matter how many years (or extra pounds) have passed.

The whole shebang started with a holy trip. My school buddies—Aranjit, Manojit, Pulok, and Tapas—decided to take a quick dip in the sacred waters of the Maha Kumbh Mela in Prayagraj before making their way to Ranchi. Their travel crew also included Sudipta, Tapas’ wife, and they all packed into Aranjit’s Jeep Compass for what should have been a scenic road trip. Reality, however, had other plans. Think less “scenic” and more “apocalyptic traffic jam.” NH 19 became a 15-hour marathon of honking and highway hypnosis. It seemed the entire nation was making a beeline for Prayagraj, turning the roads into a parking lot.

I was glued to my phone, checking their live location repeatedly, until they finally limped into Ranchi at 11 PM on February 19th. Exhausted and slightly delirious, they were nonetheless buzzing with excitement. My wife, Jagrata, a culinary genius, had been busy preparing a feast to welcome them.

Aranjit had once mentioned wanting an authentic Bengali meal at our home, and Jagrata, being the amazing cook she is, was thrilled to oblige. I’d already pre-booked rooms at a nearby hotel owned by a friend. As soon as they arrived, Jagrata served a steaming dinner—lau shukto, mocha’r ghonto, begun bhaja, sona muger daal, fulkopi diye katla macher jhol, and Nolen Gurer payesh—just the perfect remedy for their fatigue. They ate heartily and then headed to their rooms, but by then, it was already well past midnight.

Day 1: Valley Views and Holy Mysteries

Our first adventure kicked off with a leisurely morning (because we’re not as young as we used to be and my friends were tired of their long car drive) before heading to the much-hyped Patratu Valley. And let me tell you—my friends had good reason to be excited! The zig-zagging roads, the breathtaking scenery, and the occasional cow and goats slowing down traffic made for an unforgettable drive.

Our journey was steady, with just one stop along the way—Patratu Valley Viewpoint, a place where nature seemed to hold its breath in sheer beauty. As we stepped out, the valley stretched endlessly before us, a lush green expanse with winding roads carving graceful patterns through the hills. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of earth and mists, making the moment feel almost cinematic. We couldn’t resist capturing it—posing against the breathtaking backdrop, some shots meticulously arranged, others effortlessly candid, all filled with laughter. That single stop wasn’t just a break in the journey; it became a highlight, a perfect snapshot of togetherness and the simple joy of being present in the moment.

At the Viewpoint, the aroma of street food proved irresistible, leading us to a bustling roadside vendor selling crispy, tangy golgappas. We eagerly gathered around, watching as the vendor deftly filled each puri with spiced water, tamarind chutney, and mashed potatoes. The first bite burst with flavours—zesty, spicy, and utterly refreshing. Satisfied but not quite done indulging, we treated ourselves to ice cream from a nearby stall, savouring the cool sweetness as we chatted and reminisced about old times.

We resumed our journey, excitement bubbling within us as we inched closer to our destination. The road curved gently, revealing glimpses of the water through breaks in the trees, teasing us with what lay ahead. And then, finally, we arrived at Patratu Lake.

The vast, shimmering expanse of water stretched endlessly before us, bathed in the golden glow of the afternoon sun. It felt like an old friend welcoming us back, its tranquil surface mirroring the sky above. Now and then, the gentle ripples created by passing boats distorted the reflection, making the scene even more mesmerizing. Along the lake, a few Siberian gulls floated lazily, basking in the warmth, their white feathers gleaming against the deep blue of the water.

Without wasting a moment, we made our way to the dock, eager for adventure. The sight of sleek speedboats lined up along the shore sent a fresh thrill coursing through us. As soon as we hopped onto one, the engine roared to life, shattering the silence of the serene waters. The boat surged forward, slicing through the lake, and sending cool sprays of water into the air. The wind rushed past us, tangling our hair and filling us with an exhilarating sense of freedom.

Next on our list was Palani Waterfall—except for one minor but crucial detail—it had no water. What we had envisioned as a gushing cascade tumbling down rugged cliffs was, in reality, a dry rock face, with only faint traces of moisture hinting at its former glory. It seemed as if Mother Nature had decided to play a game of hide-and-seek with the water, leaving us to wonder what the falls might look like in their full splendour during the monsoon.

Though slightly disappointed, we refused to let this dampen our spirits. With the same enthusiasm, we set off toward our next stop—the intriguing Tuti Jharna temple. Nestled amidst a serene natural setting, this hidden gem carried an air of mystique. The path leading to the temple was framed by lush greenery, and the rhythmic chirping of birds provided a soothing soundtrack to our journey. As we approached, we were struck by the temple’s unique charm, its ancient structure blending harmoniously with the surrounding landscape. With curiosity and reverence, we stepped inside, eager to uncover the stories and legends that had stood the test of time.

The Tuti Jharna temple is renowned for a fascinating natural phenomenon—water flows continuously over the Shiva Linga, yet no visible source can be found. The mystery has baffled visitors for generations, with no scientific explanation to fully account for it. Some say it’s an underground spring, while others believe it to be a divine marvel. Regardless of the reason, the sight was mesmerizing—the steady flow of water over the ancient Shiva Linga, the rhythmic sound creating an almost meditative atmosphere. Standing there, we couldn’t help but be drawn into the temple’s serene and mystical aura. Whether science had an answer or not didn’t matter—we were content simply to soak in the divine energy that seemed to permeate the place.

After offering our prayers and spending a few quiet moments in reflection, we set off for our next destination—the famous Chhinnamasta Temple at Rajrappa, eager to witness yet another marvel steeped in history and faith.

This time, luck was on our side! There were no long queues at the Chhinnamasta temple—perhaps because most devotees were still occupied with the grand spectacle of the Kumbh Mela. The usually crowded premises felt surprisingly calm, allowing us to take our time absorbing the temple’s powerful aura. We offered our prayers with a sense of unhurried devotion, marvelling at the striking idol of Goddess Chhinnamasta, the fierce yet benevolent embodiment of self-sacrifice and cosmic energy. The atmosphere was charged with the rhythmic chants of mantras, the scent of incense lingering in the air.

After spending some time in the sanctum, we made our way down to witness another breathtaking sight—the confluence of the Bhairavi and Damodar rivers. The two rivers met in a swirling embrace, their waters mingling in a mesmerizing dance of currents. Standing at the riverbank, we watched the play of light on the rippling surface, feeling a deep sense of peace as nature and divinity intertwined in perfect harmony.

It was a peaceful moment, the kind that lingers in memory long after the journey ends. The rhythmic murmur of the rivers, the cool evening breeze, and the fading hues of the setting sun created a perfect pause before we indulged in some well-deserved snacks and steaming cups of tea. The warmth of the chai, paired with crispy fritters, kachoris, jalebis, and local treats, was just what we needed before heading back, eagerly anticipating the Bengali feast awaiting us.

Jagrata, despite her knee pain and the daily physiotherapy sessions, was unstoppable. She flatly refused to take it easy and instead insisted on cooking up a storm. Her love and determination filled the kitchen as she skillfully prepared dish after dish, infusing them with the unmistakable warmth of home-cooked Bengali flavours.

That night unfolded in the most comforting way—relaxing whiskey in hand, laughter flowing as freely as our drinks, and a spread fit for royalty. The meal was a testament to Bengali culinary artistry: bitter-yet-soothing shukto, vibrant lal shaak with posto, delicate sojne fuler bati chorchori, fragrant lau chingri, the pièce de résistance—ilish-er jhol, and finally, the sweetest ending—soft, syrupy nolen gurer rosogolla that melted on our tongues. Aranjit does not like Ilish, so Jagrata prepared egg curry for him.

With full hearts and fuller stomachs, we basked in the warmth of good food, good company, and the simple joys that make reunions unforgettable.

Day 2: Haunted Roads, Waterfalls, Temples, and a Glimpse of Rural Life

Our second day took an unexpected turn—a detour along one of India’s top ten most haunted roads, winding through Taimara Ghaati toward Dassam Waterfall. I’d driven this road a hundred times, never needing navigation or even glancing at the time, so familiar was I with every twist and turn. But this time was different. News reports had highlighted the road’s chilling reputation for paranormal activity, a fact I shared with my friends as we approached the Taimara Ghaati. Their curiosity piqued, they excitedly pulled up Google Maps, focusing on the very stretch of road we were about to traverse.

While we didn’t encounter any spectral figures, a series of unsettling events unfolded. First, Google Maps, usually reliable, failed to display a crucial turn, a turn I knew was there and had taken countless times. It only appeared later, forcing us to double back. Then, even more strangely, our phones’ clocks jumped forward several minutes before snapping back to the correct time. Though we tried to rationalize it as technical glitches and coincidence, the strange occurrences, especially the navigational error on a road I knew so well, definitely amplified the road’s eerie reputation.

Was it truly paranormal activity? Or simply a confluence of signal interference, map malfunctions, and unfortunate timing? We may never know, but the experience, especially given my prior familiarity with the route, was undeniably memorable.

Dassam Waterfalls, though not the thunderous spectacle it transforms into during the monsoon, still held a quiet, undeniable majesty. The water tumbled gracefully down the rugged rocks, splitting into multiple shimmering ribbons that caught the sunlight, creating a mesmerizing display. The verdant backdrop of dense forests framed the falls perfectly, adding to their serene beauty.

We paused there for a while, letting the moment sink in. The rhythmic sound of the cascading water was both soothing and invigorating, blending harmoniously with the rustling leaves and the distant chirping of birds. A gentle breeze carried the fresh, earthy scent of damp soil and wild greenery—a fragrance that felt both grounding and rejuvenating.

We treated ourselves to slices of sweet, ripe papaya, the vibrant orange flesh a stark contrast to the green leaves it rested on. Crispy, golden pakoras, still warm from the pan, followed each bite with a burst of savoury flavour. And of course, no Indian roadside experience is complete without a steaming cup of chai. The sweet, spiced tea warmed us from the inside out, the perfect complement to the cool air and the stunning scenery. Sitting there, amidst the simple beauty of nature, savouring the delicious local fare, and sharing laughter with friends, we were reminded of the simple joys in life, the moments that make travel so rewarding.

As we stood there, absorbing the serenity of the place, we noticed a few unexpected visitors—monkeys perched on tree branches, their keen eyes scanning the area for any food scraps left behind by travellers. A few, bolder than the rest, scurried down to inspect discarded wrappers and unattended bags, hoping for an easy snack. Nearby, a small group of goats wandered lazily along the rocks, nibbling at stray bits of food left on the pathways. Their quiet presence, along with the playful antics of the monkeys, added a touch of liveliness to the otherwise tranquil setting.

Watching this little interaction between nature and human presence, we couldn’t help but smile. It was a gentle reminder that even in places of breathtaking beauty, life carried on in its simplest, most unassuming ways.

Our next destination was the revered Deori Temple, famed for its striking 16-armed Durga idol. We stumbled upon a roadside Kali-Hanuman temple, its strategic location clearly intended to offer protection to travellers—a sort of spiritual buffer against both accidents and perhaps, even the lingering effects of our earlier ghostly encounter. We paused to pay our respects, offering a brief prayer for safe travels before continuing on to the ancient Deori temple.

After our prayers at the Deori Temple, we unexpectedly stumbled upon a bustling weekly market—a delightful surprise! What we thought would be a simple stop turned into a sensory overload. The market was alive with colour, sound, and scent, each stall offering a unique display of local produce and handmade goods. The scene felt like a vibrant snapshot of rural life, full of energy and life.

Sudipta, ever the enthusiast for local experiences, plunged right into the heart of the action. With practised ease, she navigated the maze of stalls, laughing and haggling good-naturedly with the vendors. She managed to stock up on an impressive array of fresh, locally grown vegetables, her arms soon brimming with vibrant greens and colourful produce she intended to take back with her to Delhi.

The market itself felt like a living, breathing pulse of the community, offering an authentic taste of daily life here. It was a rare opportunity to step away from the usual tourist spots and witness the real rhythms of the region—its flavours, sounds, and human connections. It was one of those serendipitous moments that added a layer of richness to our journey, a perfect reminder of the simple joys of travel.

We brought our eventful day to a close with a simple but deeply satisfying lunch at a roadside eatery near the majestic Surya Temple in Bundu. Afterwards, we dropped Pulok off at his cousin’s house in the city. His cousin and family lived there, and it was a convenient place for Pulok to stay. He would be rejoining us later for dinner.

That evening, Judhajit and Tania, fresh from their return from Raxaul, welcomed us with open arms—and an absolutely magnificent homemade feast. As the whiskey flowed freely, we sank into the warmth of familiar company, swapping stories, laughing over old memories, and catching up on each other’s lives. After a day packed with adventure, this easy camaraderie was exactly what we needed.

And then came the culinary highlight of the night—a glorious spread of traditional Bengali delicacies, each dish infused with the unmistakable touch of home-cooked love. The fragrant Basanti Pulao, with its saffron-hued grains and subtle sweetness, set the stage. Paired with it was the Guri Aloo’r Torkari, a humble yet comforting dry small potato curry, its simplicity balanced by the depth of its flavours. Then there was the bold and aromatic Chicken Kali Mirch, where the warmth of black pepper mingled beautifully with rich spices, making every bite a delight. Finally, to round off the meal on a sweet note, we indulged in Lal Mishti Doi, the creamy, Nolen Gur mixed red yoghurt that tasted like nostalgia itself.

It was more than just a dinner—it was a celebration of friendship, shared histories, and the irreplaceable joy of gathering around a table filled with good food and great company. No restaurant, no matter how fancy, could ever match the warmth of a meal lovingly prepared by my son, Judhajit, and my daughter-in-law, Tania. That night was a beautiful reminder of the love and togetherness that make home-cooked meals truly special.

The Real Magic: Laughter, Nostalgia, and Never-Ending Stories

Between all the sightseeing and temple-hopping, the true magic of our reunion lay in the effortless flow of conversation. We reminisced about our school days, reliving old pranks and teasing each other mercilessly, just as we always had. Time might have added a few wrinkles and a few more responsibilities, but it certainly hadn’t dulled our camaraderie. The years melted away as we laughed and shared stories, the bond between us as strong as ever.

We also spent time catching up on the lives of our other classmates and sharing news and updates. It was comforting to realize that no matter where life had taken us, geographically or professionally, the foundation of our friendships remained rock solid, a shared history connecting us across the years.

Parting Ways (Until the Next Grand Plan!)

The morning of February 22nd arrived all too soon. At 7:15 AM, our friends packed up, and hit the road. As they drove off, I felt a wave of gratitude—for friendships that withstand time and distance, for shared moments that turn into treasured memories, and for a reunion that had so beautifully reminded us of the simple, profound joy of being together.

This wasn’t just a trip; it was a celebration—a celebration of bonds that refuse to fade, a testament to the enduring power of true friendship. And if there was one sentiment we all shared, it was the certainty that this wouldn’t be our last adventure together. We’d already begun talking about the next reunion, the next road trip, the next opportunity to create more memories.

Here’s to more reunions, more road trips, and a lifetime of friendship! Cheers!