The open road has a way of weaving stories that linger long after the journey ends. This is the tale of a road trip my son Judhajit, my daughter-in-law Tania, and I embarked on from Ranchi to Rourkela for the engagement ceremony of Tania’s cousin, Anushka, on April 25th. It was a journey marked by careful planning, unexpected detours, moments of faith, and the warmth of family—etched into our hearts forever.

The Plan: A Safe & Comfortable Journey

The decision to drive to Rourkela was both exciting and daunting. It was our first time travelling this route, and with Tania recovering from a surgical procedure to remove an infected ingrown toenail, comfort and safety were paramount. After scouring Google Maps and making discreet inquiries, we settled on the Ranchi-Khunti-Thorpa-Simdega-Rourkela route. Though it was the longest, stretching over 200 kilometres, it promised better roads and safer passage compared to shorter, riskier alternatives. Tania’s condition required frequent stops for dressing changes, and we wanted to ensure the journey wouldn’t aggravate her discomfort.

We were travelling in our trusty Maruti Ciaz, with Judhajit, a doctor by profession, insisting on taking the wheel for the entire trip. “Dad, you be my navigator and guide,” he said with a grin, his hands steady on the steering wheel. I settled into the co-pilot seat, ready to keep an eye on the route and Tania’s needs. Tania, ever resilient despite her pain, sat in the back, her foot propped up to ease the pressure.

Meanwhile, Tania’s extended family—arriving from Dumka by train and her uncle and aunt flying into Ranchi—travelled in a 15-seater Traveller van we’d arranged to pick them up. The van would head straight to the venue, while we trailed behind, allowing for stops as needed. Our little convoy was set, and with a mix of excitement and caution, we hit the road.

The Outbound Journey: Faith & Familiarity

The drive began smoothly, the early morning air crisp as we left Ranchi behind. Just before Khunti, about 40 kilometres into the journey, we pulled over at a roadside eatery for breakfast. The aroma of fresh dosas and steaming idlis filled the air as we joined Tania’s family for a quick meal. Laughter and chatter echoed around the table, a brief pause before the day’s travel. We waved the Traveller ahead, knowing they needed to reach Rourkela as the groom’s family was waiting to greet, while we took our time.

As we turned toward Thorpa from Khunti, I mentioned a place close to my heart: the Amreshwar Dham in Angrabadi, home to a Swayambhu Shivalinga nestled under a mango tree. This temple, steeped in local lore, is believed to be a powerful spiritual site. I’d visited years ago, and the memory of its serene aura lingered. Judhajit, who hadn’t been there in years, lit up at the idea, and Tania, despite her discomfort, insisted on visiting. “I want to offer my prayers to Lord Shiva,” she said firmly, her eyes bright with determination.

We parked near the temple, and with Judhajit supporting Tania, we made our way to the Shivalinga. The quiet of the temple enveloped us, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. Tania, limping slightly, offered jalabhishek and aarti with a serene focus, her pain momentarily forgotten in the act of devotion. Judhajit and I followed suit, the cool water slipping through our fingers as we prayed for a safe journey and Tania’s speedy recovery. It was a moment of grace, grounding us for the road ahead.

Back on the route, we stopped at Thorpa for sugarcane juice, the sweet tang a refreshing break. I double-checked the route with locals, who confirmed that while a shorter path via Marcha, Rania, and Sauda existed, the Simdega road was safer and better maintained. We pressed on, passing through the vibrant town of Simdega, referred to as the “Hockey Capital of India” due to its rich history and strong association with the sport, where the legacy of players like Sylvanus Dungdung and Salima Tete is a source of pride. Its recognition by the national hockey federation further solidifies its status as a key location for hockey in India. The road was kind, and despite our stops for Tania’s dressing changes and a tea break, we reached Rourkela about 50 minutes behind the Traveller.

The engagement ceremony was a joyous affair, filled with the exchange of rings, cutting of cake, and the warmth of family reunions. Tania, though cautious with her movements, glowed with happiness, her spirit undampened.

The Return: A Detour into the Unknown

The next day (April 26th), after breakfast at the home of the groom and fond farewells, we prepared for the return journey. One of Tania’s cousins, Swapnil, who needed to catch a 5 PM flight from Ranchi to Ahmedabad, joined us in the Ciaz. Initially, we planned to retrace our outbound route, trusting its reliability. But the groom’s family, locals to the area, urged us to take a shorter route via Sauda, Rania, and Marcha. “It’s a decent road,” they assured us, “and you’ll save time.” Swayed by their confidence, we set off at 10:15 AM, optimistic about a quicker drive.

Our optimism faded soon after crossing the Koel River. The road narrowed, transitioning from asphalt to a patchy village track built under the Pradhan Mantri Gram Sadak Yojana (PMGSY). We were now navigating a rugged terrain, once a hotbed of Naxal activity and still not entirely free of its shadow. The dense Sal forests of Saranda, Asia’s largest, loomed around us, their beauty tinged with an eerie quiet. Curves and bends slowed us to a cautious 20 kmph, and Judhajit’s grip on the wheel tightened as we exchanged wary glances.

The real jolt came when the road abruptly ended in the middle of a forest. No signs, no markers—just a dirt path snaking into the trees. My heart sank. A lone biker appeared, and I flagged him down, my voice betraying my concern. “How do we get to Thorpa?” I asked. He pointed to the kuchcha path ahead, saying it would eventually connect to a road. Sensing our hesitation, he offered an alternative: a U-turn and a detour of a few kilometres to a better route. We didn’t need convincing. The detour it was.

The detour led us to a village hosting its weekly haat, a bustling market spilling onto the narrow road. Stalls lined with grains, vegetables, pickles, and even live chickens and goats created a chaotic obstacle course. Judhajit navigated with surgical precision, dodging pedestrians and oncoming scooters while I held my breath. Tania, in the back, managed a weak smile. Swapnil was quietly anxious about his flight.

Our worries compounded when the fuel gauge dipped to “Low.” We hadn’t passed a single petrol pump, and the thought of running dry in this remote stretch was daunting. Relief washed over us when we reached Rania and spotted a Bharat Petroleum pump. With the tank full, we felt a flicker of hope.

Tania’s pain, exacerbated by the bumpy road, was now a pressing concern. Judhajit, ever the doctor, decided to act. We pulled over, transforming the Ciaz’s backseat into an impromptu procedure room. With Swapnil holding her hand, Judhajit administered local anaesthesia and carefully changed the dressing, his hands steady despite the unconventional setting. I assisted, passing him gauze and antiseptic, marvelling at his calm under pressure. Within minutes, Tania’s toe was numb, and her relief was palpable. “Thanks, Judhajit,” she murmured, settling back with a sigh.

Homeward Bound: Relief & Reflection

Reaching Marcha and the familiar NH-320G felt like emerging from a maze. The road widened, smooth and inviting, and our spirits lifted. Hunger hit us hard—until now, we’d been too focused on surviving the detour to notice. We stopped at a line hotel near Thorpa, where we devoured a feast of chapatis, dal tadka, paneer masala, omelette, and mutton curry, followed by ice cream. The simple meal tasted like victory, fueling us for the final stretch.

The drive from Marcha to Ranchi was a breeze, the road excellent, and our Ciaz purring along. We dropped Swapnil at Ranchi airport by 4 PM, well in time for his flight, and reached home as the sun dipped below the horizon. Exhausted but grateful, we collapsed onto the couch, the weight of the journey settling into a quiet satisfaction.

A Journey Beyond the Road

This trip was more than a drive to Rourkela and back. For me, it was a nostalgic return to the days when I crisscrossed Jharkhand’s hinterlands as a banker, navigating similar terrains to visit rural branches. The villages, forests, and ghaatis stirred memories of a time when these areas were shadowed by Naxal dominance, a reminder of how far the region has come, yet how fragile that progress remains.

For Judhajit, it was a baptism by fire into driving through India’s heartland, a test of patience and skill he passed with flying colours. For Tania, it was a testament to her resilience, her faith in Lord Shiva, and the strength she drew from family. Our Ciaz, our steadfast companion, carried us through without a hiccup, a silent hero in our adventure.

As I write this, I’m reminded of the grace that guided us—through the serene pause at Amreshwar Dham and Tarini Temple near the banquet hall, the tension of the forest detour, and the relief of reaching home. This journey, with its twists and turns, will remain a cherished chapter in our family’s story, a reminder that the road, like life, is unpredictable but navigable with faith, love, and a full tank of fuel.