Introduction
Whenever people think about a trip, they usually imagine flights, hotels, sightseeing, and carefully planned itineraries.
Our trips have always been different.
For us, a journey often begins with office work, a long drive, a phone call to an old friend, and an impulsive decision to meet somewhere along the way. Once the car’s engine starts, there is no telling where it will eventually stop.
That’s exactly how this journey began.
Vicky, one of my oldest friends, and I had planned nothing more than meeting Ranu Bhaiya in Durgapur. But one destination led to another, and before we realised it, our route looked something like this:
Gwalior → Delhi → Varanasi → Jamshedpur → Durgapur → Puri → Kolkata → Delhi
In just seven days, we covered nearly 4,500 kilometres.
No detailed itinerary.
No hotel bookings months in advance.
Just two friends, one car, endless highways, and the excitement of discovering where the road would take us next.
Crazy?
Perhaps.
But sometimes the best journeys are the ones you never plan.
The Road to Varanasi
It all started with a routine phone call.
I was speaking with Ranu Bhaiya when he casually mentioned that Vicky was planning to visit Durgapur. Without giving it much thought, I called Vicky and asked, “Should I join you?”
His answer came instantly.
“Yes.”
That was enough.
A few days later, after attending a close friend’s wedding in Gwalior, we packed our bags, started the car, and began what would become one of the most memorable road trips of our lives.
Our first stop was Delhi.
We left Gwalior around 11:00 AM, dropped my mother home at around 5:00 PM, and without wasting any more time, headed towards the newly opened Ganga Expressway.
The road stretched endlessly before us.
By midnight, the traffic had disappeared, conversations had slowed, and the kilometres kept adding up. We drove almost 1,000 kilometres through the night until, at around 3:00 AM, exhaustion finally caught up with us.
There was no search for a hotel.
No elaborate plan.
We simply pulled into a highway rest area, reclined our seats, and slept inside the car for four or five hours.
Sometimes, that’s all you need.
We woke up refreshed, grabbed a cup of tea, and continued our journey.
By around 11:00 AM, we entered Varanasi.
Without checking into a hotel or stopping for sightseeing, we drove straight to one place.
Kashi Vishwanath.
Before beginning the rest of our journey across eastern India, we wanted to seek the blessings of Baba Bholenath.
Because some journeys deserve to begin with faith before they unfold into adventure.
Blessings of Baba Bholenath
The moment we entered the sacred city of Kashi, our first thought was to find a hotel and rest after driving through the night. But time was not on our side.
Instead, we parked the car and walked towards Scindia Ghat.
Before visiting the Kashi Vishwanath Temple, we hired a small boat and rowed into the middle of the Ganges. The river was calm, the morning air was refreshing, and for a few moments, the noise of the city disappeared.
We took a holy dip in the Ganges.
For millions of Hindus, the Ganga is far more than a river. It is believed to cleanse not only the body but also the soul. Whether one sees it through faith or tradition, standing in those sacred waters brought a sense of peace that is difficult to put into words.
After nearly thirty minutes by the river, we returned to the ghat, changed into fresh clothes, and made our way to the Kashi Vishwanath Temple.
Seeking the blessings of Baba Bholenath before continuing our journey felt like the perfect beginning to an adventure that neither of us had planned.
As we stepped out of the temple, we looked at each other with the same question.
“Where to next?”
The answer was already waiting.
Jamshedpur.
Jamshedpur & Durgapur
By the time we reached Jamshedpur around 12:30 in the night and checked into our pre-booked room at the Radisson Hotel, we were completely exhausted.
After driving all the way from Gwalior to Varanasi via Delhi, fatigue had finally caught up with us.
We were tired of the roads.
Tired of the endless discussions.
Tired of the scenery.
Tired of the car.
In fact, after spending nearly three days together in a confined space, we were probably tired of looking at each other’s faces too.
As we stepped out of the car, there was only one destination on our minds—the bed.
Our legs still felt as if they were pressing the accelerator and brake pedals. Every muscle in our body demanded rest.
After checking in, we crashed into our beds and slept like babies.
Vicky, who accompanied me throughout this journey, is one of my oldest friends.
If I remember correctly, he was probably my first friend outside school and the neighbourhood. We met when I was around eleven or twelve years old.
At the time, I used to work part-time at a local cyber café. It wasn’t a formal job, but I earned a little money by typing question papers, preparing resumes, and helping with day-to-day tasks around the café.
Vicky used to visit regularly.
Not for work.
Not for studies.
But for Orkut.
The younger generation will probably never understand what Orkut and Yahoo Messenger meant to us. Those platforms were our Instagram, Snapchat, and WhatsApp rolled into one. We spent countless hours chatting, browsing scraps, and exploring the internet when it still felt new and exciting.
What started as casual conversations slowly turned into friendship.
And over the years, that friendship survived distance, careers, different cities, and life’s ups and downs.
No matter where life took us, we somehow remained connected.
The next morning, I woke up to what appeared to be beautiful weather.
From my hotel window, Jamshedpur looked pleasant and inviting. The clouds hanging over the city made it seem like the perfect day for a leisurely outing.
Reality, however, had different plans.
The moment I stepped outside, I was greeted by humidity and heat that instantly reminded me where I was.
But work comes before leisure.
I started the car once again and drove to Tata Steel for a customer meeting. After finishing my work, I returned to the hotel, enjoyed a quick breakfast, checked out, and prepared for the next leg of our journey.
Durgapur.
We assumed it would be a simple drive.
After all, the distance was only around 180 kilometres. We expected smooth highways and a comfortable journey of two or three hours.
We were completely wrong.
The route was mostly a single carriageway, winding through forests, hills, and countless bends. There were very few opportunities to drive beyond 60 kilometres per hour.
But surprisingly, none of us complained.
The scenery was breathtaking.
At several points, it felt as though we were driving through the hills of Shillong or Darjeeling rather than travelling between two industrial cities.
Sometimes the roads you expect the least from leave the strongest impression.
After nearly five hours of driving, we finally arrived in Durgapur.
Waiting for us was Ranu Bhaiya.
As always, he welcomed us warmly and accompanied us to the hotel where we would spend the night.
But there was another reason for our visit.
It was his birthday.
The evening quickly turned into a celebration.
We bought a cake, picked up a few beers and spirits, and spent the night doing what old friends do best—talking, laughing, and revisiting stories that had already been told a hundred times before.
As midnight approached, we gathered around the cake and celebrated Ranu Bhaiya’s birthday.
Then came the video calls.
Friends from different cities joined in one after another, turning a small hotel room into an unexpectedly large gathering.
The goal was simple:
To make sure Ranu Bhaiya felt the love and affection of everyone who could not be there in person.
Mission accomplished.
As the night progressed, the conversations became louder, the laughter became uncontrollable, and the drinks continued to flow.
By the time we finally called it a night, we were exhausted, slightly drunk, and struggling to keep our eyes open.
Ranu Bhaiya eventually left for home, while Vicky and I collapsed into our beds.
For the second time in four days, sleep arrived instantly.
The following morning, we faced another decision.
Our original plan was to celebrate Ranu Bhaiya’s birthday in Darjeeling.
But after days of continuous driving, mountain roads no longer seemed appealing.
We were tired.
Really tired.
So, in true road-trip fashion, we changed our plans at the last moment.
Instead of Darjeeling, we pointed the car towards a completely different destination.
Puri.
And just like that, the next chapter of our adventure began.
Puri – Friends, Family & Another 1,300 Kilometres
We started our journey towards Puri at around 10 AM.
Since our next destination after Puri was Kolkata, we had to plan the logistics carefully. We had two cars—mine and Ranu Bhaiya’s. The idea was simple: drive both cars from Durgapur to Kharagpur, leave my car at a friend’s place, and then continue to Puri together in a single vehicle. On our return, Vicky and I would collect my car and continue towards Kolkata, while Ranu Bhaiya and his family would head back to Durgapur.
Ranu Bhaiya was accompanied by his wife and two children. We drove separately from Durgapur to Kharagpur as planned.
By this point, Vicky and I had spent almost every waking hour together for the last few days—in cars, hotels, highways, and roadside tea stalls. Yet somehow, we still had plenty to talk about. Old stories kept resurfacing, new discussions emerged, and the kilometres passed effortlessly.
After covering around 180 kilometres, we reached Kharagpur and parked my car at a friend’s place. From there, all six of us—four adults and two children—continued the journey together in a Kia Sonet.
After a relaxed lunch in Kharagpur, we began the long drive towards Odisha.
The road seemed endless. We crossed towns, highways, and countless stretches of countryside before finally reaching Bhubaneswar around 10 PM, where we stopped for dinner. After a quick meal, we pushed on towards Puri and eventually arrived late at night at Sterling Puri, our pre-booked hotel.
The purpose of this detour was never really sightseeing.
Vicky and I wanted Ranu Bhaiya to step away from his demanding work schedule and spend some uninterrupted time with his family.
And that is exactly what happened.
Over the next two days, they enjoyed the resort, relaxed by the pool, explored the gardens, visited the beach, and simply enjoyed each other’s company. There was no rush, no deadlines, and no work calls to worry about.
As evening approached, Puri transformed into a vibrant celebration.
The city was preparing for the famous Jagannath Rath Yatra, and the festive atmosphere could be felt everywhere. The streets were busy, the markets were lively, and there was a sense of excitement in the air.
That evening, we celebrated Ranu Bhaiya’s birthday once again.
This time, with the sea in the background.
We spent hours at the beach talking, laughing, and enjoying the moment. Midnight arrived almost unnoticed as the sound of the waves mixed with our conversations.
It was one of those evenings that needed no special planning to become memorable.
Eventually, we returned to the hotel, exhausted but happy, and called it a night.
The next morning, reality returned.
The celebrations were over.
The beaches were behind us.
And the road was waiting once again.
After breakfast, we began the long drive back towards Kharagpur.
This part of the journey was never really about me or Vicky.
Our objective had always been simple—to give an old friend an opportunity to spend quality time with his wife and children away from the pressures of daily life.
Ranu Bhaiya, whose real name is Harsh Sharma, has been a friend for more than twenty-five years. We completed our engineering studies together, and over the years I have somehow managed to meet him in almost every city he has worked—from Bhushan Steel (now Tata Steel), to Raigarh, and eventually Durgapur.
Life may have taken us to different places, but the friendship remained unchanged.
His elder son, with his endless curiosity about geography, physics, and automobiles, often reminded me of how we used to look at the world when we were young—full of questions and eager to understand everything around us.
Two wonderful days passed far too quickly.
Soon it was time to say goodbye.
Back in Kharagpur, we bid farewell to Ranu Bhaiya and his family before continuing towards our next destination.
Kolkata.
One thing, however, remained unchanged throughout the journey.
The roads stretched endlessly ahead of us.
And the car kept moving.
Kolkata – Unplanned, Yet Important
Kolkata was never part of the original plan.
Then again, very little about this journey had gone according to plan.
After saying goodbye to Ranu Bhaiya and his family in Kharagpur, Vicky and I pointed the car towards Kolkata, a drive of around 180 kilometres. It was meant to be nothing more than a brief stop before beginning our long journey back home.
But there was a reason we had come.
Vicky wanted to meet someone important to him.
And sometimes, that is reason enough to add another city to an already chaotic itinerary.
We reached Kolkata by evening and checked into Sarovar Portico, New Town. After settling in, Vicky met his friend while I enjoyed a quiet evening after days of continuous driving. Later, we reunited for dinner, shared stories from the road, and reflected on the journey that had already taken us through multiple states, cities, and thousands of kilometres.
It was a short stay, but a meaningful one.
The next morning, as expected after several days of travelling, we woke up a little late. We headed to Luscibbo for lunch, enjoyed a relaxed meal, and prepared ourselves for the biggest challenge of the trip.
The return journey.
As we loaded our bags into the car and started the engine once again, the navigation showed a number that was difficult to ignore:
1,442 kilometres.
Kolkata to Delhi.
Our longest drive yet.
And the road was waiting.
Journey back to Home
Home is where every journey begins.
And no matter how far we travel, it is where we eventually want to return.
By now, we had spent almost a week on the road. Life had settled into two very different rhythms—slow and relaxed in hotels, fast and relentless inside the car. Over the previous few days, we had crossed state after state: Madhya Pradesh, Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, Jharkhand, West Bengal, Odisha, and back again through the same route. At times, it felt as though we were simply driving in circles across the map of India.
But now, the journey had only one destination.
Home.
As I entered my home address into the GPS from Kolkata, the screen displayed a number that immediately caught our attention:
1,442 kilometres.
Surprisingly, it did not feel intimidating.
Instead, it felt comforting.
For the first time in several days, every kilometre ahead was taking us closer to home.
Of course, we knew the route would not be easy. The roads through Jharkhand and Bihar can test both patience and endurance, and after nearly a week of continuous driving, fatigue was beginning to make itself known.
At around 2:30 PM, we left Kolkata.
By 5:00 PM, we had reached Durgapur. We called Ranu Bhaiya on the way, but this time we didn’t stop. We were eager to get home and didn’t want to disturb him again after the wonderful time we had already spent together.
The road stretched endlessly ahead.
Apart from two short ten-minute breaks, we drove continuously from Kolkata towards Varanasi. By midnight, exhaustion finally won. We checked into a simple roadside hotel, had dinner, watched a few Instagram reels, and fell asleep almost instantly.
The next morning, we briefly discussed stopping for a dip in the Ganges.
But home was now within reach.
And when home is calling, every other plan becomes secondary.
By around 11:00 AM, we were back on the road and soon joined the Ganga Expressway. The drive was smooth, the traffic was light, and the kilometres disappeared quickly beneath the wheels.
At around 6:30 PM, we exited the expressway near Hapur.
Only 60 kilometres remained.
Surely, that would be easy.
We were wrong.
Those final sixty kilometres turned out to be the most difficult of the entire trip. Endless traffic, crowded roads, diversions, and red signals tested our patience one last time. What should have taken less than an hour stretched into nearly two and a half hours.
Finally, at around 9:00 PM, I parked the car.
The engine switched off.
The journey was over.
After more than 4,500 kilometres, countless highways, several states, and seven unforgettable days, I was finally home.
A hot shower never felt so refreshing.
My own bed never looked so inviting.
I spent the evening talking to my mother, sharing stories from the road, watching television, and enjoying a simple dinner together.
By 11:30 PM, I was asleep.
The next time I opened my eyes, it was almost 11:00 AM.
For the first time in a week, there was nowhere to go.
The Road Ahead
Looking back, this journey sounds exhausting.
And truthfully, it was.
There were endless hours of driving, sleepless nights, traffic, fatigue, and more kilometres than most people would willingly attempt in a single week.
Yet when I think about the trip today, those are not the things I remember.
I remember the conversations.
I remember the laughter.
I remember old friendships that felt exactly the same despite the passing years.
I remember a friend welcoming us hundreds of kilometres from home, a birthday celebrated by the sea, and the simple joy of sharing the road with someone who never let a single moment feel boring.
Perhaps that is what travel is really about.
Not destinations.
Not hotels.
Not itineraries.
But people.
Because at the end of the day, all of us are simply looking for the same things—friendship, belonging, happiness, and a few memorable stories to carry home.
We covered more than 4,500 kilometres in seven days.
We returned tired, exhausted, and sleep-deprived.
But mentally, we were peaceful.
And that made every kilometre worth it.
Some trips are planned for months.
Others begin with a phone call.
This one began with a simple idea to meet a friend.
It ended with memories that will stay with us for years.
And if given the chance, I would do it all over again.
I would love to take such trips more and more.