1000 KM Father–Son Cycling Pilgrimage: Ashtavinayak Yatra – Day 3: Journey Continued

“Every morning we are born again. What we do today is what matters most.” – Buddha

After a peaceful night under the humble shelter of Sant Muktabai Mandir, with no mattress or luxury, we felt deeply cared for, as though blessed to rest at the saint’s feet. At 4:30 a.m., the world was still cloaked in darkness when I woke up. Soon after, Shriram stirred too. With no facilities at the temple, we strapped our luggage onto our bicycles and quietly rolled onto the road.

The early morning ride was magical. Nature woke slowly, like a curtain being lifted on the stage of life. From the pitch-black outlines of the mountains to faint gray silhouettes, and then to the golden glow of sunrise.. it was as if the universe itself was painting before our eyes. Cycling wasn’t just movement through space; it was participation in this grand awakening.

A Pause for Basics and Gratitude

After about seven kilometers, we found a small restaurant. Sweepers were cleaning the floor, a few still asleep on benches. It was perfect timing.. a place to brush, refresh, and pause. We hadn’t eaten dinner the night before, nor had any drinking water at the temple. Though breakfast wasn’t ready yet, the kindness of receiving fresh water was enough to keep us going, grateful, content, and grounded.

The broad road ahead stretched through endless sugarcane fields, shelters for leopards, we were told, quite common in that region. I silently thanked destiny that we hadn’t cycled this stretch the previous night without lights. In the cool freshness of morning, our bodies brimmed with energy and smiles.

The Kind Stranger on a Scooter

Not long after, an elderly man in a white kurta–pyjama passed us on a scooter, carrying his two granddaughters to coaching classes in Ozar. He greeted us warmly, asked about our journey, and with a knowing smile rode ahead, as if he had something more in mind.

A few kilometers later, we stumbled upon a vast solar park, rows upon rows of glittering panels stretching across what seemed like fifty acres. Curious, we turned in. The security guards and supervisors welcomed us with enthusiasm once they heard our story. They proudly explained how the barren land had been transformed by the Adani Group’s solar project under the Prime Minister’s renewable energy program. Villagers now earned steady income through rent and employment. It was inspiring.. technology, sustainability, and community working hand in hand.

A Breakfast of Love

And then, destiny revealed the old man’s plan. As we reached Ozar, he appeared again, waving us down with a warm smile. This time, he insisted we join him for tea and breakfast. We couldn’t refuse. Over steaming cups, he shared his story.

Mr. Dasharath Jadhav Uncle had never gone to school, yet he had built a life of dignity through sheer hard work. He spoke of his deep respect for education that something he realized he had missed, but was determined to give his grandchildren. Every day, he personally ferried them to ensure they accessed the best possible learning. His humility, kindness, and foresight touched us deeply.

In his words, I saw a reflection of my own beliefs that life’s greatest lessons are not always taught in classrooms, but on the road, through people, and in the stories we exchange.

Divine Darshan at Ozar

Soon, we entered the serene premises of Shri Vighnahar Ganpati Mandir at Ozar. The temple stood in divine grandeur.. clean, peaceful, and calm. It was still early, so there was no rush of devotees. Our darshan was intimate and fulfilling. We left with lighter hearts and stronger spirits.

Just nearby, a magnificent sculpture depicted Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj meeting Sant Tukaram Maharaj of Shakti and Bhakti, power and devotion, standing together. A timeless reminder that service to people is the truest form of greatness.

Roads that Teach, Winds that Guide

From Ozar to Ranjangaon, the roads widened and the gentle downhill slope almost carried us effortlessly. The fields on either side whispered calmness. Along the way, Shriram noticed a radar-like structure standing tall in the middle of a farm. His curiosity pulled us closer.

We soon learned it was part of the TIFR GMRT Telescope network, silently studying cosmic radio waves from distant galaxies. Though we couldn’t go inside, Shriram’s eyes sparkled with excitement. Journeys like this, I thought, don’t just build stamina but they ignite imagination.

Nearby farmers, noticing our curiosity, offered us fresh tomatoes with smiles. Such spontaneous gestures of warmth define India’s villages where hospitality isn’t planned, it’s instinctive. “Atithi Devo Bhava” (the guest is God) is not just a saying here, it’s a way of life.

Lessons Under the Banyan Tree

By midday, the sun was merciless. We found solace under the wide shade of a banyan tree. I lay flat on the ground, eyes closed, feeling the cool earth beneath me. Shriram, ever alert, guarded the bicycles and clicked photos.

Those quiet pauses are sacred. They teach you humility. They remind you that comfort isn’t about mattresses or air conditioners but it’s about gratitude for a patch of shade and a breeze of relief.

Inspiring Young Riders

Later that afternoon, a group of village kids cycled alongside us. Their energy was infectious. “How much does your cycle cost? Where are you going? Can I try it once?” they asked with pure excitement.

One little boy shouted proudly, “One day, I too will cycle to Ashtavinayak like you!”

That moment was priceless. If even one child dared to dream bigger because of our journey that alone made every kilometer worthwhile.

A Warm Welcome at Ranjangaon

By evening, we reached Shri Mahaganapati Mandir, Ranjangaon, our third stop of the Yatra. The temple trustees, led by Dr. Tushar Pachundkar, the young and kind secretary, welcomed us with garlands, coconuts, and hot tea. Their hospitality left us humbled.

We parked our bicycles in the Bhakt Niwas, refreshed ourselves, and stepped into the sanctum. The aura of Mahaganapati was divine, radiant, powerful, all-encompassing. Our fatigue melted away instantly. Behind the temple, women chanted the Ganapati Atharvashirsha as part of the Utsav rituals, their rhythmic voices rising like waves of devotion.

Prasad was served.. simple rice and rassam.. but to us, it tasted divine. When the server lovingly offered a second helping, I accepted with a smile and folded hands.

That night, as we sat by the temple courtyard glowing under the soft lamplight, Shriram and I felt a quiet peace wash over us. Gratitude for the road, for the people, for the blessings, and for the rare chance to live this journey together.