sumodhkrishnaToday was special.
This morning, I drove my brand-new Ford Bronco Big Bend to the nearby Ganesha temple to perform a pooja—a small ritual, deeply rooted in my culture, to seek blessings for a new beginning. In many Indian traditions, it’s common to perform a vehicle pooja when you bring home a new car or bike. But for me, it goes much deeper than just ritual.
From my early childhood, I remember my uncle telling me, “Respect your vehicle, and it will protect you.” That line stuck with me, and over the years, it turned into a philosophy. In our culture, we are taught to revere not only living beings but also non-living things—because everything, when respected, gives back. Vehicles, after all, carry us, shelter us on the road, and sometimes, even save us.
I had originally gone to the temple on Thursday evening after work, hoping to get the pooja done. But there were other rituals happening, and I was told they couldn’t accommodate it that day. I returned home, a bit disappointed but understanding—it wasn’t the right time.
This morning, it was raining. Normally, vehicle poojas are done outside, and I honestly thought it wouldn’t happen today either. But I still went, hoping for the best. And that’s where the magic began.
Even though it was raining when I reached the temple, they agreed—without hesitation—to do the pooja. And by the time the rituals started, the rain had stopped. Completely. As if the skies made room for Lord Ganesha’s blessings. It felt nothing short of miraculous.
My daughter, who’s just four years old, was with me. She’s an ardent little devotee of Lord Ganesha—her plush Ganesha toy is her constant companion, always by her side. Seeing her so immersed in the moment, standing beside the Bronco with her hands folded, made it all the more meaningful.
To add to the serendipity, I met a few people from my native place at the temple—they were also there for a pooja, blessing their newly bought Honda. In a city far from home, moments like that feel like the universe gently nudging you and saying, “You’re in the right place.”
I’ve had moments that made me truly believe in this bond between person and vehicle.
Once, I was riding my 2017 Royal Enfield Himalayan—my faithful companion for many adventures. I was cruising at around 80 km/h when the car in front of me suddenly slammed its brakes. My bike didn’t have ABS, and I couldn’t stop in time. I crashed. The moment I hit the road, I remember the distinct crunch of my helmet striking the tarmac. I sprained my wrist, but for the speed I was traveling at, things could’ve been far worse. I was shaken but not broken.
And I believe—deep down—that my Himalayan took the brunt for me. That bike never gave me trouble when I needed it most, and it always felt like it had a spirit watching over me. Because I cared for it. I respected it.
Over the years, I’ve had other incidents—minor crashes on my other motorcycles—but somehow, I always walked away with barely a scratch. I’ve driven over 8 hours straight with my family in older vehicles, through sun and rain, mountains and highways, and never once faced trouble. Coincidence? Maybe. But I call it a relationship built on care and trust.
That’s why today’s pooja meant so much.
As the priest chanted mantras and tied the sacred thread on my Bronco’s grille, I felt something click into place. It wasn’t just a formality. It was me telling my Bronco, “I see you. I’ll take care of you. Let’s look out for each other.”
To some, it might seem superstitious or symbolic. But to me, it’s a powerful act of gratitude and responsibility.
So here’s to many safe journeys ahead. To shifting gears with purpose. To treating every ride like a blessing. And to honoring a bond that goes beyond machine and man.