The Road to Heaven looked exactly like its name suggested — almost unreal. A 30-kilometre stretch of road built on a raised causeway across the white desert of the Rann, it seemed to float through an endless pale expanse. I had read stories about it, seen countless photos and videos, but nothing quite prepared me for the spectacle in person. On one side of the road, the water was choppy, rippling under the morning breeze. On the other, it was calm and still, like a giant mirror laid across the desert. It felt less like riding on a road and more like gliding across a mirage. I was soaking in the views astride the TVS Ronin, trying to take in the sheer scale of the Rann, when suddenly everything went dark. Not metaphorically — literally.
I had ridden straight into a swarm of flies. Within seconds, my visor was splattered, the world in front of me reduced to a blur of wings and tiny impacts. Judging by the laughter and groans crackling through intercoms, I wasn’t alone. Every rider in the group had just encountered a detail that the picturesque photos and travel stories had somehow forgotten to mention. It was an oddly fitting introduction to the Rann — breathtaking, unpredictable and just a little chaotic.
Reaching that surreal road had required a rather unglamorous start earlier that morning. We had left the Tent City at around 5:00 am, well before sunrise. The air was cold and the world still dark as we rolled out onto the narrow road that connected the tourist enclave to the highway.
That stretch quickly turned into a game of survival. Massive juggernauts dominated the road, their headlights blazing through the darkness as they thundered past. Each time one appeared, we were forced to dip off the tarmac and onto the dusty edges to make space. It wasn’t exactly the serene desert ride one might imagine when picturing the Rann. But once the highway opened up and the Road to Heaven appeared ahead of us, the early-morning chaos felt worth it.
I had spent the ride on the TVS Ronin, and if I’m honest, it wasn’t the motorcycle I had been most excited about riding that day. Many of us had quietly been looking forward to sampling TVS Apache RTX 300. Yet the Ronin ended up being one of the more pleasant surprises of the trip.
Despite being smaller and less powerful than some of the other motorcycles in the group, it had no trouble keeping pace on the open road. And when the route threw something more challenging at us, the Ronin seemed perfectly happy to play along.
At one point, we took a detour that led us through nearly seven kilometres of off-road terrain — rocks, patches of sand and uneven surfaces that could easily unsettle a road-biased motorcycle. Instead, the Ronin felt completely at home. It clambered over rocks without fuss, skimmed through sandy patches, and whenever I felt like adding a bit of drama, the engine’s generous low-end torque made it easy to slide the rear wheel around. It was the sort of riding that reminded you motorcycles don’t always need to fit neatly into categories.
Back at the Tent City, however, TVS had something far louder and more dramatic planned.
The Rann Utsav already transformed this corner of Gujarat into a lively hub of tourists, music and culture during the season. But the quiet road leading towards the white desert suddenly turned into something entirely different when TVS brought its motorsport showcase into the mix.
For many locals who had gathered around, it must have felt like watching a circus arrive overnight. Motocross riders launched themselves off massive ramps, sending their bikes flying nearly 40 feet through the air. Young boys and women watched wide-eyed as machines sailed above them against the vast desert backdrop. Elsewhere, TVS Apache stunt riders performed wheelies, slides and stoppies with effortless control, leaving some of the older onlookers shaking their heads in disbelief.
The calm desert road had transformed into a loud, colourful arena filled with the sounds of revving engines and cheering spectators. And adding another welcome twist to the event was TVS’ all-women flat-track race, which brought its own energy and excitement to the proceedings.
The motorcycles themselves also took centre stage later in the day. Much like a previous outing in the Rann, TVS unveiled a series of custom machines inspired by the landscape around us.
This time there were five of them — the Apache RTR 200 4V, RTR 310, RR 310, the Ronin, and another uniquely styled Ronin.
Four of the motorcycles featured paint schemes designed to capture the colours of an evening in the white desert, with subtle shades that echoed the soft glow of sunset over the salt flats. They also wore handcrafted seats that added a distinctly artisanal touch to the builds.
The fifth Ronin stood out for another reason altogether. It wore handmade saddlebags created by local artisans, subtly linking the motorcycle to the culture and craftsmanship of the region.
Yet for all the motorcycles, stunts and spectacle, the Rann itself remained the true star of the experience. For those of us who had grown up in the constant hustle of metro cities, the Rann Utsav offered something surprisingly rare — a pause. Out here, the horizon stretched endlessly, and the world seemed to slow down.
And if the vast white desert wasn’t humbling enough during the day, the night sky completed the experience. Lying on the salt flats after dark, staring into an endless canopy of stars, it was impossible not to feel the scale of it all.
In a place like this, surrounded by an expanse of nothingness both above and around you, one quiet thought inevitably surfaced. On a planet this vast, we were all just tiny flecks passing through it. And for a brief moment in the Rann, that perspective felt oddly comforting.
