I Took The Mahindra Thar Off-The Roads For The First Time Ever!

Does it make sense to wake up before the sun, head to an unknown territory, and take a car off the beaten path, quite literally? And not just drive it, but purposefully push it, fully knowing it might pick up a few battle scars along the way? If you’re here reading this, chances are it does. But for me? Not so much. At least, not initially. 

Yes, I did it. I went to a Mahindra Adventure event. I got behind the wheel of a Thar, doing things I never imagined I would. My pulse got busy, the first thing, even before my morning coffee – forget cardio! But here I am, back in one piece, ready to tell you all about it.

But Hey, Who Am I?

You’ve surely charted me off from the list of automotive enthusiasts by now. Haven’t you? But please hold on. I am incidentally an automotive journalist by profession and this is not just a blog. I would rather call it a bildungsroman. Not quite a novel, not exactly spiritual, but undoubtedly formative. 

Hi, I am Bikramjit – uninhibitedly the quintessential soft-spoken, literature-loving, music-immersed Bengali guy. I initially happened to have toed the line in the corporate IT turf – until I stumbled upon my Ikigai and found myself here, among a mad bunch of four-wheel fanatics at Zigwheels. I thought I loved cars but I didn’t know what lusting about them would be like. By the end of this read, you’ll get to know about my dirty stuff. Head on!

The Mahindra Adventure News

It was the 9th of January, a regular day at the news desk – me wrapping off my daily office grind when my manager Aniruthan, with his passive tone told me – ‘There’s a message for you. Go for it!’ I checked my inbox, and there it was – an invite from Mahindra! 

In the first few seconds, I was grinning like a kid, thrilled at the thought of my first official off-site with this dream job. And then, I read on. We wouldn’t just be stepping out – we’d be off-roading. With 50 Mahindra SUV owners. On rugged tracks. Through undulating terrain. Oh.

Did I mention my driving experience? Hundreds of kilometres, sure – but all on civilized tarmac, behind the wheel of friendly little hatchbacks and sedans. My dream car? A chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce, the kind I’m fairly certain I won’t be affording in this lifetime. 

So, as I sat there, staring at the invite, my mind wavered – should I stay excited or start dreading the idea of wrestling a boxy Thar through the wilderness and wringing out adrenaline I wasn’t sure I had? But hey, there’s a first time for everything. And luckily, I wouldn’t be alone – I had partner soldiers in this battle. That thought made me smile. To set the tone, our captain Arun Shenoy laid down some serious deliverables. His text read – ‘Have fun. Don’t Crash!’. Hmm, a lot of work!

Its Time!

January 12th. A Sunday morning. The clock read 5 AM. I’d been waking up in instalments since 4, fully aware that I had also burdened my colleague Dipan with the responsibility of calling me as a backup alarm. That’s what thrill does to your sleep. By 6 AM, I Uber-ed my way to the office, where we were set to leave by 6:30 and hit our target destination by 8.

Our third mate, Tirth, took the wheel, chauffeuring us towards Khadakwasla. The morning highway drive was exactly my kind of vibe – calm, predictable – yet I couldn’t stop second-guessing the experience I had willingly signed up for. Those not choosing to get into this article, are probably the ones who’d relate to me most at this moment. But not to mention, I was enthralled.

We cruised along, filling the journey with chatter and an occasional share of wisdom from Tirth, a senior at play, who had done this part of the job quite many times before. The roads were empty, and Google Maps showed our ETA – 40 minutes to reach Khadakwasla. No turning back now.

Exiting NH 48, as we veered onto Canal Road and cruised towards Sinhagad Road, we found the nature that we long missed within the city’s concrete sprawl. Vast farmlands stretching out, winding hill roads still virgin to traffic chaos and greenery in its purest form. Truly, a great escape from Pune city’s ever-growing skyline.

As we sped up, we realized we were well ahead of schedule. But what puzzled us was the complete absence of Thars on the way. Were we that early? LOL. Turns out, yes – we were.

The Welcome

Pulling into Splendour Country in Khadakwasla, any doubts vanished. Lined up inside the resort’s gates stood over twenty Thars, spanning generations – standing firm, ready for an adventure they didn’t choose but were born for. The sight of these off-road beasts in formation, combined with the sheer beauty of the resort, had me in awe.

I spent the long entry taking snaps, building a stockpile of pictures to flex later. Naturally, I sent a few to my family group. My mother was the first to respond — not with excitement, but with a classic mom move — ignoring the photos entirely and instead dropping a hurried “Be safe. Take care.” Maybe giving her context about what I was up to next wasn’t the best idea. Take note, readers.

Meanwhile, the Mahindra team dressed in uniforms plastered with brand logos was deep in action. They were running up and down the massive venue, setting up banners, arranging equipment, and ensuring everything was right. Amid all the buzz, we wandered around the resort, and I couldn’t shake the thought that it wasn’t a mere staycation.

Thereafter, we proceeded to our breakfast. I chose to keep it light with some Poha, Upma and a cup of tea. Two full hours later, the chaos peaked in a good way to say. Many families with their kids, a few stud bachelors and to my surprise even a couple of uncles with good grey hairs and wrinkles were company to us – that too paid for the cause, willingly putting their beloved Mahindras on the line, fully aware of the risks involved. At the moment, I wondered – maybe money doesn’t always buy happiness, but it sure buys you the freedom to embrace a little insanity. 

Gearing Up

Wearing the just then-gifted black Mahindra T-shirt and the cool cap, I had my heart pumped up as the vehicles were being armed and lined up. The three of us, joined by another fellow mate, were the only four media folks in the mix – assigned two Red Rage Thars. 

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Our machines? LX Hardtop variants, powered by a 2.2-litre diesel engine pushing out 132 PS and 300 Nm of torque to all four wheels.

But specs aside, it was the all-black rugged interior and the two walkie-talkies handed to us that set the mood. As we settled into our seats, it didn’t just feel like we were heading out on an off-road trail – it felt like we were on a runway, ready for takeoff.

First Trail – The Warm Up

The convoy of some 60-odd Mahindras began its ascent, leaving behind the roads that were actually meant for cars. Customers first, while we, the media bunch, trailed at the very end, occupying the last two Thars, followed only by a classic Willys from the production crew.

The first trail was meant to be a warm-up. It was supposed to be less punishing, just enough to give someone like me a teaser. As we climbed higher, the terrain grew nastier. But the view? Pure gold for an enthusiast. Picture this: a convoy of 60 Mahindra off-roaders — 50 Thars, a lone Thar Roxx, and a couple of the more ‘civilised’ ones, like the Scorpio N and XUV700 — snaking their way up the hills.

Just as we reached a flat plateau, the Mahindra crew spread out and I sensed something was being set up. And sure enough, our first challenge was ready – a set of not-so-generous yet somewhat forgiving bumps and pits. My senior took the wheel. For the next few minutes, my intestines went for a toss.

We climbed a little higher. And that’s when I learned something my father would never have wanted me to. My senior, mid-turn, casually told me to floor it. Wait, what? He switched off the traction control and insisted — no brakes, just full throttle. Unless I wanted to make headlines as ‘Thar tumbles off a cliff in Pune’, this was my moment to commit. I won’t lie — I definitely didn’t volunteer for this. But somehow, in that moment, I did it. Not quite as effortlessly as him, but I managed to skid the car a couple of times, enough to make me feel like I could audition for a Rohit Shetty next.

The last challenge of the first trail was up next. The Thars lined up, outlining a small slush pit. We were supposed to drive around it at a 25-30-degree angle. Done. Easy. But then came the real deal. I had to drop the car into a deep pit and climb right back out.

Just as I was about to do it, my senior stepped out to grab some action shots, leaving me alone in what now felt less like a Thar and more like a fighter jet cockpit. I called up my senior to make sure someone was at least watching. And, more importantly, clicking some snaps for proof. Then, with a deep breath and a just-send-it attitude, I went for it. Graciously or miraculously, I made it through.

Break! Breathe…

Mahindra sure knows how to take care of its people. The hospitality? Nothing short of a staycation I’d gladly sign up for. The lunch queue was long, but so was the buffet spread.

Of course, we were advised to keep it light, considering what lay ahead. The next trail was the real deal, and trust me, nobody wanted their digestion handled by a Thar. But, well – apologies for how my plate looked. What can I say? Bengali appetite. And oh Mahindra, those Gulab Jamuns? Luscious.

An hour-long breather and the second briefing later, we were set for the second trail. Or was I? What did they mean by more technical?

Second Trail – WTF!

This time, we descended just a little before lining up for what was promised as a surprise. A surprise that, when I finally saw with my own eyes, made me go – What the…

I wanted to go home by now. But no. Six obstacles ahead, seemingly designed with one goal in mind – to flip a Thar upside down. Just kidding. (Or at least, I hoped I was.) As each participant took their turn, mine crept closer. And the closer it got, the more I didn’t want it to. The last time I felt this kind of dread? Childhood vaccination days. Or worse, college vivas.

Then came the inevitable – my turn. I had Dipan and Tirth with me, my moral support passengers. The Thar now demanded engagement of the mysterious second lever – something I had only seen, never touched. 

We locked into 4-Low, switched to manual, and engaged all four wheels into serious business. And just like that, the game was on.

First up, a monster of a bump, followed by a nose-dive straight into a slush pit. A little too much throttle here, and I’d be sending the Thar rolling. My hands were shaky, my heartbeat spiked — but damn, was I excited. I did it.

Next: a steep incline, leading into a set of strategically evil pits. Designed so that no two side wheels would touch the ground at the same time. Either my side went up, or my co-passenger’s side did. Anything in between meant getting stuck. But guess what? I made it through.

And then came the challenge that actually scared me. A near-vertical climb where all I could see through the windshield was the sky. No ground, no road. Just blue nothingness. And if the Thar decided to roll back? Well, let’s just say game over.

Tirth screamed – ‘Throttle! Throttle! THROTTLE!!’ We were living our own 'Saas-Bahu' drama. Finally, I climbed that beast. After that, the slush pit felt like a casual puddle. Too easy. 

By now, adrenaline had fully hijacked my brain. I got a bit too enthusiastic with the throttle. The Thar launched over a small boulder. Dipan, in the backseat, headbutted the roof. Oops.

Final obstacle? Cleared. At last, I brought the Thar to a halt. With an insane grin on my face.

Blood In Lion’s Mouth

Bags packed. Some mud over the clothes. A last glance back into the rear-view mirror. The time to return home. And something had transformed. My appreciation for the Mahindra Thar had rocketed skywards. For a vehicle often trolled into the 'chhapri meme', the Thar writes it off with much better credit. When used for the right purpose, it doesn't just prove the point; it shuts down all the doubting Thomases.

All I wanted to say was – thanks, Thar. No wonder the Indian Army trusts machines like you. Regarding Mahindra, the hospitality and the maniacally off-road experience reignited something in me. I wasn't just a car lover; I lusted over them. I finally knew what the Thar was actually built for.

That night, I lost count of how many phone calls I made, rambling about every twist, turn, and panicky moment. To anyone who would listen. And now? I wait for my next chance to do it all over again. Mahindra, are you listening?