Live another Day

 ‘Hey, point and shoot! Focus on the job we are here for!’

A ‘yes’ was all I could muster, embarrassed, in the middle of a thick jungle inside the famous tiger corridor of India.

I picked it up, the fickle Sony digital camera hanging from my neck and clicked the tigress out on her morning walk with her cubs in tow.

A couple of clicks and I had forgotten about the camera in my hand already. I was overwhelmed with the beauty and the poise of that ferocious animal as it strutted confidently in its home – the wild.

Before I knew, she had found herself a clearing amidst the tall trees where the foggy morning sun kissed the ground. The dew was still fresh and the occasional gust of wind sent a chill through my spine as it weaved its way through the forest. I needed the warmth, even under the three layers but getting any closer to the magnanimous beast was never going to be a good idea.

But, she had already begun basking in the golden light. Her cubs toddling around merrily, running and stumbling, jumping and clowning while chasing a butterfly. They hit each other with their paws, bit and rolled over fighting over a twig of grass.

It felt as if I was sitting in front of a 2000-inch widescreen curved AMOLED TV watching a 10-D film replete with climatic and physical effects and what not. I was anticipating Sir David Attenborough’s deep silky voice beginning to say “How can they become the most ferocious carnivores fit to be the kings of the jungle? Those bundles of fur, if they looked at you right now, would make you melt. Would you believe that in six months, this little cubs would have had stalked, hunted and ruthlessly killed dozens of other animals just to satisfy their hunger?”

And I would have been in awe of it, just like I am now. But those judgmental thoughts haven’t crossed my mind yet. I was enjoying the moment. As one of the cubs strayed a little further away in its jolly, mama tiger would just snarl a grunt out. The cubs would just leave whatever they were in to and scamper back. We sat there in the jungle, still and quiet spectators, witnessing the beauty of the rustic life of an animal – a beast when it is in the hunt.

That’s exactly when I saw some movement from the corner of my eye. Far to the right of this clearing, were large shrubs and mid-size trees. I could see the rustling leaves giving away the path of another wild being. As it came closer, I could see the sharp tusk of the wild boar heading in the direction of the clearing where the tigers were having their morning picnic.

I almost jumped at the thought of seeing a real wild kill. The predator in its full glory, pouncing on its prey who is no walkover itself. The boar is known to be a tough nut and a fierce fighter. The duel would be epic. The cubs were too young to participate but mama tiger was huge and supple. The boar looked stocky and its thick skin was glowing in the sun that had climbed further up in to the sly.

The boar, running through the foliage with its head down, passed through the bushes and was just entering the clearing when the tigress snarled at one of its cubs. Its ears popped right up and its front legs stretched ahead. And that is when I realized that the way Pumba braked in cartoons all these years was the real deal. The boar froze when it heard the snarl and stood there like it as a piece of furniture. It stood there still staring at the tigress with its eyes wide open.  

The tigress must have already heard the boar coming, its hearing much stronger than us humans, especially the urban dwellers. As she snarled, she looked in the direction the boar was coming in and saw it freezing to a stop. But she was full and unlike the sapiens, animals do not eat or hunt unnecessarily. So she just turned her head around and looked the other way.

That was the cue the boar was waiting for. It just turned around in one swift motion, completely unlike its clumsy demeanor. And run it did. Run for its life, run away from the hunter. Not that it was being hunted, but you could have seen the spook in its eyes just before that cue telling it could live another day. 

That Thick Wide Trunk!

Ohhh Shit… Ohhh… Shit… Shit… Shit… Shit!!! 

All it took was just one peek around that thick wide trunk to know that the game was almost up. It would have helped a little if he would have reined in his mojo. But then who can possibly control a brewing sense of happiness that is borderline elation. 

It all started with a late night, a dinner well past the hour and an attempt to sleep in a bed that isn’t home. The next morning was going to be early, fairly early. The clock had been set for the alarm at that ungodly hour that was not more than a couple of hours to go. It was cold as the winter had set in on the Deccan plateau and the warmth of the blanket wasn’t enough to keep him from the fan-accelerated chill. But, he desperately needed that shut eye. 

Alarm bells rang deep in his ears just when he thought he had fallen asleep. Cursing under the lip, he was trying to pry open those heavy eyelids. Yesterday’s events flashed through in a jiffy. It wasn’t the first time a friend had done him over but what hurt most was that it had severed his relationship with someone he really valued. Sure it has left him sore in his heart, but today’s journey could be the ointment to his fresh scars. And that’s when he woke up. 

Zipping through the morning routine, he was out on the motorcycle ready to hit the road with all he had. The plan was simple – hit the road, stay on the road, don’t hit anything and do that all day long! All he had to do was remember that and not get cocky. But. Here we are. One peek around that thick wide tree trunk is all it took to put the whole day’s work into jeopardy. How could he be so careless? 

It wasn’t going to be easy when he had swung his leg over that tall steed in the afternoon and he knew it very well. As the dark black ribbon of tarmac started weaving its way through the lush green sides of the Sahyadris, getting the steed to obey wasn’t going well. Treading cautiously, he knew he had no option but to go through the grind.

So, he went through it, taking one step at a time and making sure wherever he set foot, it held solid. He measured every action, reaction, affect and effect of every parameter. It was the grind that he loved. The romance of that tete-a-tete that filled him with joy, a joy unbridled by the material things of life. As he treaded ahead, one success after another, that little stubbly jig became a full ballet. 

The stakes kept getting higher as the speeds crept up. It was a culmination of that grind which had now made him and the motorcycle one. Things were happening in slow motion. He could see the grade of the asphalt, the undulations on the surface, the banking angle of this corner and the next. He could figure the racing line through those corners on a public road as if he had a helicopter view of the whole road. And that is how he found speed. 

He felt the tingling of the revs on his wrist and the friction of the wheels on his toes. In his thighs he felt the yaw when he opened the throttle while leaned over into that lazy right hander as he neared the red-line in second. The corner will open up, he thought nonchalantly, opening the throttle further open. Shifting into third and getting back on the throttle is when he saw past that thick wide trunk. 

His heart sank. It tightened further. Already in third, he had built the momentum further in anticipation of a straight and there was no turning back now. Going forward was venturing into the unknown. It was that moment where everything just paused for a split second. 

That was the moment that made him. It was that moment he decided to dig deeper and pull out all stops. It was that moment when he leaned over further trusting himself to pull through. It was that moment of clarity where it was only him, the road, the physics and the machine all working together to create that moment of glory when the wrist wrung further as he hit the apex with clinical precision. 

As the motorcycle straightened up he looked straight ahead. The evening rays peeping through the foliage blinded him as they spread over the scratched visor blinding him. But his vision had never been clearer. The four-pot roared through the serene jungle victoriously past that thick wide trunk into a new world!

This beauty is the Norton V4 RR and has nothing to do with the incident above.

Surtees!

John Surtees carried on for his journey yonder and my timelines flooded with RIPs and obituaries to the only man you who surmounted the biggest championships on both two and four wheels. Frankly, even I do not know much about the life of the racing legend, the trivia or the wow stories. But one thing I know for sure is that the man enjoyed his time at the helm of those machines. Under those half face helmets and goggles was an expression that showed the resolve to excel and the happiness of challenging your limits nested in the tiny smirk hidden underneath.
We say there will be no Surtees anymore and that is a sad truth. We, over the years, have taught ourselves to be the ace of one than a king of many. We bury ourselves within the limits of our tasks and not go beyond to learn, to help, to admire. The poignant masturbating nature of social media has added to it. You want to click faster pictures of yourself than take efforts to go faster. Like they say, going to Alibaug is not wanderlust.
It is rare to see the incessant want of going fast, on two or in four. It takes courage to accept that good looking mediocracy is not better than the ugly face of pursuing excellence. It takes courage to not evaluate every move by the measure of success but learning. It takes courage to accept defeat and get back up gathering what is left for the second attempt, or the third, or the fourth. It is a matter of belief, belief in yourself and belief in your goals.
Fanaticism as it may be branded or mere stupidity, it is better than the stoic political correctness and idealism that seems to have riddled our generation, stopping them from clean achievements. Schemes, politics and conceit then arises as a part of the competition and that is why you will not see the Surtees or the Sheenes or the Hunts for that matter. May be we could learn from Surtees and push ourselves to be more capable than acceptable!

http://photos.motogp.com/2017/03/10/surtees_31.small.jpg

Ducati Monster 821: First impressions

  

It is big and red. The signature trellis frame, also in the racy red, lurks below the bulbous tank. The meaty fat twin with the Testrastretta 11 badge and snaky bent-pipes have me hooked. All I need to do is key in, thumb the starter and ride away. But the twin barrel sawed-off shotgun-like exhaust has me distracted. Do I like it? Or not? What I do not like, for sure, is the missing single-sided swing arm – the Monster trademark.

The wide handlebar is flat and the seating comfortable. The big 17.5-litre tank is cut out nicely for the knees. The posture is leaned forward owing to the rear set foot-pegs. You feel the 205 kg weighing on the handlebar until you open the throttle. As compared to the 696 or the 796, the steering is on the heavier side but still easily manoeuverable and relays feedback precisely. Set up on the softer side, the ride is plush. The Ducati was poised all the way and did not lose composure even over an unmarked speed-hump. The Pirelli Diablo Rosso IIs do an excellent job holding on to everything they tread upon – tarmac, concrete, paver blocks whether wet, damp or dry.

The four-valve liquid-cooled fuel injected 90-degree V-twin motor is potent. It develops 111bhp of power at 9250rpm as it revs to 11000rpm before the electronic limiter cuts in. The torque kicks in from almost as low as 4000rpm, peaking out at 89.4Nm at 7750rpm. The Monster hurtles you forward earnestly, making you smile while not really scaring you white. Power delivery is relentless through the gears, across 100kmph in second, nearing 150 in third while you lean forward to keep the Monster on two.

The L-twin crackles to life after a misfire or two, settling into a crude burble at idling and the over-square L-twin settles into a throaty whine while cruising. The note is crisp and loud and the engine internals make their presence felt. You can cruise comfortably at about 2500-3000rpm in traffic, below which, the typical V-twin shudder puts you off. Like all other Ducatis, the crankcase is a stressed member of the frame. While this does transmit the vibrations and harshness from the engine on to the frame, they are almost unable to reach you at higher revs.

The six-speed gearbox is a dream. Pull the clutch and unlike most big bikes that do so with a heart-breaking clunk, the Ducati gearbox eases into first. As you open up, it slides into successive gears with a click at the toe. For down-shifts, you have to get used to the ways of the Monster to realise how easy it is to go down gear after gear. The ratios are nicely laid out and you always find one to settle in. The Brembo disc brakes are wonderful. The front brake has a nice bite when you tap the lever and feels progressive. The 320mm twin-disc setup in the front, coupled with the single disc in the rear, provide ample braking force for you to cut down speed quickly.

The eight-step Ducati Traction control and the three-step Bosch9MP ABS ensure that you get the best of the available grip and are not intrusive. The three riding modes - Sport, Touring and Urban – provide different engine maps suitable for each of the situations. You can switch modes on the fly from 75bhp in Urban to the full 110 horses on tap in Sport.

At 9.56 lakh, the Ducati Monster 821 asks a hefty premium over the Triumph Street Triple or the Kawasaki Z800. The Ducati is as powerful as the Z800. The LED signatures in the headlamp, aggressive but not overt styling and the magic of proportions exude the Italian touch. The Street Triple, with its nimble ways and lighter weight, is quite close to the Monster in riding pleasure but loses out on power. When it comes to spares and service, the Ducati history in India has not been really glorious. But, if I am wanting a boy toy - for a leisurely weekend ride or to look at from the bedroom window– the Ducati will certainly be the undisputed first on my list.

The Factory and the Superpole!

If it is Italian, it has to be beautiful and I am not talking only about the pretty ladies here. The untethered love the Italians put into everything they do just shows. The love makes it exotic. Add a dose of ‘madness’ to it, as the legendary Tom Tjaarda says, and you have to be blown off.
Meet the artsy beauties from Italy – belonging to the distinguished family of the furious lion on its racing flag – the Aprilia RSV4s. I am talking in plural here because not only do we have the RSV4 Factory but someone much more special, much more precious, much more insane and much rare. We have with us the only motorcycle on our shores at least for now – the one and only Aprilia RSV4 RF SUPERPOLE – numbered 276th of the 500 to be sold globally. A special thanks to the Ten Hut for letting me get up close with it and Sanchit for the amazing pictures.
Aprilia, the Italian marque, started humbly with cycles back in 1945 and has grown over the years, racing. Be it motocross, trial bike, MotoGP or WSBK (World Superbike Championship); Aprilia have made a mark for themselves. All Aprilias, true to the Italian roots, have that dash of madness, the prowess they possess to excel at the task. And then there are the Factory bikes. It is known fact in riding circles – ‘You can’t tune an Aprilia better than the Factory’.

A look at them and I don’t know where to start. The sharp angular lines fuse into a curve that wedges through the air like an aerofoil. The red and black livery of the RSV4 Factory APRC is mean to say the least. The black paint masks the ample use of carbon fibre in the panels to keep those pounds in check while the red accents give the touch of insanity. If you have ever been on the superbikes a decade ago, you will appreciate how compact the RSV4 is in spite of being a litre-class bike. As I swing a leg over the saddle, it feels like a 600cc – small and tucked in. All the mass of the Factory has been wrapped around the compact V4 motor leaning on the 43mm upside down custom Ohlins Racing forks. The titanium nitride coated golden forks are fully adjustable for preload, hydraulic compression and rebound damping. The rear suspension packs an adjustable bespoke Ohlins TTX rear shock setup low using an APS progressive linkage on the double braced aluminium swing arm. The upswept ultra-thin tailpiece makes the front weight bias more pronounced.

If you thought you could take your girl out for a ride on this one, you would rather buy something else. Not because Aprilias are sexist, but because the designers had built the bike without a tail-piece and then added a minimalist tail to fit in the definition of a production superbike and an almost non-existent pillion seat and footpegs that Aprilia prefers giving you in a box. The riding position is aggressive – something that most hyper-sports riders are used to – but is quite comfortable. The well sculpted tank and the saddle work in unison to give you grip to hold on to under heavy acceleration, braking or when you are leaning all the way to glory. The split handle bars are adjustable to help you find your sweet spot. As if all the possible permutations and combinations of the available adjustments were not enough to help you tune the perfectly tailored track tool, you can also alter the centre of gravity of the motorcycle by adjusting the engine placement thanks to the adjustable mounts. You can absolutely live with this motorcycle all your life and keep tuning it for different circuits and riding styles and not get bored of it.

And if you still got bored fiddling with the variables, all you would have to do is turn the key and thumb the starter to bring the V4 to life. The engine cranks with a blip to remind you of the monster within. The chief architect of the 999.6cc 65⁰ V4 is Claudio Lombardi – the man behind the power plants of the WRC winning Lancias in the 80s, team manager for Ferrari F1 in the 90s and the one responsible for the Ferrari V12 engine that is still one of the best for the last two decades. Superbikes have seen V4s before, but this thoroughbred 999.6cc 65⁰ V4 is nothing less than epic. Though they started with a 60⁰ V4, the balance of the V65 turned out to surpass the 60V and even the 90V by a margin and also allowed them to fit in a perfect shaped air box for the kind of power Aprilia had been looking forward to. The V4 layout has made the engine very compact – 225mm as against the 400mm width of an inline four.

If at all you think the 180hp and 115Nm torque the Factory V4 makes is not enough, take a look at the RSV4 -RF Superpole. The grunty factory motor has reworked internals and weighs a hefty 2.5kg lesser than the Factory. But the best part is that it now breaches the 200hp (201 hp) barrier to enter the league of the ultimate superbikes. And it is not only the extra power but the way those horses kick in that makes the Superpole even more special. The V4 is industrial – it is coarse and harsh but sweet at the same time. You find a harmony of notes between the cacophony of the tings and dings and the clunks – we call it music.

Twist your wrist to open the gold butterflies and the engine gets noisier. It resonates near 3500rpm almost rocking the motorcycle with it and if you thought it is the beginning – you are wrong. You open the throttle further and the engine starts smoothening out – settling into a symphony that has two base guitarists playing all the time! When you open up inline threes and fours, they become quite harsh as you approach the red-line. The power is delivered in a burst concentrated more at the peak of the power band. The V4, you can say, is more of an opposite. The engine smoothens out as it revs by virtue of the dynamics of the layout. There is quite a bit of torque at the lower revs and it keeps on building to its peak at 10,500rpm post which the power takes over all the way to 13,000rpm. And now you will not be surprised when we tell you that this is the same basic motor on which the WSBK champion and the current MotoGP CRT engine is built upon.

This is the age of technology where electric pulses get you everything you need within less than even a blink of an eye. Yes, I am talking about the electronics and to begin with – it is one of the best systems available today and yes, this too has been derived from the system they had built for the RSV Cube MotoGP bike. The Aprilia Performance Ride Control (aPRC) as they call it is a comprehensive package. It includes the Aprilia Traction Control (aTC), Aprilia Wheelie Control (aWC), Aprilia Launch Control (aLC) and the Aprilia Quick Shift (aQC). There are 8 different settings for the aTC with an option to turn the traction control off. The aWC is a unique system that identifies if the front wheel is up in the air and controls the power output to keep you safe unless you are Max Biaggi! It can be set to three modes to help you unleash the last of the horses as you bang the throttle wide open.

Aprilia’s track focus is further stamped by the aLC. If you are on the track and racing, you have to have a perfect start every time and the aLC ensures you get the best of the starts. All you have to do pop the clutch, twist the wrist and shift up to the next gear. It is available only in track mode and in has three presets. Last but not the least we have the aQS – the quick shifter. After the launch, you can forget the clutch and slot in the next gear without losing absolutely any cutting the throttle. The system is designed to adapt to shifts at different revs to cut the exact number of revs for the particular shift. Riding purists generally tend to hate too much electronics and with the list of rider aids Aprilia has, you may be sceptical. This is where Aprilia excels again. The rider aids kick in so seamlessly that you actually do not even feel them. The aPRC that is being fine-tuned since 2009 provides you with just the right amount of assistance so that you can go faster than you have ever imagined.

The aPRC has three riding modes depending upon your usage. The Road mode is for city riding where the throttle response and the maximum power developed are restricted to make managing the motorcycle easy. The Sport mode unleashes all the power but keeps the throttle response slightly easy to help you carve out those highway corners. And then there is the Track mode that unleashes the beast within. The throttle response is almost instant with the ride by wire technology. The throttle is direct and when you get a hang of it, you can extract the exact amount of power you need at every point of time. The crisp throttle response at all revs is also because of the electronically controlled variable length intake ducts. The duct length reduces by as much as 35mm as the revs climb to enable faster passage of air to the intake chamber, ensuring enough oxygen for combustion in the high compression combustion chamber (13.1 : 1). The Aprilias also get a slipper clutch. The engine braking – managed by the state-of-the-art Magneti Marelli ECU – is different for every riding mode.

An engine of this capability and pedigree and the electronics package to get the maximum out of it needs a chassis that will not just hold all of it together, but also do justice to it and what better than the chassis that has 18 MotoGP world titles! Derived from the 250cc Aprilia MotoGP motorcycle frame, the aluminium chassis is a congregation of cast and pressed components welded together to keep the weight in check and at the same time get the right amount of stiffness and flex. The swing arm, built with the same construction technology helps keep the unsprung weight low. The forged wheels have lost another kilo of unsprung weight. All of this combined with the Ohlins trio (forks, rear shock and the steering damper) and the Pirelli Diablo SuperCorsas adds to the handling. I have ridden the RSV4 aPRC before and fluidic is the least that I can say about its handling. The motorcycle changes direction so eagerly and easily that you wonder if it is really a litre-class motorcycle. With the mechanicals of the RF, I am certain it is going to be much better.

So, here we are, still looking at the Aprilia twins. The shiny aluminium finish on the chassis, the silver gloss paint on the tank, the Aprilia signature splashed across the body, the shiny red powder coated rims, the golden shocks, the Italian flag on the belly and the ‘#be a racer’ decal is something that makes the Aprilia RSV4 RF Superpole stand out for the bike lovers out there. The 65V4 engine, the MotoGP chassis, the innumerable suspension adjustments, the variable engine mounts, the adjustable wheelbase and the signature Aprilia triple headlamps of the Factory as well as the RF Superpole appeals to the automotive geeks. And then we have the ride and handling package the RF offers that impresses even the best of the riders. I would again say that, we at are very very lucky to have one amongst us – to be revered and loved the way those designers would want them to be!


PS: I wrote this almost an year back and cannot thank Ten Hut enough for this! The memories of looking at her for the first time are etched deep on my heart! 

Why Ken Block is not a circus joker

This is an era of posers. The people who can pretend to be good and pull off a few moves to their credit. The people who can gauge your nonchalance towards the real. The people who can lie to themselves. Surprisingly, because the percentage of such people is steadily growing thanks to the moronic nature of social media and your alter egos on the web, posing has become mainstream.

You may not be liked by the people at work with because you didn’t bother to ask them about the utterly nonsensical deep quote they posted yesterday night. You may not be considered to be ambitious because you do not cry those eyes dry when you err. But eh, that’s not the point. The point here is Ken Block.

Well, coming to the jokers – the jokers are probably one of the most talented artists out there. Making people laugh is not a joke – especially when you cannot speak a word. I know. I know. Rahul Gandhi has that unfair advantage because ‘sab jaante hai uska baap kaun hai’. But on a serious note, the joker has to have a repertoire of tricks up his sleeve, the tricks which he has mastered. Well, he has to master them because you have to pull out a trick to match the mood and constantly read the crowd and not waste a moment on the trick itself.

You might be thinking that apart from the headline, I have mentioned Ken Block only once and gone all about posers and jokers. Am I trying to establish a correlation between the three? Hell yes, I am. Yes, I cannot even properly drive a car. But being born in India, I have the divine right to judge. Like we tell Sachin how to play out the nervous nineties.

And I pass that judgement for my own reasons. Ken Block is an immensely skilled driver. No two ways about it. The kind of car control he displays is flabbergasting and kind of stunts he pulls off is mind-blowing. But then that is the catch. He, methinks, is a master of stunts. My definition of a great driver is largely influenced by my Youtube education in Group B rallying. The way the Vatanens and the Mikkolas ran riot in those death traps is the mark
of a real driver.

The pedigree of a driver, methinks, is defined by the ability to sustain unrelenting assault of pure pace over a distance where your body wanes out towards the end but you still do not cut pace. And here is why Ken Block’s Race of the Champions or RallyCross wins do not count for me. The ultimate proving ground for him is WRC where he has failed to succeed at the highest level more often than not.

No doubt the Gymkhanas are a visual treat, a wow thing for those who do not feel the nuances of the art of driving. And I am immensely pained when a young kid comes up and says, I will be a great racer like Ken Block. Has it all boiled down to what a good show I put up?

Why #IAmCapable is not feminist?

We, in this modern age of easy access to information and opinions, have come a long way from what we all were a decade back. Ignorance and illiteracy had kept us away from what happened on the other side of the globe. With social media now offering internet as Free Basics, the web has spread deep amongst us. The question is – are we mature enough to grasp the gist of the trends that are catching up.

Feminism, in my very frank opinion, is one of such trends. There are no two ways about the much needed gender equality, absolutely not. But feminism is not gender equality. In fact, in my opinion, feminism has done more bad than good in the case of gender equality. Feminism is exactly what is wrong with Deepika Padukone’s video or Priyanka Chopra saying ‘I need a man only for the sperm’.

I see the poor side of feminism in every relationship I come across. Let us take the case of marriages. The ladies want a man that is successful, rich, older and taller and can take good care of the lady. This is totally acceptable and if the girl is pretty, that can be her only achievement in life for such demand. But if a guy says I am looking for a girl who earns more than me, is fairer and an inch taller than me – he is labelled a loser, gold-digger, a good for nothing twat.

I see women justifying reservations for them, a bogie in the locals, seats on the bus, education and what not. Yes, it is a male dominated society and we guys can’t help because we are born into it. And if you ask for reservation, you are going to be looked down upon because you get it without deserving it. We all hail Darwin for his theory of evolution and the theory of survival of the fittest. We use it to add weight to our arguments at the high teas, the card clubs and the kitty parties. But we fail to understand what lies beneath.

Survival of the fittest is the nature’s law for self-improvement. It means that the weaker species or weaklings in a species are wiped off the radar so that the world grows into a fitter tomorrow. If we ask for reservation, the first thing we give out is the lack of ability. And then if you talk about equality you can imagine what kind of a hypocrite you turn yourself into. The women today can very much run conglomerates and probably in a better way. But this is not a game of one-upmanship for the genders. This game of one-upmanship has been running since forever and the results are here to be seen.

The want to prove that you are at par itself defies the claim of being equal. The equality has to be felt within and not spoken or written about. If you feel inferior, that is not because of physical ability but more of a mental block. Men feel inferior to other men and even women too and that may be because of stature, status, personality, strength or ability. And if a woman feels inferior, there has to be one of these reasons only. Attributing it to one’s gender makes you more sexist than you can think.  

The idea of feminism should ideally be replaced by individuality. You have to fight for your own sake, take your own decisions and make your own roads. Blaming your generation older parents or society will not help you anyway. They have been brought up that way and the change you want will not happen overnight. The mentalities will change over generations. And imbibing individuality in the coming generations will turn fare much better than feminism.

Imagine your kids learning ‘We all are equal’ and ‘Women are as capable as men’. Your choice here will define our future, the future that #IAmCapable wants.

5 things that are wrong with trucks in India

Main Nikla, o Gaddi leke,

O raste par, wo sadak pe,

Ek mod aaya,

Mai utthe truck chhod aaya.

What? Something’s wrong, isn’t it?

Well, this is what most truckers go through quite often in their life.

We all curse those laggards occupying the fast lane, crawling along the tarmac at sub-zero speeds. We shout at them for slowing us down when we are out on a leisurely drive in our air-conditioned cabins replete with touch-screen systems playing the music of our taste through the iPods. We despise them for ruining our triple-digit speeds as we sip on the Starbucks coffee that we proudly shared over social media for the red cup!

Well, I am not making a white-collar uber-rich and largely liberal and tolerant demon out of you. What I am going to bring to you is the plight of those truckers that bring to you that red cup, that iPod, the fuel that you tanked up in the morning. I am still one of you, albeit a little bit changed, after my brother handed me over the keys of our brand new 40ft trailer truck, the first one for our logistics start-up. Though I still curse them under my breath, I feel their pain. The pain the tablet wielding generation would feel when they are given a Nokia 3310 as their first phone instead of the iPhone 6S.

Truckers drive the economy yet are the people that have been conveniently excluded from the benefits of a growing economy. They drive our roads, bad roads, no roads or whatever to bring to you your daily supplies. Trucks, almost till the last decade, were being built on the designs drawn before independence. Even the driving seat was not any more comfortable than the most basic bar-stool.  

We need trucks that drive well. Yes, we do. They should have better pulling power. While I am a crusader against over-loading, better pulling power of the truck will improve the in-traffic behaviour of truckers. Even the travel times may come down or at least offer more time for the poor truckers to rest.

Which brings me to the in-cab convenience. These truckers travel millions of miles an year, living in the cabin more often than not. A nice spacious cabin that would take in their fatigued backs would be welcome. Bottle holders to store their water, an entertainment system to keep them cheered up and a fully functional dashboard that tells them much more than the speed they are doing. The cabin has to be nice cozy home for them.

The law of averages is a bitch and catches up with you every time. With the number of miles these truckers clock, they are much more prone to mishaps and accidents. Though they are sitting high up there, with so much of metal around them, they do get injured quite a bit. A lot of trucks do nto even have a proper driving seat with a seat-belt! Driver safety has to be one of the most important points for the Indian companies that build trucks.

When I drove that 40ft trailer truck within a yard for ten minutes, I knew how difficult it was to get this thing around. Also, being perched up so high, it is humanly impossible to keep an eye out for anything that may come perilously close to these humongous machines. You need to have mirrors or cameras around the truck to aid the manoeuvrability of the mammoth in tight places especially with people ready sneak in right under your nose.

Maintenance! The sword that is always dangling in the truck driver or the owner! With so many miles to churn out to make ends meet, you cannot afford your machine to break down often or to be taken out of the churn for service. Modernity in automobiles these days means more electronics and gadgetry. The essence here is to keep your equipment as crude as possible while making it as useful and modern as possible for the trucker or the road side mechanic to mend it in case of a breakdown.

I think I just went overboard with my automobile engineering, my frustrations of the ten-minute truck drive and the plight of the truckers. But being the people whose opinions may count, it is our collective responsibility to create a better tomorrow and we all know who is going to drive us into the tomorrow – the greasy old trucks. Not.

8 things to avoid for #ResponsibleTourism

1. Do not litter. Carry a litter sack or at least a spare plastic bag if you gonna be munching.
2. Do not deface. Nobody gives a fuck about that heart you drew on the wall of that 200 year old monument.
3. Do not unnecessarily touch things. Apart from saving yourself from getting a million unknown bacteria on you, it also slows the wear and tear of your surroundings, especially for delicate ecologies or monuments.
4. Do not click pictures of hot chicks. Yes this is for you guys out there. Sure there are a lot of hot chicks around. The max you can do is have a good look at them and jack off later in the day. No clicking or even an attempt to touch.
5. Do not break rules. No, it is not macho to break rules. You are a jerk if you do that. These days girls like boys who have a head on their shoulders, not a dick.
6. Do not stay holed up in your hotel. You are touring for experiences. Feel the air, heat and the spices and local delicacies. No five-star property can give that to you.
7. Do not cause trouble/confusion if you cannot help. Listen, analyse, wait for a moment and react.
8. Do not dress like you are walking a ramp. Not because you are not awesome, but because you are not walking a ramp. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Don't do the Romans!

Hazaaro khwaishein aisi!

Hazaaro khwaishein aisi,
ki har murad ke liye dum tod du,
Hazaaro mushkiley aisi,
ki har mod par dum tod du!

Hazaaro sapney aise,
ki aankhein moond kar hi rakhu,
Hazaaro vikalp aise,
na jaane kise na rakhu!

Hazaaro mannatein aisi,
kis kisko yaad rakhu,
Hazaaro manziley aisi,
kya jaane kise sahi kahu!

The Curious case of BJP in Maharashtra

I have religiously supported Narendra Modi for quite some time now and I think the central government is slowly and steadily working towards changing the way India has been working for decades. The systematic effort to shift the paradigm towards accountability and governance is clearly visible if you can look beyond the highly opinionated and skewed media reports that have become a norm these days. While the fourth pillar of democracy is crying out loud that they are being fair, the three pages of advertisements before the first page of today’s Times of India is evidence enough that it is more of business than journalism. The charisma of the NaMo, the face of BJP, has ensured that the party has been a front-runner in most of the elections after sweeping the elections last year.

Now let us take the case of Maharashtra. Maharashtra politics is probably more tangled than the Indrani case (I could have said ‘why Indrani Killed Sheena’ but I don’t believe in Media trials). BJP riding on the Modi wave, went in to the state elections alone as against partnering with Shiv Sena, their natural ally. I am not sure if it was the pride of the UP win that went into their heads or the unreasonable ambition of a local pot-belly, but, breaking the traditional alliance seemed to be out of greed to repeat 2014. After the post poll fracas that continued for a long time is where BJP lost all its credibility for the Marathi manoos. The talks of partnering with Sharad Pawar, the epitome of shrewd politics, just to be in power and not wilt to the mounting pressure of public sentiment and their natural ally has spoken volumes about the priorities of Maharashtra BJP.

Finally, after a lot of unnecessary arm-twisting, BJP formed an alliance government with Shiv Sena. If this volte-face was not enough, the BJP tried to mimic NaMo style of functioning – authorative and autocratic. The most important thing that lacked here was the vision and ability of the state leadership. Nobody knew Devendra Fadnavis until his name propped up for CM. After the mysteriously timed death of Gopinath Munde, the power centre in Maharashtra shifted to Nagpur. For a person with no known credentials to be handed over the reins of one of the most dynamic states proved to be a political master-stroke.

Maharashtra is now reeling under a number of bans. But that is not of any concern to me. Because the bigger news has been smartly sidelined by the secular media. The Fadnavis government has resorted to tax terrorism, as a short term solution to filling up the drying government coffers. The drought tax is draconian and has to be opposed and defied more than the beef and liquor bans. The unilateral decision making of the BJP led government has had the people as well as the allies fuming.

BJP has lost every bit of sympathy they had garnered in the general elections with its headstrong and cocky politics. Rural Maharashtra - the age-old Congress and NCP bastion – had opened up to the idea of a different leadership. But the government policies devoid of field facts and on-ground experience have ensured that they would never get another chance. The CM taking it on his ego to win the Kalyan-Dombivli elections is proof enough of the lack of vision for the government.

There have been reports of horse-trading where a municipal corporation ward seat has gone for as much a 75 lakh for tickets that are almost sure to be won. The Fadnavis government also tried to get the 27 villages that wanted to be a part of the corporation to break away to form a new corporation because they knew that the Shiv Sena holds sway in these wards.

Looking at the way the Fadnavis govt has performed since their arrival in office, it seems the Maharashtra BJP needs a reality check and a wake-up call. Failure, they say, is the best teacher and being a staunch follower of Narendra Modi, I hope the BJP lose their upper hand in the KDMC elections. Playing second fiddle should remind them that they were chosen as an option to Congress-NCP corruption and not because the BJP had promise. May be then, the government will be knocked back to senses and start working with the people. A government that is at loggerheads with its own people cannot be successful no matter what they do!

Dear PM, No - I won't give away my subsidy - because that is all I have got!

Dear Mr. Prime Minister,

Being from a family that had a take on political scenarios and involvement in attempting to do good for people, politics was something that I grew up with. The damning ten years under the Congress rule, I had seen the society and the economy being crippled by the unscrupulous crony capitalism and favouritism. The KG basin reserve prices quadrupled in less than a decade, the coal blocks were allocated to family and the exact land was bought just before it was to be acquired by the government for plum projects. It was the resentment of the entire nation that flushed the Congress out and not the genius of the BJP. You were chosen by the rule of elimination and I think you already know that.

The promise of the persona of Mr. Modi – the talks of development and the right-wing inclinations – was something that the majority fell for after the decades of loot and selective appeasement and it is not their fault too. I also agree to a major extent to the efforts you have already put in to driving a much needed change. The angry government officials speaking ill of you are a testimony to the biometric attendance that is making them come to work every day if not on time – it is a beginning of a change in due course. I appreciate the compulsory annual declaration of family assets by government officials – something that can be used as an indicator of the corrupt. Your efforts to project India as a progressive nation, the inspired logo of Make in India and a sincere effort to make business easy deserves an applause. There may be a lot of other things that I am unaware of and a big thank you for all of those.

BUT

This does not give the BJP any right to tell me what to eat and what to drink. I am particularly appalled by the beef ban in Maharashtra and the vine of liquor ban. I do not eat Beef – the only Hindu thing about me – and I still am completely against the Beef ban. You may be wilting under the weight of the Brahmin RSS ideology – I am a Brahmin too – but you being the government have to pull yourself up and stand tall. Are you listening Mr Devendra Fadnavis? I am an ardent follower of the RSS too – family you see – but what is wrong is wrong. The RSS has been monumental in keeping the nation together and stemming the evangelist rot to retain the ‘hindutva’ of this nation – but then agreeing to everything that they have to say shall ruin us.

Remember the essence of ‘Hindutva’ it is the collegium of wisdom of ideas of saints/scholars that have run down over millennia as against the single headed jargon of the newbie religions – it is this difference that has kept us sane and not made fanatics out of us. Let us take the example of the honourable Father of our Nation. One man headed our freedom struggle and his followers shunted the others out if they were an inch close to possibly steal his limelight. See what we have now – a Pakistan and a Bangladesh – progenies of the same land and yet perpetually at war. People were fooled for the next 60 years at least by people who only carried his name and claimed the legacy for the power of rule. You have to reign in your zealous commanders to strike a balance that is much more essential for the nation – for you to stay in power and continue doing good for the country.

Mr PM, I – the upper caste middle class common man, have been suffering from the socialist measures drawn under the garb of concern for the less fortunate for ages. I pay taxes from my nose for the politicians who waste crores of rupees for the parliament sessions doing nothing but passing a resolution for a pay hike for themselves while chewing subsidised rotis, driving in cars and fuel paid for by us and living in airconditioned palaces maintained by us. And we do not find it funny at all when someone like a Vadra or a Pawar applies for a farmer or declares assets less than 10 crore year after year. We do not find it funny when the service tax is increased by 2% to cover for national debt when there is billions of dollars of unaccounted money here in India – forget about Seychelles and Mauritius and Swiss banks. We eat in to ourselves to save our pennies and then you levy a tax on the fixed deposit interests. Are we supposed to never grow? Or just start evading tax like most to add further tax burden on those who pay?

Mr. PM, I particularly get angry when you in your soothing voice you request us to give up our gas subsidy for the less fortunate. No – I will not ever give it away even if I am earning a million rupees a day. You first justify why I have to study in a tier-2 institution after scoring 99% marks when someone with a caste certificate and a score of 40% gets admitted to a tier one institute? Tell me why his fees too are waived off (paid by the government)? Why don’t they get to choose from one - concession in marks or fees? Thousands of engineering, medical, management seats are going vacant – why can’t they study there free of cost? And if they want to opt for a concession of aptitude they should be made to pay. Why do we have to pay both ways – just because we are from a supposedly superior caste?

After 60 years of independence and decades of reservation – the supposedly lower castes have been fast forwarded to being in top positions on most government institutions and we all see how mediocre these institutions have become. I am not being racist – but you cannot have a concession for aptitude as the decision making then affects a billion people. Reminds me of a head of a national institute giving an interview on Cloud Computing and having reservations about the functioning of the system when it rains!

Mr. PM, none of your dreams will bear fruit if you have such people at the helm – there can be no substitute to capability – not money, not caste. So, the next time you would want to appeal to us to give away our limited privileges – be prepared to be abused to the core and not because we hate you. Because, we think you can bring about the change – the right change and not a right-winged change.

https://www.change.org/p/prime-minister-narendra-modi-remove-the-caste-based-reservation-system-1df7feb1-fac9-4a98-b361-4f7ca71f4e10?recruiter=368226652&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=copylink

Organised Chaos = LiveLodgycal ???

While we are busy looking for logic in everything that is done,

the moments of absolute mirth are the ones with dearth of logic.

Having said that, it is that want of Logic in everything is what is keeping us from becoming ISIS !

So when someone comes up with a product ‘Lodgy’ and drives the campaign around ‘Live Lodgycal’, you know for a fact that a lot of logical arguments have been already shown the door :P ;)

Anyway, the Renault Lodgy is something that will logically appeal to most people of the country. We are still a far way away from the West where a family is a man, a woman and kids of the two. Except when we travel for office, we have a fleet of people called ‘family’ waiting to get into the car. If not family, at least your old neighbour would want you to drop him to the next block even if you are embarking on a thousand mile drive and you can’t say no because ‘Sanskar’!

Well, even Alia Bhatt is appealing for me. So what if she comes across as dumb as Rahul Gandhi? But is she logically right for me? That would be something like buying a Rolls Royce by selling your only house for the down payment and raising the rest in loan. (I am sure it is technically impossible but then you can’t explain logic without explaining illogical). So what I meant with all these words was that is the car Value for Money? And I think it is. It has two head lamps and two tail lamps. It has three seating rows, three outlets for AC, three 12V charging points. It has four wheels, four power windows, four decent speakers and a four cylinder highly efficient diesel engine.

It has five doors for you to get in and shove your luggage, six gears in the 110 PS car and an option to seat seven or eight people.

The equipment, features in this car are at par with the competition but it loses out a bit on power, especially when you talk about the 85PS. It is a downer again with those quirky French looks but that’s where it ends. It is almost as spacious as the Innova – something that people in India swear by. 

Where it starts winning is when you talk about ride and handling. It is not really Ferrari fast but then that is okay because you can’t go 7/8 people in a Ferrari. It brakes okay and can be chucked into corners where it will stick and not scare you with humongous body roll like most boats in the market do.

It has got a touchscreen system if you are ready to spend like a good fifteen lakh or else you will have to be happy with quirky looking system. It has cruise control at the top end, but unless you are driving on the Yamuna or Mumbai-Pune Expressway, you will not be able to use it for more than two minutes at a stretch. The Multi-Information Display gives you the trip log and any other information you want on the go.

I am not going to say only good things about the car because Renault and Blogadda hosted us at a super luxury property in Goa for two days and treated us like royalty. For me the car is value for money except for my reservations about Renault service back up. If I am buying a diesel people mover, I am expected to travel and if my car spares are not going to available readily, I would certainly be really pissed off. Also, a slightly bigger clutch pedal would keep our wet, muddy or just worn our soles from slipping off making it slightly more comfortable.

Yes and for the next face-lift, please rope me in for the design of the tailgate!

For the Detailed Review : The Renault Lodgy First Drive
For Detailed Information : The Renault Lodgy Features

Away I go!

Flitting through the countless fields,

Sampling eyes cutting the yields,

Holding on to each one of my shields,

away I go!

Masquerading a million dreams,

Looking for that perfect one of the creams,

The leather with its bursting seams,

away I go!

Taking cover with a submarine,

Wondering if my slate is clean,

Carrying my badly bruised sheen,

away I go!

Ohhh that longing to ride,

Wanting no rules to abide,

None of the million gods by my side,

away I go!

Mission Bolt : Accomplished!

April 19, 2015

Target: Raid De Tiger Point

Mission: Bolt 

Operation: Secure target and report to base. NO casualty allowed. Absolutely not. No Weapons.

0600 hrs
      - Ready to leave safe house. Pickup point 25kms away.
      - I start my red devil and zoom

0700 hrs
      - Pickup is at the stroke of the hour – perfect timing. The Transporter HK is raring to go.

0800 hrs
      - Meeting point – Café Infinito
      - Co-agents introduction – Sanjay and Purujeet

0900 hrs
      - Bacon and chicken sausages with fruit juices and yummy sandwiches (You need to stuff yourself up to think straight in crunch situations)

1000 hrs
      - Mission Brief
         o Task one – conquer the DOTS
         o Task two – beat the sun
         o Task three – burn the tarmac
         o Task four – get a cooler and get back to base!

1100 hrs
      - The CAR
         o A bright red Tata Bolt. (If James Bond swears by the Aston Martin, just because it is British, it has Tata for me. Not that I cannot get a Jaguar – Yes, its Indian now – blending in with the crowd would be much easier with so many Tata cars on the road!)
      - The Equipment
          Well, the list is long, really long but here are some highlights
             Revotron – the first petrol turbocharged engine developed by an Indian manufacturer
             Voice Command with Touch Screen Entertainment – I am a secret agent and to do a trillion things when I am driving, I need the car to listen to me! So, I got Harman-Kardon to custom build one!
             Corner Stability Control – I am going to be driving like a mad man most of the times trying to save the world. Commoners get 8th-gen but I have a 9th-gen ABS with EBD with a bit of special assistance through corners to ensure that I do not have to worry about making the turn while saving the world.

1200 hrs
      - Task One – We ran around the dusty cones trying to find traction on the withered soil, baked to the core by the blaring sun on to the hurdle. While we braced ourselves to avoid being tossed around in the car, Purujeet made a mockery of the dots making us look like fools as we glided across the hurdles.

1300 hrs
      - Task Two – We had to drive a 100 kilometers on an exceptionally hot summer afternoon.  You could almost cook an omelet without even a magnifying glass. But the HVAC engineers have pulled a rabbit out of the hat, just like the suspension engineers. With no tints to save us, the cabin mercury levels never got a chance to shoot. The ride was so comfortable that I actually thought we were doing 60 when we were actually doing 80. *cough*120*cough*beyond speedlimits*cough

A video posted by High On Throttle Customs (@godsentevil) on Apr 19, 2015 at 8:49pm PDT

1400 hrs
      - The essential F&B break. Time to hydrate yourself for the daunting task three. The food was sumptuous. A morsel more and I would have forgotten the mission!

1500 hrs
      - Task Three – I take the Revotron. I had only heard about it, but nothing prepared me to come to terms with what it really was. The first Indian turbo petrol is a gem. There would be many who would point out its shortcomings – the foremost being economy – which is true – but, the way this engine behaves, is a revelation. You keep the tacho needle a tad above 1500 and you are at the sweet spot. Till 4500, the car is just going to add oodles of power. Yes it has a sport mode which has all the magic. The Economy mode, as most Indians would prefer using, though, is not really tragic. In terms of performance –no – you expect the car to be mellow but economy – yes- it is a bit tragic. The diesel in this regard is the perfect buy for the lousy Indian car buyer. Just enough power to lug you around and loads of miles per drops of a gallon!
      - I revved the petrol hard, gunning through the winding roads with two of my co-agents and a damsel (no she wasn’t in distress) holding on to dear life trying to force a smile on their faces just not to possibly offend me in case I may decide to go even faster.
      - Reached the vantage point. The tiger covered! No casualties. Just passed under the radar!

#BoltDrives @blogadda @harishk99 Hyper Lapse! We bolt through the expressway!

A video posted by High On Throttle Customs (@godsentevil) on Apr 18, 2015 at 11:52pm PDT

1600 hrs
      - We stopped for a cooler. Time to split and bid adios to my co-agents. And yes the damsel too!
      - Well, until the next time! Mission impossible is just too cliché!

      It was a Sunday well spent at #BoltDrives with the Bolt, the brand new hatch from Tata Motors in association in our good friends – Blogadda. The car looks fresh and new but carries over the legacy of the legendary Indica in terms of humungous cabin space. But the best part is what it doesn’t carry is the lack of refinement, NVH and bad handling and poor interiors. The new car defines the new ideology of Tata Motors where they plan to build cars that are well built, good to look at and nice to drive and luxurious to be driven in!

To know more about the Tata Bolt and read expert reviews, 
http://www.carwale.com/tata-cars/bolt/

The-press-ion : the art of living a fucked up life!

दिल मे लगी आग को बुझाओगे कैसे?
होंठों के बीच अंगारो को, पैरो तले जैसे?
वक़िफ़ तो है हुम अप्ने मुक़द्दर से मगर,
बसे इस जेहेन मे सिकन्दर को, मिटाओगे कैसे?

कोशिशे कि लाखो, पर नैय्या कभी लगी ही नही,
जिस किनारे घर हमारा बना हो जैसे.
वो साहिल हि था, जो दरिया से दरिया ले चलता हमे,
के बवंडरो से कश्मकश हि थी जिन्दगी जैसे!

Poetry is that lucky emotion to find words to express itself. Not that I am a great poet or something, but the words above have just been put together by yours truly.

So sad is the back drop of this story that I sometimes wonder how badly depressed I am. Meet the Speedosopher, the guy who is excellent in giving unnecessary gyan because probably that is the only thing he thinks will not fail! I had written about ‘the Rock Bottom’ before and no Dwayne Johnson has anything to do with it. It was then, when I was trying to mask my depression under the mask of thought.

But then what is the point in hiding! My life, my depression, my fucking choice! It has been quite some time that I have been trying to do things right for a change and it turns out that I am digging my own bloody grave. We all have been taught that doing the right thing will always make you happy. But the truth is, fuck my lord, it doesn’t.

That is because – here is the crux – you can not define the ‘right thing’. The right thing, by virtue of its definition, is that deed which when done would probably make the stake holders of your life think you are not going to the dogs yet! Reminds me of ‘Sadda Haq’ – what an amazing composition by AR Rahman – getting the emotions out of the noted perfectly!

I am no politician. I believe in doing things the right way and it doesn’t matter if the thing is wrong in the first place. If I have chosen to do it, it has to be precariously planned and ruthlessly executed. Well, this brings me to my professional life. Well, I am lucky enough to find a workplace that seems to be awesome and the job that I do feels super awesome. I guess it is the excess of ‘awesomeness’, like Barney says, is screwing things up. I may be wrong, but from where I stand, I see a lot of disparity in the responsibility vs authority matrix. I thought the two years I was wasted in MBA, were a complete waste but no! Mistaking accountability for micro-management and trying to measure everything are the two biggest mistakes one can do and if that gets drilled down as a culture in a growing organization, it’s a disaster in the making.

But, fuck that. That is not what is bothering me the most now. Is it not super awesome when you get hired for a role where well, you will have to figure out what you would do. Take my word, it is the worst thing that could ever happen to you. Because, you can not tread on to any one’s closely guarded territories unless your appointment letter says so, neither can you expect a good appraisal because they were always so many things you could do. And when you have friends like mine, well, I will have to wish you the best of luck twice over.

But fuck that too. That’s not again the point. After years of doing the right things, trusting the good in people, I still am stuck. I have a rusted motorcycle, my car is in shambles, I haven’t been on the road with no chut telling me to slow down and at the end of it, I don’t even have money in my bank. I am tired of living a good life.  I am tired of doing the right things. I am tired of being what I am – a foolish wreck. But the best part of this is, if I break away right now – hell would break loose. Not that I fear it, but somehow I have got used to avoid it.

ढुंढते रहे वजूद, अनजनी उन लेहेरो मे,
आके कोइ बतलाएगी आशियने का पता जैसे!

Tick tock tick tock tick tock.

PS: Do not expect me to thank you for the sympathy or empathy or whatever, I don’t need any of those. This is my shit, my choice! 

Fighting thy Demons

Well, I am back! Hell yeah!

For those who thought this mad man really had a million masks, well – he does. It is just that most of those are either built of cars or bikes!

The Versys 1000.

Enough said?

No.

260 kilos and tall enough to make a six footer toe-tip and packs a little less than a hundred and twenty horses across its mid-range.

I have ridden two wheels packing 180 horses before, and I know a lot of people would be starting to get ‘wuss’ into their minds.

Clocking speeds over two tons on a straight line on these kind of motorcycles is not at all an achievement. As I climbed on to its saddle at Kolhapur, it seemed as if I was hovering above the burning tarmac. The straights till Belgaum gave me enough time to calm my nerves and get comfortable with her.

But it was the Chorla Ghat that kicked me out of the comfort-zone. As I tried tipping the motorcycle into corners, the diva in the Versys started throwing her tantrums. She likes straights, she likes to go easy on brakes and she hates being leaned on to.

I had been out since 6 in the morning after a 2 hour nap, the night before. We had been shooting and the sun showed absolutely no respite, roasting us clad in full motorcycle gear. I was tired, and a bit fried and a bit cranky.

And Chorla it was. The rough levelled tarmac on the narrow curvy mountain road was what I was riding for all day – to brake late, brake hard, turn in with a knee down and bang the throttle open at the apex, powering out of the corner like it was the last one I ever had!

The battle was intense and every drop of adrenalin added to my blood-stream made me madder. I was looking two corners ahead, looking for its exit, planning my entry, gauging the pace without even realizing how fast I am right now, with my head just about two and a half feet away from the tar. I was talking to myself, trying to remember every word someone or the other had to say about sport riding.

‘Brake late, but don’t trail-brake’ 

‘Get your arse out, anchor the thigh’ 

‘Get your balance right – the gyroscope needs to be in your favour to make the next corner’ 

‘Steady throttle before the apex, gun it after that’ 

‘Try entering a corner like you have no brakes’ 

‘Keep your head Steady’ 

‘Hold the line and NEVER cross to the oncoming lane’ 

‘You need to work on your right handers’ 

‘Keep your hands light – flap them like wings into a corner’

Damn, so much to do and the bike was not really happy being held by the scruff of her neck and shoved wherever I wanted. It was exhilarating. It was a moment of no fear, no remorse, clarity of thought, attention to the minutest feedback – It felt like Nirvana!

I think I conquered quite a few of my inner demons then – the fear of letting loose, the fear of uncontrollable bursts, the fear of missing a detail. 

As I slowed down at the top of the Chorla ghat, I was exhausted – exhausted by the happiness I garnered in those 30 kilometers of dark tarmac, exhausted by the goose-bumps I had when I knew I haven’t gone so fast here ever before, exhausted by the fear of never being able to come back to this, exhausted by the fear of life!

Communities, conversions and conversations!

WARNING : The following opinions and content is controversial and reader's discretion is advised to avoid any hurting of sentiments. If you are reading this further, it is at your own risk! 

It has been a while the ‘Pro-Hindutva’ government has been at the helm and the secularists have gone on an overdrive raking up the conversion issue. The communal tensions in Mumbai have just added fuel to the fire – the embers that have been carefully kept warm all these years.

India is a conclave of diverse faiths, traditions, geographies and languages. The political system in India, has been pretty much successful in maintaining the divide with one tool – reservations. It started with reservations based on caste for the upheaval of the bereaved – a noble intention to get all classes of the society at par. But what it resulted is in doling out undue sops to the unworthy. It is a known fact that the average aptitude of the reserved classes is lower and when such people rise through the ranks to be decision makers, you are going to have more decisions that go wrong than the ones that do good. Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar, must be really riling in his heavenly abode for the idea that he brought into the system. The man was good, the intentions were good, but, the en masse was not really up for it. The illiterate got literacy certificates but the maturity of thought that comes through generations of knowledge was absent. When the going becomes easy, there is no enhancement and it is evident.

Coming to religions, Hinduism is not really a religion as all the ‘experts’ say. It is more of a way of life where you have a set of gods you pray to. You have to be born a Hindu and can not be converted into one as faith is imbibed into you and cannot be just taught to you. It is the main reason why different religions like Buddhism, Jainism, Sikhism et al could grow and prosper on this land. If you can take the cue, none of these religions believe in proselytism except Buddhism. And then, proselyte religions like Christianity and Islam made way to this land. The Muslims brought people to their fold with a dagger in their hand as chronicled in the history books while the Christians used coercion. Evangelism was celebrated for centuries and continued under the secular rule after Independence. Billions of dollars were pumped in through various routes to ensure smooth flow of the rituals. The question that how much of this actually helped the people is a different story all together!

It was all hunky-dory until the emergence of the ‘Hindutva’ bandwagon and its aggressive outlook. The secularists, who all these years had successfully manipulated the majority population in to believing that the minorities are different species that need special quotas and handling and sops, suddenly ran into a dead wall. When the majority started voicing their concerns about the right to equality, hell broke loose. The minorities who were by then used to the spoon feeding, took it as their birth right and started crying foul. The cash rich church wasn’t bothered. They have gobbled up billions worth of real estate for ‘convents’ where Christianity has always been portrayed as modern and sophisticated (which is kind of true as the literacy and knowledge quotient there is quite high. That may be also because of the knowledge and sophistication our foreign rulers got here with them) The Muslims though got stuck in their sandy roots, no real money as such, living in ghettos, oblivious to the world outside. The whole community, in general, seems to have missed at least a couple of decades of growth of thought.

The juncture, where we all stand now, is very critical. The majority that had been lying dormant now perceives a threat to its existence. The minorities, that faced only scathing glances till now, are being pushed back to ‘size’ (as many would like to portray). But this has been the course for a multicultural society. The minorities will always be slightly sidelined unless they shed their minority tag and be a whole hearted part of the mainstream. That is democracy where the majority always counts. Giving undue importance to trivial things like race or religion and identifying yourself with it will only widen the divide and create further tensions. Add proselytism to it and the mix will turn explosive.

‘Ghar Wapsi’ should not be about religion at all. Ghar Wapsi should be about making yourself at home with everyone and not confining your good intentions and good work only to your locality, community, caste, creed, religion or region! ‘Ghar Wapsi’ should be that umbrella under which you should need no crutches to establish your identity. It is all about your tryst with the truth. Your truth is that illusion you believe you have seen. If you believe that the country is a family, you will not bother if your sibling is white or black or Hindu or Muslim. And that is when India will start to grow!

Dreams of a rusted rider!

I am flashing the headlamps repeatedly, trying to warn that zillionth driver on the road today who has decided to swerve into my lane without even giving a passing glance to the desperate biker asking for his own space. As I grab the brakes and blip to drop the cog, my arms cringe and my back groans. I am holding the handle-bar firmly, forcing my eyes wide open against the wind, the gust of air drying my eyes up as I make an attempt to improve visibility keeping my muck/shit laden helmet visor open. Its twilight and all I can see are blurred tail-lamps and blinding headlamps. No, I don’t want to stop to even clean the visor. To stop means to shift gears, brake and then get off the motorcycle. However tempting that may be, I know for a fact that getting back up on the saddle would need much more effort and then getting the concentration back would be a gargantuan task. Why are my thoughts drifting? I am not giving up, not now.

They always say ‘it is the last few miles that eat up the smiles’. But what about the 900 kilometres I have ridden since morning to fulfil my promise? My best friend is getting married to the love of his life and I had promised to co-host his sangeet that would start in an hour. There I was today morning, 950 kms away, I was cheering other bestie as he participated in the last round of the Indian Rally Championship fighting to be the champion co-driver for 2014. If I said I was tired, tears would well up litotes’ eyes! The Suzuki though, is cool and calm as ever, just like she was in the morning – not even one bit tired, not even one bit grumpy for all the grime stuck upon her. She is the one who is driving me up to pull myself up or rather what was left of it and reach home safely.

The calm and serene hills of Chikmagalur, famous for the sprawling coffee estates, were alive with the with the growling and screeching exhausts of rally cars that turn up here every winter to race against nature, terrain, rain and time to finish one more round of the Indian Rally Championship. The beaten dirt track of Birur with its narrow flowing high speed sections has always been one of the toughest challenges for the Indian rallysts. I am actually able to recall some of the sections like it was yesterday! Sadly, the stage has been phased out since last year with increasing traffic and safety concerns. A new stage has been built through the coffee estates. Though it is not as fast as Birur, it is scarily narrow and immensely technical and now an even bigger challenge.

All the cars were gleaming in their colourful liveries - spruced up and repaired after the beating down they had taken over their previous outing - ready to hit the road as fiercely as they can in the able hands of their drivers. But as fate would have it, it rained the previous night, throwing all equations in to a tizzy. Friday morning it was and the pits transformed into a war-zone with tuners fighting hard to change the suspension set-ups and tyres for each car to get them to their competitive best in the short one hour time window before the super special stage. Wrinkles of worry were quite visible while I prayed for my friend to get a fair chance in his race for the title.

My phone started ringing. I wasn’t wired nor I had Bluetooth synced helmet and I had forgotten the phone in my shorts that were buried under my riding pants. I was sure it was my friend who had called me to ask where I was. He was completely against me starting on the Sunday morning, the day of his sangeet, to ride down 950 kms and make it in time. Everyone said I was out of my mind to ride across the Deccan plateau within a day. My mother even offered to buy me air tickets but then, I had to salvage my lost pride of being a tourer, a long distance rider – something that I had not done in at least the last two years. There are quite a few riders who have sailed through the Iron-Butt challenge, doing close to 1700 kms within 24 hours, almost twice my target – but this was my ride for redemption.

The adrenalin rush to conquer my quest had me going strong for quite some time since my departure into the freezing cold at 6 am. It started getting better as the sun steadily made its way up. In the meantime, I had joined the NH4 – one of the few roads in India where you can crunch miles steadily and at good speeds. I did not even stop for breakfast, not wanting to lose time. As exhaustion started creeping up, I stopped in Kolhapur for a quick bite just after noon.

Slightly ahead of my schedule after the dream run I had since morning, I did not want to relax. I got back on to the saddle wringing the throttle open every time I found an open stretch. I was carrying good steady pace but somehow, I don’t know why, the odometer seemed to have slowed down. My body was tiring out faster than ever, may be due to that extra pack of fries I munched at McDonalds. After riding hard for two hours, I was still at Satara. I stopped in the shade of a massive roadside banyan tree for a break, trying to evaluate what was going wrong.

The rally is spread over three days with the Super Special stage on Friday followed by six special stages on Saturday and three on Sunday. He did well on Day 1 and Day 2, looking poised to bring the trophy home. I had wished him all the luck in this world and left today morning. I called him up when I stopped over at Satara. The ‘hello’ was low and I knew something was wrong. An electrical failure robbed them off the power steering and they went straight into a tree stump that ripped the front suspension and axle off. Both occupants were safe, but he lost the championship by just 6 points! Aaaarrggghhh!

Only 250 more kilometers to go - which means a maximum of four hours of riding left to be done. Yay! I just did 700 kms in 9 hours. A pat on my back and back on the road!

Well, the phone is ringing continuously now. Well just 50 more kilometers. I have been riding for the past 13 hours. The traffic in Pune and Lonavla have already taken a huge toll on my flailing spirits and Mumbai was yet to come. Well, just 50 more kilometers, you can do it!

a-ring a-ring a-ring a-ring!

What! Why is my morning alarm ringing? Am I day dreaming on the motorcycle? Wait!

a-ring a-ring a-ring a-ring!

Let me snooze that one first and then think!