
|
“Racing is not only about speeding, there’s a lot more to it. It’s also about fast reflexes, complete concentration and great technique.”
|
IT IS past midnight and Chandigarh slips into the blackness of the night. But on the slender riverbed coursing between Kona and Karondia villages, on the outskirts of the city, the speed demons are revving to life. The dark road explodes with renewed vigour as a shiny, black, turbo-charged Esteem roars with pleasure, and races to the other end, around 9 kms away. There are half-a-dozen drivers patiently waiting, in a motley line-up of redesigned Gypsies, Boleros and Esteems, for their turn to arrive. Men and machines, powered by shooting adrenaline.
Amidst the sound of crunching gravel, pounding hearts, and lusty cheers, six friends gather for a celebration after the race. ‘‘It was great, my speedometer needle zoomed all the way round,’’ a young driver flops to the ground, with an ecstatic expression on his face. He has got his weekly fix. He will now return to the sluggish world of traffic rules and vigilant cops.
Chandigarh’s stealthy, illegal midnight runs are the worst-kept secret of the town, but nobody seems to care, neither the public nor the police. Both are relieved the speedniks are out of city limits and do not pose a danger to pedestrians and traffic.
For those seeking the thrill, their adopted track in the hills is a great challenge. ‘‘It’s our way of having fun without harming anyone,’’ justifies Shivi Singh, of his favourite sport. ‘‘I enjoy the sound of screeching tyres and burning brakes,’’ grins the city college student, who admits to having wrecked many of his cars.
|
“My dream car is a Dodge Viper. It costs all of Rs 75 lakh. That’s why it’s still a dream!”
|
Singh’s compulsive need for speed comes naturally to a town where an average household boasts of at least two vehicles. Besides, parents turn a blind eye to these wannabe Ferrari stars, for speed is a safe substitute for drugs and alcohol. Rajiv Suri, city businessman and committed speedomaniac, despite a near-fatal accident when he drove his Gypsy into a 500-foot deep gorge five years ago, traces the track trend to the late ’80s, soon after terrorism faded away. ‘‘Chandigarh had little by way of recreation for youngsters after those dangerous times. So, we took to racing around in our vehicles in the evenings.’’
The town’s planned, uncluttered layout, designed by the legendary Le Corbusier, was ideal for driving without any hindrances, and it saw the birth of what was popularly called, the geri culture, or zooming around on the long, stretches of road. The next step was racing up the verdant foothills of the Shivalik. As S P S Garcha, the silver-haired president of the Chandigarh Motorsports Association, and perhaps the first generation of speedfreaks to hit the road, puts it: ‘‘The city’s wide roads and its proximity to the Shivalik ranges and other natural tracks make you want to hit the pedal.’’ He still does it astride his GSXR 1100, rumoured to be the most powerful motorbike in the city.
So does Suri, who gets an occasional high when he races his friends to New Delhi in his four-wheel drive Nissan Patrol. ‘‘We drive non-stop and touch Delhi within two-and-half hours,’’ he says with guiltless pride, showing no concern for prescribed speed limits on the highway. ‘‘Whoever wins has to foot the party bill that evening.’’ At home, however, he drives his pet sports car, a Mazda Miata, in the countryside after midnight, while the police patrol the city.
|
“After the terrorism days, the city had little to offer youngsters for entertainment. So we took to racing around in the evenings.”
|
Others like Sampat Singh, a Toyota dealer, get a kick out of weaving so deftly through traffic that it leaves their friends breathless. Sampat, whose blue Mercedes C 200 purrs along at a speed he is loath to share with us, has now set his sights on the ultimate speed machine, a Dodge Viper. So what if it costs a cool Rs 75 lakh? ‘‘That’s why it’s a dream’’, he laughs.
The Sangha brothers, Bhalinder and Udaibir, both keen drivers, have made a business out of pleasure by setting up a garage called Motorcraft, which specialises in redesigning cars to personal requirements. ‘‘Now we can tinker with vehicles to our heart’s content,’’ grin the 20-somethings.
Wheels, they chant, are much more. ‘‘It is the owner’s alter ego,’’ they chime. The Sangha brothers know what they are talking about — their clients spend astronomical amounts on their cars. Ginny Baath, a young college student, has converted his ordinary Maruti Esteem into an BMW, with a fancy spoiler, side-skirting, floodlights, a BMW sign and more. Vinny Kumar, an undergraduate, has turned his Sierra into a Pajero (it has a speed radar as well) with a makeover that took a month and Rs 2.5 lakh.
Ait Mutneja of OSR Automobiles, who also remodels cars according to the clients’ wishes, says money is not an issue. ‘‘Youngsters are not content with cosmetic touches alone and spend big sums to rev up the engine too,’’ he explains.
‘‘Redoing the engine is a must if you want to rally,’’ adds Bhalinder. With a more vigilant traffic police, chaotic roads and motorsports in the city shifting to top gear, speedfreaks are turning to formal race tracks. While the tracks may not match upto the chrome-silicon strips of Monte Carlo or Daytona, Chandigarh has already witnessed five popular events.
Bhalinder has been rallying since 1996, after he turned 18 years old. Bharatveer Kapoor and Simrandeep Chahal, both graduate students, stormed into the arena this year by cruising to the top spot at the St John’s Old Boys’ Association annual rally. They are all set to hit the Raid-De-Himalaya rally. ‘‘It’s the only way to whet our appetite for speed,’’ adds Udaibir. ‘‘Besides, it also makes you more accident-proof on regular roads,’’ chirps Chahal.
Rakesh Balokhra, the young director of Premier ISP, got the fast-paced Suzuki Shogun riders, including Suhrid Sharma, who is ranked among the top riders of the country, together. Again, it is their unquenchable thirst for adventure that binds them all and despite near-fatal scrapes and mishaps — Sharma, a transporter, has broken his leg twice while Balokhra’s bike dived into a 100-foot-deep ditch recently — have only steeled them. ‘‘A fall drives the fear away,’’ grins Rakesh, who dreams of competing in the Paris-Dakar rally.
There are others who want to upgrade their passion into a profession. Karandip Sandhu, reigning national champion and member of the MRF team, is an inspiration for many in his native town. Sandhu’s stable boasts a Pontiac, a two-door MG, a Firebird, Volkswagen, Ford Jeep; he rallies 15 days a month and spends the rest of the time getting tips from an Aussie trainer at the Pace Academy. ‘‘It’s not only about speeding, but about fast reflexes, complete concentration and a great technique,’’ says the guru of speed.
For Chandigarh’s bravehearts, they are words that get them hitting the road again.


