C Shreyas Hareesh.
Credit: Special Arrangement
An unassuming stall came up at the Buddh International Circuit in Greater Noida on Saturday. It’s not one selling overpriced everything to desperate consumers. It’s not a marketing gimmick built to trade any more of the MotoGP than it already has been trading. It’s not one meant to showcase new tech or new trends.
This stall is designed for storytelling. This is to remind some and inform most others that there was a boy from Bengaluru who not-so-long ago nursed dreams of racing in the MotoGP. Whether he would have made it or not is entirely irrelevant because he also ached to watch the event in his backyard.
The races he had travelled to with his father were great, inspiring even, but Shreyas Harish wanted to cheer from the stands or charm his way into the paddocks to watch what his life could become in the near future at home.
But fate wouldn’t be so kind. Hell, it is so cruel that Shreyas’ father still has tears in his eyes as he tells the story of his young champ to the world from this stall. “He sacrificed his life for the sport, we can’t let the story end,” Harish Pradhaman tells DH.
Shreyas succumbed to injuries after a horrible crash in Chennai a little over a month ago. The tragedy, not only left the Copparam household emotional wrecks, it also - probably less significantly in this context - threw India’s plans of a MotoGP rider back a few years.
India has had Sharath Kumar race the MotoGP in the 125 cc category as far back as 2011, and this year, Chennai’s Kadai Yaseen Ahmed will partake in the MotoGP 3 category. But getting to ride in the 1000 cc class was not a vision any of them realistically held on to or do now.
Besides the fact that the sport is an expensive one, Indians don’t have nearly enough early exposure or training in their adulthood to set themselves up for a stint at the highest level.
It may seem like a bizarre scenario given India’s inescapable footprint on the world's two-wheeler market, but it’s only natural for the prejudiced fangs of capitalism to reward victors or serious hopefuls.
Basically, Indian riders, unless ridiculously talented and simultaneously PR savvy, are not given a shot. Then again, most of them aren’t very good when matched up against the likes of the Italians or the Spaniards, who seem to inhale fuel and exhale propulsion.
Shreyas was the real deal India had at realising this culture-defying movement in this generation. Alas.
Not all is lost, though, for there are youngsters from his batch, some still reeling from the events of August 5, who are capable of doing what Shreyas was doing and could have done. In fact, some are even more determined now to finish the work of their fallen comrade.
With this in mind, some of them assembled at the stall on Saturday to assist Harish in telling the story of a boy they called a friend. Harish couldn’t help but break down a few times over because he heard stories of his son as a fierce competitor, as a humble kid, as a prankster, and as a boy who didn’t want to be bogged down by the gravity of adulthood.
Harish knew all this. After all, he was the one who taught him to be so, act so, and deal with it so. But while listening to tales of Shreyas from fellow riders, Harish was reminded once again of what he and his family have lost and are losing still.
“… more than that, the country lost out,” he says.