More revs in Bengaluru's motor sports

The curse of nostalgia struck again but it presented itself as ignorance. Thankfully, a community was at hand to undo perceptive bias, and did so without resorting to prosaic platitudes.

. The purveyors of motor sport in the City educate with kindness. As research for this story meandered through eras, anecdotes and inevitable romanticism, camaraderie, it turned out, is the elixir which has kept alive the culture of racing in Bengaluru.

. The motor sports community in Bengaluru is as old as it is fraternal: no one is left behind, no information too sacrosanct. All we have to do is ask.

. And so, we asked: ‘Would you say the culture of motor sports in Bengaluru is dead or dying?’

. This was the question posed to a range of motor sports enthusiasts from the City. Some of these men would be considered the founding fathers of what was once philosophy and is now the motorsport constitution. Others, in no small part, have carried forward the legacy.

. They all said: ‘Not at all!’

. Why then aren’t there posters marketing rallies at prominent petrol bunks? What happened to those impromptu drag races on MG Road, or a still-being-built inner Ring Road?

. What of animated conversations at coffee shops and pubs about drivers, riders, cars, bikes, modifications, bribes and nights spent behind bars at the police stations accompanied by unique lathi-charge segues?

. What of countless nights spent with sugar syrup passing off a tea among endearing mechanics?

. What of those gatherings at Jakkur? What about the race to the peak of Nandi Hills’ uncompromising roads?

. Why did a 1000-mile race, aka Karnataka-1000, turn into an uninspiring blink-and-you-miss-it sprint near Tumkur as part of the Indian National Rally Championship?

. Again, nostalgia is a curse for it often blinds you to the reality of the now.

. Turns out, racing in Bengaluru has all of this and much more, but it has evolved into something more professional, more subtle. Gone are those unbridled days.

. Perhaps there is reason to miss them - you can hear this longing in the voices of those who speak of years gone by just as they would about missing tree canopies - but when the evolution results in a receding number of ignorant amateurs stunting on public roads or wheelie-popping youth endangering their lives and the lives of others, nostalgia takes a backseat. Quick.

. “Oh, things have gotten much better,” says CK Chinnappa, a veteran racer and rally navigator. “It was wild back in the day, we could do what we wanted, safety measures were minimal, we drag-raced wherever we could. We toed the line with the law so frequently, it became a part of our identity. But we were very careful about how we raced. We understood machines before we pushed them. I'm not sure that's the case anymore.

. “Of course, a lot of us got into it seriously and did professional racing with the Karnataka Motor Sports Clubs of India (KMSCI) organising events, but that culture of impromptu racing on the empty streets in Bengaluru was huge. Also, there used to be treasure hunts organised by small clubs all over the city so riding and driving on these treasure hunts became a big fad. There was a huge fanbase for casual and professional racing before.”

. KN Shanth Kumar, the director of The Printers Mysore Private Limited, reminisces. “We used to race on MG Road (right outside Deccan Herald office for good measure). If you come to a traffic light and someone revs their engine, it was a sign that a race was on. We would belt down the stretch. It was a very different Bangalore back then.”

. Indeed.

. In the 80s, Agram Road, Koramangala, and sections of Indiranagar were being utilised by enthusiasts to race for some of these areas were still under development and were hardly used by motorists. In the 90s and the years which followed, the Jakkur Aerodrome in Yelahanka became a fan favourite because marshalling the crowd was an easier affair.

. While newer sections of Bengaluru began to burgeon, and Jakkur too fell out of favour eventually with a string of court cases, enthusiasts moved further and further away to quench their need for speed. In fact, a private estate in Sidlaghatta some 70 kilometres from the City began hosting the K-1000 before it moved all the way out to Tumkur for the latest edition.

. Over the last few years, far more private racing centres, including karting venues, have cropped in Bengaluru than ever before. A private airstrip near Hosur is making drag-racing more accessible. Motocross enthusiasts too have spaces to practice their craft.

. These are only stop-gap measures to fill the void left by the lack of homologated race tracks and rally stages, but it's a move in the right direction because, if nothing else, it keeps the spirit of motor racing alive. In a city with nearly one crore motor vehicles on the streets, this is the best that can be done for now.

. “It’s impossible for the older version of racing to exist in the city. We can barely walk, let alone race,” says Pratap Jayaram, FMSCI's Drag Race Commission chairman. “In a way it’s great that racing has moved away from the city. It’s much safer and it’s so much easier to monitor.”

. Venues aside, safety equipment has evolved, and more importantly, it’s readily available to purchase and/ or to rent. Cars have come a long way in terms of standardised safety measures such as roll cages and four-point harnesses. "I used to get my brother to bring helmets from abroad because you didn't get good ones here," adds Shanth Kumar.

. Chinnappa chimes in: "We made do with whatever we could get our hands on. Now, you can buy everything at one store. It's brilliant."

. Though these improvements have helped, a former rally driver cites a peculiar but poignant point in reference to the optics of motor sports.

. “The problem with these standardised measures is that one has to transport their racing cars on flatbeds to venues,” he notes. “Some of them are not street legal. Back in the day, you had one car and you would drive it straight to the track. You can’t anymore, and no one wants to take a chance even because cars and bikes have become way more expensive.

. "This is possibly why people assume there isn't much racing happening," he concludes.

. Speaking of expenses, another reason why motor racing has become even more niche than it already was is because of how overpriced it is to partake in these races, and how taxing it is on the wallet to prepare cars and bikes for these races.

. Detrimental as some of the factors are, many are keeping with the 'petrol-head' tradition of the City. In fact, a senior journalist reveals that the number of race entries from Bengaluru continues to grow with each passing year. Take Shreyas Hareesh for instance. He's all of 12-years-old and is already part of this rich legacy.

. "I put him on the bike when he was six-years-old and he immediately took to it," says Hareesh Parandhaman, Shreyas' father. "It was tough to convince my wife and my family to let him pursue the sport, but I had to because I saw him doing great things on the track."

. Shreyas repaid this father's faith by becoming the first Indian to win the FIM MiniGP recently.

. Evidently, motor sports continues to thrive, albeit in a form unfamiliar to many. In that, it's not dissimilar to the City itself for Bengaluru doesn't look, behave or occasionally even feel like the City it used to be, but it's Bengaluru nevertheless.

. It's just that progress is inevitable, just as nostalgia can be.

More revs in Bengaluru's motor sports

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