Chapter 3: First Supper with The Royal Beasts Club

‘Hells Gift’ the one name that got the Beasters in line.
That is, until July came along to rename him as ‘Dosa’

Let's be honest.

If there was no Royal Beasts, chances are there would be no DBBR today.

In 2003 I went to attend the GIR (Great Indian Rock concert) at the Hamsadhwani Open Air Theater, Pragati Maidan. Everyone was head-banging inside except for a wild looking bunch in the parking lot next to their Enfields. I thought they were ‘security’ since most were in combat gear.

Intrigued, I went over to ask how they got their bikes inside since no one was allowed. 

Bobbee ahead of his times by going back in time

A very cocky looking Sardar replied “Depends what you ride dude” 

I said, “I have an Enfield”

He then told me how to bring my bike in. That was my first encounter with Bobbee Singh.

The next person I remember meeting was Rishi aka July.

He had an impressive bike and when I asked about it he made it sound like it had parts that even Enfield knew nothing about.

It was only after a year of such wild claims (gyan) that I realized he was ‘pulling my leg’ (khichayi) Nothing could be said without July finding some innuendo in it. 

And he gave everyone a new name. In couple of days, I went from Josh to ‘Joshi-ji’.

I met Vaibhav who had a beautiful single-seat Lightning 535.

His sister Mahima on a Thunderbird was the first girl biker I met.

There was Raja who could pop a wheelie on his Enfield like a toy bike.

Imran would race down the road on the back wheel most of the time.

Nishant looked like he was waiting to pick a fight. 

Bawa looked like a born bouncer waiting to stop a fight. 

Fawad, an American NRI, seemed like he had enrolled to do a course in swearing like a Dilliwalla (with July being the professor)

Vaibhav, Gaurav Soni, Bobbee, July
riding on Noida toll road after a midnight meal. 

One after the other I met bikers who were nothing like anyone I had ever met in my entire life! These guys looked like fun and they looked like trouble.

Then I met KK aka ‘Hells Gift’.

While the others were clowning around making smoke rings, he really looked the part of a no-nonsense biker. With his handle bar mustache he could pass off as a tattooed version of Veerappan. I went over and sat next to him.

KK: “Done any rides lately?”

Me: “Umm…yeah I just did a solo trip through Rajasthan and then back up to Himachal and Uttranchal* ”

KK: “Hmmm…what do you do otherwise?”

Me: “Ahh…I…aaa…I…aaa…I work for a church, as a pastor”

I think I squeaked that out because he asked me again.

Then having made sure he had heard right he said very slowly

 “You better keep your church and God to yourself. Don’t ever bring religion to our club”

I mumbled something and wondered if I should go back to solo riding. 

Obviously he had heard of my ‘type’ of people and their ‘ulterior’ agenda and didn’t want any religious mumbo-jumbo. I got offended.

But something inside kept me from leaving.

Maybe it was KK’s raw honesty.

Maybe I wanted to prove that I was not some ‘covert-Christian-convertor’. 

Maybe I just wanted to belong to a group of like-minded bikers.

Whatever the reason, what I do know, is that night I made the right decision to stick around.

Soon the concert got over and we got on our bikes and the real concert began for me. 

We thundered through the crowd out of Pragati Maidan onto the main road. 

Our Torpedo pipes tore through the cool night as we headed to Nizamuddin. 

One by one we parked in front of Ghalib’s Restaurant.

It was nearly midnight.

We sat around the small tables, took sheermal bread, broke and ate it with mutton korma.

That first supper with Royal Beasts was the start of a journey that provoked me to ask why I claim to follow Jesus, exposed my self-righteousness, gave me a fresh language to speak to my city and taught me that our belief’s and words carry weight only when it is lived out of love.  

No group had ever disturbed and delighted me as much as RB.

To me the ‘Beasters’ as the members are known were ‘Heaven’s Gift’ and I can only thank God for them.

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(Written with fond memories of all our dhaba days, Tough-Rider-Training’s (TRT) city-rides, Ghalibs, fights, random film shoots, exaggerated trip stories, bad jokes and great pranks)

 *Uttranchal was renamed Uttrakhand only by 2007

Our view from Ghalib’s restaurant

Lewis on our 2004 Ladakh expedition.

Rohit undoubtedly the most prolific and 
consistent explorer among us. 

  

July-ji, Tyagi-ji and Joshi-ji at Panvel enroute to Goa

Manas and Gadget helping on a DBBR ride

The fine bunch who helped initially with DBBR. 
Karan, Simmy, Arpan, and Bobbee who spared 
me their bikes for many DBBR rides.

The first DBBR poster has Rajan Singh. 

The one guy I could rely on no matter what