Delhi Bikers

I am waiting for Gursaurabh at the Green Park, Café Coffee Day (CCD). We’re finally going to meet after a few failed attempts. Inderjeet Singh, his cousin has put me in touch with him. I recollect the first time I saw Gursaurabh or Sobby as he is fondly nicknamed, at the screening of Gaurav Jani’s documentary film ‘One Crazy Ride’ at India Habitat Centre. He was the funny Sardar in the film and on stage that day. The cover shot of ONE CRAZY RIDE film with Sobby slowly levitating. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mkb4558ym5w That was a decade ago and we are meeting for the first time today and I didn’t want to be late. The phone rings, its Gursaurabh on the line, “Dude, I am at the CCD where are you?” I scan the café for him, he isn’t there, “Ummm…I am here, are you sure you’re in Green Park?” Turns out He is in another CCD. Wondering at the logic of having two cafes of the same franchise just hundred meters apart, I hurry to the other end of the market. To find that he isn’t

Nikhil & Max...Dapper through and through! Photo: Christelle Weinberg Three years ago a bunch of motorcycle enthusiasts decided to start ‘The Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride’ (DGR). Being Australian, no one took them seriously and before you knew it the idea had spread across 150 cities of the world. Around the same time 'Royal Mavericks - Delhi Royal Enfield Riders'  were exploring ideas beyond breakfast runs and charity rides. Its founder, Tarique Afaque, an administrative genius and an ambitious biker got in touch with the DGR team and in 2013 the first ever DGR ride was held in Delhi and Chennai. The recent ride on 28 th September was held in nearly 10 Indian cities and by far the most impressive turnout was in New Delhi. Immaculately dressed ladies and gentlemen came riding as though they were going to meet..........................(fill in the VIP name) Here are some excerpts from an interview with Mr.Tarique, the man behind DGR '14-Delhi. ----

Early morning 'Breakfast Run'. Spangmik to Tangtse. From day into night. We were enthused and refreshed by our miraculous sleep, which felt more like an incredible escape from the jaws of AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness). The last meal Ray had was the previous day’s lunch but he still chose to skip the breakfast. The Ladakhi drivers advised us to return to Leh instead of going to Tso Kar.  Some said it was “Bone shattering!” while others warned, “there is no road”.  We had already taken a huge risk by riding without acclimatizing and to continue further in our shaky state would have been foolish. The wild shades of the mountain could not hide the blizzard brewing behind it. Adventure motorcycling is about calculating your risks so you can keep riding. Plans are made to serve us not the other way around. Trouble starts when we stubbornly stick to an itinerary when wisdom tells us to be flexible and modify. So we headed back to Leh via Changla. I will never for

We should have anticipated what lay ahead in the night but maybe we convinced ourselves that sheer stubbornness could keep Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) at bay. But alas, by 5pm the temperature had dropped enough to make us immobile and stuck under our blankets and our heads were throbbing like bass woofers and no one was dancing. I asked the monk who ran the guesthouse why there were oxygen cylinders outside our rooms. “Precaution” he said. Ray had no appetite so I ate by myself. I returned to find him throwing up even the water he was trying to drink. We laughed the first few times. Then panicked, as he couldn’t stop. Neither the pink walls or the velvet blankets helped. Finally Mr. Concentration was called to the rescue. I ran and called the monk to do something. He sent a man named Dhyan Singh Thakur, the resident waiter/nurse/guide who said he could cure anything with his massage. I wasn’t going to argue and Ray was far too sick to protest as a chunk of T