Speed Thrills

…but fills motorists with feelings ranging from awe to envy as they vroom down India’s first Formula 1 racetrack

Indian Formula 1 fans are still pinching themselves to see if all this is real. When Niresh Malik found himself cheering for Ferrari’s Fernando Alonso at the Indian Grand Prix last year, screaming himself hoarse with some 90,000 other spectators at Greater Noida’s motor racing circuit, he thought he was in a dream. Until then, Formula 1 for this Noida-based techie had meant watching race cars whiz past on a large screen at some pub, guzzling beer and cheering along with friends. “Some friends had been to the Bahrain circuit a few years back, and I envied them,” says the 27-year-old, “But I was here in Noida and that sort of made up for everything.”

Nearly seven months later, Malik is back at the Buddh International Circuit. He is in his red Ferrari T-shirt, but this time has a helmet in hand as well. He is high, too, but on the roar of revving engines and smell of fuel and burnt rubber. The spectator galleries are empty, but that’s okay. The action is where he’s at—on the other side of the pit lane, behind the steering wheel of his red Volkswagen Polo. It’s the 5.1-km racetrack’s first Open Circuit Day, and anyone with wheels and a few thousand rupees to spare can have a go at burning rubber down the snazziest stretch of tarmac in the country.

As a red-and-black Hayabusa bike cruises into sight, he lets out a soft whistle of admiration. “I am ready for a spin, but some day I will have one of those,” he promises himself, before pushing his Volkswagen’s pedal to see what his throttle can give him on the speedometer.

The Speed Devil has got the better of at least a hundred other motorists, all of whom have shelled out sums ranging from Rs 6,000 to Rs 20,000 to try scorching one of the world’s newest F1 tracks. Just for a day. Participants were to register themselves online, a month in advance, and could choose the number of sessions they wanted to drive or ride, subject to a maximum of three sessions per participant. With space for no more than 120 participants, it’s perhaps a good thing that not too many people had heard about it. About 90 car drivers and 30 bikers, it turns out, are just about enough to pack a Sunday afternoon of amateur circuit laps.

There’s an air of easy camaraderie about the place, with proud owners of Kawasakis, Ducatis and Hayabusas talking torque, revolutions-per-minute and horsepower with owners of an assortment of four-wheelers. The latter, though, are in need of an extra touch of glamour in their ranks. There is no Lamborghini or Ferrari to be spotted in the line-up of cars. Consolation arrives in the form of a sole Porsche 911. This cult classic competes with a vintage racing car for attention. But the day looks like belonging to the 30-odd superbikes brought in by the Group of Delhi Superbikers—or Gods, for short.

For Jaypee Sports, which operates the circuit, this is an experiment that almost suggested itself. “People interested in driving don’t have enough space to drive on Delhi roads, and they often head for places out of town,” says Askar Zaidi, vice-president, corporate communications, Jaypee Sports, “So there seemed potential in events like this.” He is delighted that the circuit’s open offer got more applicants than it could accommodate, though sorry of course that several motorists had to be turned down.

Most of those who’ve got a chance are glad. “There are so many cars on the roads these days and Formula 1 is such a craze with kids that everyone wants to be part of it,” says Delhi-based businessman Nirav Aggarwal, who has turned up with his brother-in-law to test their newly acquired C-class Mercedes and somewhat older 7 series BMW. They are accompanied by their wives, who are learning to juggle Louis Vuitton handbags with iPhones and children who were “bitten by the Formula 1 bug during the Grand Prix last year”.

Everyone around is not a hobbyist. Harsh Aggarwal is an entrepreneur who has brought along a sports car imported from the UK that vaguely resembles an F1 race car for a test drive. His business plan is to import and sell more of these, and this racetrack is the perfect place to have it seen by F1 fans. The car works wonderfully, he concludes, but “despite the helmets, I think we need to work on its safety”, he says, switching to a Skoda sedan for his next session.

Aggarwal’s is a voluntary downtrade. Look around, and you spot several snobs who seem peeved about their BMWs, Mercedes’ and Audis having to share flag-off space with modified Esteems, Hondas and at least one 16-year-old Maruti 800. For the former, going wheel to wheel with lowly cars is a rank insult. For the latter, it’s a chance to show what a good mechanical workout under the hood can achieve. Most of these modified cars are owned by brawny twenty-somethings with tattooed biceps, tight tees and pointed shoes—the sort notorious for cranking up Punjabi music on their car stereos and racing their loudmobiles on Delhi’s expressways in the wee hours of the morning. “These cars are not as powerful as ours,” sneers Arjun Khurana, 28, who had first driven on a racetrack in Illinois nine years ago as a student in the US, “They could be dangerous for us on the track, where you have to take sharp turns at high speed… they could catch fire and harm us all.”

To everyone’s relief, there are no mishaps on the track, though one modified Esteem does have to be hauled over to the pit lane; it has overheated as a result of constant braking along the curves. “This is exactly what I was saying; not everyone should be allowed on the track,” says Khurana, who has anxiously been checking the tyres of his BMW 740 for damage after every session (it’s his father’s car).

There has also been some heat generated by poor driving manners: reckless overtaking from the left, for example, something some motorists have—for no clear reason—assumed would not happen in the company of fellow F1 types. There is also some confusion about what the racetrack is intended for. Some motorists are disappointed on being told that they are not to race their cars against one another: if they can’t vroom past others, what’s the point?

Others are disappointed that their cars are not as sporty as they’d thought. Anshul Pahwa, a graphic designer, grumbles that without any racing and betting, there is just “no fun”; and then whines that his car just doesn’t go fast enough. Removing his 2.5-kg music system from his modified Honda does not help either. “I thought we did pretty well on Delhi’s roads after parties at night, but this was a disappointing affair,” says Pahwa, quitting the circuit after his first session.

Abhishek Bhatia, a final-year engineering student, however, is thrilled at the way his friend’s Honda Civic has performed on its first drive after a makeover. “The suspension worked well and the car is a beauty,” he says, elated that he has clocked in just behind the Porsche 911.

The huddle over the timing figures recorded by the organisers and revealed after every session is a sight in itself. For every pedal pusher going gaga over his lap timing, there is someone shrugging in indifference. “It is not about speed, but about testing the limits of your car and skill,” says car rally veteran Sudev Brar, who is here in a Hyundai i20. To him, this is a test of stuff that no chronograph can capture: “real roads, real cars and real men”. And real women too, as a 16-year-old aspiring rider, who rode pillion with her father on a track that she herself dreams of conquering someday, might want to add.

After a couple of rounds with fellow rallyists, Brar gives the idea of an Open Circuit Day his approval. “Many people have powerful cars but don’t know their cars’ potential,” he says, “I think it’s great to have events like this that are accessible to more than just a privileged few who can afford to try tracks abroad, just so that people understand that there is more to car driving than just speeding.”

Such thoughts are echoed by Dr Arun Thareja, convenor of Gods. A doctor who loves biking, he believes such events will help promote motor sports in a responsible way by allowing motorists to test their vehicles and skills in a controlled setting. For this Open Circuit Day, Dr Thareja picked only those riders of his club who had enough road experience to push the speedometer without endangering anyone. “We did not let our younger members ride this time because there is this urge to speed,” he says, “and we didn’t want to compromise on safety.”

So, safe speeding it shall be—the skill of the thrill. So say the Gods, no less.

About The Author

Aanchal Bansal