A humble open letter to Royal Enfield

Mr Lal,

I hope this letter finds you in the best of health. I would like to extend my heartiest congratulations on the success that the Royal Enfield brand has seen in the last decade or so. It’s an amazing success story and I hope Harvard makes a case out of it. However, my reason for writing to you is very personal and this small letter springs from the bottom of my crankcase.

The signature thump of the old heavy crank engine is one of the oldest sounds I remember. Sitting by the edge of the road and waiting for the police to pass just to hear that sweet melody. Especially when you hear it in the distance and wait in silence as it slowly grows louder owing everything around you.

The first time I rode one it was nothing short of orgasmic. She was blue in colour with a bronze insignia. The front was so commanding it could have ruled the road. The puny 150cc bikes that kids flaunt today feel like frail ladies compared to the blue beast. I remember trying to kick start her to life but I was no match and just sat down on the fuel tank. She was vibrating furiously and to be honest I was little scared. But then, we started moving forward slowly and things seemed to settle down. The speedo kept rising slowly, the ammeter needle was leaning a little to one side, there was the familiar click every time the gear changed, the heat near my legs kept increasing and the ride was getting smoother with every passing minute. I had started out clutching the handle bars for life but as the wind in my hair grew and the thump eased into a smooth baritone sound I never realised that I was really home. Home like I had never been and in that moment of absolute clarity I knew that this is the bike I would own as this is the bike that owns me.

I think every the life of every rider can be divided into three clear parts. The falling madly in love is the first one and happily ever after is the last one but it’s the one that transpires in between which is, the most excruciating one. You want and wait and look at others riding along happily knowing that it will happen one day. You study harder because that’s the condition, you promise to do all sorts of rubbish things like – I will keep the rear view mirrors on or I will never ride in shorts or definitely no driving fast or definitely won’t go to Leh, the bike is only for city riding and what not. I rode a bicycle for years because a dear friend had told me very clearly, “If you want a bullet, never settle for Splendor”. God knows I followed that command to the letter.

Finally after years of waiting, I got a 92 model made from scratch and she was a treat to sore eyes. However, that’s a story for another day. Let’s fast forward a little.

The reason I am writing to you is because I was planning to buy a Desert Storm for myself but a couple of months ago I took my friend’s year or so old bike for a ride and God knows I am not buying anything you sell ever again. And, you have no idea how sad it feels to say that because I have lived walked talked and worn Royal Enfield!

The said bike that I rode was carefully maintained, kept in a perfectly nice enclosed space, cleaned periodically and serviced on schedule. However, it felt like a wreck to put it mildly. We have put up with a lot of things with the bike because of the sheer love. You will not see me bickering about loose tappets or engine oil leaking out of the crankcase and the cylinder head or the chain rattle or any other perennial concern. But, rust!!! That killed it Mr Lal. Absolutely killed it. The quality of the parts is….never mind

Years of fighting for the bullet, saving for the petrol, cleaning the rims to make them shine, learning to tinker preparing for that trip to Leh, hitching rides with the police folks just to feel the thump, making the dug dug sound when no one’s watching and what not. All these came crashing down that day. You will never understand that feeling. I even rode my bike with a broken hand and once with a broken leg. You get the idea I hope.

Without sounding offensive, Shakur in Lucknow working out of a 200 sq feet workshop provides better fit and finish than you do. And, that is very disheartening. When I pay a hundred and fifty thousand bucks I expect to get some minimum levels of quality. The parts cannot just rust and fall off, that is unacceptable. I understand the cost pressures must be high and you have a company to run but it would be really nice if once in a while you made something that aged with grace. I have had the chance to ride a 62 model and boy was she a beauty. She brought these lines from Madhushala to mind:

‘Apne yug main sabko anupam gyat hui apni haala,
apne yug main sabko adbhut gyat hua apna pyala,
phir bhi vriddhon se jab poocha ek yahi uttar paya -
ab na rahe veh peenewale,
ab na rahi veh madhushala’

You know why we guys love bikes so much? It’s because they are the perfect companion for every journey. You don’t even need a pillion rider when you have great machine with you. A machine that you understand. A machine which makes you smile every time you get on it. A machine that will take the untrodden path with you. A machine that communicates with you. A machine that you love and she loves you back.

This soliloquy can go on for ever and I doubt you will ever read till here. But, just in case you do, I’d appreciate if you could make them bikes stronger and better. It’s a small and humble request from an ex-fan. It will be Triumph now.

Happy Thumping

I bleed engine oil