 |
| "I
drive what I am. Just like old clothes, I'm comfortable in my
old Maruti 800." |
|
Cyrus ‘bakra’
Broacha loves his 800. But why does an old, little Maruti mean so much to
him? Ritujoy Chakraborty gets talking with the MTV VJ.
I’ve finally done it. Managed to nail Cyrus Broacha! A million phone
calls and tonnes of dogged persistence later, here I am at his door, getting
sized up by a huge German Shepherd. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t
bite,” the MTV VJ tells me. “Yeah, but does he know that!?”
I ask nervously. Niceties through, we head for his rooftop to pump weights
and talk car.
“My first memory of a family car is a Fiat (Premier Padmini). Then
a 118 NE and finally, the Maruti in early ’86. Later a Honda City and
Baleno, but I learnt driving in the NE, and moved onto the 800. It was great
- a young boy with a car, total freedom and, of course, a Parsi dad who
would kill you if you got just a hint of a scratch on his car. Still, it
was my car.”
“So you hung out with the gang?” I ask.
“Girls mainly, since it made no sense to take out the guys who would
rip you off anyway.” But wouldn’t the girls do that as well, I
ask? “Sure they would, but that’s part of the deal man! Unless
you have a car, or look like John Abraham, no girl is gonna hang out with
you.” And that’s another reason why he’s Cyrus Broacha, and
I’m not.
Moving
on... “All was fine until one night when I had gone to drop a girl
home, when all hell broke loose. I parked the car under her house, took
her up, and was back within the minute (yes, we believe you!). And I come
back to find that the window has been smashed, my stereo is missing, and
the stone used to pry it open from its casing is lying around. Obviously
no more Pavarotti for some time. Anyway, I go to the cops, file a useless
report and head home. That’s when it dawns on me - if you have a Bawa
dad and you mess with his car, your happiness is gone! Head for the hills!
Actually, whenever something happened to the car, be it a tiny scratch,
I would first get it fixed and then head home.”
But now that he has a City and a Baleno, what’s with the ‘old
girl’? “I drive what I am, and just like old clothes, I’m
comfortable in my old car. It’s not snobbery at luxury, it’s just
the way I am. C’mon, I’m a taxi driver on ‘bakra’, I
live the life of taxi drivers. Imagine their life - driving around in the
sun for 10-12 hours a day in a car with the power of a moped, breathing
a cocktail of poisonous fumes all day long. Man!”
Actually, his love of the plain-jane is genuine. Ask him what his dream
car is. “An old, tough, dusty Willys Jeep, but with a great heart,”
says the man. Anybody?
One of his favourite things is taking out his dog for a ride in the 800,
and wife Ayesha can come too, if she’s a good girl. “It’s
a real treat for him, because the entire city seems to speak to his nose,
and it remains there like a colourful story. It’s kind of like your
dad taking you out to a circus when you were young.”
So in all these years, what’s the funniest thing that’s happened
in this car? “Glad you asked. I was caught getting cosy with a girl
in the back seat!”
Ahh, the bliss of being Cyrus Broacha . . .
|
May 2001