The Hindu Business Line : One Bullet, many reasons

BIKES and books rarely go together. But Gordon G. May's new coffee-table book, Royal Enfield — The Legend Rides On, is different. It celebrates 50 years of Royal Enfield production in India (www.royalenfield.com).

The trick is to make bikes that keep the rider involved, that feel like an extension of the body and also free the mind, muses Siddhartha Lal, Chief Operating Officer of the Eicher Group that owns the old bike brand. "Bikes that are exciting even at normal running speeds, bikes that put everyone under their spell and bikes that demand to be ridden all the time," explains Lal, poetically.

And May's book demands to be read, so let's rewind to 1953, when Madras Motors, an importer of British motorcycles, run by K. R. Sundaram Iyer and K. Eswaran, was asked to provide the Indian Army with 800 of the tough 350cc Bullets. The Government granted the firm an industrial licence for producing 5,000 motorcycles a year, and in 1955, Sundaram floated a new company, Enfield India Ltd, "to manufacture Royal Enfields under licence from the Redditch Enfield Cycle Company."

May takes us down memory lane to the earlier versions of the bike. Such as, the smallest Royal Enfield, `the Flying Flea', which was a copy of a 1930s German bike, the 98cc DKW model RT. The Flying Flea, however, had a 125cc engine, and the most dramatic use was by the Royal Air Force, narrates the book.

"They placed the bike into an Enfield-designed steel tubular cage which had a parachute attached to it. The whole thing was then dropped from a plane with airborne troops. The bike was released and troops then had great mobility over rough terrain," explains May.

Ten years after Royal Enfield collapsed in the UK, Slater Brothers "imported the Indian Bullet into Britain in 1977," and called it `350 Madras'. But the Madras factory was having problems such as strikes, tidal waves and floods. "By 1979, though, production was back on track and the 350 Madras was on sale for £710."

The book has box stories of proud owners. Graham Bennett, who bought a 1979 Bullet in 1997, features in one. He has given his bike a name, Henrietty; he keeps it in immaculate condition; and he replaces worn parts with Indian ones. Bennett hangs an informative sign over the bike's handlebars every time he parks, to explain the bike's history. And his daughter Hazel sends Henrietty a birthday card every May 6!

Royal Enfield owners don't fit any stereotype, writes May. "From farmers to young office workers, tradesmen to diplomats, armed forces' personnel to corporate executives, all have their own reasons." For instance, T. T. Srinivasaraghavan, Managing Director of Sundaram Finance, de-stresses on his 1969 Bullet. "I compare my Royal Enfield to a horse bringing its wounded king home. So many times I have made it home on reserve when logically I should have run out of fuel," he eulogises.

No wonder that the Bullet is called Raja Gaddi, or the king's vehicle. In the colourful pages, meet Malkit Singh who has been using the Bullet to deliver milk in villages near Patiala for over a decade. Also, hear Ranga Rajan of Pollachi recount how the bike saved his life in 1976 when "he was attacked by four men in a car". How? He was carrying a lot of money, and the road was blocked, and they were about to kill him... "I escaped on my Royal Enfield by riding through a four-feet deep river," he says.

Good escape, I'd say, of the book too!

D. Murali