Those men in their flying machines
The Cholistan Desert Rally is a great experience albeit exhausting
By Zarminae Ansari
For years, friends who are avid jeep and 4x4 rally racers have been inviting me to see one of their events – in particular the legendary Cholistan Desert Rally. It was always one of those things that seemed impossible and every year there were logistical issues. But then there are times when one decides to overcome all obstacles and just do it.
I discovered the rally to be unique: that most drivers know each other and have developed friendships and that the Category A race is often between two drivers-- Ronnie Patel of Karachi and Minister Nadir Magsi. At this 6th TDCP Cholistan Desert 4x4 Rally, I happened to be rooting for my hosts at the event: Ronnie from the Karachi Motorsports Club and the Khakwani brothers from the Multan-based Friends Motorsports Club (FMC).
The only woman who is most likely to be at every rally across the country, managing her team, and the mid-point or stage-break, and sometimes even participating is Tushna, Ronnie Patel’s wife. Even though she shies away from the limelight, Tushna is known by all the racers as “Bhabi”. To see her dedication as she oversees the cars and equipment, and bullies the racers to sleep on time, especially her husband and his navigator Kunwar Nasir Tehseen (better known as Bhuttan) was rather refreshing at this almost completely male-dominated event. A powerhouse of efficiency, she’s apparently also a good rally-car driver.
At this particular event, the gender divide got a real jolt – because like me Ronnie’s brave 80-year-old mom decided to experience the Cholistan Rally mystique too. “Beta, I’m 80 years old,” she said and, “who knows if I will come again. But I finally got to see my son race.” She had put herself through the discomforts of camping in the desert with its extreme temperature (minus 4 degrees Celsius at night to extremely hot in the day).
Minister Nadir Magsi won the first prize while Ronnie and Bhuttan came in second place.
It was truly uplifting to see the camaraderie and helpfulness throughout the four days I spent there. While the camp officially belonged to the members of the FMC, much of the equipment, staff, food and hospitality was provided by the hosts for their friends and their many regular visitors to the camp. This included a water tank which provided water for bathing and cooking, and sprinkling around the campground to reduce the dust in the air and cool the area during the day. Imported state-of-the-art shower tents, with hot water warmed by an ingenious hammam containing hot coals, and toilet tents kept one clean and comfortable. A generator provided electricity for much of the evening. This allowed one to recharge telephone batteries, be able to see one’s dinner and each other, sharing stories from that day, and settle in to bed comfortably. Yet no one misused the electricity-- in fact, there was no music system or needless electronic equipment in this camp, although one occasionally heard the sounds of music floating through the desert air from other camps.
Also, I experienced the legendary Multani food and Multani hospitality. Four-course meals included finger-lickingly good batairs (quails) which I insisted the four cooks who had been brought along teach me to make. They obliged.
Actually, all this hospitality brought to the fore some of the many issues that plague rallies in general and the Cholistan rally in particular. For many out-of-town participants such as the only father-son team – of 60-year-old navigator TJ Siddiqui and his 25 year-old son Adnan Siddiqui- who had driven all the way from Islamabad, the journey was tedious. “They should allocate clearly marked spaces and have a reception area near the Fort to direct us to different camps and facilities, and give out maps. It took us an hour to find this camp,” T.J. Siddiqui complains.
“If you really want to experience the race,” said Tushna Patel, “You need to go into the middle of the desert with me at dawn to set up the stage break. Most of the television stations and journalists, and most of the ladies who turn up to see their families race, see the beginning and end of the race. Once the cars leave, what are you going to do? It is only at the midpoint, at the stage break that you will truly experience what a rally is all about.” And so I was up at 5 am, getting ready to venture into the desert and its blue skies for endless miles of sand and scrub.
It was the best thing I did, although every muscle in my body ached when we eventually left around 2.00pm. After I finished photographing the setting up of the mechanical equipment and the refreshments at the stage break, I found myself part of the pit crew, with no choice in the matter. Well, it was a great experience, albeit an exhausting one.
Covered upfrom head to toe, I was getting dehydrated and was amazed at Tushna’s energy and dedication. During the 20 minute break, she not only oversaw the air filter changes and mechanical checks of the seven cars from the camp, but had me running around with her passing out water, oral rehydration salts, energy biscuits, fruit, (and even sunscreen at one point) to the driver and navigator of cars as they came in, including friends from other motor sports clubs.
The atmosphere was completely charged, and the excitement was tangible: 20 minutes passed by in the blink of an eye.
Between the midpoint check post and where the vehicles restart the race after a gap of exactly 20 minutes, there is a significant distance, with no efficient system of communication connecting the two. In a race where every second counts, shouting the time-out from one end to the other with the background noise of car engines revving, and other cars coming in, was simply ridiculous. In fact, one racer inadvertently mistook the signal and went off when there were 10 seconds left to restart. Coordination was lacking, and some participants grumbled that there were issues with the manning of the checkposts, where the officials could add seconds to the total time simply by walking slowly to the navigator to stamp his time card. This problem could easily and efficiently be overcome with the re-introduction of previously-used digital tags on cars.
The architect in me could not help but notice the utter chaos and lack of organisation at the stage break. Many spectators had come especially to see the cars and meet the drivers at the stage break. And it was here that the lack of specific routes, viewing areas, etc really became apparent, as spectators would invariably wander on to the track. It was a miracle that there were no fatalities, and Owais Khakwani had a near miss with photographers and spectators coming directly in the line of traffic. Cars would come in and have no idea where their team’s stage break was until people shouted and waved, and/or physically directed them to the area. Ronnie Patel’s mechanic, Nadir, helped anyone who needed help, even if they weren’t from the team or the camp. Refreshment, equipment, engine oil, and at one point even high octane fuel, was generously shared whenever needed – with anyone who came and asked Bhabi.
One got brief breathers when one car restarted the race and before the next one came in. I sat and mentally redesigned the area with properly allocated spots where each club could set up their stage break and be easily identified by the cars as they came in. It really would not take too many resources or money to simply set up a series of flags to mark the route cars should take from the check post to the restart point, and demarcate areas for team stage breaks. Gazebos or tents could be provided by the organisers – even if at a cost, for those poor souls who come from far-flung regions with no team to offer them refreshments.
Re: The Cholistan Desert Rally
Awesome
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