It is that time of the year again. The expected call came from my dear friend Ashish Bhatia, once again inviting me to be his co-driver during the Desert Storm 2012 rally. Allegedly one of the most gruelling and challenging rallies in India (some say in Asia), it is tough for the participants. But from what I have experienced over the past three years, it can be as tough for the Marshalls. And I was going to punish myself again as a Marshall this year too.
Life is tough for the Marshalls. Time loses all meaning. Meals are a thing you grab when you can. Sleep is something you catch in the gap between two cars speeding obscenely towards your Hop. You are left in the middle of the desert or the salt flat or the Rann in the middle of the night, the only contact with the outside world being the intermittent crackle of radio sets, supposedly establishing contact, but sometimes I feel, it is for the radio holders just to reassure themselves that there is a world at the other end of the radio set. The Storm is about food deprivation, sleep deprivation, water deprivation. Thirst, hunger, fear and the numbing cold are a constant companion.
I understand that this year our responsibilities are going to be largely placements of the other rookie Marshals along the rally route. Which means we will first have to reach each stage, recce the entire route, then gather all the Marshals in a convoy and keep placing them, placing ourselves at our locations, establish radio contact with the Hops behind and ahead of us, and then wait for the Stage to go live. Which could be hours away. And after the Stage is over, sweep the Marshals along the course and head for the next Stage to repeat the exercise all over again. And the next Stage could be 300 km away. And this is on a good day (or night). Often times participants stray off course and get lost. If they are lost in our watch we have to go look for them and shepherd them back to the paddock. Other avoidable instances are accidents, God forbid.
Sometimes I get the feeling that the organisers do this on purpose. Make the Marshals drive through the night to reach their next location, keep them occupied for most of the night, start the Stage in the wee hours, allow it to go on for much of the night. And as night falls, new duties are handed out and the Marshals drive through the night to reach their next port of call. This way hotel rooms do not need to be booked for most of the Marshals and if per chance some of them do happen to drop by the staging area, remnants of a buffet dinner might be available.
Nah, I am kidding. It is a tough ask to organise a rally as big as the storm. And JD and Raj and team do a fantafabulous job each year. Hats off to them. The work starts months before the actual rally and becomes even more intense on the rally days. It is no mean task to administer this monster of an event. There are the participants who are the real heroes of the show and have to be catered to. As have to their support teams. The rookie and trigger happy Marshals (and I have seen a few of them) are no easy bunch to manage. Food, refreshments, hotel bookings, permits, ambulances, cops, local administration, villagers, run-over dogs (and sometimes cattle), the spills, and the ever present fear that someone will make a mistake and there will be a nasty pile-up. Seven days of pure hell. I am surprised they still look so cool and calm and composed. But behind that serene exterior I am sure there is a racing heart and the fingers dug into the pockets ostensibly due to the cold, are crossed every which way.
So here I am, ready to get go off and get punished, of my own free will. Might come back a few kilos lighter, a lot darker, with a stated promise never to be broken that this was the last year and all the elephants in the jungles of India will not be able to drag me to another Storm. But then, come this time next year, I will be writing a similar blog before heading off into Desert Storm 2013. Inshallah.
No comments:
Post a Comment