An ode to a Madcap

Whitelion screams – there is life after a broken heart. But at this juncture, my heart is not just broken, it is suspended in disbelief. There is some news that has not sunk in yet or maybe I am just being stubborn to believe it.

The one and only Yejaman passed on.

It seemed like yesterday when I met him – this is Jan 2006 when I was a rookie in the club and RM 06 was my first ever “Rider Mania”. I still remember trotting alongside Dodo as he was the only person I knew at that point. There were about 200 or more riders from Casurina Bay that rode to Mahabs and back for the “City ride” ritual in RM. As we returned back, we pulled over at a chai shop. Dodo, Prashy and myself.

It was a chat I will never ever forget. Him and his Flying Flea. A cafe racer motorcycle and a personality to boot. Over a cuppa warm chai, he was explaining how he fired up a sparkplug- the plain description of it would ignite a corpse. I fell in love with how he explained the whole process and it sparked my saga with Hotel California – MBMC.

They were the big boys and boy was I in awe. Over the years, we met over many events – Anniversaries, Rider mania and the likes. I went through a dark patch and was mia for a while, but when I surfaced, he was the same I knew from 2006.

Yenna brother !!! Orey chamak aa !! Those were some of his words. They had a ring to it. Whatever mood you were in, those words brought a smile to your face.

Fast forward into the 2017’s and 2018’s where he was the go-to person for a lot of things. From opinions on exhausts to being the test mule, it was an experience talking to him. The passion he brought to the table is not something words can explain.

Then there was RM 09 and RM 17 – Ooty and Kundapur. Finesse at its best. Words fail when one has to describe the actual effort he had taken as an individual and collectively as a club. He was the heart of the event and boy knew how to throw surprises. Ask the guys who were there in Kundapur how three Russian dancers blazed the stage out of the blue.

Prashy was Prashy. A one of a kind. Over the last couple decades being part of the community, I have met folks, but none like him. He was unique. He was alive.

There are some folks who have known him more than I have, ridden with him more than I have and have interacted in multiple occasions that I have, but from the little I have known the man, I know one thing – RM 2023 at Shillong will miss this enigma.

I also happened to know Prashy through Moses anna. I still remember that chat we had where he explained how he knew a petrol head who used to own a kazillion motorcycles but had the brain of a genuis. It didn’t take me a second to ask him – is his name Prashanth. Both our eyes lit up when we realized we were talking of the same guy. Professionally, he was a whiz. He had it all – Brains, balls and a whole load of passion.

I had a fall once while riding to Kerala. At some anniversary, I was talking to Yejaman about it and he said – macha – you’ll reach, never put a time to when you’ll reach. It is all about the journey. Sometimes, there are detours. I believe he has taken a detour.

Time will heal. Will it, really? What happened on that day, at that time, only God and him know. To the rest of us, it is disbelief. Maybe to him, it is peace.

While we mourn, miss and admire you – May you rest in peace.

You remain Yejaman. Always.

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