ME & MY CARS - Pesi shroff

India’s most successful jockey has traded one horsepower for 119 and oats for diesel. Vardhan Kondvikar goes into the paddock to meet the champion of champions.

Horses must have some trouble carrying him. Not that he’s a one-tonne giant, oh no, just that the weight of achievement — and expectation — must be absolutely massive.
Who’s he? No one really, just India’s most successful jockey — ever. Pesi Shroff has recently retired (apparently to the delight of his much-deprived appetite), but still works at the gorgeous Mahalaxmi Racecourse in Mumbai, training thoroughbreds.
H e drives one too, a Mitsubishi Pajero, whose every suspension link and fuel injector has been developed for going off-road.

Unlike skittish r acehorses however, which aren’t happy unless thundering down the track, the Pajero is a very comfortable, versatile SUV, with a plush interior and enough grunt to pull a stable out of the ground. This is a 1995 diesel, bought off a friend, because it came with an automatic, unlike the ones now sold in India — which are also somewhat expensive! It’s perfect for travelling around the country with his Labrador retriever, and can handle both highways and bad roads.
The Pajero’s seats are great, the body tougher than a Shire horse, and it’s been quite reliable, which helps when you’re tramping around in the back of beyond. Shroff believes SUVs are perfect for this country, with the useability and luxury of a saloon, good ground clearance, a high-up driving position and the feel-good factor that comes from driving a big, strong car. In fact, he’s owned quite a few of them, from the rough-and-ready Mahindra UV and Maruti Gypsy to the more plush Tata Sierra and a Safari. The Safari is fondly remembered, and Shroff believes that with a few improvements, it could be the perfect Indian car. It’s big and comfy, with better seats than even the Pajero, but needs a big step up in quality and performance, and probably an auto option. The cabin in particular needs better fittings if it is to really stand up to luxury saloons. “And why is it so heavy?” he asks. “I could barely open the tailgate!” When I explained that Tata prefers heavy cars because they generally seem safer, he quips, “They probably make the steel themselves!” He’s now looking around for another SUV, but wants to steer clear of the super-expensive ones. We recommended the burly Ford Endeavour, our SUV of the Year, and the very good new CR-V; he nodded appreciatively at the thought of the Ford, but sniffs at the Honda, which he considers a “Breach Candy SUV.” Hmmm.
He also wants a small car for the city, and hops into my new Hyundai Getz, and is quite impressed; we also talk of the new, high-value Tata Marina, an animal quite new to him.
Before he went to the SUVs, he used to drive his father’s ‘dukkar’ Fiat, then graduated to a Premier Padmini, for which he was privileged to wait over six months before receiving. Then there was a powerful and rock-solid Mercedes-Benz 300D, still one of the most exciting cars he’s driven. These cars have taken him all over the country, both on business and just to get away from it all. He used to love driving along the arrow-straight Amraoti-Akola road, which, 20 years ago, was far ahead of its time. One memorable drive took him from Delhi to Nashik via the fearsome Chambal Valley; he just says sheepishly: “We went through it at night, and just didn’t understand why it was so quiet, why there were absolutely no cars on the road.”
After trying to imagine this quite surreal scene, I shoot off some questions at him; there’s one that thumbnails his life perfectly. “What would you do with your last litre of fuel? “Why, I suppose I’d burn it and jump on horseback!”