Slipping into the Night
The clock struck 10:15 PM, its faint ticking the only sound in the small house. The dim glow of the night bulb cast long shadows on the walls. Sukhman lay on his cot, pretending to be asleep, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He had done this before—sneaking out for races—but every time, the risk felt greater.
Slowly, he pushed the thin blanket aside and sat up without a sound. His father's gentle snoring came from the next room. His mother and sister were fast asleep. He tiptoed toward the desk where his father's Maruti 800 keys lay.
A brief hesitation.
If Papaji found out, he would be furious.
But this race was too big to miss.
With steady hands, he picked up the keys, shoved them into his pocket, and slipped out into the night.
Outside, the air was cool, the streets quiet except for the distant barking of a stray dog. His father's Maruti 800, a small, old hatchback with faded white paint, stood under the streetlight. It wasn't built for racing, but he had modified it just enough to make it work.
He unlocked the door, slid into the driver's seat, and turned the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered before roaring to life.
"Chal mere sher," he muttered, gripping the steering wheel.
He pressed the accelerator gently, letting the car glide forward. Once he reached the highway, he shifted gears and floored it. The car lurched forward, tires screeching against the asphalt.
He was off to NH 44, where his fate awaited him.
---
The Race Begins
After half an hour of intense driving, dodging slow-moving trucks and overtaking night buses, Sukhman reached the racing spot.
NH 44—a long stretch of dark highway with sharp curves—was alive with energy. Dozens of people gathered around, some sitting on their bikes, others leaning against their cars. The racers lined up their machines, revving their engines in excitement.
As Sukhman parked, Harinder rushed to him.
"Oye Paaji, where the hell were you?" Harinder asked, throwing his arms up.
Sukhman sighed, stepping out of the car. "Yaar, you know my father doesn't like me getting involved in these races."
Harinder grinned. "Good thing you don't listen to him."
Sukhman ignored him and walked toward the starting line, where four other racers were waiting. Each had sleek, modified rides—Honda Civics, a Swift Sport, even an old Lancer Evolution.
And then there was him, with his tiny Maruti 800.
A few bystanders chuckled. Someone whispered, "Yeh baccha kya karega?" (What will this kid do?)
Sukhman didn't care.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, eyes locked on the road ahead.
The starter girl stepped forward, holding a red scarf in the air.
"Three… Two… One… GO!"
The scarf dropped.
Engines roared as the racers launched forward.
---
The Race – A Battle of Speed and Skill
The Maruti 800 wasn't the fastest car, but Sukhman had something the others lacked—precision and guts.
Within seconds, the other racers surged ahead, their powerful cars spitting fire from the exhausts.
Sukhman gritted his teeth and pushed his car to the limit.
First turn—sharp left.
The Civic in front of him took it too wide. Sukhman saw the gap and cut inside, overtaking him.
Second turn—downhill curve.
A Swift Sport tried to block him.
Sukhman faked a move to the right—then at the last second, jerked left and slipped past him.
The crowd roared in excitement.
Final stretch—two cars ahead.
A Lancer Evolution and a modified Honda Accord were battling for first place.
Sukhman's Maruti rattled as he floored it, but it was still too slow.
Then—a crazy idea hit him.
Up ahead, there was a steep incline followed by a drop. If he hit it right, he could gain momentum downhill.
He took the risk.
As the Lancer and Accord braked for safety, Sukhman accelerated full throttle, hitting the incline at top speed.
For a moment—his car lifted off the ground.
He felt weightless.
Then—SLAM!
The car landed hard, tires barely gripping the road. But now he had the lead.
With one last push, he crossed the finish line first.
Victory.
But at what cost?
His car's engine sputtered, black smoke rising from the hood. The front bumper was cracked, the headlights flickering.
It was barely in one piece.
---
The Aftermath and an Unexpected Offer
As Sukhman stepped out, Harinder ran toward him, eyes wide with excitement.
"OYE PAAJI!" Harinder shouted. "YOU TOTALLY ROCKED IT!"
The crowd cheered. People came up to congratulate him, slapping his back.
Harinder waved a fat wad of cash in front of him. "Paaji, we won BIG tonight!"
Sukhman smirked, wiping sweat off his forehead. "Yeah, but my car is dead. Papaji is going to kill me."
Harinder grinned. "Oye, no worries! We'll figure something out."
As they laughed, a middle-aged woman in a crisp black blazer and jeans walked toward them. Her sharp brown eyes studied Sukhman intently.
"Excuse me," she said, her voice calm but firm.
The two friends turned.
"I'm Nandini Thakre," she said, extending a hand. "Scout and Racer Head Manager of Vaayu GP."
The name hit them like a thunderbolt.
Vaayu GP—India's first racing team to qualify for the World GP Championship.
Sukhman hesitated before shaking her hand. "Uh… Sukhman Singh."
Nandini smiled. "I watched your race."
His eyes narrowed. "And?"
She crossed her arms. "You're reckless. Your car was too slow, and yet you won."
Harinder interrupted, "Oye, so what? My paaji is the best! If he had new gen cars like these people have then paaji had won it before long."
Nandini chuckled. "Exactly. That's why I'm here."
She turned back to Sukhman.
"I've seen countless racers, but very few who take calculated risks the way you did tonight. In India, we don't have many drivers willing to push limits like that."
Sukhman remained silent, processing her words.
Then—she said something that made his heart stop.
"I want you to join Vaayu GP."
He blinked. "What?"
"You won't be a full-time racer yet," she clarified. "You'll start as a backup racer. Train under professionals, learn the industry, and if you prove yourself… you might get your shot."
Sukhman looked at Harinder. His friend was completely stunned.
"I won't lie," Nandini continued. "GP racing is another world. It's not like these street races. It's harder, faster, and more brutal."
Sukhman took a deep breath.
He had always dreamed of something bigger.
This… was his chance.
"So," Nandini asked, "are you interested?"
The answer was clear.
Sukhman looked up, his eyes burning with determination.
"I'm in."