Tank Up bike festival: Celebrating motorcycles and building the community

IBW. Motoverse. Motosoul. Three bike festivals with varying degrees of patronage that cram themselves into the same fortnight, and into the same venues, year after year. The latter two, Motoverse and Motosoul, showcasing the efforts of the single brands they represent, namely Royal Enfield and TVS, are generally marketing exercises, with a bit of racing thrown in. India Bike Week on the other hand is a full-blown carnival with music, talks, moto-parades, arm wrestling, ‘loudest bike’ competitions – a veritable circus of noise and mayhem set amongst stalls that sell, sell, sell. A marketplace that has forgotten the real motorcyclist. Talks by adventurers that have crossed the world on motorcycles are drowned out by music playing 30 metres away, or by the death squads that bring their machines from far away states, only to rev them to a sudden, untimely end at the highest-decibel award function!

I avoided IBW 2024 completely. It had the drama and the glitz but lacked the ‘real’ that makes these gatherings iconic. With all the brands lining up to display the new models to be launched in 2025, the show was more like a small ‘desi’ EICMA, but much noisier. The festival had lost direction – it was more about bikes and less about the ‘biker’. It was more about what bike you rode than about how well you rode, or where you rode to. Just as the disillusionment with the festival organisers grew, Tank Up popped up on my Instagram feed. It sounded fresh, unhurried and cool. A bikers’ gathering in Kaza. I scrolled back to know more.

The Tank Up festival was in its 6th iteration. It had been organised in Gurgaon, Kaza, Panchgani, Chennai, Bangalore and now once again in Spiti. It was being put together by real people, real bikers – namely Vir Nakai, Harshman Rai, Shalini, Karanbir ‘Deyzor’ Bedi, Maral Yazarloo and Ouseph Chacko. Not event management companies fuelled by corporate sponsors and manufacturers, whose money once taken leads to a host of contracts that govern deliverables, which include a ‘good word’ about the product on display. Not here. I openly voiced my opinions, likes and dislikes on the newly launched KTM bikes. The fact that I virulently dislike the front mudguard, not the splash protector but the one higher up, on both the KTM Adventure S and the Enduro R, caused no one to rush to the event organiser’s cabin and ask for the power source to the mic in my hand be immediately cut off, so that the opinions of a handful of media, who have given rave reviews for the styling, are not contradicted.

In short, at the Tank Up one can say anything about any motorcycle and be listened to, even though the congregation might not agree, without the slightest bit of corporate pressure on the organisers. Because there are no sponsors, there is no pressure of any kind. BMW had sent a couple of their newly launched F 900 GS machines with the tell-tale red plates. They were parked nonchalantly beside the barbeque whose smoke occasionally obscured the shiny offerings from Berlin. It was such a low key and unassuming display that people strolled over and gave it the once over. No frenetic anchor imploring the crowds to see the wonderfully plastic coated saree guard or the adjustable quick shift or the flip up, toothed, rear brake lever. Nothing. Just the soft plop of a pork chop being dipped into barbeque sauce yet again and the resulting sizzle that brought riders closer to the sacrificial altar of the fattened pig. Once there, they saw the bike and were drawn to it like moths to the flame. Subtle. Classy.

There were souvenir stalls where one could buy ‘merch’, the entry fee was nominal, the food amazing and most importantly, the music was either the roar of the river, or that of motorcycle exhausts as riders from all corners of the country climbed the snow lined roads to Kibber and Tashigang. The day was spent in rutted, wet trails that harboured ice in their shady corners, waiting for an unwary victim. Stuck riders were pulled and pushed by their brethren, laughter and derision filling the air, as they finally got free of the sticky fingers of Spiti mud. The stories were told repeatedly around the evening bonfires, bonding groups from Delhi, Chandigarh and Pune alike.

What we need for next year is more riders making the pilgrimage to Tank Up wherever it might be. If you are into motorcycling and have stories to tell with no axe to grind – we need you to stand up and tell us what makes you tick.

And yes, I forgot to mention the beer. In Kaza it is always chilled. Naturally, organically. Vir has asked me to lead a ride into Tank Up and Kaza in 2026. I will be there – will you?