As RCB achieved the seemingly impossible, the last week has been a blast on social media. Barring the tragic incident (may the departed rest in peace), it was cathartic to see RCB fans flex their victory to everyone who’d been doubting them for nearly two decades. Autos honked in delight, techies hugged strangers, and Indiranagar became Ibiza for a night. Among the thousands of revellers, I was amused to find some people holding a
banner of the original Royal Challenger – Vijay Mallya.
He appeared in a podcast last week. In vintage Mallya style, he instantly grabbed headlines and became the focal point of social media conversations. It is perhaps the state of public distrust with mainstream media that the man opted for an independent podcast to air his views. I’ll be honest – I don’t know much about his case, or the legal cobwebs surrounding it. My only experience with bank loans was when a friend gave my phone number to a Chinese bank loan app. This isn’t an attempt to condone his actions, but to give readers a glimpse of what Vijay Mallya meant to us growing up.
The 2000s were a strange but delightful decade. The country was witnessing the first benefits of liberalisation, privatisation, and globalisation. Before Elon Musk even began his business, Vijay Mallya was the first celebrity businessman India ever had. The traditional idea of Indian businessmen was to be humble, charitable, and never appear in front of the media. Mallya took those rules and poured champagne all over them. Magazines would sell with him on the cover. Media channels flocked to get a byte from him, or entry into his now legendary parties.
My first flight was on Kingfisher Airlines, and my first beer was a Kingfisher. For a nation that was defined as a ‘third world country’, Mallya gave us glimpses into India stumbling onto the world’s stage. He bought an F1 company long before Netflix made it cool. He bought Tipu Sultan’s sword back from the British. For a young Hriday, he signified aspiration. He was the King of Good Times. And I resolved to work my way up in life to at least become a Minister of Good Times! For an outsider like me, Bengaluru stood for the city of gentlemanly cricketers, lush greenery, and gentle, educated people. Mallya taught the city how to party.
It is a divine coincidence that RCB inherited some of Mallya’s flashy traits. Humongous events, brand partnerships, and glitzy kits. Like Mallya’s business choices, RCB also fumbled for a few years. Unlike the Vijay Mallya story, RCB found its redemption arc. The team was ridiculed, mocked, and written off – only to return in style to claim the riches. While RCB will always have its die-hard fans who have transferred their love to the next generation – the Vijay Mallya story is still mired in legal troubles.
But as a victorious Bengaluru reached out to veterans like AB de Villiers, my thoughts went out to Vijay Mallya. When RCB won, he put out a video with his hands raised – a muted, CSK sort of a celebration. But for an impressionable teenager who has now metamorphosed into a middle-aged man – it took me back to joy of flying for the first time, and thanking Vijay Mallya – for a fantastic experience, food, and the red plastic earphones that were bundled in for free. I wouldn’t recommend drinking, but if you choose to indulge, I’d recommend raising a toast to Vijay Vittal Mallya – the exiled King of Good Times!
(The writer’s views are personal)