Fifty-two seconds into Sooraj Cherukat aka Hanumankind’s smash hit Big Dawgs — ranked at number 9 on Billboard Global 200 charts — an unassuming woman in a navy blue top and white pants hops onto a red TVS inside a maut ka kuan (well of death or a velodrome). A second later, Kashish Sheikh is zipping around the velodrome — seemingly defying gravity — against gritty beats and Cherukat’s anthem pulsing in the background.
It was a chance visit to a mela (fair) nearly two decades ago that left the Kalyan-based Kashish, who is in her late 30s, captivated with a daring woman stunt rider in a maut ka kuan.
Speaking to The Indian Express on the phone from Kollam, Kerala, where her team, Sri Sai Great Indian Maruti Circus, has set up their 20-foot tall velodrome for a 40-day stint, she says, “I saw a maut ka kuan for the first time almost 20 years ago. I was captivated to see a woman stunt rider among the men. I befriended her and soon joined the team.”
A dying art, maut ka kuan sees stunt performers ride bikes and drive cars inside a barrel-like temporary structure made of hardwood planks. Spectators stand on a platform at the top of this well to watch the stunts. The carnival staple is largely a male domain. In the video, Kashish is the only woman rider among the three male stunt riders, including her colleague-turned-husband Sultan Sheikh.
When Big Dawgs, produced by Kalmi Reddy and boasting over 90 million YouTube views, was filmed, their camp, which is owned by the couple, was set in Ponnani, a municipality in Malappuram, Kerala. “Our camp ended on May 5 but the velodrome was left intact for the song, which was shot in a day by director Bijoy Shetty,” says Kashish, adding that though audiences had dwindled over the years, Big Dawgs’s success has resulted in a slight increase in their numbers at the maut ka kuan.
Recalling her start inside the maut ka kuan, Kashish says matter-of-factly, “Initially, I rode pillion with Sultan (then, her colleague) on a bike to draw the crowd’s attention. I was so scared at first that my hands and legs were trembling, but my colleagues helped build my confidence.”
When Kashish expressed her desire to ride solo, the responsibility fell to Sultan. “Riding on the road is quite different from riding inside the well. You need to balance yourself, shift your weight and understand the machine,” explains Sultan, 39, who hails from Pandharpur in Maharashtra, adding, “Balancing on the road while making U-turns is similar to balancing in the motordrome — it’s an endless series of U-turns.”
Despite her fears, Kashish says Sultan promised that he would not let her fall. “He’s kept that promise. In the beginning, when I would forget to change gears or accelerate correctly, he would catch me as the bike would fall. He still checks my bike thoroughly before each performance,” she adds.
While Kashish seems shy on the phone due to her “lack of formal education”, the videos reveal a different side of her — one of remarkable skill and fearlessness as she rides a bike without holding the handlebars and lies atop a moving car, like it’s no big deal.
“I am no longer afraid to perform all the stunts. My goal is to entertain people. When the audience is happy, they bless us,” she says.
Partners in the velodrome, Kashish and Sultan decided to become partners in life in 2006. But their love story, like the motordrome, was hardly easy since they belong to different communities.
“Our families did not approve of our marriage, so we decided to wait,” Sultan says, as Kashish adds with a laugh, “But we had two children in between.”
The couple got married in 2011. Though Kashish’s name was changed from Kanchan by her mother-in-law after her marriage, Sultan still calls her Kanchan. The couple’s children, now 17 and 15 years, are being raised by their maternal grandmother in Kalyan, near Mumbai.
Stating that the world looks “very different” from inside the velodrome, Kashish says many people see them as “tamashawale (entertainers)” and “lawaris (the abandoned)” and not “artistes”. “Due to this perception, we mostly perform in Kerala and Karnataka,” she says.
Sultan notes, “There’s increasing communal hatred and casteism. We visit our village in Maharashtra and our home in Kalyan a couple of times a year, but we prefer to perform where we’re appreciated.”
Living a nomadic lifestyle, Kashish, Sultan and their team of five — including three riders — move camps every 15 to 40 days. “About five days before camp ends, we find our next location. We pack everything — from the velodrome to our makeshift kitchen — into lorries and set off,” they explain.
On accidents while performing, Kashish says while she has been fortunate to avoid any, Sultan has faced a few issues recently. “Once, his bike got a flat tire, another time, the chain came off. Riding on wooden planks can be very slippery, especially during the rainy season,” she says.
When asked how they deal with risks, the couple shrugs it off. “There’s risk in everything. People can die in their sleep when their time is up. Why worry?” they say, emphasising that their profession is for the Big Dawgs who love automobiles.
