Of Keira Knightley and Kim Kardashian

There is always a certain satisfaction that is derived from watching a things of beauty. While there is a general agreement about needing more beauty around, there is spectacularly none about the beauties being big. Unless of course when the talk is about automobiles. Since this a an automobile review, the chances are, there is going to be very little said about cars.

You read that right.

After heaving a sigh of relief, please continue reading.

Sleek, they say, is definitely sexy. Agreed. Especially when you look at people called Keira Knightley or Freida Pinto it is very very sexy. While that is so, being full bodied is one step ahead of sexy, it is timeless. To appreciate the difference between the two, one must imagine oneself in a cold, wet, dreary, winter Saturday afternoon, and then imagine holding the aforesaid lasses close to ones chest, as opposed to doing the same with Kim K or even better, Kate Winslet.

The same is the case with most other things. While the latest Alfa Romeo might make you drool and whimper in boyish agony of wanting to toch yourself out of sheer beauty, you wont even so much as glance at them a year later. But a behemoth rail engine, or a gargantuan Bentley will make you moan and sigh and make you want one a 100 years after they have been made.

It should then be an easy for car designers. Make the car look like Kate Winslet or Kim with a difficult to spell second name and a football boy friend, and you have a success. From the looks of it, they have been listening.

However, like the beauties mentioned, we barely have any in India. The cars, I mean. (Before followers of Margaret Mead demand for my crucifixion) We have otherwise fantastic automobiles made to look like patent disasters by crimping on wheel size. One look at the great-from-front-dog-turd-from-rear Yamaha R15 and you will know what I mean.  The resulting mixture can only be described as Salman Khan wearing Rajpal Yadav’s legs.

Oh, yes, we have all this mumbo jumbo about those tyres being specifically made for the bike, the truth remains that Salman is better of with his own legs, even if Rajpal Yadav’s legs are more suited to walking bare-chested on a ramp while lip-syncing a song. The R15 needs better tyres and Yamaha better find a better excuse. We all know that the tyres are to save on costs.

Take a look at any mid-range car, and the story is the same.

All this ranting would mean only one thing. There are no good looking mid-range cars in India. This was so until the blokes at VW suddenly decided to assault our sensibilities with the VW Polo.

It is stunning. One look at it and you will notice how gloriously full it is. The tyres fill the wheel arches perfectly. It is no Johnny Bravo that we have been seeing on our streets. It is no Arnold Austrian with Danny Italian’s legs. It is the Kate Winslet of compact cars. Heck, it could of been the product of Hugh Jackman and the Venus of Cars.

This one is going to jiggle the libido of men and then do some more. If people thought Swift was sexy when it was launched, this can only be described as raunchy-giving-a-lap-dance. It is as destructively beautiful as a B-52 bomber.

The same fullness is carried over to the inside. Everything feels as if it came from a Merc or a BMW. The steering is solid and thick, the doors close with a thunk and the insulation from everything outside is complete once you close the airlock like doors.

Fire the diesel and all you hear is a low throaty rumble that is reminiscent of a far away thunderstorm. Floor the throttle and the response is stupefying. You will suddenly start to feel that the engine is not running on diesel but on a mixture of curd-rice, cow pat and large doses of Valium. It seems as if the brake horses developed have gone grazing. The engine is the automotive equivalent of an ambassador. You just wouldn’t want one.

One this rather very sprightly note, I tottered off to drive the petrol. I simply couldn’t stand sitting in the diesel anymore.

Now then was the time for the Petrol.

Firing the engine up and flooring the throttle is as different as it is the same. there is the similar reassuring judder, and there is the same feeling that creeps in about the car not being driven the fuel it is meant to be driven by. This is were the similarity ends. The engine seems to be running on the love child of Usain Bolt,  an Orgasm, and copious amount of Rocket Fuel.

The petrol, like the diesel, makes only 75 horses, but boy does it make them.

The power delivery is mind-numbing, the handling is divine and the driving experience, tremendous.

This is the automotive equivalent of a VW Polo. There simply is nothing like it in its class.