OFF THE GRID WITH JEHAN DARUVALA

One of India’s most accomplished motorsport exports, Jehan Daruvala opens up about the pressure of high-stakes racing, the struggle for recognition, and why stepping away from the grid, for now, doesn’t mean he’s out of the race.

- VRUTIKS SHAH

The studio is in controlled chaos. Cables snake across the floor like rogue track lines. Light stands are shuffled into new positions every few minutes. There's a low buzz of art direction chatter, camera clicks, and someone frantically trying to just find some coffee. And then, like a well-timed pit stop, Jehan Daruvala walks in-calm, quiet, and composed. He's dressed in a simple denim and t-shirt, carrying two helmets that feel like talismans from two very different lives. The first is instantly arresting: a striking saffron, white and green design with the ancient Zoroastrian Faravahar etched proudly at the back, his name inscribed in a sharp script on the side. It's personal, patriotic, powerful. The second helmet is sleeker, stripped back-black carbon fibre with minimal detailing and maximum cool.

Jehan hands them over with a faint, polite smile and surveys the swarm of assistants, stylists, and creative crew with a mix of curiosity and discomfort. He’s not in his natural habitat. That's a sentence that holds true for Jehan's story—the reality of what it takes beneath the surface. Born in Mumbai to a Parsi family on October 1, 1998, Jehan’s childhood wasn’t steeped in motorsport legacy, but his fascination with speed began early by watching Formula 1 races with his family as a kid. His father, Khurshed Daruvala (MD at Sterling & Wilson, a Shapoorji Pallonji Group affiliate firm) had dabbled in karting too, but it was Jehan who pursued the motorsport dream relentlessly. By age nine, he had started karting in India, training under champion Rayomand Banajee, an eight-time formula, go-karting champion and owner of Rayo Racing.