Living with Big Cats: Brixton Cromwell 1200

26th July, 2005 — a date seared into the memory of every Mumbaikar, and many beyond the city limits. It was the day the skies broke loose in an unforgiving cloudburst, drowning Mumbai in a deluge like never before. Streets turned into rivers, cars floated like boats, and life came to a standstill. It wasn’t just a flood — it was one of the most harrowing natural disasters the city had ever faced. And yet, through the chaos, the Maximum City's spirit refused to sink.

Among the countless stories of resilience that emerged that day is my mother’s. She was trapped in her barely one-month-old Hyundai Santro, stranded in knee-deep water for nearly six hours — waiting, hoping, braving it all. I was just five years old, and when she returned to Pune the next day — with a shattered windscreen, completely fried electricals, a rather nasty cold and eyes heavy with exhaustion — I hugged her like I never had before. I didn’t quite grasp the gravity of what she had endured, but I knew enough to realise I’d almost not gotten my mum back. And yet — despite it all — she brought back some of my favourite sweets. Somehow, she had protected them better than herself – they were perfectly intact as if they’d travelled in another world. So, what does any of this have to do with our Living with Big Cats feature? Well, to honour the twentieth anniversary of that moment, I decided to retrace her steps. My destination: the Parsi DairyFarm in Marine Lines, Mumbai. My mission: to bring back those very same sweets, two decades later. And the companion for this full-circle ride? The Brixton Cromwell 1200 — a machine I’d been running long-term for the past month for our Living with Big Cats feature. With its return date looming, I figured it deserved a final send-off. A ride layered with nostalgia, reverence, and a touch of rebellion.

The plan was simple: leave Pune by 00:00hrs on July 26, 2025, grab the sweets fresh in the morning, and be back by lunch. But mother nature had different plans. I’ve done the Pune–Mumbai dash more times than I can count — but this ride? Before I even hit the highway, the rain began — not a drizzle, but the kind that silences your engine and floods your visor. And I knew, with a kind of grim certainty, that the deeper I rode into the night, the wilder the monsoon would get. And it did. But I didn’t worry at all – my esteemed steed. The Cromwell is an absolute powerhouse. Its 1222cc parallel-twin engine churns out 83bhp and a colossal 108Nm of torque from as low as 3000rpm, and that makes it an effortless highway cruiser. This is a big mill, and its torque is highly addictive. It feels effortless at triple digit speeds, and no matter what gear you’re in, the bike just darts forward with a force that brings a big smile on your face. The Cromwell can cruise smoothly on the 130-140kmph mark; that night, however, I barely reached 100kmph; the torrential rain was almost blinding. Despite the heavy crosswinds though, the Cromwell remained as steady as a rock, which brings me on to a factor that I absolutely love about this bike. At 235kg, there’s no arguing over the fact that this is a heavy motorcycle, but once on the move this bike instantly deletes about 50kg off its weight. It is a beautifully balanced motorcycle and is super fun to ride spiritedly. At about 3:00am, halfway through my journey, I stopped for a short chai break in cold and foggy Lonavala, warming up and reflecting on my time with the big Brixton. And looking back, man do I miss the bike now!

Five years deep into life as a motor-noter, I’ve sampled the full buffet of bikes — big, small, weird, wonderful — and written my share of love letters and break-up notes to them all. But only a precious handful — barely enough to fill one hand — have truly stirred something in me. Almost all of them have unexpectedly smitten me, and the Brixton Cromwell 1200 is one of them. When I first picked it up, I couldn’t stop staring. The Cromwell is a neo-retro machine that absolutely nails the brief – not just styled to fit the part, but one that looks great from every angle. My test unit wore a Cargo Green paint job, matched with a brown seat that gave it a classic, almost custom vibe. Total dream combo. It’s a simple bike, yes, but built with meticulous attention to detail. From the Brixton font on the headlight, to the detailing around the engine, and the tail, this bike is just gorgeous. And honestly, during the 28 days I had it, I was taken aback by how many people stopped me — at fuel stations, traffic lights, or even just parked — to ask what it was. It’s that kind of a bike. 

When I thumbed the start button for the first time, the 270-degree crank engine roared to life instantly, settling into a steady idle. This mill makes a deep, throaty melody that resonates through your chest, the kind that could put Beethoven to shame. The sort of sound you could happily listen to forever. For anyone buying a big bike, the soundtrack from the exhaust pipes is a crucial part of the experience — and the note that flows from the Cromwell’s gorgeous twin pipes, elegantly tapered at the ends, is one that never gets old, especially when the revs climb past 3,500rpm. It’s just the right amount of loud and sounds rich and full-bodied — exactly what you’d expect from a premium, high-quality motorcycle. The overall fit and finish are impressive too. Barring a few minor areas, the Cromwell feels almost on par with legacy manufacturers — and that’s remarkable, considering Brixton isn’t even a decade old. This Austrian brand began operations in 2016 and is owned by the KSR Group, established in 2015. In India, Brixton motorcycles are distributed by MotoHaus, with bikes arriving as completely knocked-down (CKD) units and assembled in Kolhapur, Maharashtra. Pricing across the range is aggressive, and the Cromwell 1200 is no exception. At ₹7.84 lakh (ex-showroom), it undercuts its closest rival by a cool ₹4 lakh — offering tremendous value for money. Nearly everyone who asked me about the bike said the same thing: it looks like it should cost much more than it does. So when it comes to the sheer feel good factor: the Cromwell definitely delivers. 

I continued with my ride, leaving the twisties behind and hitting the final stretch of highway — just before reaching the outskirts of Mumbai, where the tarmac had disintegrated into a mess of crater-ridden roads. By 4 a.m., the rainstorm had intensified dramatically, but I kept going. The Cromwell’s supple suspension soaked up everything in its path with remarkable poise. This bike rides brilliantly. It’s equipped with KYB suspension at both ends, and the damping is spot on. It does an excellent job of smoothing out the sharp edges and rough patches that dominate our roads. Even extreme surprises — like a hidden pothole at 150kmph — are dealt with calmly and without drama. Don’t ask me how I know that. What I can say with confidence is that I’m genuinely impressed by the comfort this bike offers — from its beautifully tuned suspension to the ergonomics: a soft, well-padded seat and a relaxed, upright riding posture that makes long hours in the saddle surprisingly easy. Braking is handled by Nissin units, which offer strong bite and solid feedback. However, in wet conditions, they tend to go slightly wooden — a minor gripe, but one worth noting. The area where the Cromwell could use the most improvement, in my opinion, is the gearbox. Gear shifts are anything but slick — they feel occasionally clunky. Thankfully, you don’t need to work it often, because the Cromwell can happily pull from as low as 20kmph in third gear.

At 6am, I reached Marine Lines — a good two hours before the Parsi Dairy Farm would open. With the rain finally easing off, I decided to catch a short nap along the sea face. The city welcomed me with a quiet, golden sunrise that felt almost poetic — soft, warm, and unexpectedly moving. It felt like a sign: that after every storm, something good waits at the other end — for those who endure, who keep going. Just like my mother did, twenty years ago.

By 8am, I was outside the dairy, ready to order — and oh, so happy. I picked up a fresh piece of Malai Khaja (you really should Google it — a traditional Parsi dessert with crisp, flaky layers on the outside and a rich, creamy malai filling on the inside. Highly recommended), packed it carefully into my backpack, and began the ride back to Pune. On the return leg, I gave it the beans. The rain had eased to a light drizzle, and the roads had mostly dried up. I topped up the Cromwell’s 16-litre tank, switched it into Sport mode — which sharpens throttle response — and set off. I made it back just in time for lunch. Surprising my mother that day was one of the most soul-satisfying moments I’ve ever experienced. And what a machine to have by my side for the journey.

The Brixton Cromwell is a motorcycle that stirs emotion — one that speaks to your inner self. It’s comfortable, powerful, and carries a regal presence that makes you turn back for one last glance after you’ve parked and walked away. No, it isn’t perfect — the headlight could be brighter, and the instrument cluster a bit more intuitive — but what it offers is something far more valuable: connection. Over the one month that I had it, I learned that it’s a bike you bond with, one you’d never want to part ways with. It elevates the simple act of getting from A to B and turns every ride into a memory. I can say with confidence — if you decide to bring one home, you’ll likely find yourself wanting to keep it for life. And now, the Cromwell is more than just a name on my dream garage list — it’s part of a story I’ll never forget.