By Taapsi Ramchandani

Now while we emphatically deny to our foreign friends that cows, buffalo, camels and elephants amble along our Indian streets, the truth of the matter is that you are often more likely to make acquaintance with at least one of the above animals before you make a new friend in the city. I decided to add one more animal to the list just in case my homo sapiens circle of friends threatens to vanish altogether – the beast of burden complete with rippling muscles, the horse.

My quest for a close encounter with the fine animal took me to my friend’s neighbourhood two streets away, where every evening little children trot on horses at a speed of 5kmph, competing very closely with friends on tricycles. Sensing my anguish at the underuse of such beautiful muscles, my friend invited me to the races that weekend, where a horse does what a horse was meant to do – run.

Hello! magazine was hosting its Hello! Million 2010 event, a glitterati-oozing multi-million juvenile race in Mumbai, and it appears I went with the right person because the moment I stepped on the lawn, light bulbs flashed in my face and for the first time I had an “oh, I’m almost famous!” moment. After my tryst with the paparazzi, I was whisked away into the VIP section where the smell of sushi mingled with chicken hors d’oeuvres and wine glasses clinked all the way to the restroom. It was an effort not to be distracted by all these fancies.

The main race was just about to begin. Like a five-year-old who’s just been handed her first balloon, I stared wide-eyed as thundering hooves cleared a turn and dark skin strained under the expert hands of jockeys in a mad attempt to reach the finish line. Behind me there were shouts of joy and louder laments as money switched hands. Where a week ago the value of a horse was reduced to Rs50 for a round of Jogger’s Park, today there were millions riding on the back of each beast.

In the milieu of stars and socialites around me, I felt the headiness of power. You sit there in your large straw hat, dripping with diamonds as you sip your wine and nibble your cheese, and you see in the harsh sun an animal being tamed and commanded to race to entertain you because you can afford the price of that raw muscle. No matter how much you bet, when the race is on, you are part-owner of that deafening sound that reverberates around the stadium.

I say all this from personal experience. To get a whiff of that power surge everyone seemed to be crackling with, I almost bet all my life savings on a horse - I put in Rs10 and got back Rs13. I was high. The next morning as I crossed Jogger’s Park and saw two horses saddled with children again, I felt a dull ache. Trotting around a park versus racing at the whim of the rich - to my ignorant mind the latter seemed the lesser of two evils. I bought the two horses Rs13 worth of peanuts.