On a Bangalore winter morning, walking into a nondescript lane called - 'A' street - beyond the Markazi mosque of Shivajinagar, I chanced upon Subhan. Leant over a bathtub he was scooping up a mixture of grain and bran into a bucket while a curious white horse looked over his shoulder. A slight man in his thirties, Subhan spoke little and moved quietly from one animal to the next, placing drums of feed for each of the five horses in the shed. Fayaz brought over the sixth, affectionately named - ulti-pulti and gave it a drum of water. They were preparing to give the animal a bath. It's the birthday of a colonel and a horse had been rented.
Broadway Chariots owned by Sadiq was started back in the eighties by his father. Being the only son, he took over and has managed to weather through tough times in the business. One of the last few remaining horse rentals in Bangalore, Sadiq does business all over Karnataka and bordering Tamil Nadu. A wedding horse must be white - the colour of nobility - on which the groom rides down to marry his bride. Horses are sold and bought through various breeders from Bijapur in North Karnataka to Western Maharashtra as well as Pushkar where the cattle fairs are organized annually.
"Unlike the stallions at the turf club, these ghodis don't run free. But we are attached to them, and they are to us. Just like we earn our keep, they must do so too" - Sadiq Pasha tells me as he saddles up Kolari. He has been with Broadway Chariots since he was 18 years old. He puts up three fingers, then five to tell me his age - thirty five. Educated only until the fifth standard, he was put to work soon after his father passed. The animals have been his companions and he has travelled far and wide transporting them to weddings and ceremonies. "Sadiq bhai takes care of all the boys well. My son and daughter go to school now. This is seasonal work but I like this over driving an auto in the city."
All the men go back to their families at the end of the work day except Subhan. Behind the asbestos roofed horse shed is a tiny dark room with a hard cot where he sleeps. A plastic can hangs on a nail presumably for drinking water. The others worry about him and express their concern to me - "He is an orphan. Hopefully your project will help him in some way."
A quirk of fate brought Subhan to work with horses, Sadiq tells me. His phone rings before I can enquire further. They are both called off to duty as the wedding season is in full swing. The last two ghodis in the shed were loaded into a mini truck headed towards Palace grounds.
These working animals canter along tarred thoroughfares to the cacophonous jazz of wedding crowds and brass bands. A different rider each night, to be delivered safely to his betrothed. Back in the shed I watched the stirrups that held the groom's juttis come down, the saddle is thrown into a low attic – the wedding party has ended. I catch a glimpse of Subhan pinching the muzzle of the horse in quiet affection. The white mare whinnies as its handler retires to his quarters.
