Going to the races is an event in itself. The beautiful thoroughbreds thundering past the winning post in full gallop cheered on by a glamorous crowd is an experience that is breathtaking. Racing expert and TV host Mohit Lalwani leads us through a classic day in the life of horse racing.

The Mahalaxmi racecourse is often referred to as the crown jewel of the Island of Bombay. A pristine and vast expanse of well-manicured greenery offers many a “bombaywallah” an opportunity to stretch their legs within the confines of a city bursting at its seams. More often than not, most of these people complete their rounds of the racecourse and head back home without as much as a thought of getting behind the fortress Like walls of the Royal Western India Turf Club and spending a day at the races. Those who cross the wall in the hope that Mahalaxmi, the Goddess of wealth will favor them and that they will return home with more than just a dollar and a dream.

A normal race card has at least seven races and the best way for visitors to begin their day is with a meal at Gallops - the famous race course eatery where one can slice one’s way through some mouth-watering, succulent kebabs and while doing so, sip down a spicy, bloody Mary to prepare for the challenge ahead of selecting winners, One hour later and two kilos heavier though two kilos happier too, with the first objective achieved, its time to leave the medieval interiors of Gallops and head towards the paddock where the horses for the first race are being mounted by their jockeys - miniature men ‘n flaming silks of a myriad of colors.

A horse called Land lord looks the best and so we decide to play a hundred rupees at the tote counters. A pleasant looking, Dhansak filled, Farsi lady counts out our change of four hundred rupees a fastidious three times - just a few centimeters away from her eyes - before handing us the ticket with a soft “good luck”. We wonder if we’ve been privileged or are her wishes just those that she offers to all who stop at her window. A few minutes later, to our shock Landlord wins and in our excitement we forget about the Parsi lady and her wishes that probably made this exhilarating moment happen for us. We are now six hundred rupees richer and happier.

Walking back to the paddock, we see the famous actor Feroz Khan who has a runner later on in the day. He mentions to his confidantes that he is heading to Vijay Mallya’s private box to spend the rest of afternoon. Apart form liquors and arlines, MalIya has dabbled with film production in the past and so we are certain that the two will have plenty to discuss notwithstanding that both gents have owned classic winners the five most important and prestigious races run each year in India. Over the years, Mallya has sponsored the Derby, which is traditionally run each first Sunday of February, and guarantees a winning stake of an astounding one crore rupees to the winner of the race.

Shapoor Mistry, Dr. Ramaswamy, Khushroo Dhujibhoy, and Deepak Khaitan are just some of the owners with a large enough string of horses to chase this prize.
Its soon time for the next race and there is no truer adage than the one that says you are only as good as your last winner or as bad as your last loser. Not wanting to find ourselves in the latter category, we select a horse called Don’t Be Silly and immediate y look for the Parsi lady in the tote room and her wishes. To our horror, every window looks the same and with baby serpentine queues at each, it’s taken us a little under a half hour to forget where the window with the Parsi lady is. Cursing ourselves, we see a throng of people rushing towards the Bookie ring and decide that maybe its time for us to stretch ourselves and run with the big boys in the real market.

Picture the cloth market in “Guru” and that’s pretty much your bookie ring at the race course. People upon people screaming to find the best odds while a ring of bookie- manned stalls look down at the hapless lot of God’s children called “punters”. All destined to dream and most, unfortunately destined to lose, Strengthened by the belief that we fall in the minority category we proudly punt two hundred rupees on Don’t Be Silly only to feel just that five minutes later when she finishes fourth. We realize then that the unsmiling bookie didn’t wish us luck and with a sense of grudge towards him we head back to the paddock to continue our war of wits,

We look at the race book it’s called the “Cole” and has been in existence as long as Independent India has. We see the name of the legendary ex-jockey and now trainer Pesi Sarnoff alongside a horse called Dream Destiny and decide that this is the one to set us right again. We rush to the tote-to find our window and its Parsi lady before an else can get to her and steal our luck. She’s there for the taking and we pounce on her, hastily handing her one hundred and waiting in anticipation as she runs through the same Process before handing us our change and the ticket. Then it comes. The magical two words that softly escape her lips and fall upon as a blessed beam of light.

Dream Destiny wins and we head back to Gallops imagining what life would be like if we could have this lady all to ourselves. But kidnapping is frowned upon in most civilized nations and so we give up all thoughts of that business opportunity. The cold coffees in the fading sunlight taste ever so refreshing and we reflect on a gratifying day with a promise to return to the races soon with a dollar, a dream, and hopefully, with lady luck’s and the Goddess Mahalaxmis blessings.