For phaeton owners in Kolkata, the Mayans had nearly proved prescient. The year 2012 was almost apocalyptic. Morning walkers were offended by the dung of their horses. They weren’t alone. During one of her secret evening walks near Victoria Memorial, the West Bengal chief minister too had her olfactory receptors assaulted. Pat came Mamatadi’s order — “Ban these carriages at once.” There were allegations of lathi-charge and whispers of hushed negotiations. The police finally softened and some new rules were enforced. “We now park here only after 11am,” says Mohammad Adil, a carriage driver. “If we know that Didi is in the area, we make sure that we stand at attention with our carriages. Nobody moves at that point of time.” The back of Adil’s phaeton even has a Mamata Banerjee poster. “She looks after us and Trinamool looks after our union,” he says, with a smile.
Of the 32 phaetons that park outside the Victoria Memorial every week, 22 are now believed to have valid licenses. Together with the single colts and mares, which provide customers a feel of the horseback, carriages account for the 80-odd horses in Kolkata’s Queen’s Way area. Many owners here believe that the process of nomenclature does more than just demonstrate their affection towards a horse; it also gives the animal an identity. A white mare, for instance, is lovingly called Gudiya — “Just look at her eyes. It’s like looking at a doll,” says her owner Sunny. The speed of a young agile steed has earned him the moniker Rocket, while a black stallion has unfortunately had to surrender to the bounty of his skin colour — Kaalu. Feeding his two horses, Biscuit and Badal, Adil explains, “Biscuit because you can hear the crunch on the gravel when he races and Badal because he is like a white cloud.”
Like many of his compatriots, eight-year-old Biscuit was bought from the Sonepur cattle fair for ₹40,000, but Badal, now 12, was purchased for the princely sum of ₹70,000 from Varanasi. “Badal was the first horse my brother bought. He is everyone’s favourite,” says Adil. Claiming that his family has now been in the phaeton trade for over half-a-century, the 22-year-old describes the daily itinerary of his horses with meticulous precision.
For breakfast, they are fed a mixture of chaff and chickpeas with some water and grass as supplements. They are then bathed with specialised scrubs and brushes. With morning ablutions completed, they are finally brought to the city’s Maidan. “Since the walk heats up their bodies, we wait for a while before giving them grass again.”
Sanju, owner of two phaetons, stands nearby, inspecting the application of Savlon on one of his horse’s wounds. “Do you have children of your own?” he asks. “If you did, you’d know. We take care of our horses the way one takes care of his or her children.” Surprisingly, it is easy for Sanju to substitute his analogy of offspring with one of cars. He says that even though he has two carriages, he makes sure he has six horses. “We all need a stepney from time to time,” he says. With only October to February being profitable months, it would be hard to look after a herd of horses, but 29-year-old Sanju says he earns enough to make ends meet. “Fifteen years ago, I gave up education for horses. So what if they each cost me ₹500 a day? In the end, they also pay me more.”
Immortalised in several Bengali period dramas such as Kartik Chattopadhyay’s Sahib Bibi Golam (1956) and Tapan Sinha’s Atithi (1966), the phaeton was Kolkata’s favoured mode of transport through much of the 19th century. It was commonly believed that when a phaeton pulled up with sickly horses, the master had squandered much of his zamindari wealth. According to Debasis Chakraberti of the Compassionate Crusaders Trust, a charitable organisation dedicated to animal welfare, none of today’s carriage owners can afford to be so reckless. “ Many of these carriage horses are used for weddings and religious processions. They bring in a fair sum of money. If they didn’t look healthy and well-fed, no bridegroom will agree to ride them on his special day,” he says.
Chakraberti adds that during the years he personally tended to stray horses near Victoria, he found that many of the phaetons used discarded race steeds. “Most of these are of a good breed. They wouldn’t survive if they aren’t well-nourished.” For the past 18 years, Mohammad Sattar has been massaging his employer’s eight horses, polishing their skin and tending to their every need. “If these horses were in the wild, they’d be eaten in no time. With us, they are fed and looked after. Even though they are animals, I feel in sync with them. Without them, we’d have no food to give our families.” Sattar interrupts his reverie to gaze at Victoria Memorial. “No one needs us anymore, but it is because of the blessings of my Mallika Rani (Queen Victoria) that we’re here today. Horses have been around since the time of kings and queens. We’re continuing that tradition.” Convinced that his carriages aren’t going to be sent anywhere, Sattar concludes, “If Victoria Memorial gives Kolkata pride, we give the Victoria some of its glamour.”
( Shreevatsa Nevatia is a Kolkata-based writer)