I do not remember since when my association with the Black Horse started. Was it love at first sight or was it a fascination which I didn’t realize had happened all of a sudden? Whatever and however it was, it was an association which I love and hate myself and the Black Horse for.
To me the Black Horse is a not a place in the city. It is not just a forgotten and forlorn piece of land. Nor is it just an art- lover’s paradise. The Black Horse stands for the world as a whole. It is the manifestation of all human nature magnificently embodied into a place which houses every aspect that defines man. Ambiguous to some as it may be, it is a sheer delight to anyone who comes there.
The Black Horse which originally stood in the art district of the city (Kalaghoda) is not there in its physical form as of now- it right now stands at Jijamata Udyan. One can just find a mural depicting a black horse out there. Stretching from the old Mumbai University building to Regal Cinema, Kalaghoda is a grand affair in itself. As said before, it is man in all its form. From art galleries (Jehangir, Bodhi, Modern Art Gallery, Pavement Gallery, Hacienda etc) to eateries (Gelato, Copper Chimney, Joss, Samovar, Chetna and even sandwich and bhelpuri wallahs), educational institutes (Mumbai University, Max Mueller Bhavan, Elphistone College) to historical landmarks (Lion Gate, Great Western Building, Army and Navy Building, Prince of Wales Museum), from worship places (Knesseth Eliyahoo Synagogue, St Andrew and Columba’s Church) to shops (FabIndia, Globus, Westside) and even the exclusive Rhythm House which is a music lover’s temple- Kalaghoda has it all housed in its wonderful precinct.
The Black Horse has been an object of charm for many- artists, foodies, fashion designers, literary buffs, actors, dancers, and even the not-so-arty lot like doctors, businessmen, and bankers. The Black Horse has been a source of inspiration to all.
It must have indeed been a magnetic pull that brought me here ages ago- a young girl looking with awe at the empty, quiet streets; the trees swaying ‘bout to the rhythm of the blowing wind. And since then, it’s been a torrid affair. This is the place I call home. This is where my world lies. This is where in fact the world becomes an oyster.
To me the Black Horse is a not a place in the city. It is not just a forgotten and forlorn piece of land. Nor is it just an art- lover’s paradise. The Black Horse stands for the world as a whole. It is the manifestation of all human nature magnificently embodied into a place which houses every aspect that defines man. Ambiguous to some as it may be, it is a sheer delight to anyone who comes there.
The Black Horse which originally stood in the art district of the city (Kalaghoda) is not there in its physical form as of now- it right now stands at Jijamata Udyan. One can just find a mural depicting a black horse out there. Stretching from the old Mumbai University building to Regal Cinema, Kalaghoda is a grand affair in itself. As said before, it is man in all its form. From art galleries (Jehangir, Bodhi, Modern Art Gallery, Pavement Gallery, Hacienda etc) to eateries (Gelato, Copper Chimney, Joss, Samovar, Chetna and even sandwich and bhelpuri wallahs), educational institutes (Mumbai University, Max Mueller Bhavan, Elphistone College) to historical landmarks (Lion Gate, Great Western Building, Army and Navy Building, Prince of Wales Museum), from worship places (Knesseth Eliyahoo Synagogue, St Andrew and Columba’s Church) to shops (FabIndia, Globus, Westside) and even the exclusive Rhythm House which is a music lover’s temple- Kalaghoda has it all housed in its wonderful precinct.
The Black Horse has been an object of charm for many- artists, foodies, fashion designers, literary buffs, actors, dancers, and even the not-so-arty lot like doctors, businessmen, and bankers. The Black Horse has been a source of inspiration to all.
It must have indeed been a magnetic pull that brought me here ages ago- a young girl looking with awe at the empty, quiet streets; the trees swaying ‘bout to the rhythm of the blowing wind. And since then, it’s been a torrid affair. This is the place I call home. This is where my world lies. This is where in fact the world becomes an oyster.
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