Tunku and Think Big, Melbourne Cup winner, 1975. I remember a time when I was a pre-schooler. In front of the family black-and-white TV, I got all excited when a horse appeared on the screen. Maybe they were screening Mr Ed, the talking horse or something like that. I must have said something to the effect of, "I saw many horses the other day. Appa took me there!" looking directly at Amma. That is when the fight started. True. There was a time when Appa used to frequent the racing turf club for little thrills and pennies. I was brought there, only once, I presume, before I spilt the beans. Naturally, over the years, I became convinced that horse racing is terrible and the negative association with betting. Slowly, one by one, as in an all-or-none, everything was laid upon me. The first drop of alcohol would turn you into a raging alcoholic. One deep breath of nicotine would damage your lungs irreparably. At the tender age, when all of one's focus should be on ...
It is all Mimesis