Of Sticks and Things

Ask a lay-person if they know what material polo balls and mallets are made of; and nine times out of ten, the smug answer will be 'wood'! Armed with the nukes of wisdom contained in this extraordinarily informative article you can then answer," Close, but not quite, old chap.", with that supremely condescending smugness which is such a pleasure to bestow upon those less informed than you . "It's bamboo, actually. Made in West Bengal. Y'know, Bengal tigers, and all that. They still actually make them by hand, by Jove! " Having fired your salvo, you pause to survey the damage. It usually knocks the blighters down, and they either slide back into the woodwork or change the topic jaldi-quick. But once in a while, you do meet a stubborn one who persists in his folly on the strength of his having been in the runners-up team of the Bournvita general knowledge Quiz Contest held amongst the schools of the upper Zambezi.

Poor lad. Taking pity on his youth, you decide to give him a chance to back out. "They make the ball from the roots, y'know. The root is lopped off from the rest of the cane and then trimmed of the smaller branch roots, before it's ends are rounded and it is chopped into two halves. I'll wager you didn't knows that you can make two polo balls from one bamboo root?" You now turn to the misguided interloper with a benign smile that lets him knows that he is in the presence of a master Yodha, and one who knows his polo to boot. By now, all opposition would usually have fled screaming, from the field. But once in a blue moon one does come across the odd chap who thinks he knows it all and has the temerity to prod you on, or horrors; even to challenge you to a contest of polo trivia. Having crossed the Rubicon, there is nought to do,but mutter "Alea jacta est!", for good effect, narrow your eyes, dig in your heels and plunge into the fray.

 "Begad, Sir!" you splutter with the icy indignation that has the -2 to 0's scurrying for their gin and t's. "I'll have you know that I've actually visited the blasted place, seen it all myself. Summer of '82, I think."

 "The cut bamboo cane is stacked and left to season for six months, before it is cut, shaped and assembled by hand to fashion the polo sticks. They'll make even 'em to your specifications if y'want, by George!"

 "And the balls, sirrah! After they've chopped the root into two, they set about first chiseling it into a rough round shape. Then they use a hollowed wooden board where the artisan supports the ball using his foot while he goes about chiseling the rough ball into an almost perfect sphere of absolutely the correct size and shape. The amazing thing is that the man uses no high fang led instruments or lathes and things. Just his hands, feet and a chisel."

Here you pause to look at your opponent. There is a hunted look in his eyes as he desperately searches for a way to escape. Seeing as how the budmash is weakening, you move in for the kill "The ball is next seasoned for three months before they give the finishing touches. For these it is smoothened with sandpaper before being painted with two coats of chalk-based paint. It's then dried, finely sand-papered and then they apply a coat of synthetic white enamel by hand, actually using just their hand, and no brush. The paint dries and hey, presto! Ze ball ees ready.", you exclaim triumphantly.

By now your opponent has expired, and the pink gins at the bar with the p.y.t's on their arms are gaping at you like fish, with mouths open and eyes bulging. You nonchalantly flick the ash from your Havana as you casually stroll towards the egress. You hear the hushed "Wow" of the twenty -something, and you acknowledge her gaze of adoring adulation with a modest nod, as you open the doors and step out into the starry night and whistle for your syce.