Before I got here, there were many ways in which I had no idea what to expect, or what I would spend my free time doing. Watching Polo, however, if it had been on my radar at all, would have been on my list of 'absolutely not' activities.
I'm ludicrously soft about animals. I already have a secret feeding routine with the various battered cats that frequent the garden, feel quite affectionate towards my pet gecko that lives in my room and spent an hour a few days ago trying to get a photo of a very pretty stripy (and uncooperative) squirrel. But horses leave me cold.
You may wonder, then, how I found my way to a polo ground last week. Well, my British colleague, Ellen, mentioned that she was planning on taking polo lessons here. To say this surprised me is an understatement; "Polo?....In Lahore?” She seemed to find my surprise strange so I followed it up with: "I just would never have thought that Polo was a game people play here," and then slightly more reluctantly, "I mean, only the very, very rich play polo even in the UK.” To this I was assured that lots of people play polo here, and, indeed, invited to come and see for myself.
It was the early evening rush hour when we make the short drive to the polo ground. The air was thick with fumes and heat, and the usual crazy driving ensued. And yet next to the main road, set behind row upon row of trees, lay acres of green, lush polo field. One thing Lahoris seem to be excellent at doing is building enclaves of peace in this mad city. That, and hiding from view things that they'd rather forget.
Three very important looking men sat inside the reception area, with whom Ellen bravely began the following battle:
"So I called and arranged a Polo lesson for this evening."
"You want a riding lesson?"
"No, a Polo lesson, I called earlier to arrange. The teacher is Iggy Saab. He said to come here at 6.”
"You can't have a Polo lesson until you have riding lessons."
"But I can already ride. I'm here for a Polo lesson..."
"We can arrange a riding lesson for you here...that will be 500 rupees".
"But I want a Polo lesson, I can already ride..."
"500 rupees for your riding lesson please."
The conversation went on in this vein for about 10 minutes. If it was me, at this point, I would have handed over my 500 rupees, gratefully taken the riding lesson and forgotten that I had ever planned on learning Polo. However, Ellen is not me, and so she very assertively said: "Look, I am here to learn polo. I have a lesson with Iggy Saab. Iggy Saab. IGGY SAAB. Please just call Iggy Saab.”
At which, one of the men looked a bit put out:"Ok, ok, ma'am, why did you not say ma'am, Iggy Saab will meet you across the field in 5 minutes."
The horses were beautiful, huge and immaculately groomed. The mothers who had brought their children for riding lessons here would not have looked out of place on Kensington High Street, and the polo players were all men. When I mention this fact to Ellen, she just says, "yeah but luckily you can get away with a hell of a lot by being a crazy white woman." And true enough, with our feet on the ground, we were definitely women. Strangely behaved women granted, but the attention and politeness definitely indicated we were considered female. However, the moment Ellen got on that horse she was effectively a man. Iggy Saab yelled at her as she cantered/galloped around the field after the ball. He referred to her merely as "chap" throughout.
Iggy Saab's name is not his only eccentric characteristic. He is an excellent teacher (I'm told) and apparently is a bit of an institution among polo-playing Lahoris. He has a very fat/pregnant ugly bald dog which follows him everywhere he goes looking exhausted. He shouts at everyone and does not see the need for pleasantries. When Ellen asked when her next lesson would be, he walked off yelling behind him, "You come here tomorrow at 6, if I'm free, we have lesson." I wondered whether polo lessons are like this wherever in the world you take them.
I very much doubt that I will find this out. A country that never fails to surprise - I think my first and only ever experience of Polo is likely to be in Pakistan.
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