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“Be
it Kolkata, Jaipur, Delhi or Bombay, bamboo polo balls went directly from
Deulpur,” says Ranjit Mal, listing the places where the sport of polo was
played in India.  

<a></a>A polo ball craftsman from West
Bengal’s Deulpur census town, 71-year-old Ranjit has sculpted balls from
rhizomes of Guadua bamboo for close
to 40 years. The rhizomes, locally known as bans-er
gorha, form the underground portion of the bamboo plant which helps them
grow and spread. Today, he is the last shilpkar
(craftsperson) of the craft; a skill, he points out, that has already passed
into history.

<a></a>But, for over 160 years that modern
polo has been played – initially by the military, royals, and elite clubs – the
bamboo balls came from Deulpur. In fact, the first polo club in the world was
founded in Silchar, Assam in 1859; the second came up in Calcutta in 1863.
Modern polo is an adapted version of Sagol Kangjei (a traditional game of the
Meitei community in Manipur), and it was the Meiteis who used bamboo rhizome
balls to play.

<a></a>In the early 1940s, six to seven
families in Deulpur village employed over 125 artisans who collectively made as many as one lakh polo balls annually.
“Our skilled shilpkars knew the polo
market,” adds Ranjit. His claims are attested by a British era <a href="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://southasiacommons.net/artifacts/2360225/final-report-on-the-survey-and-settlement-operations-in-the-district-of-howrah/3362735/&amp;sa=D&amp;source=docs&amp;ust=1700728410236145&amp;usg=AOvVaw2VrNrGRLV-SKKUtOp6cvS0">survey and settlement
report</a>
of Howrah district that states: “Deulpur seems to be the only place in India
where polo balls are made.” 

Ranjit’s
wife, Minoti Mal says, “seeing the thriving business of making polo balls, my
father got me married here when I was only 14.” 
She is in her sixties now, and until a decade ago, would help her
husband in the craft. The family belongs to the Mal community listed as a
Scheduled Caste in West Bengal; Ranjit has lived in Deulpur all his life. 

Seated on a madur
grass mat in his house, he is skimming through his treasured collection of
old newspaper clippings and magazine articles. “If you find a photograph of a
man making polo balls in a lungi anywhere
in this world, it is mine,” he says proudly.

Ranjit
remembers an ordinary day at work in Subhash Baug’s workshop with Mohammad
Rafi’s songs playing on his tape recorder. “I am a big Rafi bhokto [fan]. I had even made cassettes
of his songs,” he says, smiling. Polo-playing military officers from Fort
William, Kolkata would arrive to purchase balls. “Gaan shoone pochondo hoe ge chilo. Sob cassette niye gelo [The
officers heard and liked the songs. Then they took all the cassettes with
them],” he adds. 

Deulpur’s
place of pride was due to the easy availability of Guadua bamboo locally known as ghoro
bans which is found abundantly in this pocket of Howrah district. Guadua bamboo grows by clumping, which
leads to the formation of sturdy and elongated rhizomes under the ground, from
which polo balls are crafted. 

“Every
bamboo species does not have a rhizome that qualifies the weight and size
standards for polo balls,” Ranjit explains. Each ball had to be precisely
crafted, about 78-90 mm in diameter and 150 gm in weight, as per the standards
prescribed by the <a href="https://ipa.co.in/user/rules.php">Indian Polo Association</a>.

Until
the 1990s, all polo balls were made from this material only. “They [bamboo
balls] began to be replaced gradually by fibreglass balls brought in from
Argentina,” says the veteran craftsman. 

Fibreglass balls are more durable and also
priced much higher than bamboo balls. But “polo continues to be a sport of the prochoor dhoni lok [extremely rich
people], so spending more money [on balls] is not a big deal for them,” Ranjit
says. This shift in the market has crushed the craft in Deulpur. “There used to
be as many as 100-150 ball makers here before 2009,” he says. “By 2015, I was
the only maker of polo balls left.” But there
are no takers.

Carrying
a sickle, Minoti leads the way to their bans-er
bagan [bamboo grove] as Ranjit and I follow. The couple has six kathas of land some 200 metres from their home where they cultivate fruits
and vegetables for their own consumption, and sell the excess produce to local
vendors. 

“Once
the stem of the bamboo plant is cut, the rhizome is extracted from under the
ground,” Minoti details the extraction process, which was done primarily by the
Sardar community in Deulpur. Ranjit would source bamboo rhizomes from them – a
rhizome weighing 2-3 kilograms was sold at Rs. 25-32. 

The
rhizomes would be dried in the sun for around four months. “Na shukle, kaacha obostha-te ball chit-ke
jaabe. Tedha beka hoi jaabe [If not dried properly, the ball cracks and is
unshapely],” Ranjit explains.   

After
this, they would then be soaked in a pond for 15-20 days. “Soaking is necessary
to soften the rod-e paaka [heat-baked] rhizome – you cannot cut through the
rhizome otherwise,” the seasoned craftsman adds, “we would dry it again for
15-20 days. Only then it would be ready to be crafted.” 

From
scraping the rhizome with a katari (scythe) or a kurul (hand axe) to using a korath (coping saw) to cut the uneven
mass into cylindrical pieces, “each step in the process had to be done sitting
on one&#39;s haunches,” says Ranjit who now suffers from chronic back pain and can
only walk slowly. “The game of polo was played on the backs of us shilpkars,” he adds.   

Once roughly cylindrical pieces were cut off
from the rhizome, they were shaped into a definite round with a chisel that was
knocked at its handle by a stone. Depending on the size of the rhizome, we
could sculpt two, three or four balls from one piece,” Ranjit says. He would
then file the ball with a palm-held randa
to plane the abrasions on its surface.

Taking
an old ball, Minoti demonstrates the task of glazing: “Between housework, shirish paper niye ball aami majhtam [I
used to do the smoothing and finishing with sandpaper]. It would then be
painted white. Sometimes we would also stamp it,” she explains. 

Each
ball took 20-25 minutes to finish. “In a day, we both could finish 20 balls and
earn Rs. 200,” says Ranjit, 

Despite
the skill, knowledge and attention to detail needed for this work, Ranjit saw
little profit over the years. When he had started making polo balls at a karkhana (workshop), he earned a meagre
30 paise per piece. By 2015, the per piece wage had gone up to only Rs. 10. 

“Each
ball was sold from Deulpur at Rs. 50,” he says. A quick glance at the <a href="https://calcuttapolo.com/product/bamboo-ball/">Calcutta Polo Club
website’s</a>
merchandise section reveals that whopping profits were accumulated from the shilpkars’ toil. 

On
the website, the balls are described as “specially crafted bamboo balls made in
West Bengal, village industry,” and each is currently priced at Rs. 150, 15
times higher than Ranjit’s wage from each ball. 

“Over 25-30 bamboo balls were required for a
single polo match.” He explains the high number saying, “rhizome is natural and
so its weight varies. It also loses shape quickly or forms cracks when it is
struck repeatedly by a mallet during a polo match.” Fibreglass balls on the
other hand, last longer: “Only three to four of these are required for a polo
match,” says Ranjit.

The
establishment of the Calcutta Polo Club in the early 1860s just 30 kms away had
boosted polo ball-making in Deulpur, but as demand for these balls declined the
Club stopped sourcing bamboo balls altogether by 2015.

Ranjit
is no stranger to sports or sportsmanship – he played football and cricket for
Deulpur Pragati Sangha, the village
sports club and was the first secretary of the club. “Khoob naam tha hamara gaon mein”
[I was famous in the village] as a fast bowler and a defender,” he recalls.

He
began by working in a karkhana owned
by Subhash Baug, whose grandfather is credited for introducing the craft of
manufacturing polo balls to Deulpur. Now 55, Subhash is the only link between
polo and Deulpur – but he has shifted to manufacturing polo mallets. 

Half
a century ago, polo ball making was one more avenue to earn a livelihood
amongst the multiple crafts the residents of Deulpur took up. “Zari-r kaaj [metal-thread embroidery
work], beedi bandha [beedi rolling],
to polo ball-making, we tried everything possible to sustain ourselves and
raise our three children,” Minoti says. “Sob
alpo poisa-r kaaj chilo. Khoob koshto hoye chilo [These were all low-paying
and physically demanding jobs. We struggled a lot],” adds Ranjit. 

“Now
lots of industries have come up close to Dhulagarh Chourasta around four
kilometres away,” says Ranjit, pleased that Deulpur’s residents have better jobs
at hand. “One person from almost every household now works a salaried job. But
some people still do zari-r kaaj at
home,” adds Minoti. Around 3,253 people in Deulpur are employed in household
industries (Census 2011).   

The couple live with their younger son, Soumit,
31, and daughter-in-law, Sumona. Soumit works at a CCTV camera company near
Kolkata and Sumona is pursuing her undergraduate degree, after which she too
hopes to secure a job.

“Shilpkars like me gave this craft our
all, but we got nothing in return from either the polo players or the
government,” Ranjit says. 

In
2013, the Government of West Bengal in partnership with UNESCO began the <a href="https://rcchbengal.com/about-the-project">Rural Craft Hub
projects</a>
to develop traditional art and craft forms across the state. The partnership is
in its third phase today and covers 50,000 beneficiaries across the state – but
not one of them are craftspeople who make bamboo polo balls.  

“We
went to Nabanna [state government headquarters] in 2017-18 to demand action to
ensure that our craft does not die. We reported our situation, filed
applications, but nothing came of it,” Ranjit says. “What will be our financial
condition? What will we eat? Our craft and livelihood is dead, we asked them.”

“Maybe
because polo balls are not beautiful to look at, it mattered to few,” Ranjit
pauses for a moment and adds, “…no one ever thought about us.” 

<a></a>Minoti is cleaning and descaling bata (freshwater minor carp) fish for
lunch at a distance. Overhearing Ranjit, she says, “I still have hope though of
getting some recognition for our continuous toil.”   

Ranjit, however, is not so optimistic. “The polo
world was completely dependent on us craftspeople until a few years ago. But
they moved on very quickly,” he says. “Now, I am the only proof of an extinct
craft.” This story is supported by a fellowship from Mrinalini Mukherjee Foundation (MMF).

The last chukker of the polo ball craftsman

پولو کی گیند بنانے والا آخری دستکار

పోలో బంతులు తయారుచేసే చివరి నైపుణ్యకళాకారుడు

போலோ பந்து கைவினைஞரின் கடைசி சாட்சி

ਪੋਲੋ ਗੇਂਦਾਂ ਬਣਾਉਣ ਵਾਲੇ ਕਾਰੀਗਰਾਂ ਦਾ ਕਿੱਤਾ ਆਖ਼ਰੀ ਦੌਰ ਵਿੱਚ

ଦିଓଲପୁରର ଶେଷ ପୋଲୋ ବଲ୍‌ କାରିଗର

बांबूचे पोलो चेंडूः काय सांगताय काय?

പോളോ പന്ത് ശില്പിയുടെ അവസാന ഊഴം

ಕೊನೆಯುಸಿರು ಎಳೆಯುತ್ತಿರುವ ಪೋಲೋ ಬಾಲ್‌ ತಯಾರಿಕೆ

‘हम शिल्पकारों की पीठ पर चढ़कर खेला गया है पोलो’

પોલો બોલ બનાવનાર કારીગરનું છેલ્લું ચક્કર

बांस के पोलो गेंद: नंदा चुके कला के अकेल्ला करीगर

पोलो गेंद बनावे वाला शिल्पकार के आखिरी दौर

বাঁহৰ প’ল’ বলঃ বিলুপ্ত শিল্পবিধৰ জীৱন্ত সাক্ষীজন...

পোলো বল কারিগরের শেষ চক্কর

Deulpur (Census town) 

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The last chukker of the polo ball craftsman

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