Sorry, Polo

When my friend reads this story, I want to convey to him that I never intended any offence to him. I am deeply sorry if I hurt him even a slight.

I don’t know why and from when they gave him that nickname. But, the nickname sounded a bit easier to pronounce than did his real name. They called him “Polo”. The name itself never gave me an impression of being offensive but was definitely an offence for the person who owned this name. Though, he never appreciated this ownership. He rather refuted it. When addressed by this term, he would express his annoyance though not by words but by a sudden and slight variation in his mood. Calling him “Polo” might turn his mood in extreme negative form and when you thought something might obviously go in your favour would be revoked. For instance, if you needed a book from him and there is no probability that he would deny, he would certainly deny if you addressed him by “Polo”.

He had nothing in his personality that could be categorized in defects except his excessive height which allowed him to be seen from too far. Still, he did not look like a person from another planet though he obviously looked not like an Indian. Another trait of his personality was that he asked too many questions simultaneously; last few questions belonged to other context than first few questions. For instance, he would say like, “How are you? I saw you yesterday in market why did you go there?” and would attach another question out of the context, “Are your physics notes complete?” He could always make you confused what question to be answered first, or forgotten what question was at the first.

He definitely had a comic personality which was confirmed by his voice. There was no defect with his voice. It was perfectly masculine. But, it was a bit nasal and every word he uttered was touched with ‘m’ or ‘n’ sound. But this feature was not too much obvious.

Obviously ‘Polo’ was not a bad name but there was no link with his personality traits and this name.

Like many others I also wondered and asked how he got this name. But, the answer was not a definite one. Some would regard that his girlfriend had once in anger called him “Polo” comparing his behavior as the Polo tires which had the slogan: “Chalta hi jayega”, which means, “It’s everlasting(and hence, it is boring.).”

But, I did not like this theory very much. He was in no way boring rather he could make you laugh at the matters you wouldn’t laugh in ordinary course. It never meant that he was smart or had a good sense of humor. He never intended to make you laugh.

Other theory believed that he often used chew a mint called “Polo” hence he received this name. The mint Polo looked like a white ring and had a cooling effect on throat. But, I myself never saw him having the mint Polo.

There were many other theories. One of them held that in a fight between him and a classmate, he shouted, “Chal Polo ho le!” It was a slang used to have the meaning: “Just get lost!”

Everyone had one’s own theories but I had none; neither did I prefer calling him Polo. I might also not use his real name but never addressed him “Polo” while talking to him directly. Though, it was inevitable to use the term talking to other friends and referring to him.

The usage of calling him Polo had become a custom. It was so badly persistent that many among the boys didn’t even know his real name.

But, somehow our English teacher who had a good reputation among us came to know about the custom. One day when the class was over, and coincidentally, he was absent, he told a very shocking thing about him. He told us that the person we called “Polo” used to get epilepsy episodes. And any annoyance and depression caused by hurting his emotions could be bad for him.

We were thence forbidden to call him by that name.

I don’t know what effects the fact that he had epilepsy episodes produced to other boys but my feelings for Polo had changed drastically. The next time when he entered the class chuckling with other friends, I saw him with sympathy and resolved never to utter the word “Polo” even in his absence. I tried to visualize how he would be behaving when he had those episodes. I would feel rather bad for him imagining the symptoms of epilepsy occurring in his body.

So due to the fact that our English teacher had a good reputation among us, all boys adhered to his request and the practice of calling him “Polo” became extinct. It was certainly a pleasing thing.

He could perhaps notice that he no longer was being addressed as “Polo” and would be wondering how that change took place. He could be seen rather positive, submissive and happy.

We passed our intermediates meanwhile. Friends were separated from each other. Some preferred Engineering and others Arts or Commerce and a few including me preferred Law.

This affair is now only a matter of history. But, why to remember the old days?

The answer is that yesterday I received a call from a person when I was studying. I felt hardship in recognizing who the caller was. Though I wasn’t showing any express denial of recognition, the caller was smart enough to know my problem. So without being asked who he was, he himself said, “Man, it’s me Raghavendra!”

“Ra…gh…vendra?” I tried to recall my memory and syllables came out prolonged.

“O, Come on, it Raghavendra from the class of 12th.”

“Raghavendra frooom the claaaass,” my memory didn’t help me and I sounded miserable.

The voice kept trying me to recognise whose it was. But I could recognise only when it said, “Man, it’s me Polo!”

I got him! It was him Polo. He himself said that.

“Oh, Polo! Man it’s you! O, how could I not know it was you! I am so sorry, Polo. So tell me what’s going on, Polo?”

The voice went furious and said, “Will you now please stop calling me Polo?!”

I was sorry; at the same time I felt it very hard to suppress my laughter.

When the conversation ended, I burst into laughter and almost fell from my chair. My elder brother in another room could hear me laughing alone in my room. He asked me the reason and I have promised him to share it later. It is for that purpose that I chose to write this story as well for you as for him.

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