AS Pahang celebrates 100 years of polo, the centennial of polo, it is perhaps timely to tell a story that has remained within our family for generations.
Most people know polo as the Game of Kings. They know the trophies, the tournaments, the magnificent horses, and the generations of players who have worn the colours of Royal Pahang with pride.
Yet few know that the story of polo in Pahang is also a story of love. A story of family. A story of grandfathers and grandchildren. A story of dynastic marriages. And perhaps most surprisingly of all, a story that began because one young prince wanted to marry a princess.
Indeed, one could argue that polo came to Pahang because of love.
The story begins exactly 100 years ago. In 1926, the young Tengku Abu Bakar, then the Tengku Mahkota, who would later become Sultan Abu Bakar Ri’ayatuddin Al-Mu’adzam Shah, wished to marry his cousin, Raja Fatimah of Perak.
Raja Fatimah was the daughter of Sultan Iskandar Shah of Perak and Tengku Nong, daughter of Sultan Ahmad Al-Mu’adzam Shah of Pahang. Through her mother, she carried the blood of Pahang. Through her father, she belonged to the Royal House of Perak.
Family lore tells us that Sultan Iskandar Shah imposed a condition upon the young prince.
“If you wish to marry my daughter, you must first play polo.” And so he did. Today, it sounds almost like a fairy tale. Imagine what that meant in the 1920s. And with those words, a century of polo in Pahang began.
There were no highways. No private aircraft. No convenient motorcades. Journeys between royal capitals involved trains, river boats, horses, and sometimes even elephants.
To win the hand of a princess from another royal house required determination, patience, and no small amount of courage.
Yet for Tengku Abu Bakar, the prize was worth it. A polo field was established. Horses were acquired. A young prince learned a new sport. And what began as a condition for marriage would become part of the identity of the Pahang Royal Family for the next century.
The marriage took place. The princess came to Pahang. The polo tradition remained. Neither could have known that 60 years later, another prince of Pahang would find his own princess on a polo field.
Few could have imagined then that 100 years later, generations of Pahang princes would still be riding on that same field. History, however, has a remarkable habit of repeating itself.
Sixty years later, another dynastic marriage would unite Pahang with another great royal house. In March 1986, Tengku Abdullah, then Tengku Mahkota of Pahang, married Tunku Azizah, daughter of the Sultan of Johor, then King of Malaysia. Like his grandfather before him, that story too began on a polo field.
I first met Tengku Abdullah during a polo tournament in Johor in November 1972. We were both very young.
For decades, polo tournaments had brought together the royal families of Pahang and Johor. Every year, teams travelled between the two states, joined by players from Singapore, Selangor, and the Malaysian Armed Forces.
For three days, polo became more than a sport. It became a gathering of families. A reunion of old friends. A celebration of tradition.
As a young Johor princess, I looked forward to those tournaments every year. At the time, I thought I was simply watching horses and players. I never imagined that somewhere beyond the cheers, the trophies, and the excitement, destiny was quietly waiting for me on the sidelines.
Little did I know that one of those tournaments would introduce me to the man I would eventually marry. By modern standards, our courtship was almost unimaginable.
My father was extremely strict. There was no dating. No private meetings. No opportunities to spend time alone. We met formally and properly, always within the expectations and protocols of our families. We stole glances when we thought nobody was looking. We exchanged letters. We spoke on the telephone.
For 13 years, that was largely how our relationship survived. Of course, we were wrong to think nobody noticed.
One man noticed everything. My grandfather, Sultan Ismail of Johor.
Looking back now, I am convinced he understood our feelings long before either of us had the courage to admit them openly. In many ways, he became the quiet guardian of our love story.
Whenever Tengku Abdullah came to Johor to play polo, my grandfather welcomed him warmly. Officially, he was simply inviting the Crown Prince of Pahang to play polo. In reality, those invitations gave us opportunities to meet that otherwise might never have existed.
It was also my grandfather who gave Tengku Abdullah his very first polo pony. At the time, it seemed a simple act of generosity from one polo-loving grandfather to a young prince. Looking back today, I sometimes smile at the thought that my grandfather unknowingly gave my future husband more than a polo pony.
He gave him a place in our family story. The horse led to the polo field. The polo field led to friendship. Friendship led to courtship. And courtship eventually led to marriage.
Yet there was another grandfather who wanted precisely the same outcome. Sultan Abu Bakar of Pahang. Shortly before his passing in May 1974, he is said to have shared a deeply personal wish with Tun Abdul Razak. More than anything else, he hoped that one day his grandson would marry a princess of Johor.
For him, it was more than a marriage. It was the reunion of two branches of a royal family whose roots stretched back centuries to the old Johor-Pahang-Riau-Lingga Empire namely the Bendahara line of Pahang and the Temenggong line of Johor.
What neither grandfather described in political terms, they understood instinctively as family. Branches of the same royal tree, separated by history, would once again be joined through marriage.
There is another detail that makes the story even more remarkable. On the afternoon before his passing in May 1974, Sultan Abu Bakar sat watching his grandsons play polo on the field in Pekan.
Polo had entered his life because he wished to marry Raja Fatimah. Over the decades, it had become part of the identity of the Pahang Royal Family. As he watched his grandsons ride across the field that afternoon, he reportedly remarked that one day they would become great polo players and carry the name of Pahang to even greater heights.
It would be one of his final observations. That evening, he passed away at Istana Peninjau, the small palace that stood directly opposite the polo field. The next day, Tengku Abdullah became the third Tengku Mahkota of Pahang.
The polo field remained. The dream remained. The wish remained.
Few places in Pahang have witnessed so much family history. For a century, the Pekan polo field has watched generations of princes grow up, compete, fall, win, lose, and dream.
It witnessed a Sultan’s final afternoon and continues to witness the next generation carrying his legacy forward. Years later, my own grandfather would speak of the same dream.
Only a few weeks before his passing in May 1981, he asked me when I intended to marry. I laughed and replied that I did not even have a boyfriend.
“You have a boyfriend in Pahang,” he said. I protested. He smiled. Then he said something I have never forgotten.
“Marry quickly. I want to attend your wedding.” I replied that such things required a proposal first. After all, I was only twenty-one and Tengku Abdullah was only twenty-two.
Then he said something that has remained with me all my life. “I want to go to your wedding in Pekan. I want stay at the Chief Rest House”. I laughed and told him he would have to stay at the palace.
“No,” he said. “I shall stay at the Rest House. Nobody will recognise me. I shall wear a white turban, a long white jubbah, and a long white beard.” A few weeks later, he was gone.
Like Sultan Abu Bakar before him, he never lived to see the wedding he longed to attend. Yet somehow, both grandfathers got their wish.
When Tengku Abdullah and I were married in March 1986, 60 years after Sultan Abu Bakar had married Raja Fatimah of Perak, history completed a circle of its own.
One dynastic marriage had brought polo to Pahang. Another dynastic marriage had been made possible by polo. Polo has linked our family across generations.
Our grandparents played together. Our parents played together. My husband played alongside my brother. Through polo, friendships were formed with players from Malaysia, Philippines, Argentina, Brunei, Singapore, Britain, and beyond. The game carried us from Pekan to the world and always brought us home again. Our parents played against teams that included Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh.
My husband later played alongside King Charles III during their university years, representing Oxford while the future King, then the Prince of Wales, represented Cambridge.
Years later, our sons would play alongside Prince William, then the Duke of Cambridge and now the Prince of Wales, and continue the friendships formed through the game across generations.
Today, all four of our sons have played polo. Together they have represented Royal Pahang, continuing a tradition that began a century ago when a young prince learned to play polo to win the hand of a princess.
As a mother, there is something deeply moving about watching that continue. As a wife, I often joke that if our sons ever stopped playing polo, my husband would die a thousand deaths and the syces would all be unemployed.
Yet beneath the joke lies a truth. For our family, polo has never simply been a sport. It is a tradition, a passion, and a way of life passed down from one generations to the next. It brought Pahang and Perak together. It brought Pahang and Johor together.
It fulfilled the wishes of grandfathers. It created friendships that have lasted lifetimes. And it gave a young prince and a young princess a place to meet.
For some families, love stories begin at a ball, a banquet, or a dance. For ours, they began on a polo field.
For our family, polo has never been simply a sport. It has been a way of life. It has shaped generations of our family, forged friendships that have lasted a lifetime, and carried us across countries and continents. It has brought together families, united royal houses and created memories that continue to be treasured today.
For some, polo is a game. For us, it is part of who we are. It is woven into our history, our traditions, our friendships and our family story. Indeed, some of the most important moments of our lives began on a polo field.
One hundred years ago, a prince learned polo to win a princess from Perak. Sixty years later, another prince found his princess because of polo. Today, a century later, their sons continue to ride the same tradition.
The trophies will tarnish. The scorecards will fade. Even great matches will eventually pass into memory.
But the friendships forged through polo, the families brought together by polo, and the love stories born on the polo field will remain part of Pahang’s history forever.
A century ago, polo came to Pahang for a princess. A century later, it remains because of family. Perhaps that is why, in our family, the polo field has never merely produced champions.
It has produced love stories. And perhaps the greatest lesson of all is this:
"To win a princess, one must first play polo."
Yet in truth, polo was never merely about winning the princess.
It was also about winning her grandfather’s heart. And perhaps that is why, a century later, the game still endures.
Long after the trophies have tarnished and the scorecards have faded, the love stories remain.
Tunku Azizah Aminah Maimunah Iskandariah is a master’s candidate at the International Institute of Islamic Thought and Civilisation (ISTAC), International Islamic University Malaysia.