By Martin D’Souza | Opening Doorz Editorial | August 19, 2025
To know Paul Serrao was to laugh with him. To sit in his company was to forget life’s burdens. He lived grateful, cheerful, and robust, and leaves behind a spirit of laughter that no rain can wash away.
Paul Serrao Obituary
Paul Serrao passed away on August 17, 2025. His funeral was held the next day, August 18, a day when Mumbai was drowning under a deluge of rain. Fitting, perhaps, that the skies themselves opened up to mourn a man whose laughter could light up the darkest of days.
I only learnt of his passing late in the day, after his funeral. That familiar pang of grief hit me, grief that I could not be there to say my final goodbye. But really, how could anyone prepare you for the departure of someone like Polla?
Yes, Polla. That’s what we all fondly called him. To many, he was “Paul Serrao,” but to those who knew him closely, he was simply Polla, a name that carried within it laughter, warmth, and a certain childlike mischief. He was a gentle soul, a joy to be around, a man of wit. A jolly good fella. They don’t make them like him anymore.
The Man Who Never Grew Old
If you spent even five minutes with Polla, you would walk away with a smile on your face, if not holding your sides with laughter. Time spent with him was time spent laughing. Over four decades of knowing him, I cannot recall a single instance where he was angry, bitter or spoke ill of anyone. That was not in his DNA.
Polla had this uncanny gift—he could deliver a joke with a deadpan face, his eyes giving nothing away, and then sit back patiently, waiting for your reaction. Sometimes he would laugh before you did, caught up in the delight of his delivery. Either way, the joke always landed, and the room was brighter for it.
His impersonations of cricket commentators were legendary. He could mimic their tone, their quirks, their emphases. Sometimes, he would add a sly twist of his own. You had to be there to believe it: he often outshone the professionals.
A Friendship Beyond Generations
I honestly don’t remember when exactly we hit it off. After all, we were not classmates; there was a sizeable age difference between us. But with Polla, age melted away. We conversed like schoolboys sharing a bench, chuckling at our jokes, ribbing each other in good fun. Perhaps it was my friendship with the late Alex Silveira that drew us together.
Alex and Polla were inseparable. Their birthdays, separated by just a few months, often saw them sharing celebrations. The three of us (Alex, Polla, and I) would often meet, even after I moved away in 1998. Distance did not matter. Whenever I went to visit Aloo (as Alex was fondly called), I always made it a point to drop in on Polla too.
Even after a fall a few years ago slowed his physical movements, Polla’s spirit remained untouched. He was as cheerful at 90 as he was at 45. That was Polla… robust in spirit, grateful for life, and cheerful always.
The Surprise of Age
I will never forget the surprise I felt in 2019 at Aloo’s 85th birthday celebration. In conversation with Polla, I casually inquired about his age. Aloo asked me to guess. I couldn’t. With a twinkle in his eye, Polla said, “ I will be 85 in a few months!” Eighty-five? To me, he did not look a day older than 60. Well-groomed, crew cut hair, never a stubble on his face, crisply ironed clothes and a distinguished gait in his walk.
That was his secret for staying forever young; he carried no burdens, no grudges, no bitterness. His youthful demeanour lay in his gratitude and cheerfulness. Where others counted years, Polla counted smiles. Where others spoke of ailments, he spoke of cricket, jokes, and the little things that made life worth living.
To me, Polla was more than just a friend. He was a reminder of what it meant to live fully—without bitterness, without baggage, without ever losing that twinkle in the eye. His presence reminded you that life need not be complicated. That laughter could heal more than arguments ever could. That being cheerful was not about denying pain, but about choosing joy despite it.
Laughter, Polla’s Best Medicine
Today, as I write this, I can almost hear his voice echoing in my ears, perhaps impersonating Tony Cozier, Michael Holding, Richie Benaud, or mimicking Tony Greig. I can see that mischievous smile breaking through his deadpan delivery. And I can feel the easy warmth he carried in every interaction.
Polla, a happy bachelor, left countless people happier than they came after they had a ‘brush of life’ with him. It was in the way he lived… robust, grateful, cheerful always.
Paul Serrao: Farewell, Old Friend
Yes, I missed his funeral. The rains came down in torrents yesterday, perhaps to cover for my absence, perhaps to do what I could not: accompany him on his final journey. But even though I could not be there physically, my heart was with him, and it will always be.
Farewell, dear Polla. Thank you for teaching us that age is but a number and that humour is the best gift one can share. Thank you for being you… a gentle soul, a jolly good fella, a man we will all miss dearly.
They don’t make them like you anymore. And perhaps, that is why I will never forget you.
Rest well, Polla.
(A personal tribute by Martin D’Souza to his longtime friend, Paul “Polla” Serrao.)
Also Read: Alex Silveira has run the good race!