Signing you in

The Delhi Gymkhana Club has been embroiled in a controversy after the Centre last week ordered it to vacate the 27 acres it occupies in Lutyens’ Delhi, stating that the land was required for defence-related infrastructure and other strategic purposes. The notice gave the club just two weeks to vacate, until the interim relief.

The Delhi Gymkhana Club remains deeply rooted in the city’s history and heritage, its cream-coloured walls holding stories from both pre- and post-Independence India.

The club, an emblematic institution of the British Raj, was once a space where imperial society gathered for leisure and recreation. Indians, however, were largely excluded from membership. “The club, in Raj society, was a space ‘for the mediation and articulation of the interests of specific elite formations…’ It is hardly surprising, then, that the clubs of New Delhi were situated in specific spaces around the imperial capital,” writes academic Nayantara Pothen in Glittering Decades: New Delhi in Love & War (2012). She notes that two of the most prominent clubs in New Delhi were the Imperial Delhi Gymkhana and the Chelmsford clubs.

Full membership, however, was restricted to Europeans. Among facilities offered at the club were tennis courts, a swimming pool, gardens, a bar, a billiards room, a library and reading room, as well as dining and dancing spaces. Pothen argues in her work that the Chelmsford Club offered similar facilities, though it ranked slightly lower in status and allowed both Indians and Europeans as members.

The Imperial Delhi Gymkhana Club moved to its present location much later. Liddle notes that “work on its eventual premises only began in 1928, and it was occupied in 1929.”

Spencer Harcourt Butler, an Indian Civil Service officer, served as its first president. Butler remained closely involved in the club’s management until 1930.

In its early years, the Polo Club functioned as part of the Gymkhana Club before becoming a separate entity in the 1930s, after shifting to New Delhi. As a sporting institution, however, the Gymkhana initially lacked facilities such as a swimming pool and squash courts.

Lady Willingdon, the wife of Viceroy Lord Willingdon, reportedly found it difficult to access a swimming facility. She eventually resolved the issue and, before her husband’s tenure ended, donated Rs 21,000 towards the construction of a swimming pool. Gleaming plaques reading ‘Lady Willingdon Swimming Bath’ and ‘The Willingdon Squash Courts’ were installed in time for the farewell visit of Viceroy Lord Willingdon and Lady Willingdon on March 16, 1936.

Among the club’s social histories were also bridge gatherings hosted by Begum Liaquat Ali Khan, the wife of the former Prime Minister of Pakistan. These, notes Pothen, were spaces “where one’s race or religion did not matter, but an appreciation of good food, drink, conversation and bridge did.”

For Bakshi, a member since 1985, it is bridge that has defined her association with the club. “Since 2000, I have been playing bridge here. I played world bridge in 2013, and after that, I was selected as the bridge coordinator in 2017. Since then, I have been running monthly bridge tournaments and encouraging many young players to come, play, and spend time together,” she says, adding, “Around 20–30 people come every day, irrespective of everything. For us, the Gymkhana Club is our second home”

An institution of such prominence in the Raj could hardly remain untouched by the politics of Partition. As documented in the club’s Centenary Souvenir, the Nawab of Bhopal (Hamidullah Khan) arranged a meeting between Mahatma Gandhi and Lord Irwin (then Viceroy of India) at the Delhi Gymkhana Club in 1931, ahead of the Gandhi-Irwin pact.

Pothen writes that it was almost impossible to ignore the wave of farewell gatherings held across New Delhi in the weeks leading up to Independence. “In some ways, it was particularly fitting that many of these took place at the Imperial Delhi Gymkhana Club—that bastion of Britishness on the subcontinent which had continued to cling to its imperial roots until the very end.”

Large farewell receptions were held at the club, including one in honour of Muhammad Ali Jinnah on August 2, attended by nearly 1,000 guests. The Centenary Souvenir similarly records: “In Delhi, the troops of the Sikh and Dogra squadrons… one of the army’s legendary old cavalry regiments offered farewell banquet to the men of the departing Muslim squadrons. The regiments offered similar farewells to their Sikh and Hindu comrades leaving for India,” adding that, “the most touching farewells took place in our Club.”

The Imperial Delhi Gymkhana remained exclusive well into the post-war years. It was only in 1945 that it began admitting Indians. After Independence in 1947, the word “Imperial” was dropped, and the institution became the Delhi Gymkhana Club.

However, Pothen notes that despite the inclusion of Indian members, conditions of entry remained restrictive and Indian members were denied voting rights. “Khushwant Singh’s father was one of the few Indian members of the Imperial Delhi Gymkhana and Singh recalls the conditions of membership to the Club at this time: “You had to be interviewed. Your wife had to be there with you. Now my mother couldn’t speak a word of English. They invited you to cocktail dances, she didn’t take any drink at the time; and she certainly would have been absolutely appalled if she’d had to dance on the floor…”

Chandra notes that the membership today is roughly 40 per cent defence personnel, 40 per cent civil servants, and 20 per cent others. “Mostly government servants, retired people…,” he says.

His association with the club grew over time. “At someone’s insistence, I paid Rs 250 in 1974 and then forgot about it. Years later, in 1995, I received a call asking for another payment of Rs 5,000. I paid again and forgot about it. Then came another letter asking for Rs 10,000. I kept following up and, finally, in December 2009, I got the call. I feel I got selected on my credentials and equally so for the achievements of my children,” he recalls.

Today, at 86, Rawal says his daily visits to Delhi Gymkhana—“an oasis of friendship and fellowship”—keep him active.

Jalill also raises concerns about the employees working in the club’s restaurants, lawns, and parlours, questioning what the future holds for them.

Liddle adds that the campus’s value extends beyond its structures to its green cover. “We must maintain that character, maintain openness, and protect the trees. Any redevelopment, whatever its nature, will reduce this green lung of the city,” she says.

Concurring, Chandra recalls that even routine maintenance during his tenure required approvals. “When I was president, repair work had to wait for the Delhi Urban Art Commission (DUAC) to permit it. Nothing can be changed without approval from the DUAC, and of course the NDMC.”

He also draws parallels with other Gymkhanas in the subcontinent, including the Lahore Gymkhana Club, pointing to shared histories. “2 Safdarjung Road is truly an iconic address.”

At the club’s centenary in 2013, then President Pranab Mukherjee said, “I am happy to learn that the Delhi Gymkhana Club, one of India’s historic and prestigious clubs, would be completing 100 years of its existence on July 3, 2013.” Whether the club will mark another 100 years remains to be seen.