Rahul Singh:
Among the many legacies of the British Empire on which, so the boast went, “the sun never set”, was the institution of “clubs”. Go to any country where the British once ruled and you are bound to find them, usually on prime property. Of course, these “clubs”, where you could play sports like tennis, squash and billiards, also have a drink in the bar, were only for the ruling race, not the “natives”.
However, even after the British departed, the clubs continued. In fact, they multiplied, so great was their demand. Being a member of a club, particularly of the older, more established ones, became a status symbol, particularly in class-conscious nations like India and Pakistan (including Bangladesh). The waiting list for some of the leading clubs in Mumbai, Delhi and Kolkota, stretches now for as long as two or three decades, unless you are the son or daughter of a member, in which case you jump the queue.
While this essentially British institution continued and grew, the rules and protocol that governed it, strangely remained much the same as before. Indians were reminded of this just the other day, 67 years after independence from the British, when a Madras High Court judge was denied entry to the Tamil Nadu Cricket Association Club. The reason? He was wearing the “veshti”, the traditional dhoti-like garment for men in Tamil Nadu. According to the club’s rules – most of the city’s other clubs have the same rules – he should have been wearing a western-style collared shirt and trousers.
The incident figured in the State Legislative Assembly the next day and Chief Minister J. Jayalalithaa, angrily condemned the club’s “sartorial despotism”, threatening to cancel the licences of all clubs that acted “against Tamil culture”. In other words, they would have to change their dress regulations and allow entry to those wearing a “veshti”, though the vague term “Tamil culture” could encompass much more than just the clothing one wears.
A personal disclosure is called for here. I belong to four clubs, all of them much sought-after (though when I joined them, many years back, admission was fairly easy): The Bombay Gymkhana in Mumbai, the Gymkhana and Golf Club in Delhi, and the Kasauli Club (Kasauli is a military cantonment in the Himalayas where I have a family home).
All of them have a strict dress code, the strictest being at the army-run Kasauli Club. There, the doorman, a formidable Sikh, denies entry to any member or guest who has a collarless shirt, shorts, or is shod with chappals or flip-flops (sneakers are somehow fine). Neither the common north Indian “kurta pyjama”, nor the south Indian dhoti is acceptable. Only western attire will do. Oddly enough, ladies can virtually wear what they like, such as saris, the Punjabi salwar-kameez, jeans or skirts.
It can be argued that since they are private clubs, members are entitled to run them as they like. Not so long ago, the Bombay Gymkhana did not accept women as members. Sons of members, not daughters, were eligible to become members. This was clearly discriminatory, hence a campaign began to change the rule, which captured national attention and was spearheaded by the famous constitutional lawyer, Nani Palkhivala. At a tempestuous and historic Extraordinary General Meeting (EGM) of the club, at which I was present, members voted to allow daughters the same right to membership as sons. Other leading Indian clubs followed suit.
Be that as it may, as I said, private clubs can make their own rules. If they want to enforce a colonial-era dress code, well, that is their own business. Yet, the fact is that most of these clubs sit on government-owned land, for which they pay much less than the market rent. For instance, the Delhi Golf Club is in the heart of the city and covers around 100 acres. In real estate terms, in my estimation the land could fetch a mind-boggling Rs 13,000 crores (over $2 billion). Any developer would love to build houses and offices on it. However, the rent the club pays to the government is a laughable pittance.
As a senior citizen and old-time member, for unlimited play on this wonderfully picturesque course, full of birds and trees and dotted with ancient tombs, I pay the princely sum of less $10 a month! It has to be the cheapest championship golf course in the entire world, at least for its fortunate members.
That is how matters stand at present. But with the recent change in government, tremors are being felt in the clubhouse. The new Prime Minister, Narendra Modi, is rumoured to be against the colonial club culture and there is talk that he has identified the civil servants who are regular golfers. Earlier, they would play their nine holes in the morning and then saunter into office an hour or two late. Now, their golf has come to an end except for weekends, and they are expected to be at their desks punctually at nine. His logical next step should be to find a better use for the 100 acres that the Golf Club happily sits on. But I suspect that will not happen. Some colonial habits are difficult to give up in India.
(Rahul Singh is the former editor of Reader’s Digest, Indian Express and Khaleej Times)
