Subrat Ratho writes that the defence of Delhi Gymkhana Club has turned a question of privilege, legacy and public land into a revealing satire on elite sentimentality.
Editor’s Note:
This is a satirical opinion article commenting on the public debate around Delhi Gymkhana Club and the larger questions of privilege, legacy and exclusivity in India. The views expressed are those of the author. TheNews21 does not allege any wrongdoing by individual members of the club and does not make any independent claim regarding the motives behind official action.
The unfolding debate over the eviction notice served to the Delhi Gymkhana Club has been entertaining in ways perhaps unintended by either side.
A few disclaimers are in order before the outrage brigades swing into formation.
First, I confess I might have been considerably less amused had I been a member myself. Human beings are known to discover constitutional morality most passionately when their own bar bill, squash court access or bridge evenings are threatened. Fortunately, I reside in distant Mumbai, safely insulated from the trauma of potentially having to seek social validation elsewhere.
Second, I bear no jealousy towards members of the club. This clarification is necessary because in India, any criticism of elite institutions is immediately attributed either to envy or failure to gain entry. One is rarely allowed the simpler explanation — that some arguments are genuinely ridiculous.
Now, I have no means of determining whether there is any truth in the suggestion that the government’s actions are driven by ulterior motives. In India, ulterior motives are so widely distributed across the political spectrum that accusing someone of possessing them scarcely narrows the field. But in the absence of evidence, what has truly fascinated me is not the notice itself, but the heroic defence mounted on behalf of the club.
Suddenly, the Delhi Gymkhana Club is being spoken of not as a privileged enclave, but as though it were a cross between Nalanda University, the Indian Space Research Organisation and the Sistine Chapel — a civilisational treasure whose legacy must be preserved for future generations.
We are told it is a priceless heritage institution. This is undoubtedly true if one’s definition of heritage includes teak-panelled bars, ancient waiting lists, liveried attendants and stories beginning with “during the Raj…”, “when I was the Collector…” or “when I was at Wimbledon last year”.
In the context of the solemn argument about “institutional value” and “legacy”, one waits eagerly for specifics. Has the club solved urban poverty? Mediated global conflicts? Developed breakthrough technologies? No, but it has apparently preserved the legacy of continuity through kebabs, cocktails and card rooms. Future historians may indeed divide Indian history into two periods: pre-Gymkhana and post-Gymkhana.
The sports argument is even more touching. One would imagine from the anguished commentary that Indian sporting excellence hangs precariously upon the continued existence of this particular patch of real estate. Olympic dreams, it appears, are nurtured not in dusty municipal grounds across India, but in carefully curated colonial greens accessible after a multi-decade membership wait.
And finally comes the emotional whataboutery — always the last refuge of the cornered. “What about other clubs?” “What about government bungalows?” “What about traffic jams due to VIP movement?” and so on. India’s public discourse seems to have perfected the art of converting every specific issue into a nationwide scavenger hunt for equivalent hypocrisy. By this logic, no action can ever be taken anywhere because somewhere else another irregularity or privilege also exists.
What fascinates me most is the moral language suddenly deployed in defence of exclusivity. The same elite circles that usually lecture India on reform, efficiency, transparency and merit have discovered the poetry of sentiment the moment their own ecosystem appears vulnerable.
Legacy becomes untouchable when it protects privilege.
