New Delhi: As the Delhi Gymkhana Club faces a deepening crisis, its long-time members emphasize that the institution is far more than an elite club. For many, it has been a second home, intricately woven into decades of family life, friendships, and daily routines.
Decades of Memories
Suresh Goel, a member since 1994, recalls receiving his membership after nearly a decade of waiting. He applied around 1984 while posted in New York with the Indian Foreign Service. When he eventually returned to Delhi, the club quickly became an anchor for his family. Living in small, cramped quarters on Kasturba Gandhi Marg, the day he bought his Maruti 800, he drove his wife and children straight to the club. The moment they entered, it felt like returning to a familiar world of open spaces, warm faces, and a willingness to connect. His children immediately began running on the lawns, and the club started feeling like home.
Over the years, Gymkhana has become embedded in the rhythms of everyday life. Staff at its restaurant still remember what each family liked to order. Even at the salon, Goel never had to explain what he wanted. The library was a cherished personal refuge, his son learned tennis on the clay court, and the swimming pool became the family's favorite place to unwind.
Childhood and Community
For Vikram Bhalla, 64, the club is inseparable from childhood memories. A member since 1991, he spent much of his growing years at Gymkhana, particularly around the squash courts and the pool. For many years, he went there every single day. It was where friends met, where families gathered, and so much of their lives were spent there.
Former bureaucrat A S Dulat, associated with the club for more than 55 years and a former president, says there is immense nostalgic value attached to the club. For some elderly people, it is almost like a temple. They go there in the morning and spend the whole day there. Calling it a central place in the lives of many members, Dulat notes that people are dejected by the current crisis and have begun collecting signatures to challenge the government's move legally. It is where they socialize, meet friends, and nurture old relationships. Members are genuinely upset.
Generations of Family History
For Ruchika Govil, 60, the club represents generations of family history. Though she became a member in 2006, her association with Gymkhana stretches back to the 1990s when her father was a member. He played bridge there regularly, her son spent years playing tennis, and she used to go swimming almost every day. The club was always alive with activities. Govil, who also served on the club's committee, remembers organizing cultural programs ranging from music and theatre performances to dance events and art exhibitions. It was never just about recreation; people came there to express themselves, to perform, and to participate.
Unlike commercial spaces, she says, the club fosters a sense of familiarity and belonging. When you go there, you know you will run into people, have conversations, and spend time together. You don't need an occasion. It creates a sense of community that has stayed with families for decades.
A Way of Life at Stake
With the club now facing uncertain and testing times, its members say what is at stake is not just an institution but a way of life that has shaped generations in the capital. The emotional connection and sense of belonging are irreplaceable, and the crisis threatens to sever ties that have endured for decades.
