Just Like That | Notes on reforming DGC; and remembering my friend Suresh Neotia

With Delhi Gymkhana Club in the news for the wrong reasons, I can't help but recall an incident in 1989, when I found its priorities askew. And remembering entrepreneur, art collector, educationist, philanthropist and my dear friend, the late Suresh Neotia, a few days after his birthday

Delhi Gymkhana Club

Delhi Gymkhana Club (L). Suresh Neotia.  (Mint; ANI)

The Delhi Gymkhana Club (DGC), where membership is so exclusive that it can take decades for an application to be considered, came into existence in 1913. Its original name was Imperial Delhi Gymkhana Club, but the word "Imperial" was dropped after Independence in 1947. Situated over 27 acres of rolling greens in the heart of New Delhi, its architect was Robert T Russell, who also designed Connaught Place (now known as Rajiv Chowk) and Teen Murti House, the home of the British Commander-in-chief, and later, the residence of India’s first Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru.

Recently, the venerable club, which counts among its members the who’s who of India’s officialdom, armed forces, judiciary, and corporate world, has been in the news for the wrong reasons. In March 2022, the ministry of corporate affairs moved the National Company Law Tribunal for alleged financial irregularities and violation of membership rules in the club. In April 2022, the tribunal dissolved the 17-member elected general committee and set up a new committee consisting of two Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) members, among others.

The development was not entirely unexpected, since, for the current government, the club is an anglicised madhushala or watering hole, cut off from the rest of the country, a preserve of "brown sahebs" from backgrounds of inherited privilege.

It is true that the club took too long to adapt to the priorities of a changing India, and remained cocooned in its colonial past. I remember in 1989, I had gone to the club in a starched white pyjama, a silk kurta, expensive buttons, and closed sandals. The Durban at the entrance, who had known me since I was a child, told me that I need a jawahar jacket over my kurta. I called my wife, who was to join me, to bring one along. But just then, I saw that people in Gola shoes and tee-shirts could go in, while I, in near formal dress as per Indian tradition, could not. The secretary of the club came to enquire what the ruckus was about, and I told him in no uncertain terms that, in the India of today, to have dress rules that privilege casual western wear and disallow formal Indian attire, is absolutely outdated and shocking.

To the credit of the club, the president, Admiral Tahliani, subsequently wrote to me and said he entirely agreed with me. He invited me to be a part of the dress committee in order to suitably revise the rules, and this was done. But years later, I found, on a visit to Kolkata, that clubs there, like Tollygunge, still discriminate against respectable desi attire.

Moreover, there was continuous rivalry between different factions of the Gymkhana Club. For the elections to the general committee, allegations of financial wrongdoings were hurled about. Once, when representatives of both factions had approached me, I warned them to stop this self-defeating acrimony and collectively focus on clean and transparent functioning, because if they didn’t, the government, already antithetical to this elite bastion in the heart of the power citadel of Delhi, would take over.

This advice was not heeded, and the inevitable has happened. One can only hope that this is a temporary takeover, and soon the club, on a reformed basis, would be able to run its own affairs.

In remembrance of Suresh Neotia

Suresh Neotia was born on September 8, 1936, and died on May 7, 2015. He was a remarkable man, not only a successful industrialist and business entrepreneur, but also an art collector, educationist, and philanthropist. Ambuja Cements, which he set up, had a market capitalisation of $152 billion, making him among the richest men in the country.

Because of his literary and artistic temperament, I got to know him very well. Some months before his death, he called me to say he was dying, and he himself was to blame. I was shocked. He said that for months he had been suffering from stomach problems, but had not gone to have it checked. When he did do so, it was too late. The cancer had spread, and nothing could be done about it. "I have a little more time to live", he said, "but before I go, I want to meet all my friends at a dinner party. You have to be there." As he had said, soon after that dinner party, he left us.

Every year on his birthday on September 8, Harsh Neotia, his nephew and heir, and Madhu, Harsh’s wife, host a dinner for Suresh Bhai’s friends. This year, too, people from all walks of life— politicians, lawyers, journalists, writers, artists, and bureaucrats — got together to remember a man who was a great human being and a true friend.

Pavan K Varma is author, diplomat, and former Member of Parliament (Rajya Sabha).

Just Like That is a weekly column where Varma shares nuggets from the world of history, culture, literature, and personal reminiscences with HT Premium readers

The views expressed are personal