New Delhi: As Delhi Gymkhana Club faces a deepening crisis, its long-time members say the institution is far more than an elite club. For many, it has been a second home — woven into decades of family life, friendships and daily routine.Suresh Goel, a member since 1994, recalls receiving his membership after nearly a decade of waiting. “I applied around 1984 when I was posted in New York with Indian Foreign Service,” he says. When he eventually returned to Delhi, the club quickly became an anchor for his family.“We were living in the Kasturba Gandhi Marg flats, which were small, cramped quarters. The day I bought my Maruti 800, I put my wife and children in the car and drove straight to the club,” he says. “The moment we entered, it felt like we had returned to a familiar world of open spaces, warm faces, people willing to help and connect. The children immediately began running on the lawns. It wasn’t just a club, it started feeling like home.”Over the years, Gymkhana has become embedded in the rhythms of everyday life for many associated with it. Staff at its restaurant still remember what members of each family liked to order. “Even at the salon, I never had to explain what I wanted,” Goel says. While the library was a cherished personal refuge for him, his son learned tennis on the clay court, and the swimming pool became his family’s favourite place to unwind.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, I went there every single day,” he says. “It was where friends met, where families gathered. So much of our lives was spent there.”Former bureaucrat A S Dulat, who has been associated with the club for more than 55 years and also served as its president, says, “There is immense nostalgic value attached to the club. For some elderly people, it is almost like a temple. People go there in the morning and spend the whole day there.”Calling it a “central place” in the lives of many members, Dulat says people are dejected by the current crisis and have begun collecting signatures to challenge govt’s move legally. “It is where we socialise, meet friends and nurture old relationships. Members are genuinely upset.”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, my son spent years playing tennis, and I used to go swimming almost every day. The club was always alive with activities,” she recalls.Govil, who also served on the club’s committee, remembers organising cultural programmes — ranging from music and theatre performances to dance events and art exhibitions. “It was never just about recreation,” she says. “People came there to express themselves, to perform, to participate.”Unlike commercial spaces, she says, the club fosters a sense of familiarity and belonging. “When you go there, you know you would 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 the families for decades.”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.
