Just Like That | Colonial Clubs and the Fetishism of Dress Codes

Rajnath Singh, the raksha mantri, may be a little surprised that the Kasauli Club, whose president is the acting Brigadier of the cantonment, could possibly prevent him from entering the Club. Indeed, the Club, founded in 1898, still persists with an outdated dress code, which allows men to enter in leisure suits, safari suits and blazers, but not the minister's impressive trademark dress, a dhoti elegantly worn with a starched kurta. He may also have a hard time because the Club also insists on wearing shoes with socks and bans sandals, even closed Peshawaris.

PRIME

Our British rulers created a chain of clubs for themselves, and for a long time they were for whites only. When they left, Indians were admitted, but mostly brown sahibs who, as Macaulay had prophetically predicted, were Indian only by color. This class of anglicized, English-speaking Indians also represented the new members of the power elite among civil servants, senior police and military officials, the old rich, and some business leaders.

So, nothing has really changed in these bastions of exclusion. In Calcutta, the Bengal Club where Macaulay once lived did not open its doors to Indians until 1959, more than a decade after independence, and an Indian did not replace a Briton as club president until seven years later ! In Mumbai, another prominent club kept this notice outside its premises for many years after 1947: DOGS AND INDIANS PROHIBITED.

Such clubs have thus become symbols of a cultural confrontation, between a new, less Anglicised and more egalitarian India, and the colonial traditions of the past. The Delhi Gymkhana Club, founded in 1913, occupies 27.3 acres of prime land in Lutyens Delhi. But in 1991, when I went to the club, dressed in a silk kurta, starched pyjamas, expensive buttons and Peshawari sandals, the burly doorman who had known me since childhood asked me to wear a Jawahar jacket too. I agreed until I found that people in jeans and T-shirts were allowed in, while I, dressed in formal attire in keeping with my own cultural traditions, could not. I protested vigorously and, fortunately, the then president, Admiral Tahliani, revised the rules.

But old habits die hard. In 2013, the same club prevented a high-ranking Bhutanese monk from entering because of his traditional costume. The Delhi Golf Club, another elite citadel, witnessed a shameful incident in 2017 when a Khasi lady from Meghalaya, Taiin Lyngdoh, invited there for lunch, was asked by club officials to leave because 'she was dressed in formal attire. jaïnsemher formal attire indicates. Apparently, officials told her it looked like a maid's dress. The incident sparked public outrage, but colonial mindsets persist and little attempt has been made to accommodate India's vast diversity of formal dress. For example, the popular Tollygunge Club in Calcutta, founded in 1855 and occupying 110 acres of prime land, does not allow guests or members formally dressed in a kurta-pyjama into any venue of the club, but does allow all varieties of T-shirts and jeans. Nor would it allow former minister P Chidambaram, if he wore his elegant veshti and shirt.

I am a member of most of these clubs, and my criticism comes from an insider as a warning about the need for change, especially since most members of the current ruling party, without an Anglicised pedigree or English congratulations, would not be eligible to become members and, rightly, resent these vestiges of cultural colonisation. The situation is made worse because inbreeding breeds infighting. Allegations of financial irregularities between rival groups within the clubs swirl, literally inviting the government to take over, as happened with the Delhi Gymkhana Club.

Clubs have the right to their autonomy, but not to their refusal to change. It is no coincidence that after the government took over Gymkhana, Om Pathak was appointed as administrator. A member of the national executive of the Bharatiya Janata Party, he had applied for membership in 1982 but had never obtained it. Two of his decisions were to keep an open copy of the Bhagavad Gita in the library and to organize a performance of the Ramayana.

Pavan K Varma is an author, diplomat and former MP (Rajya Sabha). The views expressed are personal.