Delhi’s Elite Face Eviction as India Advances Decolonization Campaign

The air conditioning struggled against the intense heat of an Indian summer night as members of Delhi’s historic Gymkhana Club sipped lime sodas and ate paneer on the lawn, perhaps unknowingly attending one of the last gatherings at the venue.

A short distance away, behind a heavily fortified wall, Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s government has issued an order to explain why the club should not be forcibly removed from its premises.

Founded over a century ago as a whites-only social club for British colonial administrators and their spouses, the Gymkhana now serves as a sanctuary for Delhi’s indigenous elite. However, its imperial heritage places it at odds with Modi’s initiative to eliminate what he describes as a lingering “slave mentality” in Indian society.

The government leased 27 acres of prime real estate in central Delhi, featuring lush lawns, two swimming pools, a library, and tennis facilities with a history of professional tournaments, including 26 grass and seven clay courts. Officials argue the lease should be terminated on grounds including the land’s critical need for defense infrastructure expansion and public interest.

Club members—predominantly current or retired civil servants, foreign diplomats, and military officials—argue the government is fabricating a land dispute to send a broader message: the era when Delhi’s traditional elite shaped national policy has ended.

“The term ‘elite’ is being misused,” stated Abhishek Tankha, a businessman who frequents the club for its squash courts and social events. He interprets Modi’s rhetoric as implying a cultural rejection of a “westernized Indian who never accepted Modi’s leadership,” suggesting an ideological divide between the club’s members and the government’s vision.

Tankha, a former BJP member, believes the club’s status as a symbol of an outdated, exclusionary establishment is being deliberately challenged. Yet he questions, “Why shouldn’t we be proud of our own clubs?”

The typical Gymkhana member—often enduring waitlists exceeding 20 years—represents a demographic losing influence in Modi’s vision of a Hindu-nationalist “New India,” where secular democratic ideals are yielding to a culturally assertive national identity.

The ongoing disputes over institutions like the Gymkhana highlight foundational tensions about identity and heritage in a nation of 1.4 billion people, where a hybrid culture emerged post-independence. India has absorbed and adapted British traditions, from cricket to afternoon tea, yet the psychological scars of colonial racial subjugation remain unresolved.

Modi, in his third term, actively connects historical injustices to contemporary narratives to resonate with India’s majority population, for whom exclusive club memberships remain inaccessible. Across Delhi, his administration’s “colonial erasure” efforts are visible: neoclassical government buildings replacing Victorian-era structures, and Hindi-Sanskrit street names supplanting British toponyms.

Recently, the government accelerated actions to reclaim two other colonial landmarks: the Jaipur Polo Ground, where King Charles III once played, and other sites embodying the Raj’s legacy. Modi framed development as liberation: “In the journey of a developed India, it is vital to move forward free from the colonial mindset,” he declared during the inauguration of a new government complex named Seva Teerth in Sanskrit, contrasting it with British-built structures designed to “keep India chained in slavery.”

Plans include converting the twin Secretariat buildings—imperial administrative centers—into a national museum, symbolizing a shift from colonial legacy to indigenous sovereignty.

By targeting the Gymkhana, Modi seeks to dismantle one of the British Raj’s most enduring social institutions. Similar clubs across British India, characterized by neoclassical architecture and expansive verandas, served as power centers for colonial elites. George Orwell depicted such spaces in “Burmese Days,” noting their role as “the real seat of British power” in Kyauktada Club.

Indianization only began in the final years of British rule, with gradual membership expansion. However, the club’s exclusivity persists, maintaining barriers to entry for most Delhites.

Rakesh Sinha, a former BJP MP and Modi ally, dismisses the Gymkhana as a “feudal arrangement” incompatible with a society where “people are still struggling to find basic housing.”

Sinha insists dismantling the club serves “the interest of the common people,” reflecting a broader narrative of equity and access in post-colonial India.

Critics counter that Modi’s decolonization agenda unfairly vilifies institutions long integrated into Indian society. Historian Swapna Liddle argues that civilizational progress inherently involves “taking what is in your past, reshaping it, redesigning it, and repurposing it.”

“The Gymkhana is not merely a club,” Liddle explains, “but an institution that evolved from a racist colonial product into an Indian one through adaptation.” She emphasizes that India’s efforts to “de-Anglicize” its institutions have long preceded Modi, including post-independence renaming campaigns like Queensway to Janpath.

Other cities underwent similar transformations: Bombay became Mumbai in 1995, Calcutta rebranded as Kolkata in 2001, and Kerala’s legislature recently approved “Keralam” to reflect the local language. These changes, though not universally embraced, mirror a national ethos of cultural reclamation.

Modi’s vision extends beyond erasing colonial symbols to dismantling legacies of Muslim rule, as seen in his 2023 inauguration of a sprawling government complex replacing the pre-1947 Secretariat buildings. Speaking in civilizational terms, he declared it a moment when “India redefined its destiny,” framing it as a triumph over Western dominance.

Gymkhana members initially feared eviction, but past conflicts over alleged financial mismanagement had yielded little consequence. However, a May directive demanding evacuation by June 5, followed by a recent notice to appeal, marked a sharp escalation. A hearing is set for month’s end.

Urmila Gupta, an 82-year-old member since 1984 when women gained voting rights, lamented the potential loss of a “second home” in retirement. “People used to say the club has the best grass courts east of the Suez,” she recalled. “It has a legacy. And it has the right to exist.”

Amman Singh, 29, a furniture designer and third-generation tennis player whose grandfather was a retired army general, finds the eviction order puzzling. “Why is this land so crucial to him?” he asked, noting his own membership wait time exceeded 28 years. While acknowledging the club’s exclusivity, he resists labeling it “elitist,” arguing, “It is not elite.” The debate persists, reflecting India’s ongoing struggle to balance historical preservation with revolutionary change.

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