The Bombay Gymkhana Club

(Alice) Some of our group had been to dinner with slum redevelopment visionary/advisor Mukesh Mehta, and he'd graciously invited those of us who would still be in town on Saturday afternoon to lunch at his club. Pretty much everyone else was already on their way home, but Julie and I were happy to accept. I'd read about the importance of the old social clubs as a venue for the well-connected in Mumbai and was curious to experience it for myself.

Mukesh sent a message saying he'd "fetch us" at 12:30, and he and his driver picked us up at the Trident right on time. We were soon at the Bombay Gymkhana Club, the oldest of the distinguished social/ athletic clubs in town. The Gymkhana was founded by British residents in 1875, and in the earlier years of its existence, Indians could not become members. In fact, the story goes that Lord Willingdon could not even get through the door with an Indian maharajah as his guest. Lady Willingdon was indignant and felt that Indians should not be excluded from club society, and founded her own club in protest. Amazingly, women were only allowed to become members of the Gymkhana in 2000.

In the modern world the old club has remained exclusive in other ways. A membership application requires a recommendation by a member, interviews, and a demonstration of the prospect's athletic prowess in cricket, tennis or one of the other pursuits carried out on the vast green field framing the club, which has been home to some internationally-ranked championship cricket matches. Mukesh, who is an entertaining raconteur, told the story of making a rather dramatic botch of his cricket skills during his evaluation, yet somehow still gaining the member status that he continues to enjoy decades later.

Mukesh's driver pulls up to a long wood-canopied walkway that leads from the curb to a reception area opening to a wide marble-floored verandah overlooking the vast cricket green. We walk past many rows of substantial verandah furniture and go inside to the main clubhouse dining area that also commands a view of the very green green. The dark wood, brass, leather and glass furnishings exude the patina of many years of comfortable, distinguished service. As impressive as the late Victorian ambience is, this is not a place where members go to be stuffy, and the emphasis on this being a sportsmans' club bats away the possibility of pretension. There is, however, a modest display case housing autographed tennis and cricket memorabilia from international notables.

Mukesh asks what kind of food we'd like and we say Indian, hot is ok, and please do feel free to order for us. The waitstaff is attentive yet completely unobtrusive, as one might expect, and all the food is excellent. Toward the end of the meal, when Julie mentioned how great the kulfti (a kind of dense, reduced-milk ice cream) was at the Trishna restaurant the night before, Mukesh ventured that the Gymkhana chef probably does even better, and a minute later we're eating three varieties of wonderful kulfti.

But the real treat of this lunch was to have the opportunity for more conversation with our host. In the group's previous meetings with Mukesh, we'd heard much of his bold plans for rehabilitating and revitalizing the vast Dharavi squatter's area (Mumbai's largest) as well as the squatter areas by the airport and the depressed rural areas which the country poor abandon for the urban slums. We could have easily discussed these things further, but we also got to know more about Mukesh's life history, his family, his years living in Long Island and how his interest in the residents of Dharavi evolved from self-interest to a strong admiration for their resourcefulness and ambition. There is a reason why certain people are more than commonly successful in their life's pursuits: while Mukesh is self-deprecating and attributes many things in his life to "luck", the three-hour lunch allowed some insight into his willingness to go out on a limb and make some bold decisions at the right times for "luck" to occur. We also discovered that today was his birthday, and after being a gracious host to his American guests, he was going home to more feasting with his family. He explained that many Indians have domestic help to do the cooking, so it is a very special honor when his wife and his son decided to cook the birthday meal.

Full of our last Mumbai cuisine and good conversation, we are driven back to the Trident with just enough time to pack and check out. As the car gets the full security inspection before entering the hotel driveway, Mukesh says, "We lost our innocence on the 26th last year."

Even regarding our departure plans, Mukesh is full of good advice. He recommended a service named Mega Cab, which true to its name has cars slightly larger than the usual taxis. He told us: make the driver put the meter on, and take the Sea Link bridge. In spite of some traffic we arrive early and the fare is less than 400 rupees.

Our APA group has been treated very graciously and generously by all our hosts and contacts in India, and I will never forget how welcoming the culture has been to this crew of sometimes clueless but well-meaning Americans. It was fine indeed to have again experienced this kind of hospitality that I can only hope to some day reciprocate; our three-week welcome is fresh in my mind as we drive over the Sea Link with the sun going down on Mumbai.