Golmuri Club

In the colony where I grew up, I did so in rather colonial fashion. There was so much to do. Life was about going to school, hanging out at the club, making merry at the verdant playgrounds behind the officers flats, signing for Thums Up and Chips (or Wafers) using Dad's account number and trying to look cool in the wonder years. It was largely a good life, free of strife and an idyllic regimen only second to that observed in the life of Bertie Wooster. The Golmuri Club could pass off as the Drones Club quite easily, built as it was in the pre-independence days. It had tennis clay courts, which magically became soft-ball cricket grounds when no one was looking. It had a swimming pool that resembled a gigantic bathtub, raised as it was above the ground. The landscaping on the grounds was pretty and undulating, making for nice backdrops to possible romantic trysts...if you didn't mind being stared at by the male kids splashing around in the pool nearby, or the adults (uncles and aunties) peering through the glassed bar across from the pool, curiosity dripping out of their rum and coke glasses. The auditorium was closed on 3 sides but open length wise on the 4th, which was odd because some seats would be exposed to rain. Used mostly for screening movies on Friday and Saturday nights, there was a bit of room between the large wall-screen and the first row of seats. The space was not wasted but rather housed a Table Tennis Table (TNT). This lead to a particularly surreal experience sometimes. You'd be watching the hindi movie with a lot of attention, suddenly the lights would come on for the interval and instantaneously two lads would get up from the early rows and start playing table-tennis. The food was great, particularly the mutton burgers and fish chops. Occasionally, when you had a fete, there was music blaring mostly numbers by Wham, Madonna and Stevie Wonder, not to mention George Benson's non-jazz hit "Nothings going to change my love for you". We'd put on our smartest jeans and fake reeboks and strut all around from stall to stall having fun but mostly trying to look cool. Whither those days?