Orient Club: A haven for the brown sahib
In the souvenir of the Orient Club on the occasion of its centenary celebrations, 25 years ago, I wrote an article titled, ‘The Departure Lounge’ - the bar of the club. It was so named, explained the member who conferred that moniker, a medical specialist, because members who frequently inhabited the place departed to Kanatte with a frequency much greater than those who spent their leisure hours elsewhere.
I was at the Departure Lounge last week reminiscing about the times that I enjoyed spending there while enjoying a gin & tonic to ward off the afternoon heat but realised that of the one hundred odd members, according to my estimate, who had been members of the Lounge, many had departed to the heavens/ the nether world or into the world of nothingness between then and now. Only three of that membership remained: a sprightly nonagenarian, myself an octogenarian and another of the same vintage.
The Orient is subject - like all things - to that eternal law of nature: Change with Time.
While I was enjoying my gin & tonic, a sturdy young man walked in, nodded perfunctorily at me, ordered a Pilsner, and commenced poking away with his forefinger at a box while swiping at the screen and talking to it. The box talked back to him, and they even laughed together. It was a new world for them.The world had changed and so it had come to the Departure Lounge.
Gone were the days when members greeted each other loud and clear: So, how, how? How's life and the wife? Or Alagan, that veteran servitor, presenting an incoming member, the race sheet that contained details of the runners and riders of the main horse races in good old England. The Sport of Kings of the English still had a hold on the Orientals who established this club because the English did not permit entry into their clubs, even in this country.
Fortunately, the Law of Change has only come in some parts. Some of the old features remain.
In another corner of the Departure Lounge it was like in old times. They were arguing and insulting one another, they ordered the hard stuff and were quite raucous. The hard-core comprised sons of the fathers of the earlier generation that had departed. Some could even trace their membership to their grandfathers! This comprised the engine room of the club providing the finance through liquification of
their wealth at the bar. They maintained standards of the past, the quality of membership of new recruits, and were enforcers of the dress code etc which keeps the Orient on its old tracks.
Adjoining the Departure Lounge is the spacious lounge where history - a glorious history - gazes down on the occupants from the walls. They are past members - four prime ministers - DS, Dudley, Sir John and SWRD with the first Governor General of Ceylon and distinguished politicians from the north, Chief Justices, Supreme Court Judges, legendary medical professionals, outstanding businessmen and academics.
You can't help but get a feeling of inferiority considering their past achievements and those of members that followed them. But that could be a wrong perspective. They on the walls achieved what they could in their time under different conditions and contributed to the improvement of the Orient very well. But each generation has performed to their capacity depending on the conditions that prevailed.
In 1991 when I joined the Orient, it was in shambles. Prabhakaran had bombed the Joint Headquarters of the Defence Forces located across the road from the Orient. That explosion shattered almost every single sheet of glass that was in the club house and took off a part of the roof of the massive building. The Members Hostel was a total wreck. Demolition was recommended.
Yet, the club house is today spick and span, colour washed and white washed though a little bit remains to be done. The kitchen and laundry are functioning. The
flooring is Mahogany. The Members Hostel is now a well known restaurant in town supposed to be bringing in income. Other new sources of income have been generated.
Of course some changes have taken place not in accordance with what was essentially the Orient. Its lunch in the good old days was Sinhala Buth Curry. As a cook put it: “The gentlemen living in Colombo miss the taste of Kos, Mus and Pol Sambol and we provide it.” But now alas it's gone tourist.
There is sugar in the red hot chillies and no parippu, pol sambol or poppadom.
As is known quite well the Orient Club was established as a rejoinder to the British who refused entry of the native sons to their clubs. But it was modelled on the same lines as English clubs: A home away from home. After a hard day’s work, a man needs relaxation away from the pressures at the workplace, domestic politics and trivialities at home.
The Orient has refused ladies membership because it would go against the basic logic for a gentlemen’s club: A home away from home which may be nearby. The present management, it is hoped, would realise from events around the world that gender equality results in female superiority. Now ladies are welcome even into the Departure Lounge but only as guests. They do sip their
cocktails and stronger stuff as effortlessly as their partners. As far as I'm concerned, enough is enough as far as membership is concerned.
It is a place primarily for the male of the species to rest their tired limbs and worried minds.
Let's say 'Cheers' to that gentleman, who used to retreat to the Departure Lounge and keep recalling the words of that immortal poet Omar Khayyam over his Nth Double Distilled:
Ah,fill the cup - what boots it to repeat How Time is slipping underneath our feet Unborn tomorrow and dead yesterday Why fret about them, if today be sweet.