A staycation in Madras a la Gymkhana club

Having grown up at the Gymkhana Club, many of my fondest childhood memories are deeply tied to it. Whether it was discovering my first Agatha Christie novel in the club library, savoring continental dishes (to this day, I believe the best baked corn in the world is served here—I’ve tried auflauf in Germany, baked corn in Houston, and baked sweet corn in England, but Gymkhana still wins hands down), learning to swim in the giant pool, or playing tennis on the clay courts—each experience shaped who I am today. So, after years of ignoring my father’s gentle nudges to become a member, when the opportunity finally came, I seized it eagerly with both hands.

After two decades in the software engineering grind — full of deadlines, design docs, and deployments — I finally did the unthinkable. In early August, I quit my perfectly “good-going” corporate job to start something of my own. (Yes, midlife crisis, but make it entrepreneurial.)The decision came after much family consultation — equal parts logic, emotion, and a dash of “why not?” But before diving headfirst into startup chaos, I desperately needed a quick holiday to reset my brain. The only problem? We’d just returned from a glorious Grecian summer that had already burned a respectable hole in our wallets. So, the budget for the next trip had to be “India edition.”I started looking for a quick weekend getaway from Bangalore that didn’t involve airports or existential guilt. That’s when it struck me — why not Madras? A weekend of tennis, swimming, and nostalgia with the family. Perfect plan! Except… minor snag. My parents were off galavanting in England with my sister Malavika, and though I could technically use their flat, it would involve unlocking it, cleaning it, and pretending to be responsible. In short — not a holiday by my definition.And then I remembered! Dad had once mentioned that the Gymkhana guest house had been newly renovated and was now open to members. Aha — problem solved! One quick WhatsApp consult with the family committee, followed by an efficient call to the club office, and voilà — our weekend getaway was booked.

That august weekend, Chennai decided to surprise us with weather that felt suspiciously like Bangalore — cloudy skies and a gentle breeze. Add to that the lush green trees of the Gymkhana campus, and it was nothing short of a "cool(warm) welcome"

We checked into our very fancy suite — complete with a sofa perfect for lazing and watching TV, a king-sized bed fit for royalty, sparkling new bathrooms, and an extra bed for Keshav. My two boys, Raghu and Keshav, were over the moon. You’d think we’d taken them to Disneyland, not the Gymkhana guest house.

Once settled, we marched off to lunch — my order was, of course, the legendary baked corn (still unbeaten despite international competition from Germany, Houston, and England). The kids went for their staple chilly cheese toast, which Santosh also attacked enthusiastically. We rounded off with the classic pineapple passion — because no Gymkhana meal is complete without that signature sugar rush dish.

After feeding the army, a power nap was mandatory (I am a madrasi, after all — naps are sacred). By 4 p.m., we hit the pool for a solid two-hour swim session that made us feel both athletic and justified in eating more later. Then came the clay court tennis session — a proper doubles match with the markers. Keshav and I were on opposite sides, and my inner Serena Williams came alive. I was running all over the place like my life depended on that point. Poor Keshav looked torn between pride and embarrassment — unsure if I was his mom or his mortal enemy.

Meanwhile, Santosh and Raghu were in literary heaven — one deep in Salman Rushdie, the other in Noddy. Truly, an intellectual family.

Day 1 ended with a glorious Indian-Chinese dinner (because nothing says comfort food like Gymkhana Manchurian) and a couple of beers for the adults, while the kids drank the legendary "cricket". We crashed that night, sleeping like babies — or maybe like babies after too much fried rice.

Day 2 began with the smell of fresh filter coffee and a breakfast spread so generous it could have fed an army battalion — fruits, eggs made to order, and the holy trinity of South Indian comfort food: pongal, vadai, and chutney. The guest house staff did a stellar job tidying up after the chaos of Day 1 (read: wet towels and biscuit crumbs everywhere).

Post-breakfast, we digested our indulgence by flipping through magazines at the library — current affairs and nostalgia side by side. I even found the same kind of shelves that once held Reader’s Digest and Time magazines that opened Madras kids’ eyes to the outside world.

Then came table tennis (a sport of fast reflexes and questionable serves), followed by a nostalgic coaching session for me with my old clay-court marker. After a hearty lunch, another round of swimming, and a relaxed dinner with friends, we were officially in “staycation heaven.” The kids disappeared — the little ones at the playground, the preteens at TT (without devices — a modern miracle), and the adults laughed over food and memories.

The next morning, after yet another excellent breakfast, we reluctantly packed up and headed back to Bangalore — hearts full, bellies fuller.

All in all, it was the perfect Gymkhana getaway — home away from home, with a touch of nostalgia, a dash of sport, and a generous helping of laughter. And yes, we’re already plotting our December comeback — my husband insists we stay at Gymkhana again. Who am I to argue with such good taste?