Over forty years have elapsed since the British departed from these shores, but much of the legacy of the Raj survives even today. While the most potent reminders of the empire are more intangible things, such as language, conventions, sports, laws and traditions, it is the architecture of the period that best evokes the ethos of British rule in the subcontinent.

Of all the various buildings, both religious and secular, left behind by the British, perhaps the most thoroughly British of all were the clubs the colonists built throughout the country.

Here was an institution created specifically by the British to allow a certain institutionalised social life in an alien environment — a place that was both a piece of England, yet adapted to a totally different climate and social environment.

Today, many of the clubs the British built remain, and continue to thrive, having adapted themselves to a new reality and new elite.

Others, however, have changed beyond recognition or have been demolished, some of them replaced by new structures that reflect an entirely different ethos.

After establishing themselves as sovereign rulers of India, the British set about establishing cities, many of them along the coast. Prominent among these port cities were Bombay, Calcutta and Madras.

Later, in the mid­-nineteenth century, the British decided to develop Karachi, which soon acquired the title of the 'Liverpool of India'.

Because of its geographical location, Karachi soon came to be the most important city in the area, attracting a large influx of British officials. Elsewhere in Sindh, there were smaller British settlements, most notably in Thatta, Kotri, Hyderabad, Sukkur and Shikarpur.

Once established, Karachi began to grow at a rapid pace. Apart from the influx of Europeans and numerous merchants, many of them Parsis, a large number of traders and labourers descended on the city from all over India, particularly from Bombay, Gujrat, Cutch, Kathiawar and East Punjab.

From the 1850s, Karachi enjoyed a steady expansion and, in the following decades, a considerable degree of commercial and economic prosperity followed.

Having established themselves, the British set about organising recreational facilities for themselves, much like they had done earlier in Calcutta, Bombay and Madras.

In the early years, the development of Karachi was concentrated in the cantonment and civil lines. While the origin of the cantonment may have been dictated by military necessity, it had a profound impact on the social and spatial structure of British India.

This was the first physical separation of the rulers and the ruled, and laid the foundations of the arrogant idea of racial and social superiority. The cantonment soon came to reflect the gulf between British and 'native' society.

The cantonments developed rapidly, with barracks, mess-rooms, bungalows, churches , halls and clubs constructed in them, but the progress of the rest of Karachi remained slow.

There were no roads at all outside the town. In fact, requests for roads were originally turned down by the authorities on the grounds that roads "discouraged young Englishmen from riding".

However, after the First World War, the rest of Karachi was slowly developed and began to present a much more prosperous aspect. New houses and buildings began to spring up everywhere, and suburbs began to sprawl across the city.

The British based in Karachi were obviously much happier than those in the interior of Sindh. Being in far larger numbers, they were able to have a fairly lively social life in the city. But elsewhere in Sindh, the British felt they were in exile.

With not too many sources of entertainment, the colonists were forced to invent all kinds of amusements for themselves, some of them eccentric in the extreme.

The best example is perhaps that of Colonel Tyrrhurst, who was in charge of the Kotri headquarters. Feeling bored one hot June, the colonel sent telegrams to all his friends in Karachi announcing his death.

The European community in Karachi dug out from their tin-lined boxes their black coats and striped trousers, and journeyed, in great discomfort, to Kotri.

On arrival, they were shown a coffin with a corpse lying in it, and began discussing the virtues of the dead man with the charity usual on such occasions.

Suddenly, the corpse sat up, and the door to the dining room was opened to reveal a table laid for lunch surrounded by crates of champagne.

There was a certain seasonal rhythm to British social life in the subcontinent. The summers were usually a period of lull, and the excitement began around September, with the arrival of catalogues from London.

Eager customers could select what they wanted from England from these catalogues in time for Christmas.

In October, the famous ritual of 'dropping cards' took place. In this ceremony, junior officers would go to government houses and write their names in the visitors' book and then go on to the officers' residences to drop their cards.

This practice was aimed at reminding superiors not to forget the juniors when making their guest lists for Christmas and New Year's parties.

But the occasion that most young Englishmen waited for most impatiently was the arrival of what was termed the 'fishing fleet'. This term was used to describe the groups of unmarried young ladies who were regularly sent off from England in batches to meet the demand for wives in India.

The moment the 'fishing fleet' touched the shores of Karachi, everyone made a bee-line for the new arrivals. Girls from Roedean, Cheltenham and other upper crust English institutions were much in demand.

The arrival of the winter season and the presence of the girls ensured that there were endless social activities and sporting events during this period.

Numerous dances and balls were organised, most of them in the clubs, and there were various tournaments such as polo, golf, cricket, hockey, tent­ pegging and pig-sticking.

The climax of the year's social life came at Christmas and New Year, which were celebrated enthusiastically by the British. After the festivities were over, the 'fishing fleet ' departed, casting a pall of gloom over the men.

In the early decades of the 20th century, waltzes and two-steps were popular dances, and the evenings invariably ended with a 'gallop'. Later, the two-steps gave way to the foxtrot.

A great deal of drinking would take place during most social occasions. Claret and brandy were popular drinks, but the imported pale ale was also a great favourite. Later, champagne and gimlet gin and lime became popular with both men and women.

In the evenings, scotch and soda water (known as vilayati pani or English water) was served, either in pau-pegs or quarter tots. The famous chota peg was the equal of two fingers of whisky and the bara peg, three.

Despite these opportunities for socialising, life for many British people in the small towns of Sindh was drab in the extreme. This problem was compounded by the colonialists own arrogance.

Living among an alien culture, the majority of officers and civilians acquired a sense of superiority over the locals, which prevented them from mixing with the 'natives'.

Even until the time of partition, British social life in India remained essentially Victorian. The clothes might have changed and the odd custom altered, but the frame work of life remained much the same as in the time of the old queen.

With the 'mother country' ruled over by an official hierarchy, the British remained socially conservative to the end.

In British India, the Raj was personified by the collector or the deputy commissioner. Later, these officers were joined by a new breed of covenanted Indian civil servants, who governed by the pen rather than the sword.

The colonial officer administered his district with the support of two assistants and a range of supporting officers, like the superintendent of police, the public works engineer, sub­divisional forest officers, sub-inspectors of posts and telegraphs -and even inspectors of opium.

As for upper-class locals, many of them remained fascinated and attracted by the rulers' lifestyles, even though they were never allowed to enter the charmed circle.

Till Partition, Karachi’s social elite comprised the British ruling class and the European traders, who were known as ' boxwallahs'. In addition, there were numerous Anglo-Indians and Parsis and a few Hindu and Muslim ICS officers who were eligible to be part of the elite.

The central institution in social life of the British officers in India was the club, which was the venue for a host of casual and festive occasions.

The club was the spiritual citadel of their lives, the true seat of British power. It was also the social centre of the civil and military station and the only common abode for the British in an alien country.

Smaller towns like Kotri, Mirpurkhas, Sukkur and Shikarpur, were dotted with a number of small clubs, most of them lacking in architectural merit. Many of these clubs were designed by the officers themselves and had certain uniformity about them.

One entered the club through a foyer which was invariably furnished with rapidly decaying heads of stuffed animals. On one side was the billiard room, usually decorated with portraits of the king or queen, and of prominent officers.

On the other side was the dining hall, with an entrance to a big hall with a fireplace, easy chairs and a few cupboards filled with books and magazines.

A comfortable atmosphere pervaded the clubs, which was conducive to gossip and chatter, and much nostalgic talk about good old England.

The clubs of Karachi were in a class of their own. Everyone who was anyone would congregate here regularly, with a great deal of snobbery prevailing.In fact, if someone did not belong to a certain club, he was invariably considered a social outcast.

There were, of course, individuals who deliberately chose to stay away from the clubs, refusing to kowtow to the conservatism they exuded.

Many of these 'rebels' were intellectuals who preferred to spend their evenings studying local history or learning the local language. For them the club was a frivolous waste of time.

In addition to the snobbery they projected, the clubs also had another negative side to them: they were by and large racially segregated. Even the most well-connected local was barred membership of almost all the British clubs.

Many upper-class locals ­ who believed that an entry into the club was the best way to get close to the men who ruled the country- waited in vain to be granted membership.

This was not allowed right up to the time of partition. Even a young ruler like the Mir of Khairpur, who was under the guardianship of a Major Gratton, an officer appointed by the British government, was not allowed to play tennis in the Karachi Gymkhana.

This was despite the fact that his guardian, who the Mir employed and paid a salary to, regularly played tennis at the same club.

Those who did not succeed in gaining acceptance among the British social elite decided, in retaliation, to establish their own clubs on the British model.

In Karachi, the Parsi Gymkhana was the first such establishment, followed by the Karachi Club and the Hindu, Muslim and Aga Khan Gymkhanas. These clubs were solely for the use of their respective community, or more precisely, to a particular class within that community.

The British clubs remained islands of Britishness, to which the colonialists retreated whenever they felt a personal, social or ritual need. The club was the pivot around which most social activity revolved.

The evenings were obviously the liveliest time to be at the clubs. One could play tennis, bridge, and other games, have a drink with friends, dance, or arrange a stag dinner. On Saturdays, most clubs arranged dancing after the evening meal.

The architecture of the clubs had a potent kind of symbolism about it. The grander ones seemed imposing and awe-inspiring in the extreme, their grandeur welcoming the 'right' people and shooing off the unwanted.

The clubs invariably had picturesque facades with rambling buildings, beautiful terraces, daunting entrances, stern name-plates, Victorian furniture, and long drives to make the intruder feel uncomfortable.

All this served to create a sense of exclusivity upon everyone and helped to give the imperialists a (usually spurious) sense of aristocracy.

One of the earliest and most handsome clubs in Karachi was the Sindh club- to this day a veritable bastion of the city’s elite. Built in 1883 and designed by Colonel Le Mesurier, the club is made up of two main blocks, fabricated in identical fashion.

Its two flanking blocks are purely residential, while the main block, houses all sorts of facilities. There is very little ornamentation on this yellow stone building, with repetitive Romanesque windows found in all the blocks.

The facades are bare and free of ornamentation, with only the main building relieved by a projecting central verandah, embellished with arches and a balustraded parapet. Architecturally, the building defies easy classification, but its spiritual antecedents are Italian.

The Karachi Gymkhana is also equally impressive in design, although it has been far more extensively renovated and revamped.

Founded in 1886, the building is essentially romanticised tudor in design, but has been adapted to local conditions, creating a delightful hybrid design of great charm and refinement.

With its many verandahs, originally designed for drinking and gossiping in the cool of the evening, the building exudes a pleasant atmosphere.

The wide eaves and gables enriched with fretwork are the distinctive features, and take the form of projecting, pointed hoods over windows and canopies enclosing verandahs and porches.

Today, the club is one of the most thriving in the city, with a membership heavily drawn from the ranks of the business community.

Another club built in a similar style, but with much less elaboration, is the Railway Club near the Cantonment Station. Built in 1899, the club was a rare exception to the prevailing rule of racial segregation; the Railway Club admitted both European and locals from its very inception.

Apart from the Sindh Club, the Boat Club is the most exclusive club in Karachi. Built in 1881 in the rural mock tudor style in black and white, it is ideally situated on the China Creek.

Although the building is not an architectural masterpiece, its location more than compensates, especially in the evenings when it presents a romantic picture, reflected in the waters of the creek.

Besides these clubs, which remain thriving institutions to this day, there are also some lesser known clubs tucked away in different parts of Karachi. Many of them are in a poor state of repair.

Among them are the Karachi Yacht Club, built in 1911, the Karachi Racing Club (1876) and the Merchant Navy Club (1944). There is also the tastelessly renovated British Union Jack Club, built in 1933, which is now the Services Club.

Many of Karachi's clubs have lost their identity and have been transformed into offices, or have disappeared altogether.

Of these, the Karachi Amateur Dramatic Club (1899), Karachi Artillery Volunteers Club and the Napier Fleet Club (now the PSO office at Keamari), are the most notable.

Many, like the Birch Club near Saddar post office, the Country Club and Old Golf Club, both originally situated near the present-day Plaza International Hotel on E.l. Lines, have been demolished.

Among one of the clubs that sprung up as a response to the exclusion of locals, is the Karachi Club, once a delightful edifice in the Palladian a style.

Built in 1913 by upper-class locals, the building has since been demolished and replaced by an undistinguished concrete and steel structure.

Except for the Karachi Club and the Cosmopolitan Club, all the other clubs catering to the locals were reserved exclusively for the community that built them.

In Karachi, the Parsis built two social institutions, the Zoroastrian Club, built in 1882 in a Greek style with serliana windows and ionic orders, and the Karachi Parsi Institute, a complex compromising a recreational hall, a swimming bath and a pavilion built in the tudor style.

The Hindu and Muslim Gymkhanas, built in close proximity to each other, were also clubs built by particular communities.

While the Muslim Gymkhana remains a living institution, the Hindu Gymkhana, a splendid building and one of the architectural gems of Karachi, is in a pitiable state.

Built in 1925 to the design of Aga A. Hussain, the building represents a fusion of the Hindu and Muslim styles, and the art and culture of both these communities are reflected in the pillars, traceries and carvings on the doors and windows.

The building symbolises the close contact and friendly relations that existed between the two peoples who lived in Sindh in peace and harmony for centuries.

The other gymkhana in this category is the Aga Khan Gymkhana. Built in 1860 as a residence cum durbar for the then Aga Khan, it was bestowed in 1940 to his community as a gift and was turned into a gymkhana.

The handsome structure, in Italian style mingled with Hindu decorative elements, remains a unique structure and is still well-preserved to this day.

Today, many of the clubs, particularly the more socially exclusive ones, retain the conventions and customs that the British had created.

In fact, upper class locals have tried to recreate the world of their former rulers in the very institutions from which they were once barred entry, to the extent that many of these institutions still seem locked in some time-warp that is entirely divorced from even the social realities of the (sic) 'mother country '.

While all the British gentleman’s clubs, on which the variants have been faithfully modelled, have been forced to open up their memberships to women by the constitutional injunction for sexual equality, a few of the Pakistani clubs still continue to discriminate against women by refusing to acknowledge their right to individual membership.

Obviously, the pukka memsahib of nineteenth century British India continues to serve as the model for the socially acceptable lady whose need to powder her nose or indulge in evening tennis does not extend to crossing the boundaries of the 'Billiard Room', which to many, symbolises the concept of an independent right to membership in these rarified, if slightly antediluvian, bastions of male social privilege.

Today, many of the descendents of the local aristocracy created or promoted by the British still continue to be more loyal than the king in adhering to the social mores that inform the collective psyche of those at the helm of these institutions.

The writer is an architect.

This article was originally published in the Herald's February 1990 issue. To read more subscribe to the Herald in print.