Grand Christmas Ball today in Chennai

Over the decades, the Anglo-Indian Grand Christmas Ball in Chennai has stepped into many venues, from Railway enclaves to private halls. It has left an indelible mark on some of these venues, Faiz Mahal and Shiraz Hall, both in Egmore, counted among them. This Christmas Day (December 25), Faiz Mahal is playing host to yet another Grand Christmas Ball (7 p.m. to 11.30 p.m.) -- titled Care ‘n’ Share Christmas Ball -- organised by Anglo-Indians but by no means restricted to them.

For a good part of the twentieth century, the epicentre of Anglo-Indian social life was the Railway Institutes, and in Chennai, it was the one in Perambur.

“Earlier, the majority of Anglo-Indians worked in the Indian Railways,” says Harry MacLure, publisher and editor of Anglos in the Wind. “So all our balls and dances naturally happened there.”

These institutes were cultural commons. Christmas dances, Easter balls, May Queen celebrations and Valentine’s Day Balls would unfold there year after year. Entry was not restricted to railway employees. “Anglo-Indians from outside the railways were always welcome,” Harry recalls. “That camaraderie was a defining feature.”

The dances themselves were formal, unhurried affairs. Live bands played through the night. Waltzes, foxtrots and jives held the floor. Even those who did not dance stayed on, content to listen. Christmas balls often began at nine at night and ended at five in the morning — a full night given over to music, movement and social ritual.

By the 1970s and 80s, Anglo-Indians were beginning to look for fortunes beyond the Indian railways, migrating abroad or entering new professions. “We lost our hold over the Railway Institutes,” Harry says. “Once that happened, we had to look for other venues.”

That search led to a succession of spaces across Chennai — Binny’s among them — before settling, over the last two decades, on private halls. In Egmore, Shiraz Hall and Faiz Mahal emerged as consistent hosts of what is now known as the Grand Christmas Ball. “Shiraz has been happening for at least 20 years,” Harry notes.

“There has always been a strong relationship between the Anglo-Indian community and the Muslim families who own these halls.” Even as costs rose, negotiation rarely entered the picture. Christmas, after all, is not the season for bargaining.

Not just the economics of celebration, its composition has also changed. Live bands, once essential, now share space with DJs and singers performing with backing tracks. “Earlier, if you said there would only be a DJ, the show would flop,” Harry recalls. “People would not come.”

For many, these halls are not interchangeable spaces but repositories of personal history. Treasure Jacob, a member of the Forum of Anglo-Indian Women (FAIW), remembers her first dance clearly and not because of the venue. “I did not meet my husband at the dance,” she says. “He was already my boyfriend. But the first time we went together, he taught me how to dance. It was 1988. “I did not know how to dance at all,” she recalls. “He told me, ‘Do not worry, I will teach you.’” Songs such as Save the Last Dance, Mari Mari and Could I Have This Dance still return her to that floor.

Getting there, however, required negotiation. “As children, we went with our parents,” Treasure says. “But once we grew up, getting permission was a struggle.” Dances ran through the night, and parents enforced strict curfews. “My dad would come at four in the morning, show his watch and say, ‘Time is up.’ We would beg for one last dance.”

The protocol was firm. Tickets were checked. Dress codes enforced. Suits and gowns were mandatory. Fathers sometimes waited outside, unable to enter without formal wear, standing guard until it was time to go home. Fashion, like everything else, has evolved from low-waist dresses and leg-of-mutton sleeves to long gowns and contemporary silhouettes but the sense of occasion remains intact.

Even the food tells a story. Earlier menus featured pork fry, meat roast, cutlets, chapathis, sandwiches, tongue and oxtail. Chicken was rare. Today’s spreads include everything from pasta and noodles to Manchurian — a buffet shaped by migration and return.

That return remains a powerful pull. Many Anglo-Indians travel back from Australia, particularly Perth every Christmas. Others come once every two years. “We all want to come back,” Harry admits. “Even if we can’t resettle, the connection never goes away.”

So does the venue matter? “Each place has its own mood,” Harry says. “But the identity comes from the people.”

While the grand Christmas balls now gravitate towards Shiraz Hall and Faiz Mahal in Egmore, the season is not confined to these marquee addresses. Smaller associations continue to hold dances in neighbourhood halls across Pallavaram, Tambaram and St Thomas Mount — areas that once had a striking Anglo-Indian presence. These gatherings are more compact, often organised by local clubs or family networks, but they carry the same codes of dress, music and memory. For many older residents, these halls are closer to home and closer to heart.