Inside Delhi’s speakeasy culture: Why hidden bars are thriving

For a format born out of evasion, the speakeasy has found a surprisingly stable home in Delhi. This is a city that has never been uneasy with discretion; if anything, it has long understood that some pleasures are heightened by selective access. Delhi’s social life has always operated on layers — of invitation, proximity, and knowledge — and within this framework, the speakeasy feels more like an extension of how the city already moves after dark.

The drinks at Somewhere Nowhere

When Rakshay Dhariwal, founder and managing director, Maya Pass Code Hospitality and Maya Pistola Agavepura, opened PCO in Vasant Vihar in 2012 — now widely regarded as India’s first speakeasy — Delhi’s nightlife was starkly binary. You were either battling volume in a nightclub or speaking in hushed tones at a five-star hotel bar, with little room for those who wanted a serious cocktail without the ceremony. PCO’s phone booth entrance, passcode and jazz-inflected interiors nodded to classic speakeasy aesthetics, but the intent was pragmatic rather than nostalgic. “If I’m being honest, the filter was the driving force,” Rakshay says. The passcode, he explains, was not about secrecy for its own sake, but about a subtle barrier that ensured everyone inside had actively chosen to be there.

Inside The Bar Behind the Sandwich Shop
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Hidden in plain sight

That idea of intent has slowly become the backbone of Delhi’s speakeasy culture. Without signboards or street-facing visibility to pull in foot traffic, these spaces are forced to rely on reputation, memory and word of mouth. Over time, the city has responded by treating discretion as a form of luxury. Rakshay is clear that while several elements determine longevity, their order matters. “The drinks programme is the anchor,” he says. A hidden entrance only works if what waits at the end of it is worth the effort. When the cocktail delivers, the concealment feels indulgent; when it does not, the secrecy quickly curdles into inconvenience.

Noctis
| Photo Credit:
Parth Mehrotra

Noctis
| Photo Credit:
Parth Mehrotra

Equally central is the social code these spaces enforce. Delhi can be exhilarating, but it can also be exhausting, and the controlled entry of a speakeasy creates what Rakshay describes as a “safe zone”. Guests, particularly women, know that once inside, the tone of the room is protected. Staff, in this context, do not merely serve drinks; they maintain atmosphere, ensuring the space remains intimate, calm and consistent.

Inside Noctis
| Photo Credit:
Parth Mehrotra

In an era where every good place is instantly tagged, shared and mapped, secrecy itself has had to evolve. Rakshay is pragmatic about this shift. “True secrecy is a myth,” he says. What matters now is the difference between being known and being accessible. Even if a bar circulates widely online, entry — finding the number, getting the code, and punching it in — still performs its psychological function. It filters out the casually curious and preserves the experience for those who are there for the right reasons.

The Bar Behind the Sandwich Shop
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Vikram Achanta, founder and CEO, Tulleeho and co-founder, 30BestBarsIndia and the India Bartender Show, believes the speakeasy model works in Delhi because it mirrors the city’s deeper rhythms. He often references William Dalrymple’s description of Delhi as a place where multiple histories coexist rather than replace one another, and sees that same layering reflected in its bar culture. Over the past year, speakeasies have emerged behind salons, sandwich shops, vinyl stores and tailor shops, particularly in neighbourhoods like Greater Kailash II, Vasant Vihar and the El Deco Centre, not as gimmicks, but as carefully considered concepts. “Delhi is comfortable with discretion and discovery,” Vikram says. “Access being earned rather than advertised still holds value here.”

That said, he is quick to caution against mistaking format for substance. Indian drinkers today are far more open to variety than they were a decade ago, gravitating towards wine bars, taprooms, spirit-led rooms and tightly defined boutique spaces. In this climate, a speakeasy must justify its secrecy. “If it’s secrecy without substance, it won’t last,” he says.

Choose where you unwind

That insistence on meaning is central to Noctis, the tailor-shop speakeasy at Panchsheel Community Centre founded by Angad Wasu. Tucked away on a quiet dead-end street, Noctis is accessed via Instagram and an appointment slip handed to a working tailor — Jagdish Tailor — who finishes his day’s labour and begins ushering guests in at precisely seven in the evening. “We wanted the speakeasy back the right way,” Angad says. For him, originality lies not in theatrics but in discipline. Noise is kept low, dress codes remain understated, and the music — always jazz — sits firmly in the background. “This isn’t a place you come to dance,” he says. “It’s about conversation.”

Inside Somwhere Nowhere
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Inside, the drinks programme does the heavy lifting: house-made vermouths, curated liqueurs, even in-house bottled water, all designed to encourage guests to linger without distraction. The room itself is deliberately small, capped at around 30 seats. Scale, Angad believes, erodes precision. Sustainability, in his view, comes down to repetition done well — product, team, story and vibe — upheld night after night with minimal compromise.

Delhi-based digital brand manager Debarati Roy says speakeasies, by design, feel easier to navigate. “They’re low-key and not widely known, so you’re usually going with people you know, or into spaces where the energy is already set. Despite Delhi’s reputation, these places feel far more comfortable and controlled,” she says.

She adds that the higher price point does not bother her. “I’m okay paying a little more because it’s not just about the drink, it’s about the experience.” For Debarati, the difference shows in three ways. “First, the craft — you can see the thought in the cocktails, the ingredients, and the menu. Second, the curation — the space, music, everything feels intentional. And then the crowd — it’s more filtered, people are there for the same reason, which really changes the vibe.”

Similar instincts guide The Bar Behind The Sandwich Shop, located in the Basant Lok neighbourhood. Difficult to Google, with a dormant social media presence and no publicly listed number, the bar builds discovery into the experience. A modest first-floor sandwich shop gives way to a discreet curtain into a compact room. Co-founder Rishi Mukherjee resists the speakeasy label altogether. There are no passcodes, no influencer nights, and no push marketing — only word of mouth. “Anyone who finds their way in is welcome,” he says, “and the experience itself becomes the currency, passed along through recommendation rather than promotion.” As far as security goes, Rishi keeps it simple. “Trust in your team is non-negotiable. Challenges are inevitable, and discretion is part of the job,” he says. He prefers the term “hidden bar” over “speakeasy,” adding that the focus is on protecting the guest experience while remaining vigilant. “Our staff is trained to anticipate issues, spot early signs of excess, and step in before things escalate.” So far, it seems to be working. “We haven’t had any incidents yet, and hopefully it stays that way.”

Inside Somwhere Nowhere

A similar philosophy underpins The Dressing Room, tucked away inside an outpost of the popular Looks Salon, in Vasant Vihar, where access comes via a coded elevator entry shared over Instagram and reservations are mandatory. Part of the appeal lies in its near invisibility — you are more likely to stumble upon it than search for it deliberately. The space above the salon is intimate and deliberately uncounted, designed for those who want to unwind without the pressure of crowds. The focus here is less on spectacle and more on storytelling, from the drinks to the overall mood. Guests are encouraged to come not for noise or novelty, but for a quieter kind of discovery, one that rewards curiosity and return visits.

Cocktail at The Bar Behind the Sandwich Shop
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Vansh Pahuja of Somewhere Nowhere, a Japanese-inspired cocktail bar hidden behind a vinyl store in GK-II, echoes this approach. Built largely on loyalists who enjoy introducing friends to a place they have “probably never heard of”, the bar’s insistence on intimacy and invisibility was initially unusual in a city accustomed to scale. Today, it feels entirely in step with Delhi’s evolving drinking culture.

Marketing professional Mayanka Uppal, who often goes out with friends, is a bit more measured about the speakeasy boom. “A lot of them don’t remain speakeasies for long; the secret gets out pretty quickly,” she says. “They arrive with a bang, but whether they’ll last is another question.”

What keeps her going back, though, is the effort behind the bar. “There’s a lot of craft involved—different techniques, house blends, even spirits they’ve infused themselves. That’s where people are willing to spend.” Cocktails, she notes, usually sit between ₹900 and ₹1,200 and sometimes up to ₹1,500 too, often paired with small plates that don’t quite make it a full meal. “Cocktails at speakeasies are priced on a par with regular cocktail bars, but the experience is what justifies the cost, I guess,” she says.

She also points to a broader shift in how people go out. “Clubbing culture has pretty much died. People aren’t looking for loud, chaotic spaces anymore; people want places where they can sit, talk, and actually spend time with their group.”

In that sense, she sees Delhi settling into a new rhythm. “It’s becoming more about smaller, neighbourhood-style bars with their own regulars, almost like little communities. You end up running into the same people.”

She adds that some speakeasies are mindful about crowd control. “Places like Noctis limit tables to three or four people. When I visited, we were told no large groups — they want to make sure the volume doesn’t get out of hand.”

That said, price remains a sticking point. “If they want people coming out regularly, they’ll have to bring prices down. Right now, a few cocktails can easily set you back close to ₹10,000 for the night, and that’s without food. It’s just not sustainable.”

Her current favourite? “Pod, tucked inside Savorworks Coffee & Chocolate in GK-II. There’s chocolate in the drinks, what’s not to like?”

What unites these spaces is not secrecy for secrecy’s sake, but restraint. Speakeasies, you could say, endure in Delhi because their owners understand that the city prefers to reveal itself on its own terms.