Deep Dive: Is Kolkata ready for a true 1920s-style speakeasy? | Kolkata News

The history of speakeasy barsSpeakeasies emerged in the United States during Prohibition (1920–1933), when the 18th Amendment banned the manufacture and sale of alcohol. Ordinary bars vanished, but demand for liquor didn’t — so illicit drinking dens sprang up in basements, backrooms, and behind unmarked doors. Patrons had to “speak easy” – keep their voices low to avoid drawing police attention. That’s how the name stuck. These bars often required a password or a personal introduction to gain entry, and many were tied to organised crime networks that supplied the alcohol. When Prohibition ended in 1933, speakeasies faded – only to be revived decades later as a nostalgic, theatrical bar format worldwide.

The non-negotiables – what makes a bar an actual speakeasy● Hidden or disguised entrance — no signage; access through a false front (bookshelf, phone booth, unmarked door, shopfront)● Restricted, controlled entry — password, code, DM-only reservation, or referral, not walk-in● No public listing — absent from Google Maps, no geotag, minimal or no online menu● Small, intimate capacity — typically under 30–40 seats, by design, not compromise● Word-of-mouth discovery — marketing happens through people, not advertising or storefront visibility● Cocktail-first, food-secondary — the drinks programme is the point; food is usually a small, curated accompaniment● Theatrical or period detail — Prohibition-era decor, vintage props, or an immersive “reveal” moment on entrySpeakeasy or notTake It Eazy, tucked in the bylanes of South Calcutta, is the closest the city currently has to the format. Co-founder Krishna Shah – who runs it with Sweta Tantia and Dhruv Agarwal – didn’t build it out of frustration with Kolkata’s bars. “What I felt was missing was something a little more intimate and personal. I wanted people to feel like they were discovering something rather than just going to another bar,” he says. The entrance is deliberately unshowy, but not fully hidden. “We do have a small signage though. And that’s exactly what I wanted,” Shah admits – a small tell that this is a speakeasy-flavoured room, not a speakeasy by the book. Discovery still runs on Instagram and word of mouth, and the secrecy has its costs: “We’ve had guests call us saying they are standing outside and can’t figure out where we are. There is a very fine line between making something feel mysterious and making it inconvenient.”Synthe, on the other hand, isn’t trying to be hidden at all. “Synthe was never about simply recreating the traditional speakeasy format,” says co-founder Aman Bansal. “We wanted to build an experience-led cocktail bar that happens to have an element of mystery, rather than a bar that relies only on the idea of being hidden or exclusive.” His bigger claim is about behaviour, not aesthetics: “We are seeing genuine repeat business, which is probably the strongest validation for the concept... the real test of an experience-led concept isn’t whether people visit once to see what it’s about, it’s whether they come back.”At Monica O My Darling on Southern Avenue, owner Sonika Dey has borrowed a different decade altogether – 1960s and ’70s Park Street, reimagined as a hidden room. “From outside, you know the name suggests Monica, but inside you don’t know what the space will give you,” she says. What she’s found is a genuinely split audience: half her guests want the quiet, conversation-led room; the other half still want a DJ. “There are mixed crowd and there are mixed reviews,” she says — though she’s betting the slower format wins out as Kolkata’s after-work, post-café crowd matures.

What the format actually needsIf the owners are picking and choosing, mixologist Debadyuti Guha Thakurata of Skinny Mo’s argues that’s exactly where things go wrong. “A concealed entrance, chiaroscuro illumination, period décor… can manufacture an atmosphere of exclusivity; none, however, can compensate for an inadequately constructed drink,” he says. His sharper point is about what Kolkata could be doing instead of copying Prohibition-era Americana: “The city possesses an extraordinarily rich indigenous lexicon from which a distinctive cocktail vernacular could be constructed — tea, gondhoraj, nolen gur, kancha lonka.” Secrecy, in his framing, should be “the invitation,” not the substance. “The finest speakeasy does not merely conceal its entrance — it reveals an otherwise inaccessible facet of the city to those who cross its threshold.”For a sense of what the real format looks like, it’s worth stepping outside Kolkata. Rishi Pratim Mukherjee, partner at The Bar Behind, in Delhi — widely considered one of the only bars in India that runs the speakeasy format properly — doesn’t even use the word. “We understand the term comes loaded with specificity and scrutiny, we’ve just always thought of ourselves as a hidden bar,” he says. No Google Maps location, no Instagram push, no invite-only events — “just a phone number and a community of regulars.” Even the much-discussed sandwich shop out front isn’t a disguise: “It’s a fully functioning and independent brand and not a front.” Asked whether Kolkata could sustain something like this, he’s optimistic: “Kolkata is ripe with opportunity! No doubt we will have formats like this and more taking shape in the city.”The old-Kolkata viewAdda is communal by nature – people drinking together to gossip, catch up, argue, think out loud. A speakeasy asks for the opposite: quiet, restricted, closed-door. “It’s oxymoronic in nature, if you think about it,” says Raghav Sehgal, who runs one of Kolkata’s oldest surviving bars, Broadway. He’s quick to point out the city has always had a hidden drinking culture – just not this kind. “Men would go out of the house and wouldn’t inform their wives and children that they’re going to a bar to drink,” he says – a private, almost domestic secrecy, nothing like the manufactured mystery of a speakeasy. Sehgal sees the current wave of exclusive bars as a class signal more than a cultural shift. “The exclusivity draw is more for premium, high-end establishments, not for the common public,” he says. He does think an authentically Kolkata version is possible – just not the one currently being built. He points to the city’s old “cabin culture,” private booths inside otherwise open bars, as a homegrown precedent for privacy that never tipped into full secrecy. “If people focus on the traditional exclusivity factor, then it could feel authentically Kolkata. But if it becomes very fancy, very expensive – then it won’t.” He confirms Banerjee’s read on the ground reality too: “There are no 100% authentic speakeasies in the city.” What he’s watching instead is a broader shift in why people go out at all — increasingly for experience and perceived value, not just to drink. “If the perceived value is high, people are ready to spend a little more money. If it isn’t, the concept might not work for the public.”