Stacked behind was a mind-boggling variety of alcohol—25 different single malts, vodka of every conceivable flavour and add-ons like bitters and Tabasco. A number of fruits like apples and watermelon were stacked neatly. “It’s important not to make a mess,” said Upadhyaya, handing me a cocktail shaker.

I was about to learn how to mix my first drink. “Have you ever made a cocktail before?” he asked. Besides Margeritas, not really, I confessed.
I got down to making the Smoke House Special, an Apple Martini. It was pretty simple: 60 ml Smirnoff, 15 ml of Apple Pucker’ apple juice and cubed ice, all mixed together, strained and served in a chilled glass. “This is easy,” I told Upadhyay, who was busy polishing the bar.

Guests were beginning to trickle in when I spot Shiv Karan Singh, the 30-something co-owner of Smoke House. Two women and a man with a bright smile headed to the bar. I put on my most congenial face and asked them what they’d like to have. “Where’s the guy who was here last time?” interrupted one of the ladies authoritatively. It’s his off day, said Upadhyay. They decide on their drinks: a whiskey, a watermelon pucker, and a Capirioshka. It was time to get down to work. I followed Upadhaya’s terse instructions. Brown sugar, a muddler, lots of mint, lemon, and 60 ml Vodka, and lo and behold, my cocktail is ready. I waited nervously for any adverse reactions from the guests. Luckily, none comes. I guess my cocktail wasn’t too bad.

Being on the other side of the bar is like being a fly on the wall—especially in India, where waiters and barmen are simply not noticed. So over the evening, I heard two 30-somethings nervously discussing the volatile stock market, watched two single women slowly getting smashed on their own and waited as a four-some on a table far off took one hour to decide what to drink and eat.

I stayed out of Upadhyay’s way, meekly handing them ice, cocktail stirrers and juice, while he and two other bartenders whipped up drink after drink. Of course, I followed the golden rule—barmen are not allowed to drink while on duty.

But after two hours of standing, I was ready for a drink and sure about one thing— Delhi is certainly ready for women bartenders.  The crowd is civilised and with careful supervision, there’s no reason for women to fear cheesy come-on lines from lecherous men. Cheers to that.
 (Leher Kala is senior assistant editor, features, with Indian Express, Delhi)