For as long as I can remember, I have held a dream. It never had the shape or form of a specific space, but some things were always constant—waves of raucous laughter and camaraderie among friends and friendly strangers, glasses clinking, the warmth of old memories and the hope of new ones, and food to make the table fuller.
And when it did arrive, everything slowed down. The khassshhhh of tadka, plates clanging against each other, the low thud of a deg set down on the cotton tablecloth, spoons and bowls struggling to find space next to each other, glasses—vessels for hydration and libations—precariously balanced near the edge.
They say you shouldn't tell people your wishes and dreams, because then they might never come true. But the desire to bring people together over food was too strong for me to let go.
So that's how Supperवार (Suppervaar) came to life. It's my way of bringing people to my little table and having the loveliest group gathered around for a meal—friends who've got your back no matter what, friends of friends who love you without ever having met you, family that thinks about food and the next meal while tearing through buttery parathas on a Sunday morning, chosen family that holds you and shows you what safety looks like, coworkers who get excited when you bring tiffin, and friendly strangers just looking to find home in new faces.
Once a month, I host Supperवार from my dining table (currently in Santacruz, Mumbai). I try something new for each edition, plan the menu, do my research, and sometimes even run trials.
One of my favourite things about each supper is how we document it—not through media, but by drawing what food means to us in different contexts through a co-created zine. Each time, the zine tells different stories through different lived experiences. This little activity not only helps break the ice but also gives us a unique introduction to the people sitting around the table. The keepsake, of course, is an added bonus.
I’m four editions down, and I hope to host many more. Of course, there have been challenges—things that I know will be taken care of with time. But the wins far outweigh them.
Take the lack of photos, for instance. It’s only because I’ve been managing, designing, curating, cooking, serving, and creating this experience almost single-handedly. And yet, having people put their devices away (unprompted) to sit down and eat makes it all worth it.
Most of the pictures I do have are of people laughing, talking, and connecting—because those are the moments people naturally want to capture. Asking someone to pause for content? That’s an absolute no-no in my book.
Does this mean I’ll have to learn how to ask for help formally? Yes. And I will.
I know that asking for help doesn’t take away from the soul of Supperवार—it only makes space for it to grow. Slowly, I want to make room for more stories, more people, and maybe even a few quiet hands to help behind the scenes.
But no matter how big or small it gets, I hope the spirit stays the same: a table that welcomes you as you are, a meal that speaks without needing to impress, and a moment of stillness in a world that rarely stops to eat together.
In my mind, I’ve edited and finessed and obsessed over every single detail. But the more I obsessed, the more complicated it became. And I didn’t want anything to take away from honest food and the possibility of a genuine connection.
Yes, a supper club is a supper club is a supper club. But for me, it’s also a little more. It is about stripping away pretense and going back to the basics: good food, great conversations, and a shared sense of belonging.
I realized I didn’t want to create something elaborate or overproduced. I wanted something simple and real—a space where the food feels like a warm hug, and you get to eat it in the way that feels most comfortable to you.
About the author : Saundarya (she/her) is a certified yapper who cannot stop thinking and talking about food, but is equally passionate about music and collecting artist merch and stickers (niche, no? XD). She is obsessed with her dog, Zorro, and tries to video call him every day. She believes that the only thing keeping him is the lack of opposable thumbs, which should tell you everything you should know about her.
Support the author :
We're an independent magazine that is finding its footing and here's how you can help- Shatter the illusion of capitalism with one contribution at a time and consider supporting this writer who made you laugh/cry directly : saundarya.1791-3@oksbi