Back when I lived in Mumbai, I had a ritual: once every week, I would pick up whichever book I was reading, walk to a neighbourhood café, order something to eat and drink, and spend a couple of uninterrupted hours in my own company. This was nearly 15 years ago, long before "solo dates" became social media vocabulary and before algorithms began prescribing solitude as a form of self-care.
What began as an escape from a busy household soon became a habit I treasured. I realised that when you stop waiting for company to make plans, life becomes infinitely easier. There is a certain freedom in not needing to consult five people before deciding where to have lunch.
When I moved to Delhi, though, that habit faded. Perhaps it was my own perception, but the city felt more watchful. Restaurants seemed filled with groups, families and couples, and I often wondered whether dining alone would invite unwanted curiosity. Whether that judgement was real or imagined, I found myself seeking out solitary meals less often.
Over the past few months, however, something appears to have shifted. An Instagram account called Table for One has unexpectedly become one of the city's most talked-about food pages. Its founder, 31-year-old Nishi Singh, reviews restaurants through a lens rarely discussed in food writing: how comfortable they are for someone dining alone.
"It was mostly circumstance," she tells me. "I moved to Delhi from London after I got married and struggled to settle in. I felt like I was starting from scratch, so I challenged myself to try 30 places in 30 days just to get myself out of the house." What began as a personal challenge soon resonated with thousands.
Curious about whether other women in Delhi were dining alone and what their experiences had been, I spoke to a few of them.
Author and food consultant Sangeeta Khanna says solo dining has mostly happened during work travel. "There are definite advantages. You get a table almost instantly somehow. The service is usually attentive, staff make recommendations, and occasionally someone interesting comes over to say something nice."
The question, though, is whether restaurants themselves are equipped for solo diners.
Chef Radhika Khandelwal of Trouble Trouble believes they are. "We see solo diners all the time. People reading, working, scrolling, having a glass of wine, or simply enjoying a meal in peace. Nobody really bats an eyelid. The people most comfortable dining alone are usually those most comfortable in their own company. The real shift has been restaurants becoming better at accommodating them."
At Sidecar, co-founder Minakshi Singh has observed something similar. "We have far too many solos at our bars," she laughs. "In fact, they're often the ones who end up making the most friends. The bar team naturally spends more time talking to them, and conversations happen quite organically."
Perhaps that is what makes this trend interesting. For all the discussion around independence and self-sufficiency, solo dining is not necessarily about being alone, but about removing the pressure of needing company to participate in city life. It is about reclaiming a Tuesday evening or a Sunday lunch without waiting for consensus from a WhatsApp group.
Nishi believes that explains the response her page has received. "What surprised me most was how lonely everyone is," she says. "I don't think the page grew because of restaurant reviews. It grew because it gave people permission to do things by themselves. We all have hundreds of contacts on our phones, but so many of us can't think of who to call on a random weekday evening. We're craving connection while also wanting independence, and those two things aren't mutually exclusive."
As I listened to her, I thought about those afternoons in Mumbai: the book propped against a coffee cup and the luxury of lingering over a meal and the comfort of not needing an excuse to occupy a table. Perhaps Delhi hasn't changed as much as I imagined, or perhaps we are finally learning that a table for one is not a sign of loneliness at all?