
- Crafted by Barsys | Last Updated - Aug 5, 2025
Old Monk, New Tricks: 5 Desi Cocktails That Hit Different
- Aug 5, 2025
There was a time when the only thing that mattered at a house party was Who got the Old Monk? No one asked for mixers. No one asked for garnish. If someone brought cola, they were fancy. If someone brought Sprite, they were wild.
Old Monk wasn’t just rum. It was a rite of passage. A liquid inheritance passed from elder cousins and engineering seniors. It was there during heartbreaks, hostel nights, train rides, failed startups, weddings, breakups, band practice, and bonfires. It tasted like burnt sugar, clove, and bad decisions - wrapped in good intentions.
But we have grown. We have learned how to stir instead of shake. We have started using words like notes and body. So maybe, just maybe, it’s time Old Monk got a remix.
Not replaced. Not rebranded. Just... reimagined.
Here are 5 desi cocktails by Barsys mixologist who let Old Monk wear something new - without forgetting where it came from.

You know how some drinks show up wearing sunglasses, even indoors? That’s the Monk Mule. It doesn’t try too hard, but
still makes you ask, Wait, what’s in this?
Pour the Old Monk into a tall glass. Add the lime juice and black salt, give it a stir. Fill the glass with ice. Top it with ginger ale. Stir again, drop a few mint leaves, and there you go.
Because it’s simple, familiar, and somehow still surprising. The ginger cuts the heaviness, the lime wakes it up, and that black salt? It’s the kind of move your grandmother would approve of - spicy, zesty, slightly medicinal, but oddly perfect. It’s the Old Monk version of fixing your posture and putting on cologne.

This one shouldn’t work. It really shouldn’t. But it does. Like a long-distance relationship that somehow makes it.
Mix the Old Monk and lassi in a glass. Stir gently - don’t shake, you’ll make a mess. Add the cardamom. Pour it into a chilled glass, and top with pistachios.
Because it tastes like a secret. Like something a Punjabi uncle would make after two pegs and never tell anyone about. It’s creamy and bold, and the rum slides into the lassi like it’s been waiting to be there all along. It shouldn’t be good. But it is.

A drink that feels like skipping school. Tangy, cold, purple, and a little bit rebellious.
Rub lemon on the glass rim and dip it in rock salt. Shake Old Monk, kala khatta, and lemon juice together. Pour it over crushed ice. That’s it.
Because it turns the bar into a chuski stall. It’s gola meets grown-up. Sweet, sour, nostalgic, and bold like those friends who still call you by your school nickname and remember your first crush. It doesn’t care about sophistication. It just wants you to feel something.

This one is unapologetically Indian. No bitters. No vermouth. Just vibes and masala.
Mix the rum, lime juice, chaat masala, and cumin in a glass. Add ice. Top with soda. Stir and garnish with coriander.
Because it’s not trying to be a cocktail. It’s trying to be you. Messy, chatpata, slightly over-the-top, but full of flavour. It tastes like drinking at a shaadi while aunties are judging your outfit. It tastes like honesty.

Same mint. Same fizz. But with some desi swagger.
Muddle tulsi, jaggery, and lime in a glass. Add Old Monk. Stir. Add ice. Top with soda. Done.
Because it tastes like a Sunday. Not the lazy kind, the pooja+laundry+WhatsApp calls with cousins kind. The jaggery adds earthiness, the tulsi adds surprise, and the soda makes it all go down easy. It's familiar, but flipped.