Debate Over Drinks started in 2026 as a simple idea: take the topics people usually argue about in group chats and living rooms, and bring them into a room with a mic, two sides, and a crowd that gets to decide who wins.

Every month, we pick a topic — sometimes funny, sometimes pointed, always something people actually have opinions about — and let two teams make their case in front of a live audience. Drinks flow, tempers flare (in a fun way), and by the end of the night, the crowd has picked a winner.

We're not here to solve anything. We're here to argue well, laugh a lot, and maybe change a few minds along the way.

25, jobless, living in a country nowhere near home. Refreshing LinkedIn and Sending out hundreds applications. Scrolling Twitter at 2 AM because, honestly, what else was there to do?

That was me. A certified Twitter Yuvatha — always one tweet away from weighing in on the latest movie flop, cricket collapse, political mess, or whatever else the internet was mad about that day. I had takes. Strong ones. The kind you type out, hit send on, and watch land with exactly zero likes and zero replies (occasionally someone would — bless them).

Turns out the internet doesn't actually care what you think. But hand those same people a drink, a mic, and an opponent to argue with in person? Suddenly everyone's got something to say — and people are actually listening this time. Not agreeing, necessarily. But listening.

Looking back, I think I already knew this. My friend group has always been a mix of wildly opposing opinions, and every single party somehow turned into a debate — about anything, everything, nothing. We were all far from home, finishing our studies, thrown together as flatmates and roommates who became something closer to family. Arguing was just how we hung out.

So somewhere between rejection emails and a full-blown existential crisis, Debate Over Drinks was born. Not a business plan — just an excuse to keep doing what we already loved, with more people in the room.

Because here's the thing about a room full of strong opinions: you leave with friendships you didn't expect. Sometimes with people who agree with you. Sometimes with the ones who argued you into the ground.

Turns out the best therapy is free, if you're funny enough about it. And sometimes it comes with an entire new circle of people who get you.