The Mysterious Case of the 35% Dal Makhni

When Harry met Sally...oops When Laziness Meets Data

There comes a day in your life where you glance at your expenses and you realize that you have spent  more on food delivery than on groceries or even savings. It happened to me when I did the math and found that my total monthly spending was being utilized by 35% of feeding laziness. Yes, more than one-third of my money went to ordering food online. If my Swiggy account had a loyalty program, I’d be its Platinum Ambassador by now. Armed with this alarming realization, I dived into the data hoping for some clarity—or at least a good laugh at my own expense. What I found was a budgetary roast hotter than the dal makhni I paid a premium for. 

The Pie Chart of Poor Decisions

When I sorted through my expenses, I was shocked to see food delivery as the absolute winner, consuming 35% of my budget. Rent and bills comprised 18%, and then came those impulsive buys from Nykaa that tallied at 15%. Everything else added up to 32% of my budget, which included cabs, Amazon splurges, weirdly categorized stuffs, and nil savings. In short, here's what my priorities were :

• 35%: Convenience food I hardly recall having eaten.
• 18%: A roof over my head and basic needs. 
• 15%: Lipsticks I’ll wear twice.  
• 32%: Everything else (because who even needs savings?).   

It’s safe to say that if my budget were a diet, it’d be 80% carbs and 0% protein.  

When Data Becomes Your Frenemy

Numbers don't lie, but they sure know how to hurt your feelings. Here's what the data revealed about my culinary habits:  I ordered food on 88% of the days last month.

That's almost daily—if not twice a day. Essentially, I could've just handed over my salary to Swiggy directly and saved myself the login trouble. Now, delivery charges, packaging charges, and tip-inclusive bills are sneaking into my reports while making my food expenses go above 10-15%. And don't even get me talking about those "₹ 50 off" discount traps-they are just a nice clever way to get you to buy the dessert you didn't need. And the premium? Over one-third of my spending was dedicated to overpriced convenience meals. A single order’s cost was two to three times what it would’ve cost if I’d cooked it myself. But logic takes a backseat when dal makhni arrives hot, buttery, and free of chopping-onion tears.

Now it gets really interesting, and a little scary. That 35% of my household income on food orders will not only crack my wallet, but it will also shut the door on my long-term goals.

This habit, unchecked, would consume over a third of my annual budget. If I manage to cut down my spending on food delivery into 10%, I can save 25% of my budget—enough to fund something meaningful, such as an emergency fund, a creative hobby, or a vacation.

Data doesn't just reveal patterns; it gives you the push you need to change them. And staring at a spreadsheet that screams "STOP ORDERING PIZZA" is the ultimate wake-up call. 

A Future Without 35% Food Guilt 

So, what is next? Clearly, my own food delivery apps have long overstayed their welcomes—or at least need to be relegated to the status of "friends with benefits."

Food delivery will now be treated as a luxury, not a routine. Cooking will become a challenge—a quest to create meals that cost less than 5% of my daily spending. And to ensure accountability, I’m introducing Budget Bhukkad, a tracker dedicated to exposing my culinary crimes. Any slip-ups will result in penalties, like skipping dessert or eating plain dal (no butter).

Will it be easy? No. Will I sometimes cheat and order pizza? Of course. But at least now I have the numbers to remind me why this change is worth it. 

From Crunching Numbers to Crunching Goals

Analyzing your expenses, watching a reality show on your life—hilarious, shocking, and a little embarrassing. But it's the first step toward change. My take-away: data is the ultimate mirror. It reflects not just how you spend your money but also who you are—and who you could be with a little discipline (and fewer late-night biryanis).

 

So here’s to spending less on dal makhni and more on the things that truly matter. And if all else fails, at least I’ll have some killer spreadsheets to share.