excerpt indpendent.co.uk

ut even when the generator works, it doesn't solve all your problems.
Unless you can afford the £1,000 model - the IoS can't - the generator
won't run the air-conditioning. Nor can you risk plugging the office
computer directly into a generator. A power surge could fry your
laptop.

All this is daily life in Delhi, but great Western capitals seem to
grind to a halt if the power goes off for even a couple of hours.

* * *

In the regular debate as to which is Delhi's best restaurant, most
contenders are tucked away inside five-star hotels. They are about as
far removed from the street life of the city as possible, with
air-conditioning blasting the place to an Arctic chill, so the city's
glitterati can show off their latest European fashions, despite the
40C-plus heat outside.

But the name that is always mentioned is Karim's, and it could not be
more different from the others. In fact, it's almost the only thing
that will tempt the capital's rich and powerful to leave the manicured
lawns of Lutyens's New Delhi for the warrens of the old city.

Karim's is down a narrow winding lane, just across from the Jama
Masjid, the city's main mosque. To get there you have to elbow your
way through Old Delhi's impossibly crowded streets, negotiating a path
through the beggars, most of them with at least one limb amputated,
and past the long lines queuing up at the city soup kitchens.

This restaurant doesn't serve alcohol. It doesn't even serve coffee
after your meal. They won't let you linger at your table - there are
far too many other diners waiting. People make the trek here for one
thing alone: the food.

Karim's was founded by, and still belongs to, the descendants of the
chef who cooked for the Mughal emperors of India. To this day it
serves exotic old imperial recipes you will have difficulty finding
anywhere else, including that delicious rarity, roghni naan bread,
which I can assure you is like nothing you'll find at your local curry
house.