Delhiwale: Tasty walk

Our night-time dependence on the AC is finally beginning to fade, meaning the worst of 2026 summer is gone

Our night-time dependence on the AC is finally beginning to fade, meaning the worst of 2026 summer is gone. It is again possible to wander outdoors, just mind the monsoon puddles. Here’s a tried and tested culinary stroll through Gurugram’s Sadar Bazar, where beloved dishes have survived the town’s transformation into the Millennium City. These places and people, chronicled over the years, continue to define the city’s otherwise vanished small-town character.

Founder’s elder son Jagmohan Singh with longtime cook Bhagwan Das, who retired six months ago. (Mayank Austen Soofi)

The first halt comes beneath a neem tree, amid the ruins of an old haveli. Few buildings around it remember 1948. Sardar Jalebi does, founded that year by a partition refugee. Here generations of halwai cooks have been lowering slim coils of maida batter into hot hissing oil. The jalebi made here is thin, crisp and deceptively easy and light inside the belly. You can dunk down one after another without feeling heavy, until it is too late.

The photo, taken some time ago, shows founder’s elder son Jagmohan Singh with longtime cook Bhagwan Das, who retired six months ago.

A few minutes’ walk away, beside the Apna Bazar complex, a ritual unfolds every few moments. At Guptaji ke Mashoor Butter Wale Chhole Kulche, Rajesh (or elder brother Raju) scarcely takes note of his hands even as they move about in a blur. Chhole are ladled into a bowl, topped with mango pickle and hari mirchi; then neembu is squeezed, followed by furious sprinkling of garam masala. Next comes the question every patron hears. “Very spicy, middle spicy, or no spicy.”

Some turnings later, towards the pungent-smelling pickle street, you are likely to find a kurta-pajama-clad citizen carrying his business on a bicycle. Mahesh is a dahi-bhalla vendor. His day begins early in the morning at his Jharsa home, where he fries the bhallas, strain the fresh homemade curd, and rustle out chutneys. By the time Sadar Bazar wakes up, he already is out and about. Though he pedals through many sectors of the town, he faithfully traverses the streets of Sadar as well.

Outside Jama Masjid Udyan stand a couple of biscuit carts whose wares arrive from the temple town of Ujjain in Madhya Pradesh. The elderly hawker, courteous as a Lucknow nawab, recalls that decades ago a lone contractor first began bringing cartons from that town. Biscuits are spread atop the cart, exposed to the daylight.

The walk ought to be considered satisfactory if it concludes with vendor Bikas’s mobile stall. He sells rasgulla sandwiches from a bicycle. Stacks of sliced bread take up one compartment of a metal container, while rasgullas float in sugar syrup in another. When a customer comes, the vendor packs two rasgullas between bread slices; but first he dunks down the slices in the syrup. The dish is popular with the bazar’s labourers, whose weary bodies frequently demand quick shots of sugar.