It is Ramzan time in Jamia Nagar – municipal workers clean the streets and line it with chuna lime, bakeries are piled high with sewain, and halwais have begun preparing the special iftar food. The police are busy too, but residents can comfort themselves with the thought that it is only to regulate traffic in the congested lanes. As the clock ticks towards iftar, the road from the Jamia Milia Islamia University towards Batla House is made one-way: the way in, to help the rushing crowd reach home in time, picking up fruit and pakwan (snacks) on the way.

The residents’ relationship with the police here is notoriously complicated. Until 2007, Jamia Nagar only had a police post, but during Ramzan that year a policeman was accused of desecrating the Quran, and the dispute led to the police post turning into a full-fledged police station. In 2008, it was during Ramzan that the police engaged alleged bomb-plotters in a firefight, an “encounter” that’s widely regarded to have been fake. A few weeks later, a jeepful of Noida policemen in plainclothes attempted to kidnap a local man, but residents poured out and chased them away.

The cloud of accusation still hangs over Jamia Nagar, a collection of ten-odd, mostly unauthorised, colonies. They include the posher Gulmohar Enclave (home to politician Salman Khursheed and director of Peepli Live Anusha Rizvi), the messy Zakir Nagar, and the student-filled Batla House. “When I tell people I live in Batla House they are astounded,” a friend told me. “They think I live in the house where the encounter took place.” The fear of persecution leads all the way back to the area’s origins. The university neighbourhood was practically barren until 1984. When Muslims saw Sikhs being killed, locals say, they started to gather here. “People made fun of me in ’85 when I bought this shop,” says Shahzad Akhtar of Moonis Kada, one of Jamia’s oldest restaurants, famous for its kheer, “But I bought it for 1.2 lakhs; today I get offered 2.5 crores.”However last year’s Ramzan was peaceful, featuring only a by-election in which the Congress was defeated. The only social rift that became visible was the one between the bhaiyyas from western Uttar Pradesh, traditionally dominant here, and the purabiyas from eastern UP and Bihar, whose numbers have been growing. The winner of the election was, logically, a man from western UP, representing a Bihar party, the Rashriya Janta Dal.

This Ramzan, the east-west difference is only visible in their iftar. Those from the west open iftar with biryani; those from the east with namkeen pakwans such as kachree (dal-pakoras). After that, the menus flow together.

Nihari, in Jamia Nagar, is a subject of specialisation. The most famous nihari (Rs 25) is that of Shahzad Dhaba (better known as “Javed Nihari”), and disappears by 8.30pm. Three busy counters roll in the cash. There is, of course, no such thing as mutton nihari, but Mohammed Hannan’s upscale Purani Dilli Restaurant is too fancy to serve buffalo meat. Their mutton nihari is Rs 230 for a full serving. Purani Dilli is also renowned for its fried surmai and its chicken changezi (Rs 240), the Delhi classic of chicken griddle-fried with ginger-garlic paste, fresh green chilles, tomatoes and onions, until it’s as bright red as the reputation of its namesake, Genghis Khan.

Every other lane has its own kabab-seller. But further down the road from Purani Dilli, not far from Pulse: the Gym for Gals ‘N’ Guys, is a Delhi secret that I was let into by my friend, the reporter Hilal Mir. Kachcha kebab (Rs 5) is not, thankfully, raw – it’s made from kachcha keema (buffalo meat) just like the galawati, and mixed with masala and chopped onions, but never with any tenderiser like papaya. It still melts in your mouth, but not like the galauti, the Mughlai answer to chocolate. According to its maker, Muhammad Arif Moradabadi at Moradabadi Pullow Corner, the kachcha kabab originates in Rampur. Well, the abiding pastime of UP’s cities, from Saharanpur to Kanpur, is competing for the best biryani. But as a Lakhnavi snobbish about food, it is your kachcha kebab I salute you for, Arif sahab.

(First published in Time Out Delhi.)