A spice trader in Chandni Chowk weighs cardamom on a street laid out by a Mughal princess, while the Red Fort glows at the far end. Here the centuries are part of the commute. Kids play cricket beside sultans' tombs, and the call to prayer from Jama Masjid floats over rooftops strung with laundry.
Beyond the walled city, Mehrauli tucks stepwells between village lanes and Hauz Khas wraps cafés around a medieval reservoir. Mornings start with chole bhature, evenings end with chai. Summers are fierce, the monsoon arrives in late June and winters turn cool and foggy. A Local Friend can open a door you would never knock on alone, like the courtyard of a family haveli.
