How beautiful and clean is this city,” I exclaimed, the words escaping with the giddy delight of a child. It was my first visit to Madhya Pradesh. We were gliding along Bhopal’s wide roads — avenues arched with trees that caught the morning light. The breeze carried the earthy scent of monsoon-drenched soil and flowering champa — each manicured median, each unexpected bend that revealed a lake or a crumbling gateway — seemed touched by intention.
Sikandar Malik, my guide and companion for the day, turned to me with a knowing smile. “Ab auraton ne banayi hai toh sundar toh hogi hi, kyun?” (If women have built it, won’t it be beautiful?)
Bhopal isn’t often the first city that springs to mind when one speaks of Indian grandeur. And yet, there it was, unfolding before me like a secret garden — a city of symmetry and surprises, where heritage lingers in the stones and the silence. What sets Bhopal apart, I soon realised, is that it was shaped not by kings but by queens.
The tale begins in 1819 with Qudsia Begum, a young widow who stepped beyond the shadow of purdah and into power, declaring her daughter Sikandar as heir and thereby beginning nearly a century of female rule. These were not ornamental queens confined to carved jharokhas. They were sovereign in every sense, governing with intellect and empathy, drawing maps, enacting laws and building more than just palaces. They laid foundations for hospitals, schools, libraries — for lives.
Sultan Jahan Begum, the last in this remarkable matrilineal legacy, led Bhopal into the 20th century with a vision that was quietly radical. She expanded hospitals, opened schools for girls and reformed the judiciary. Her Bhopal was not one of opulence but of order, calm, precise and dignified. The city she left behind still moves to her rhythm.
My home during this journey was the Jehan Numa Palace — a former royal residence built for General Obaidullah Khan, Sultan Jahan’s son. Today, it exists as a heritage hotel. The palace does not shout its history; it murmurs it. As with its architecture, so too with its cuisine.
The food of Bhopal tells its own tale — one composed in slow-simmered qormas and aromatic pulaos, in breads pulled fresh from the tandoor’s glow, in sun-aged pickles that whisper of seasons past. Persian notes entwine with tribal earthiness; Mughlai richness meets the frugal finesse of the local kitchen. Each dish seems to carry echoes of a queen’s table, where diplomacy and desire once shared a plate, served with saffron and lime. And yet, despite this deep lineage, Bhopal’s culinary legacy remains curiously understated. “There is a great deal of misogyny in how the Bhopal state’s history and culinary traditions are treated,” says Kurush Dalal, food anthropologist and archaeologist, “Though it was one of the most significant princely states, it always received step-motherly treatment. Hyderabad, Lucknow, Awadh, even Rampur, are discussed at length, but the Begums of Bhopal and their cultural contributions are barely acknowledged.”
You won’t find Bhopal’s royal cuisine commanding food festivals or headlining travel features. It doesn’t dazzle with the drama of Hyderabad’s haleem or Lucknow’s kebabs. But once tasted, it lingers.
Take the rezala. Known elsewhere as a creamy curry perfumed with yoghurt and spice, here it is a different creature entirely — lighter, herbaceous, singing with fresh coriander; a dish with cousins in Bengal and Awadh.
Then there was the Rampuri chawal — neither biryani or pulao but something in between. Rice slow-cooked with black urad dal and whole red chillies, each grain imbued with quiet, smoky intensity. No saffron flourish, no pomp, just a deeply satisfying simplicity.
But, perhaps, the most delightful surprise was the karela kachumber. Bitter gourd, finely sliced and deep-fried until crisp, tossed with onions, ginger-garlic paste, green chillies, coriander, lemon juice and chaat masala. A salad, yes, but also a bold, refreshing statement. A royal dish that makes no apologies for its sharp edges.
“Bhopal’s cuisine, while bearing traces of Mughal influence, is neither overly spiced nor excessively rich,” says Faiz Rashid, a member of the erstwhile royal family and part of the Jehan Numa Hotels legacy. “It leans towards subtlety — flavours that are gentle on the palate, yet deeply layered and refined.”
In Bhopal, stories are told not with spectacle but with sincerity. In every bend of the road,you feel the presence of those forgotten queens — women who shaped a city with thoughtfulness and grace. And in this city they built, their spirit lingers still.
Vernika Awal is a Delhi-based food and lifestyle writer