New Delhi, March 15 -- I first encountered tandoori chicken in the summer of 1976, one of the few pleasant discoveries amid the culture shock of New Delhi. The move from the quiet, cool town of Belgaum in north-west Karnataka to heaving, brash, boiling Delhi remains an unpleasant memory.

When school began, I hated the bus ride home. The boys on the bus laughed at my Hindi because it was Dakhni, which may share common roots but was different enough to be mocked. I was whacked frequently on the back of my head to uproarious laughter. Delhi was not for the sensitive. I endured by keeping my head down and suppressing my distress.

The weekends came as relief. We delighted in the great, lush sprawls of Nehru, Lodhi and Buddha Jayanti parks, a...