The first time I realized I could eat cheap in India, I was standing in Delhi’s Chandni Chowk, clutching a ₹20 aloo paratha as rickshaws rattled past. I’d just blown ₹250 on a butter chicken plate near the Red Fort—a tourist trap that left me full of regret, not food. That paratha—hot, flaky, and dirt

The first time I tasted street food in India, I was standing in Mumbai’s Khao Galli, clutching a ₹15 vada pav as rickshaws whizzed by. I’d just arrived on a ₹200 train from Pune, my ₹500 daily budget already feeling the pinch after a ₹150 hotel breakfast flop. That vada pav—spicy, soft, and dirt cheap—changed

The first time I sat down to eat in India, I was a wide-eyed newbie in Goa, clutching my ₹500 daily budget like a lifeline. I’d wandered into a beachside shack in Baga, lured by the promise of “fresh fish curry,” only to choke on a ₹400 bill for a plate that left me hungry

The first time I ran out of water in India, I was halfway up Triund Hill in Himachal Pradesh, my throat parched and my ₹500 budget for the day already stretched thin. I’d bought a ₹30 bottle at a trailside shack—overpriced and my last resort—only to realize later it was just tap water in a

I’ll never forget my first meal in Goa. Fresh off a ₹600 bus from Mumbai, I staggered into a beachside restaurant in Calangute, lured by neon signs and a promise of “authentic Goan curry.” The bill? ₹350 for a fish thali—rice, a tiny fish, and a side of regret. I’d been had—hooked by a tourist

The first time I stepped off a train in Mumbai, I had ₹500 in my pocket and a rumbling stomach. I’d heard India was cheap, but the ₹150 sandwich at the station cafe made me choke—on the price, not the bread. I slung my backpack tighter, dodged the crowds, and vowed to find meals that

The sun was barely up in Pushkar when I realized I’d spent ₹300 on food the day before—two thalis and a lassi that tasted divine but stung my wallet. I’d promised myself a month in India on a tight budget, and here I was, three days in, already slipping. Sitting by the holy lake, watching

I’ll never forget the moment I decided to go meat-free in India. It was a sweaty afternoon in Rishikesh, and I’d just scarfed down my umpteenth plate of oily chicken momos—₹50 well spent, until my stomach staged a revolt. Sitting by the Ganges, watching sadhus in saffron robes, I thought, “There’s got to be a

The first time I landed in India, I was wide-eyed and broke, clutching a backpack and a dream to see it all. Goa’s beaches called me first, and I’ll never forget the thrill of that salty breeze—until I saw the ₹200 price tag on a fish thali at a beach shack. My heart sank. I’d

Hey, fellow food lover! Think eating out in India’s bustling cities means draining your wallet? Think again. I’ve roamed Goa’s beaches, Delhi’s alleys, Mumbai’s streets, and Bangalore’s lanes with barely a few hundred rupees—and still eaten like royalty. Picture this: ₹20 vada pavs in Mumbai that hit harder than a five-star burger, ₹50 dosas in