In northern India's Uttar Pradesh state, a team of workers is carefully restoring a centuries-old royal kitchen that once fed the rulers of the former princely state of Awadh.

Tucked within the sprawling complex of Chota Imambara - a mausoleum and congregation hall -  this kitchen in Lucknow is a reminder of a different kind of royal legacy. Built in 1837 by former Awadh ruler Muhammad Ali Shah, the site once served not just the elite, but the public too.

At its peak, the meals here were prepared for both the royal household and ordinary people, especially during religious gatherings and special occasions.

India no longer has royals and Awadh, once a princely state ruled by semi-autonomous Muslim nawabs, now exists only as a historical region in central Uttar Pradesh.

Yet some traditions have outlived the kingdoms that created them.

Nearly 200 years on, the kitchen is not just a relic but is still in use. It continues to serve food to thousands during the holy months of Ramadan and Muharram, continuing a practice of community service.

According to historians, in 1839, Muhammad Ali Shah gave 3.6m rupees - considered a vast sum in those days - to the East India Company, then a British trading enterprise, on the condition that it would be responsible for maintaining the monuments built by the Awadh nawabs, while the kitchen would continue to run on the interest earned from the fund.

After India became independent 1947, this money was transferred into a local bank.

Today, the kitchen is managed by the Hussainabad Trust - a state government-monitored body - which continues to use the interest to fund and manage the kitchen's operations.

That legacy lives on in the meals still served here, prepared to the same standards laid down generations ago.

But step beyond the food and the building tells a different story.

The intricate patterns and iconic brick walls that once defined the kitchen have fallen into disrepair - plaster peeling from cracked walls and sections of the floor beginning to cave in.

It was this worrying decline that prompted a group of local residents to approach the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), says Aftab Hussain, a superintending archaeologist.

The ASI began restoration work last October and hopes to complete the project by the end of March.

But the project is not just about saving a crumbling structure.

What makes this restoration stand out is its focus on returning the kitchen to exactly how it once was - from recreating its original lime-based mortar (a traditional binding material used to hold bricks together) to preserving intricate wall carvings, says archaeologist Hussain.

"We are using slaked lime as the base. It is soaked for a month and then mixed with the pulp of wood apples, black gram, natural gum found in India - called gond -jaggery and red brick dust," Hussain says.

The workers have carefully recreated this indigenous mortar, once widely used in the Mughal era, but now largely replaced by cement in modern construction.

He adds that 'lakhauri' bricks - thin, burnt clay bricks typical of Awadhi architecture - are also being used to maintain the structure's original form.

For members of the Awadh royal lineage, the restoration is deeply personal.

Yasir Abbas, a descendant of the former rulers, says the work is crucial not only to preserve a historic structure but also to "uphold the centuries‑old tradition and culture" that the kitchen represents.

"We are duty‑bound to carry out the will of the king who introduced this practice of serving food," he added.

Historian Roshan Taqui says the king was determined to ensure the kitchen kept running without interruption.

To handle the scale of cooking, he built two identical kitchens on either side of the Chota Imambara - a design that also reflects Awadhi architecture's heavy emphasis on symmetry, he adds.

The concept of twin kitchens is proving useful to this day.

"During this Ramadan, while restoration was underway in one of the kitchens, cooking continued in the other," Taqui says.

For many locals, the kitchens mean more than just a place where meals are cooked.

Syed Haider Raza, 80, holds the place especially close to his heart, having visited the kitchen for decades.

"I have been coming to the Chhota Imambara since childhood to receive tabarrukh - or the royal offering - during Muharram, and sehri (early meal before dawn) and iftar (evening meal to break their fast) during Ramadan," he said.

"As children, we would see huge vessels in which food was being cooked. Everyone ate to their fill, and the food never fell short."

Every Ramadan, the kitchen feeds the poor, widows and others unable to provide for themselves.

Around 700 coupons are distributed daily, and cooked food is sent to 16 nearby mosques to serve both to the needy and the faithful. The meals - simple but filling - include meat curries, flatbreads, kebabs, fruits and sweets, reflecting Lucknow's rich culinary tradition.

During Muharram, the menu changes. For the first nine days, it is simple and largely vegetarian - sweet flatbread, lentils and potato curry among the staples. For the remainder of the 40-day mourning period, richer meat curries and kebabs are added.

According to kitchen in‑charge Murtaza Hussain Raju, the menu - even the portion sizes - is recorded in the former ruler's will.

"It lays out not just the types of dishes to be prepared, but also their weight and quality. These standards are still followed strictly," says historian Taqui.

For Lucknow's residents, this continuity feels quietly familiar. The restoration is not just about repairing a building, but sustaining a tradition that has endured for generations.

Raza, who has been coming to the kitchen for decades, describes it best.

"The spirit of the place is still the same", he says. "It feels as if the food is still being sent by Muhammad Ali Shah."

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