Is Your Favorite Indian Restaurant Really Indian? The Global Identity Crisis Exposed

How Many ‘Indian’ Restaurants Worldwide Are Run by Pakistanis? A Global Debate Amid Rising Tensions

HYDERABAD, India — As diplomatic tensions between India and Pakistan reach new heights, an unexpected controversy has sparked heated online discussions, shifting the focus to an unlikely target: Hyderabad’s iconic Karachi Bakery, an Indian Restaurant. Established in 1953, this beloved Indian Restaurant has found itself at the centre of nationalist protests, with its name, referencing Pakistan’s bustling port city of Karachi, becoming the focal point of a debate that has now taken on a global dimension. Though the bakery’s roots are deeply entrenched in India, the protests have ignited a larger conversation: How many “Indian Restaurants around the world are owned and operated by Pakistanis?

The controversy began in early May 2025, following India’s military operation “Operation Sindoor,” which was launched in response to a deadly terrorist attack in Pahalgam, Jammu & Kashmir, that claimed 26 lives. Amid rising nationalist sentiments, activist groups in Hyderabad and Visakhapatnam stormed Karachi Bakery outlets, demanding that the name be changed. They argued that no Indian business should carry the name of a Pakistani city. In a video that quickly went viral, bakery owner Rajesh Ramnani defended the establishment, saying, “Karachi Bakery was founded here in Hyderabad in 1953 by my grandfather, Khanchand Ramnani, a Sindhi Hindu who migrated from Karachi during the 1947 Partition. We are a 100% Indian brand.”

The bakery’s defence resonated with many, bolstered by visible displays of the Indian tricolour at its outlets. Social media users rallied to support the bakery, with one writing, “Karachi was part of India before Partition. This is a Sindhi family honouring their roots, not a Pakistani brand. Leave them alone!” However, the protests tapped into a deeper undercurrent of mistrust, fueling a viral debate about the authenticity of Indian restaurants abroad.

A Transatlantic Food Fight

The debate quickly crossed international borders, with social media platforms like X buzzing with accusations and anecdotes. A provocative post raised the question: “How many Indian restaurants in the UK branding themselves as Indian are actually run by Pakistanis pretending to be Indian?” This sparked an outpouring of responses, with users sharing personal experiences of dining at so-called Indian Restaurants in cities like London, New York, and Sydney, only to discover the owners were Pakistani or Bangladeshi.

Though exact numbers are hard to verify, a 2002 study cited on X estimated that the UK’s 10,000 South Asian restaurants — most of which market themselves as Indian restaurants — are largely owned by Pakistanis and Bangladeshis, generating £3.5 billion annually. Anecdotal evidence suggests that 80-90% of these establishments may not be Indian-owned. While these figures remain unconfirmed, they have fueled calls for greater transparency, with one user suggesting, “All Indian restaurants abroad should display an NRI or OCI certificate to prove their identity.”

This is not a new issue. In a widely circulated podcast, one speaker explained that Pakistani restaurateurs in cities like London often market their businesses as “Indian Restaurant” to attract a broader customer base, citing the stigma associated with Pakistan due to geopolitical tensions. This explanation struck a chord with many in the Indian diaspora, who pointed out that menus at these establishments often lack distinctly Pakistani dishes like nihari or haleem, instead featuring popular Indian staples such as butter chicken and paneer tikka.

Shared Heritage, Divided Identities

The controversy sheds light on the complex interplay of identity, history, and food in the South Asian diaspora. Before the 1947 Partition, India and Pakistan were one unified nation, sharing a rich culinary heritage that defies modern political boundaries. Dishes like biryani, korma, and naan are staples that transcend national labels, but the branding of such foods abroad often carries political weight.

In the UK, where South Asian cuisine has become a cultural cornerstone, the lines between “Indian,” “Pakistani,” and even “Bangladeshi” food blur even further. Many restaurateurs hail from regions like Punjab and Sindh, where culinary traditions predate Partition. One Pakistani restaurant owner in London, speaking anonymously, explained, “We call our place ‘Indian Restaurant’ because that’s what customers expect. The average Brit doesn’t know the difference, and ‘Indian’ food sells better.” While this pragmatic approach works commercially, it frustrates some Indian restaurateurs who feel their cultural identity is being co-opted.

Across the Atlantic, a similar situation plays out in New York’s Curry Hill. A Pakistani-owned restaurant proudly advertising “Indian cuisine” told patrons, “We’re all Desi at the end of the day.” But Indian diners expressed unease, with one commenting online, “It’s not about the food—it’s about honesty. If you’re Pakistani, own it.”

Historical Echoes and Modern Tensions

The Karachi Bakery controversy is emblematic of the broader identity debate. Founded by a Sindhi Hindu migrant, the bakery’s name is a tribute to a lost homeland, not a political statement. Its famous fruit biscuits and Osmania biscuits are quintessentially Hyderabadi, yet its name has made it a recurring target during times of heightened India-Pakistan tensions. In 2019, following the Pulwama attack, the bakery faced similar protests in Bengaluru, with mobs forcing owners to cover the word “Karachi” on their signboard.

Ironically, across the border, Pakistan’s Hyderabad is home to the Bombay Bakery, a century-old institution that operates without controversy despite its Indian-sounding name. This asymmetry has not gone unnoticed on social media, with one Pakistani user posting, “Our Bombay Bakery thrives, and nobody cares. Why can’t India let Karachi Bakery be?”

A Recipe for Resolution?

As the debate intensifies, some voices are calling for a more nuanced approach. Food historian Pushpesh Pant argues, “Cuisine doesn’t respect borders. The anger over names like Karachi Bakery or ‘Indian’ restaurants abroad stems from political wounds, not culinary ones.” He suggests celebrating shared heritage rather than policing identities. Others, however, are pushing for clearer labelling, proposing certifications or menu transparency to help distinguish Indian, Pakistani, and Bangladeshi cuisines.

For now, Karachi Bakery remains steadfast. Rajesh Ramnani, flanked by Indian flags at his Moazzam Jahi Market outlet, told reporters, “Our name is our history, not our nationality. We’re proud Indians serving India with love.” As the debate continues, the global conversation about the authenticity of “Indian” restaurants abroad serves as a poignant reminder that food, much like history, is rarely as simple as it seems.