I walk into a famous Udupi restaurant in Mumbai, craving a simple, crispy, golden masala dosa.
I just want:
- A thin, crunchy dosa.
- A perfectly spiced potato filling.
- Coconut chutney that doesn’t taste like it’s been refrigerated for a week.
But what do I see?
A menu with 150 types of dosas.
Cynic Upstairs: “Ah, yes. Because apparently, dosa alone wasn’t good enough. We had to Frankenstein it into 150 ridiculous variations.”
I take a deep breath and start reading the crimes against dosa.
Phase 1: The ‘Chinese Dosa’ Abomination
I scan the menu and find the first insult to tradition.
- Schezwan Dosa.
- Manchurian Dosa.
- Hakka Noodles Dosa.
Me: “Why? WHY?”
Cynic Upstairs: “Because Mumbai believes that adding ‘Schezwan sauce’ makes everything better. Even dosa.”
I imagine the horror of stuffing a dosa with greasy, over-spiced noodles and calling it “fusion.”
This is not dosa. This is an identity crisis.
Phase 2: The ‘Pizza Dosa’ That Should Be Illegal
Next, my eyes land on Pizza Dosa.
- Mozzarella cheese melted over a dosa.
- Pizza sauce spread like some unholy ritual.
- Capsicum and olives sprinkled on top.
Me: “So, basically, you killed both dosa and pizza in one dish?”
Cynic Upstairs: “Yes. And for ₹350, they’ll serve it with coconut chutney. Because clearly, we’ve given up on logic.”
At this point, I’m losing faith in humanity.
Phase 3: The ‘Chocolate Dosa’ That Sent Me Into Existential Crisis
I try to calm down. Maybe things can’t get worse.
Then I see it.
- Nutella Dosa.
- Chocolate Cheese Dosa.
- Oreo Dosa.
Me: “Who is ordering this?”
Cynic Upstairs: “People who clearly weren’t hugged as children.”
I imagine chocolate sauce dripping onto a dosa, desecrating everything that South Indian cuisine stands for.
If my ancestors could see this, they would disown me just for reading the menu.
Phase 4: The ‘Mumbai-Style Butter Dosa’ Catastrophe
In Mumbai, butter dosa isn’t just butter dosa. It’s an oil spill with a side of dosa.
- Soaked in Amul butter.
- Shiny enough to see your reflection in it.
- Comes with extra butter on top. Because, why not kill your arteries?
I watch a guy at the next table struggle to pick up his dosa because it’s sliding off the plate in a butter flood.
Me: “Does it come with a heart surgeon?”
Cynic Upstairs: “No. But it should.”
Phase 5: The ‘Jini Dosa’ Disaster
Mumbai’s Udupi restaurants created a monster called Jini Dosa.
- It’s rolled like a burrito.
- Stuffed with enough masala to trigger a spice-induced hallucination.
- Topped with grated cheese, because nothing is sacred anymore.
Me: “WHY is there cheese in everything?!”
Cynic Upstairs: “Because Mumbai believes cheese can fix anything. Even dosa.”
I watch a table of college kids order Jini Dosa like it’s peak gourmet food.
I die a little inside.
Phase 6: The ‘Maggi Dosa’ War Crime
Just when I think I’ve seen the worst, I spot Maggi Dosa.
- Yes, Maggi noodles stuffed inside a dosa.
- Yes, it’s served with chutney.
- Yes, this is where civilization ends.
Me: “Who is responsible for this?”
Cynic Upstairs: “Someone who wanted Maggi but accidentally walked into an Udupi restaurant.”
At this point, I want to stand up and apologize to every South Indian chef in history.
Phase 7: The Last Straw – ‘Mexican Dosa’
The menu offers:
- Taco Dosa.
- Salsa Dosa.
- Guacamole Dosa.
I stare at it in horror.
Me: “What’s next? Sushi Dosa? Kimchi Dosa? Biryani Dosa?”
The waiter overhears me and casually confirms that they serve ‘Tandoori Paneer Dosa’ too.
I am done.
Phase 8: The Escape Plan
I finally put the menu down.
- I do not order.
- I do not want to be part of this madness.
- I just want a normal dosa, the way it was meant to be.
Cynic Upstairs: “Do you think they even remember how to make a classic dosa anymore?”
I call the waiter.
Me: “One plain dosa. No butter, no cheese, no nonsense.”
The waiter nods like I have ordered something rare and exotic.
Cynic Upstairs: “Watch. They’re going to bring it with cheese anyway.”
Phase 9: The Redemption (Almost)
The dosa arrives. Simple. Perfect. No unnecessary toppings.
I take a bite. Crispy. Golden. Just how it should be.
For a moment, I feel peace.
And then… the waiter casually places a bowl of grated cheese on the table.
Me: “What is this?”
Waiter: “Sir, extra cheese. Just in case.”
Cynic Upstairs: “They tried. They really did. But Mumbai will never let dosa live in peace.”
Final Thoughts: Mumbai, Stop Messing With Dosas
I finish my meal, shaking my head at the crimes committed against dosa in the name of ‘fusion cuisine.’
- Dosa does not need noodles.
- Dosa does not need chocolate.
- Dosa does not need cheese in every damn variation.
As I step out, I take one last look at the menu board.
They’ve just introduced Pav Bhaji Dosa.
I leave.
Forever.