Dosa, dosai, attu. Call it by any name, the crispy delight has conquered hearts across India. From ancient kitchens to modern cafés, dosa has evolved more than our phone's operating systems.

Legend has it that a resourceful cook in a forgotten kingdom whipped up the first dosa out of sheer desperation -- proving once again that necessity is the mother of invention, and hunger is the father. Historical accuracy may vary.

I grew up in a small town in Andhra Pradesh, bordering Karnataka. In my childhood, Udupi-style vegetarian restaurants were our go-to breakfast spots. These hotels had their own default settings: a wide entrance door; a wooden glass shelf stacked with freshly made vadas, Mysore Pak, and mixture; a billing counter with the owner seated always facing east (as per Vasthu); photo frames of deities on every wall, worshipped each morning with sandal-scented agarbathis. The aroma of sandalwood and sambar was a sensory signature. You could even measure the age of a hotel by the soot covering the gods in the photo frames -- the more invisible the gods, the older and more trusted the establishment the hotel was.

Dosa came in many avatars -- plain (sometimes conical), masala, open, rava, and pesarattu. Leftover batter is reborn as Uttappam, garnished with onions and green chillies -- a clever value addition by restaurants.

Every dosa came with mandatory accompaniments: unlimited chutney and sambar, a practice now extinct in most places. Servers (armed with a tiny pencil tucked behind their ear and a manual bill book in their pocket) would place tumblers of sambar right on the table, especially when fed up with our shouting.

A good rapport with the server and the white-clad cashier worked wonders. We used to collect gatti chutney (the solid kind, given only with parcels) and sambar in steel cans to enjoy at home, especially when relatives visited during summer vacations.

The gods and goddesses have vanished from the signboards of today's dosa joints, replaced by Gen-Z aspirations. If dosa had a LinkedIn profile, it would list skills such as fusion adaptability, multilingual fillings, and excellent crunch under pressure.

Have you heard of ice-cream dosa? (If not tasted yet, please visit Vijayawada.) Or jam dosa? There are restaurants which serve dosas with Bingo and Lays chips -- perhaps a business opportunity waiting to be tapped by the snack brands. In the name of innovation and out-of- the-box thinking, there could be more varieties lined up for the dosa lovers.

Once a staunch vegetarian item, dosa now embraces diversity: chicken dosa, chicken keema dosa, butter chicken dosa, and egg dosa, to mention a few. Ravana had 10 heads, but the dosa has more varieties under its belt and still counting.

Back in the day, I vividly remember that hotels used to bring their dosa masters all the way from Udupi, Kundapura, Bengaluru, Ballary and others. A good dosa recipe was a hotel's USP. Crowds followed the crunch.

Today, dosa-making is no longer a skill; it's a profession, a start-up and possibly a religion, providing jobs to many.

Dosa is not just a dish any more; it's a movement. Whether you are a nostalgic foodie or a fusion fanatic, there is a dosa for everyone out there.

So next time you bite into one, remember, you are tasting history, innovation, and a whole lot of love.

sayee98@gmail.com

Hot and crisp off the griddle