At a shopping mall today, Amit, Jasmine and I came across a new restaurant which looked interesting. It was bright, had jazzy colours and the servers had spiffy uniforms. They walked away, but my interest was piqued by the sign that said "More varieties of dosa than at any other restaurant". A counter separated the server and me, like in a McDonalds. Picture boards with scrumptious photos of food were illuminated by fluorescent lighting right behind him. Mexican dosa. Manchurian idli. Mexican baked dosa.
I asked him what the Mexican dosa contains. He said there were mixed vegetables inside the dosa, and cheese was sprinkled on top. Upon further questioning, he said - not sheepishly, mind you - that it was labeled 'Mexican' because of the sprinkled cheese. The Manchurian idli, said the server, was a diced idli dipped in Manchurian gravy. And the Mexican baked dosa was not baked, but fried.
For a country largely paranoid about a foreign hand perverting our culture and all that, we sure do some strange things to ourselves.