There are few betrayals in life that really stay with you. One of them is ordering poori in South India and getting… coconut chutney.
Yeah. Not aloo. Not halwa. Just poori. And chutney. Like that’s totally normal.
See, I grew up in Delhi, where poori and aloo are basically soulmates. You don’t even think about it. It’s not “poori with”—it’s just poorialoo. One word. One emotion. Throw in a little halwa on the side and your Sunday is sorted. Life makes sense.
Then I moved South.
I still remember the first time. I walked into this Jai Ganesh Hotel in 2003, feeling all nostalgic, ordered poori, and waited. The plate came. Pooris—hot, puffed, beautiful. But then, I saw it.
This white, peaceful, slightly smug blob of coconut chutney. Just sitting there. Like it belonged.
I was confused. Like… is this a joke? A starter? Where’s the sabzi? Did they forget something?
I looked around—nobody else seemed panicked. People were just eating it. Happily.
Like they chose this.
Now don’t get me wrong—I love coconut chutney. With idli, with dosa, even with upma on days when I’m emotionally stable. But with poori?
It felt like I was in a parallel universe. The Marvel multiverse of breakfasts.
But, okay—I tried it. What else was I going to do?
And… I won’t lie. It wasn’t bad. Just… different. Like dating someone who doesn’t drink chai but makes amazing coffee. You’re confused, but you’re also kind of okay with it?
The chutney was cooling, soft, balanced. The poori got to shine without getting drowned in masala. It was oddly… zen. Like a yoga retreat for your digestive system.
And after a few more such encounters, I stopped resisting.
This is just how it is here.
South India doesn’t care what your aloo-filled childhood memories were. It has its own thing going, and coconut chutney is everywhere. It’s basically the cilantro of the South—always there, even when you didn’t ask for it.
So now, when I see poori and chutney together, I still pause. I still miss that spicy sabzi. But I also smile a little. Because this weird combo grew on me. Like a friendship you didn’t expect but end up loving.
That’s the thing with Indian food. It surprises you, confuses you, sometimes offends you—but eventually, it wins you over.
Poori and chutney. Not what I expected. But hey… maybe it’s what I needed.
Disclaimer: This piece is a light-hearted, observational comedy written by someone who has lovingly eaten both aloo and coconut chutney without bias (okay, maybe just a tiny bit). It’s not an attack on South Indian food or a defense of North Indian carbs—just one confused stomach trying to make sense of regional breakfast diplomacy.
Please do not report me to your local dosa council or start a WhatsApp debate with your foodie uncle. Just smile, eat what you love, and let poori live its best life—with whoever it chooses.
Peace, love, and extra chutney.
