But wait. Is the roti revolution in kitchens just a matter of tastebuds? Or is this a remorphing of ethnic identity ? In Tamil Nadu, the thavani (half saree) and the pavada (long skirt), the traditional Tamil dress for teenagers, has been replaced years ago by salwar kameez and kurtas. A few months ago, Kerala’s Guruvayur temple finally broke with tradition and did what would send shudders through the coastline a few years ago—allow women wearing the north Indian attire to enter the premises. In Bangalore, a crucible of various urban cultures, the flavour on the streets is Hindi. Himesh Reshammiya shares airwaves with A.R. Rahman while, as an online petition seeking greater representation for the local Kannada language, said two years ago, weather, traffic updates and health tips are primarily in Hindi with a sprinkling of English. Words like mehnat, kamai and duniya bounce off roads and campuses. Even road rage has a Hindi twang. At traffic lights, chances of someone asking you not to take a panga with them are almost guaranteed. If five years ago there were four single-screen theatres for Hindi films in Bangalore, there are over a dozen, across multiplexes today.

And you thought that the south was south and north was north and never the twain shall meet. Well, fusion food is also about fusing cultures. “Can you imagine our good old Saravana Bhavan and Sangeetha restaurants having a Calcutta Chaat Corner? Did you know that Sangeetha serves a very popular dish, called the Chettinad Paneer Kuruma? Imagine paneer cooked with curry leaves and tamarind and eaten with rice or chapati,” laughs Anita Ratnam, a Chennai-based dancer.

... contd.