🍲 Ratnakarshetty – The Dosa Philosopher of Ponmanipudi

🍲 The Dosa Sabha at Ratnakarshetty’s Eatery

The sun had just stretched its arms over Brindlemalai when the little dosa shack in Ponmanipudi burst into life.

A smoky aroma of ghee, coconut oil, and roasted chutney leaves filled the air.

Villagers huddled around the tawa, plates in hand, as Ratnakarshetty, tall and portly, worked his magic with the batter.

“Anna, dosa is temple seva, not office work!” he declared, flipping a slurry dosa high into the air with a flourish, catching it back on the sizzling tawa.

“One dosa teaches more patience than ten philosophy classes!”

“Correct-u, correct-u!” shouted Constable Mani, licking chutney off his fingers.

Appuswamy the tea-stall poet chimed in: “Shetty, you are the Kalidasa of dosa! Words and dosas, both poetry!”

Shetty laughed, adjusting his checked lungi. “Kalidasa? Ayyo, don’t insult him. I am Ratnakarshetty — professor of Dosa University, Ponmanipudi campus!”

The crowd roared.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“You know who made me world-famous? Mira Anjali Amma.

That yoga-lady, with phone always pointing like bow-and-arrow!

She ate my Pudi dosa, uploaded some reel — next morning my dosa was in Spain, America, Timbuktu!”

The villagers laughed. Karthik nudged Vinod, “Even in America, dosa flies faster than us.”

“Aiyyo, they wanted me to come to Spain, to US, to teach dosa in university halls.

But what did I say?”

He slapped the ladle on the tawa.

“India is dosa’s birthplace.

Ponmanipudi is my Harvard. Why should I leave?”

A round of applause broke out, even the dogs wagging their tails as if in agreement.

Dr. Chari, seated quietly with a steel plate, smiled as Shetty placed before him a piping hot pudi dosa with pure ghee.

“For you, doctor saar, I put extra love. This dosa will cure not only stomach, but also samsara,” he quipped.

“And don’t forget,” Shetty continued, pointing his ladle dramatically, “every Sunday, I send dosas to Ananda Neelam.

Not just for Radhamani Amma and Ammulu — but for Sita, Mylo, Arjuna, April, even Hari and Swara the turtles!

In my shop, nobody is left out. Animal or human, dosa is prasad!”

The crowd erupted again, children giggling, elders nodding, dogs sniffing eagerly.

Ratnakarshetty raised his dosa-turner like a sword. “Remember, people — governments may rise and fall, countries may quarrel, but as long as there is dosa, there is hope for humanity!”

And with that, the next golden dosa slid onto a banana leaf, greeted by a round of laughter, applause, and the collective hunger of Ponmanipudi.