
The Masala Dosa Chronicles at Sriranga Vihara | Food, Family & Filter Coffee Memories
- Sriranga VN

- Jul 30, 2025
- 2 min read
🍽️ "The Masala Dosa Chronicles at Sriranga Vihara"
Radhamani had just slid the second golden-crisp masala dosa onto Ammulu’s plate, but the little girl frowned and shook her head.
“No, Amma... I'm full,” she said, pushing the dosa away with a slight pout.
Dr. Chari, sitting cross-legged on the reed mat, polished off his third with the calm efficiency of a man at peace with ghee and memories. He looked over at his daughter and raised an eyebrow.
“Full? After just one and a half?” he teased, licking the last bit of coconut chutney from his fingers. “You’ve betrayed our legacy!”
Meanwhile, Srirangam Narayana Sastry, fondly known as Chari Senior, was halfway through his fourth dosa, the ghee-slicked corner curling temptingly on the edge of his steel plate. He let out a satisfied sigh, dabbed his mouth with the end of his angavastram, and began drifting.
“Vidyaarathi Bhavan…” he murmured, eyes misty. “Gandhibazaar… now that was masala dosa!”
Ammulu looked up, curious.
“Appa used to take me there when I was your age,” Sastry said, leaning back, the memory unfolding like steam from hot filter coffee. “Wooden benches. Brass tumblers. Queues that started before sunrise. And that smell… roasted ghee, crackling mustard, fried red chillies.”
He chuckled.
“Six dosas was standard, paapa. The regulars had it like clockwork. My friend Bhaskara once ate twelve! I managed seven on my best day. Your appa?” he grinned at Dr. Chari.
“Four. And he claimed he was full.”
“Appa!” Dr .Chari protested with mock indignation. “I was seven years old!”
Ammulu giggled. Radhamani rolled her eyes lovingly and served another dosa, this time sliding it onto Sastry's plate with quiet pride.
In the warmth of the kitchen, between the scent of ghee and coconut, generations folded into each other like perfect dosa — crisp outside, soft inside, and filled with stories.
🪔 From the heart of Ponmanipudi. A place where food isn’t just food — it’s family, memory, and a little bit of magic.
Sriranga VN





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