Indian Breakfast Buffets are Pure Chaos Disguised as Hospitality
You walk into an Indian breakfast buffet with the serene confidence of a monk.
You tell yourself, “Just some poha and chai… light start to the day.”
Five minutes later, your plate looks like world peace negotiations gone slightly wrong.
There’s bread chilling with coconut chutney.
Poha and pasta vibing together like long-lost cousins.
An idli has somehow made its way into the baked beans section, and someone’s confidently calling it fusion.
And of course, there’s always that one uncle making a dosa taller than his ego, guarding the live counter like a security officer on duty.
Meanwhile, the poor chef is flipping dosas at supersonic speed, taking orders like,
“Ek crispy, ek paper, ek with less oil, ek without onion, ek for kids – and one just for show.”
And you know it’s an Indian buffet when people start forming unofficial queues at the paratha counter — but no one really knows where it begins or ends.
There’s always that one auntie gently inching forward with her plate like it’s a spiritual test of patience, and another person pretending to “just check the menu” while slyly cutting the line.
Meanwhile, someone’s shouting across the room, “Bhaiya, one aloo, one plain – but make it extra khasta, haan!”
It’s pure, organized chaos – the kind that only Indians can pull off gracefully.
The best part? Watching the negotiation at the omelette counter.
One man is asking for only whites, another for just the yolks, and someone else wants “Only oil and salt. Zero spices and veggies. For the baby”
The chef’s eyes scream:
“I didn’t sign up for this.”
By the end of round one, everyone’s plate looks like a buffet remix – a little continental, a little combination of South and North Indian. Honestly, a confusing cuisine.
You don’t even remember what you’ve eaten – only that it was a lot.
Bonus Observation
How a man serves himself at the buffet says everything about his domestic skill level.
If he’s standing there, staring blankly at the serving spoons, and taking forever to decide where to start – that’s a man still being spoon-fed at home.
If he’s organized – taking smaller portions, wiping spills, and not dropping sambhar or chana masala or chutney on the counter – you’re witnessing a kitchen warrior in action.
But the rarest breed? The man who not only plates his own food but also brings food for his wife, kids, and in-laws -without grumbling or mixing jam and butter for bread.
That’s not a man. That’s Expert Ultra Max Pro Level Husband material.
Bahnika Sen
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