The New York Times recently wrote on Masala Dosas to die for.  The article was shared among a group of us friends. The article triggered a huge debate. In the first instance, as a Malayalee, it offends me the "masala dosha" was spelt as "masala dosa".

Get this right all of you who live north of the Vindhyas, it is a DOSHA, not a DOSA. If you like it so much, then pronounce it right and spell it right. And this includes you, yes you, the "venerable" New York Times, as well.

And all you jokers in Bollywood make a big deal out of our South Indian accents. But let me tell you this, the way you guys sound, your accents suck as well to us in the South. I mean, how dare you call a dosha a dosa? And then you have the temerity to stake claim to it! Even as I write , my blood boils.

Anyway, for whatever reasons, a line from the article caught the attention of my very learned North Indian friend Ashish Mishra. He wrote to us: Loved this line: “According to the court’s narrative, Rajagopal hiked up his dhoti and gave Santhakumar a beating.”

And then the debate took an altogether different dimension. My other equally literate friend from the North, Shishir Prasad concluded: "The angle of flick of the Dhoti is a crucial data in murders down south. The new emerging science of Dhotistics a la ballstics is now about to become big."

Just so that you North Indians know, in the south, a formal dhoti is called a mundu or a veshti  and not a DHOTI. An informal DHOTI is called a LUNGI, much like you jokers in the North call it. You wear a mundu or a veshti to work or on formal outings and a lungi at home.  

My blood boils again!

But I'll take a deep breath and share the final word on the debate my very competent (as all South Indians are) friend, S Srinivasan wrote. Because by then, our conversation had travelled a long way away from the masala DOSHA.

The strategic unwearing of dhotis, or their tactical repositioning thereof, is a science evolved over centuries in the deepest crevices of temple mantapams by raking Brahmin mamas (of the Four Paunch Sizes referred to by Ramnath) to convey one’s emotional state to others and to achieve certain desirable outcomes.

1.     The first, of course, is the hitching up and knotting in the crotch area. This indicates aggression and challenge to a duel. The equivalent action in English culture is the throwing of the gauntlet a la Henry Bolingbroke in Richard II. I suspect Annachi performed this action before the submissive Santhakumar.

2.     The reverse is also true. The dropping up the hitched up part is a sign of reverence and often done in the presence of elders. Given that hairy legs are the sine qua non of authentic Tamilness, this is also done by less endowed men (hair-wise) hiding their weakness in front of bushier brethern.

3.     Dhoti is a weapon of mass reproduction. In the age-old days when they didn’t take off clothes before engaging in their conjugal duties, the dhoti (especially the panchakachham version) and the “madisar” of the maami allowed mutual access to desired destinations. Innocence was just a roll away if the couple were to be walked in on.

4.     You will also hitch up your dhoti while hovering in windy areas such as the Marina Beach, the top of a coconut tree or near a cycle pump. A sudden gush shouldn’t expose more than absolutely necessary.

5.     The less manly will gather the middle of their dhoti and tuck it in between their thighs, admittedly a more modest manoeuvre but a bad idea if you plan to walk in the near future.

6.     Holding the edge of the dhoti while walking is a sign of resoluteness and decision. It is a sign that if things didn’t go the way, the dhoti-wearer wanted, he wouldn’t hesitate to hitch it up and beat the guy in front of him. Watch Mamootty and Mohanlal to learn this gesture.

7.     Crispness of the dhoti aka veshti is a sign of authority. An average Tamil politician has more than 100 dhotis and doesn’t wear one without starching. However, once he falls at Amma’s feet and rises again, the crumpled dhoti signifies the loss of that authority.

8.     A swift undoing and retying of veshti has been known to be a flirtatious gesure, exclusively indulged in by the aforesaid bushy brethern. Others, women for instance, may think it is creepy but who cares?

9.     The underwear etiquette to go with the dhoti is elaborate. Only dandies and software engineers wear Tantex under the hood. The most authentic Tamil wears the Pattapatti, the loose zipless trunk made in Zebra-flavored fabric, tied up with a string. Your money goes into its two pockets, which are even less bustable than SBI’s safe-deposit lockers. As a consequence, an underwear that bulges on its sides shows the monetary endowment of its wearer.

10. Fashion faux pas. Wearing shoes with dhotis unless you are Telugu hero from the 1970s and is angry because your sweetheart has just been raped by the village headman. In which case, you will wait till the girl hangs herself with one of your dhotis, cover her body with the one you are currently wearing and kick the headman with your pointy shoes. After intermission, you wear new dhotis.

11. Eating well is a good idea to keep the dhoti in its place. The noodle-bodied use a length of rope permanently tied around the waist to keep it from falling off. However, you remove the string before getting married because if your wife sees it, she will call you a “mamma’s boy” and hang her safety pins in it for safekeeping.

12. The top inner end of the dhoti—the one that goes around before the other goes above it – makes for a good storage place too. You pull up the end as much as you need and role it into an impromptu string bag (surukku pai). Items allowed to be kept in it are betel nuts, tobacco and smartphones)

All of you in the North will do well to remember this before you gyrate to that silly song Lungi Dance by the uninformed Shah Rukh Khan