The History of Naan and Roti: The Oldest Hands on South Asian Tables

Around 1300, the court poet of the Delhi Sultanate, Amir Khosrow, recorded what he witnessed at the emperor’s breakfast table. Among the items listed were two breads: one was naan-e-tunuk (thin bread), and the other was naan-e-tanuri (bread baked in a tandoor oven).^[1] This brief note remains the oldest known written record of “naan” to this day.

Yet naan was not the only bread on that table. While the king ate naan, the ordinary people working in that kitchen and the commoners of the city were most likely baking thin, unleavened flatbreads on iron griddles set over fire. The bread that Khosrow felt no need to record — roti — has a history that begins in a far deeper place.

Two Breads, Two Philosophies

Naan and roti may look similar on the surface, but the ways they are made are fundamentally different. This difference is not merely a matter of cooking technique — it reflects the collision of two philosophies that cut across South Asian food culture.

Naan is a leavened bread. Wheat flour is mixed with yogurt (or yeast) and left to ferment, then the dough is slapped against the inner wall of a tandoor — a cylindrical clay oven — and baked at high heat.^[2] A tandoor can reach temperatures of up to 480 degrees Celsius,^[3] and under this intense heat the dough transforms in just a few minutes into a bread with a thick, springy surface and a soft interior. Because fermentation is essential, naan requires long preparation time and specialized equipment. It was a bread suited to royal kitchens, professional bakeries, and restaurants.

Roti is an unleavened bread. Kneaded from whole-wheat flour (atta) and water alone, it is rolled flat with a rolling pin and cooked on a cast-iron griddle called a tawa.^[4] A few minutes is all the preparation requires, and no special tools are needed. This simplicity is what has made roti a bread shaped by the hands of billions of people across South Asia at every meal. Even today, in countless homes in Pakistan, India, Bangladesh, and Nepal, the sound of a mother’s hands working roti dough can be heard each morning.

The Journey of the Word “Naan”

Where did the word “naan” come from? The etymology traces back to the Persian nān, meaning “bread.”^[5] In Persian, nān was simply the everyday word for bread. The word entered the Indian subcontinent during the Delhi Sultanate (1206–1526) and the Mughal Empire (1526–1857), periods that were heavily influenced by Central Asian and Persian culture.^[6]

What is interesting is that in the Persian-speaking world, nān was not a name specific to naan. In Iran today, there are many varieties of nān: naan-e sangak (bread baked on hot stones), naan-e barbari (thick flatbread), and more.^[5] In other words, “naan” was originally not a proper noun designating “Indian tandoor bread” but a common noun meaning “bread” in Persian. It became the “naan” we know today when it merged, on the Indian subcontinent, with a specific type of leavened tandoor bread.

The word first appeared in English in 1799, when the historian and clergyman William Tooke recorded the bread eaten in India at that time as “naan.”^[7] The word subsequently settled into the English lexicon during the era of British colonialism.

The etymology of “roti” is older still. It derives from the Sanskrit rotika (a flatbread baked on a griddle),^[8] and this word has taken root in nearly identical form across the languages of South Asia — Hindi, Urdu, Punjabi, Bengali, and more. The name “chapati” comes from the Sanskrit carpatī (thin cake), reflecting the action of flattening dough between the palms (chapat).^[9] Roti and chapati are used interchangeably in many regions, but strictly speaking, their cooking methods differ. Chapati is always cooked on a tawa without oil, while roti is sometimes puffed directly over a flame or cooked with a coating of fat.^[9]

The Tandoor: A 4,000-Year Oven Made of Clay

To understand the history of naan, the tandoor cannot be overlooked. This cylindrical clay oven is not merely a tool for baking naan — it is the heart of culinary culture across South Asia and Central Asia.

The origins of the tandoor are traced to ancient Mesopotamia and the Persian region.^[3] Reports indicate that traces of structures resembling the tandoor have been excavated at Mohenjo-daro and Harappa, the ancient sites of the Indus Valley Civilization (approximately 3300–1300 BCE).^[10] At these same sites, evidence of wheat and barley cultivation has also been found,^[11] which suggests that the people of the Indus Civilization ground grains into flour and baked flatbreads.

The working principle of the tandoor is simple but remarkably efficient. When charcoal or wood is ignited inside a cylindrical clay vessel, the thick clay walls absorb the intense heat and radiate it in all directions. When dough is pressed against the inner wall, radiant heat, conductive heat, and convective heat all act upon it simultaneously. This cooperation of three heat sources produces what is distinctly characteristic of naan — a surface that is slightly charred and rough on the outside, yet moist and soft beneath.^[2]

The tandoor also served as a communal tool in South Asian communities. Because maintaining a fuel-hungry tandoor in every household was impractical, communal tandoors known as tanduri khana (tandoor houses) were operated at the village or neighborhood level. Each morning, neighbors would bring their dough and take turns baking their naan.^[13] This communal baking culture continues to this day in some parts of Pakistan and northern India.

The Bread of the Mughal Court: The Moment Naan Gained Power

The naan that Amir Khosrow recorded in the thirteenth century was already present at the royal table, but naan achieved its status as true “court food” during the Mughal Empire (1526–1857).

The Mughal Empire began when Babur, a descendant of the Timurid dynasty from Central Asia, conquered northern India.^[6] The dynasty developed a distinctive court culture that combined Persian and Indian elements, and food culture was no exception. The administrative record Ain-i-Akbari (c. 1590), compiled during the reign of the Mughal emperor Akbar, describes in detail the varieties of bread and recipes used in the imperial kitchen.^[1] According to this document, several different kinds of naan were made in the imperial kitchen, each called by a different name according to its ingredients and form.

During this period, naan became the bread of the upper classes and court culture, while roti gradually came to be identified as the bread of commoners. Yet this distinction was never absolute. In northern India and Pakistan, where Mughal influence was strong, naan was a relatively accessible food, whereas in most of southern India — where imperial influence was weaker — naan remained unfamiliar for much longer.

There were also technical reasons why naan became the “bread of power.” Operating fermentation and a tandoor required considerable skill and time. Only nobles and merchants with professional cooks and large kitchens could meet both conditions. For ordinary households, roti — which could be quickly cooked on a tawa without a tandoor — was a far more practical choice.

The Roots of Roti: The Ancient Tradition of Unleavened Bread

The tradition of unleavened flatbread to which roti belongs is far older than naan. Archaeological evidence suggests that wheat and barley were being cultivated before 2000 BCE in the major cities of the Indus Civilization,^[11] and it is presumed that people ground those grains into flour, mixed them with water, and baked flatbreads on heated stones or iron griddles.

The advantages of unleavened bread are clear: no waiting for fermentation, no complicated equipment. Wherever there is fire, it can be made. This simplicity is why roti has spanned thousands of years and continues to appear on tables every day.

The whole-wheat flour (atta) that is roti’s primary ingredient is also of interest from a modern nutritional standpoint. Atta retains the wheat bran during milling and is richer in dietary fiber and minerals than refined white flour.^[12] Interestingly, while white refined flour bread was a symbol of wealth and status in Europe, whole-wheat roti has traditionally been the staple food of the majority in South Asia. This difference reflects the divergent paths that wheat milling technology took in the two regions.

The Map of Flatbreads: Different Names and Forms Across Regions

Naan and roti do not exist as a single, uniform type beneath a single name. Across the vast expanse of South Asia, dozens of variations have developed according to each culture, climate, and available ingredients.

Chapati is the most widely eaten representative form of roti. Whole-wheat dough is rolled thin with a rolling pin and cooked on a tawa, then placed directly over a flame to puff. A well-made chapati, when it puffs, develops steam pockets inside — and it is this that creates the light, soft texture chapati is known for.^[9]

Paratha is the “premium version” of roti. Because ghee or cooking oil is folded between multiple layers as the dough is rolled out and baked, a crispy, flaky layered structure is formed.^[4] Paratha comes in many stuffed varieties — filled with potato (aloo paratha), radish (mooli paratha), cheese (paneer paratha), and more — and each is a complete meal on its own.

Phulka is nearly identical to chapati but made thinner and smaller. The name itself means “to puff” in Hindi, and its hallmark is puffing up completely over an open flame. It is commonly found in home cooking across northern India and Pakistan.

Tandoori Naan is the form most commonly seen on the menus of Indian restaurants worldwide today. Naan baked in a tandoor is the basic form, and variations such as garlic naan, butter naan, and cheese naan have gained popularity around the world.

Kulcha is similar to naan but made with refined white flour (maida) and baked with stuffing inside. Kulcha from Amritsar in Indian Punjab is especially renowned.

Looking at the regional picture, tandoori naan is a staple on restaurant menus in Pakistan and the northern Indian Punjab; makki di roti, made from cornmeal, is a regional staple in Rajasthan; and bhakri, made from millet flour, holds that role in Gujarat.^[13] In Sri Lanka, rotti made with coconut milk is popular; and in East Africa — Kenya and Tanzania — chapati brought by Indian traders and laborers in the nineteenth century has been deeply integrated into local food culture.^[14]

The Chapati Movement: A Signal of Resistance Hidden in Bread

One of the most dramatic instances of South Asian flatbread carrying political meaning is the “Chapati Movement” of 1857.

In early 1857, just before Indian resistance to the rule of the British East India Company erupted into open revolt, something strange began happening across northern and central India. Each night, chapatis were passed rapidly from village to village. When the headman of one village received a chapati, he would bake a few new ones and send them to neighboring villages — and in this way, the chapatis traveled hundreds of kilometers within days.^[15] British officials interpreted this as a secret signal or code for rebellion, but the actual meaning has never been definitively established even today.

Historians have interpreted the event in various ways. Some see it as a ritual act of reinforcing community solidarity; others argue it was a system for conveying warnings of an imminent threat.^[15] Whatever the interpretation, the episode is a vivid example of how a single piece of flatbread can function as a communal language beyond mere food.

Bread Across the Indian Ocean: Roti’s Journey Around the World

The most significant route by which roti spread beyond South Asia was the emigration of Indians under the British colonial system in the nineteenth century.

When Britain abolished slavery in 1834, sugar plantations in the colonies required new sources of labor. The British transported Indians as “indentured laborers” to Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana, Fiji, Mauritius, South Africa, and elsewhere.^[16] What these migrants planted in their new lands was not only sugarcane. They also brought with them Indian food culture — especially roti and chapati.

The “roti” eaten in Trinidad and Tobago today is different from South Asian chapati. Combined with local ingredients and culture, it has become thicker and more substantial, transformed into a form stuffed with dal curry or chicken.^[16] Caribbean roti has become one of the defining foods of the region, simultaneously embodying the history of migration and cultural adaptation.

Naan took a different path into the world. From the mid-twentieth century onward, as Indian immigrants opened Indian restaurants in English-speaking countries such as the United Kingdom, the United States, and Canada, tandoor-baked naan became a symbol of “Indian food” for Western audiences.^[17] In the 1970s and 1980s, curry restaurants in Birmingham and London became popular, greatly raising the profile of naan. The texture and flavor of packaged supermarket naan today differs considerably from tandoor naan, but it is a clear indicator of this form’s global diffusion.

Leavened or Unleavened: That Was Never the Question

Looking back through history, naan and roti were never in competition. Each has coexisted alongside the other, meeting different needs in different contexts.

Roti is the daily bread. The feel of the dough that the hands remember, the smell of it puffing on the tawa, the meal of tearing it hot and eating it with dal — all of this is the rhythm of everyday life formed through thousands of years of repetition. Scholars believe that some form of unleavened flatbread has been the foundation of this region’s food culture since the time of the Indus Civilization.^[10]

Naan is the bread of occasion. The tandoor fire must be stoked, the dough must be sufficiently fermented, and a skilled hand must press it against the inner wall. These conditions have made naan the bread of restaurants, festivals, and hospitality.

It is also worth noting that in South Asia, the word “roti” is sometimes used to mean bread in general. In Hindi and Urdu, “roti khana” (to eat roti) simply means “to eat a meal.” This shows that roti has become not just the name of a bread but a word that stands for “food” itself. Unlike Amir Khosrow, who named and recorded naan, roti had no need of a name. It was life itself.

Modern Naan and Roti: Industrialization and the Memory of Hands

Industrialization has left its mark on South Asian bread culture too. In urban households today, packaged chapati is sometimes purchased at supermarkets, and automated roti-making machines are sometimes used. Some fast-food chains reheat frozen naan in ovens.

Yet amid this current of industrialization, the tradition of kneading roti by hand and baking it on a tawa has held firm. Particularly in home cooking, roti still carries important meaning as an expression of culinary skill and care. The Punjabi saying “roti khao, dal khao” (eat roti, eat dal) shows that this food is perceived not merely as a carbohydrate source but as a necessary condition for a complete meal.^[13]

Meanwhile, naan’s globalization has proceeded in unexpected directions. The texture and flavor of supermarket naan differ considerably from tandoor naan. In response, a lively movement has emerged among Indian food enthusiasts worldwide — bringing tandoor ovens into the home, or researching techniques that can achieve as close an approximation as possible to tandoor results without one.^[17]

Amir Khosrow’s Second Bread

Seven hundred years ago, when Amir Khosrow recorded two kinds of naan at the emperor’s breakfast table, it was an act worthy of preserving in history. He could not have imagined that the breads he recorded would one day be ordered not as “the things of a court” but as food across the entire world.

But what will perhaps be longer remembered is the bread he did not record. Those nameless rotis — outside the king’s table, kneaded by millions of hands each day and placed upon the tawa. Khosrow felt no need to record them. Those breads needed no record to exist; they were already being made, ceaselessly.

Leavened and unleavened, the fire of the tandoor and the fire of the tawa. That these two breads have coexisted on the same table for thousands of years is no accident. The fact that the bread of kings and the bread of commoners did not compete but each held its own place shows that South Asian food culture cannot be reduced to a single layer. And within that layered complexity, somewhere today, a pair of hands is working dough.