Six nights a week after a hard day’s work, Michelle Sebastian, 29, single and a luxury hotel executive in Bangalore, returns home to a hot shower and a large bowl of noodles. She changes the vegetables each night, she switches the sauces and she varies the masala, the blend of Indian spices. But her dinnertime staple stays the same: instant noodles.

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“I throw in broccoli, baby corn, shallots, sprouts, whatever I fancy.”

“Sometimes I sauté it in sesame oil or add cheese.”

One day it is noodle soup, the next day it could be noodles mildly tossed in butter.

Ms. Sebastian, a vegetarian, cannot stop gushing about the versatility and wholesomeness of her daily meal.

Her culinary pick may seem bland considering the bewildering array of choices in the city around her. At standing room-only joints, the local idli-dosa (steamed savory cakes and crisp crepes from rice batter), are served through the day. There are thali places, which serve up a variety of morsels that make up a wholesome meal on a thali, or tray. There are cafes serving sandwiches, and tony restaurants where waiters expertly uncork wine bottles as they present the chef’s French culinary concoctions.

And yet, with all this within reach, Ms. Sebastian and other young professionals in Bangalore and other Indian cities are increasingly reaching for instant noodles. The Indian instant noodles market, currently an estimated $300 million, will double in the next few years, says the consultancy group Technopak Advisors.

Saritha Rai for The New York Times

Could it be that in the vast culinary expanse that is India, from Kashmir in the north to the southern tip of Kanyakumari, from the arid deserts in the West to the coastal states in the East, where gastronomic diversity is a fundamental truth, has found a unifying food at long last?

Once alien to India’s food culture, instant noodles have captured the collective imagination of young Indians, somewhat like the domination of English, a language that holds sway in a country with so many native tongues. Instant noodles are a habit from the growing up years for those born in the last few decades, says Chirag Yadav who runs Chaipatty, a Bangalore hangout that serves tea and two-minute noodles.

“For many middle-class Indians living away from home, it is about the struggle to eat on a small budget, the challenge of rustling up a snack without a proper cooking appliance, and the urge to sate sudden hunger pangs whether at three in the morning or four in the afternoon.”

Mr.Yadav says on-the-go noodles adequately reflect the personality of those in their 20s and 30s — having a quick-fix meal within reaching distance 24×7 — something that Indian food, with its lengthy preparation time and complicated cooking processes, does not lend itself to.

“It works for the Facebook and Twitter generation – insomniacs staying up late even if they have to get in to work by 9am — who want to grab a bowl of noodles to quiet the midnight cravings,” says Mr. Yadav.

Supermarkets in every city have rows of shelf space dedicated to a profusion of instant noodle brands in a baffling range of flavors.

There are multi-grain and whole wheat variants, spinach- and beet-infused ones. You can choose between curry, or masala or chicken tikka flavors.

Perhaps therein is the secret of its popularity.

“The liberal use of ginger, garlic, onions and chilli pepper transforms the dish to suit the Indian palate,” says Kripal Amanna, a food writer. ‘Indianizing’ the noodles or even giving it a regional twist is not much of a challenge, he says.

To many, noodles are a pleasant diversion from staple Indian carbohydrates of rice or wheat rotis, flatbread.

“Instant” noodles are also instantly available. Tiny neighborhood groceries carry dozens of variants. Stores selling cigarettes and morning newspapers have packets of noodles strung out in the front. It is on the menu of roadside eateries, self-service breakfast nooks, and hole-in-the-wall places in remote locations.

In a recent Bollywood potboiler Ra.One, superstar Shahrukh Khan uses his fingers to shovel yogurt and noodles (yogurt suey?) into his mouth, a takeoff on the south Indian custom of eating rice and yogurt.

The noodle obsession transcends class, regional and culinary expertise barriers. In contrast to the rest of the world, instant noodles here are “100 percent vegetarian”.

A single-serve packet starts from 5 rupees ($0.10) and requires no cooking skills, unlike traditional Indian dishes.

Noodle mania is only rising as urban Indian households cope with a time deficit. More women are getting into the workforce, and more men are entering the kitchen to pull together meals with modern-day quick fixes such as instant noodles.

Activist groups warn that the national proclivity to burgers, pizzas, colas and instant noodles — whose ingredients are often mislabeled — could drive a country genetically prone to heart disease and diabetes towards a health care crisis. In Bangalore, obesity is on the rise, as the increased advertising for weight loss medicines and slimming clinics suggests.

But for the petite Ms. Sebastian, a few added vegetables convert the bowlful of noodles into a fresh and healthy choice, easing away the guilt of eating “junk.’’

Saritha Rai sometimes feels she is the only person living in Bangalore who was actually raised here. There’s never a dull moment in her mercurial metropolis. Reach her on Twitter @SarithaRai.