Should the Massachusetts Turnpike’s stench of gasoline and rubber tires ever grow old, an aroma heavy with spice and invitation wafts over from a mere few steps away. On a late Wednesday afternoon, Aatma Curry House finds itself between being empty to the point of oddity and packed to the point of annoyance. A small queue extends from the bar, where orders for Aatma’s food and the Widowmaker beer are taken, to midway across the space, curving around post-work solo diners and generation-spanning families. When dining here, expect food that’s seriously spunky and feels fresh, even for those who frequently indulge in Indian cuisine.

Adding to the restaurant’s personality and impossible to miss on a wide expanse of wall is a mural of Hindu deity Kali, depicted with her trademark blue skin, human skull jewelry, and long tongue extended. The sharpness in every one of her facial features sets a tone of all-out ferocity that permeates from paint to plate. “Welcome to the Rebellion” reads a framed poster opposite the mural of Kali, and the doors to Aatma Curry House are a gateway to just that. At fusion restaurants, combining two cuisines so often means sacrificing half the flavor, but at Aatma, flavor doubles.

The standout drink is the mango lassi. Aatma’s take on this near-constant Indian restaurant menu item differentiates itself in its quality of fruit, which allows for both a burst of taste upon first sip and an unusually thick texture. The mango lassi is full of nuance — what often becomes a one-note mouthful of mango finds itself dotted with flecks of spices reminiscent of peppercorn and cardamom that zap any taste bud teetering on flavor fatigue. The one element that falls flat is the drizzle of rose syrup that lines the glass. The syrup’s shocking red color fails to translate to a flavor that packs the same punch. Little to no floral fragrance can be detected, and taste lags behind its eye-catching presentation.

While the mango lassi shines jubilant and bright, the masala chai, too, measures up in its own regard. Served in a ceramic brown mug that embodies its exact taste, the chai is ideal for those with a strong affinity for earthy tones. Each sip starts with a bitterness that blooms across the tongue before sneaking to the back of the mouth and lingering, rather like a tendril of smoke swirling down the throat.

Swiftly following the drinks, mains and sides are brought to the table. As perhaps the most widely familiar of Indian dishes, butter chicken is a familiar name on the menu. Yet, Aatma’s Better Butter Chicken finds an edge with its tomato-forward approach and a dollop of kasoori butter as garnish. The chicken calls immediate attention to itself — robust in both size and flavor, the pieces are juicy and tender without forgoing a phenomenal smoky char. In fact, to the faint-of-taste, the dish may even be over-spiced, requiring the accompaniment of rice or garlic naan to provide counterbalance. These sides themselves are not otherworldly in taste nor texture, but they nonetheless demonstrate the excellence that diners at Aatma Curry House have come to expect.

The same can be said for the Chaat-er Tots, Aatma’s spin on classic tater tots. The side is piping hot and fried to perfection, living up to tot standards. Where it misses the mark is in its seasoning, which the menu claims is a “gateway to chaat enlightenment.” Instead, the overwhelming seasoning is salt, leaving diners wondering just where the chaat masala hides. Enlightenment lies, rather, in the unassuming sauce served alongside the tots. Best described as if the love child of barbecue sauce and sriracha received a few heavy doses of spices, the heat of the sauce creeps up, allowing the flavor of the tot itself to shine before claiming its place as a pleasantly-numbing aftertaste.

While the tots themselves are not a must-order, the entree it accompanies may just be one. The Aatma Burger is the restaurant’s strongest evidence that it knows how to do fusion right. This burger tastes as if a batter hit a hot dog straight out of Fenway Park and baptized it as an American smash burger in a vat of holy Aatma sauce. Cushioned between two soft, sweet buns, the beef patties are packed nearly beyond the brim with spices. Achari onions and Amul cheese make the burger complete. The dish is truly admirable in how it folds Indian flavors into classically American ones.

For restaurants, authenticity to culinary roots translates to a near-surefire customer base, and a lack thereof frequently risks being fatal for the establishment’s future. At Aatma, however, Chef Keith Sarasin is willing to take this risk. The restaurant specifically advertises itself as “not authentic Indian.” Authenticity, rather, shines through in the restaurant’s friendly attitude toward diners and clear emphasis on quality. Aatma takes an unwavering stance firmly between Indian and American flavors — a true marriage of cuisines.