Ah, that's the magic of atta and haath, beta. The dough isn't *stuck*; it's *given* to the tandoor like you give a child to its mother—with trust. My kulchas hold because the dough is rested properly, and my palm presses it with just the right jhatka, a quick firm slap. I've seen young boys make it too wet, thinking it will cling, but then it just slides down into the coals. For forty years, my kulchas have held because my hands know the exact moment when the dough is both soft and obedient.
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