I think I shall be haunted by an insatiable fish orly-craving for as long as I shall live.
And for street-side kochuri-torkari from my hometown. Fellow North Cal types, ever breakfasted with luchi-chholar daal at Horidash Modok?
Sigh. I want an endless supply of spicy, batter-fried bhetki. And tartar sauce. My life would then be complete. Sorrow would cease to matter. Or at least, I’d be well-comforted during them.