I think I'm the victim of institutional spicism. I feel certain that people are making my food deliberately unspicy to reduce the risk of me melting on them.
The alternative blows my mind - maybe Indian people don't eat their food that spicy.
Or maybe I bring it on myself a bit. If I'm ever asked "mild, medium, spicy?" I generally say medium even though I think the correct answer is probably going to be spicy. Just because the evidence shows differently (it's been five months since I've eaten something that I'd class as "too spicy"), does not mean that my preconceived ideas about Indian food (based on years of getting broken by Madrases in the UK) are in any way altered. I just assume that if I ask for it spicy I'm going to get spiked by an Ukko's dart and spend the rest of the evening gurgling hallucinations.
I'm aware that I've referenced dystopian fiction that you've not read. Here's some more:
Parable of the Talents - Octavia E Butler
So a reactionary, right-wing quasi-militant campaigns to be president on the basis of fear and xenophobia under the campaign slogan "Make America Great Again". Nope, this dystopian fiction is way too out there. Something like that would never happen.
The Last One - Alexandra Oliva
More apocalyptic than dystopian. Most I've enjoyed a book since at least Station Eleven. Read it. Read it now.
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