I thought of dhansak and its heavy lake of sauce, and, so, too, the ritual of consuming the stew to break the fast after a loved one’s death—as if only such a rich, torpor-inducing dish could properly stun you and let you expand, freed from the vise of grief. It struck me suddenly that eating it in the midst of sorrow, or diminishment, was an extraordinarily optimistic act. To Jehangir Mehta, food is a way to pull people back from the brink and return them to the important business of life. “We don’t believe in mourning,” he said. “We believe in happiness.” Which is to say: We are still capable of pleasure. We are still here on earth.