Once upon a sushi roll, in the gloriously punctual, vending-machine-infested wonderland of Japan, I discovered something that changed my life forever. No, it wasn’t a sacred ramen recipe passed down by a noodle monk. It wasn’t a life-altering sumo match or a mystical tea ceremony that opened my third eye (though I did cry over matcha once). No, my friends — it was a word. Kuchisabishii.

Ah, kuchisabishii. Let it roll off your tongue like tempura off a chopstick. It means, quite poetically, ‘lonely mouth’ — the inexplicable urge to put something in your mouth, not because you’re hungry, but because… well, your mouth just feels a little lonely. When I first heard this phrase, I felt seen. Understood. Validated. It was as if the entire nation of Japan had reached across the Pacific and whispered, “We get you”.

I have long subscribed to a personal food philosophy, one my stomach disapproves of but my heart deeply endorses: I may be full, but am I fulfilled? My stomach may beg for mercy, but my soul is still rummaging through the takeaway options, whispering seductively to a double egg chicken roll, “We’re not done, baby.”

It is no coincidence that the Japanese had analysed my twisted relationship with my tongue — that defies and satisfies me at the same time. It is a philosophy marvellously baked into every Japanese dish I touched, miso, mocha or yakitori. As I sat and watched the okonamiyaki spluttering and cooking at the restaurant table, the red bean sauce dribbling onto the hot teppan, I had no choice but to wait, gorging on the pancake with my eyes. Here, food is not served to satiate, it is prepared to stir up your deepest emotions.

In fact, this is Bangaliana at its best. While people eat to live, we live to eat. My pantry is not a storage unit — it is a therapist, a confidante, a temple of self-expression. But now, thanks to the linguistic treasure that is kuchisabishii, I have a legitimate excuse for my behaviour.

I had given strict instructions to my home chef to make my favourite light chicken curry with steamed rice and not to forget the gondhoraj (which as you know in my last article was snatched away from me by the customs). So, as I landed in Mumbai and entered home, the next thing my son witnessed was me eating to my heart’s content and although he commented, “Oh, you’re eating again?”, my reply was “Kuchisabishii, chokher khidabeshi”. It’s not gluttony. It’s existential. It’s poetic. It’s cultural.

Let your mouth be lonely no more. Let your heart guide your appetite, not your metabolism. And remember, life is too short to say no to a Rui Maacher Dom Jhol or a Calcutta Mutton Biryani just because you had lunch an hour ago. After all, my friends, we are not gluttons. We are poets with cravings. And our mouths? Just a little bit lonely. It’s time to embrace your kuchisabishii.

Anjan Chatterjee is the chief of Speciality Restaurants, which owns Mainland China, Oh! Calcutta, Cafe Mezzuna, Sigree Global Grill, Hoppipola, Asia Kitchen and more. And yes, he is a foodie