Shaji, we can dine together! It's the spicy I love too and ditto re the lime pickles. I keep a jar in the fridge at all times, and sometimes just eat a spoonful of it to satisfy a craving, like I do peanut butter.
A true story: I once dined Indian food with my brother Chris in Santa Monica just outside of L.A. where he lived at the time. Chris was the freak sibling who made life difficult for the rest of us when we were growing up because he ate and LOVED everything that children aren't supposed to like, such as blue cheese and octopus, to cite just two examples, and which our father, whose simple childhood diet was limited by South Dakota poverty vs. palate and preference, used to torture the rest of us.
So when Chris tasted the mango pickle I asked my server for, which he had never tasted before and immediately hated, declaring it "Janitor in a Drum", I was amazed and delighted. Finally, after all these years: got him! But the best part was when the white owner (a guy who had fallen in love with Indian food while in diplimatic service) of the restaurant barreled over to our table wanting to know who'd ordered the pickle. When I outed myself, he hugged me, declaring me the only other non-Indian he had ever met who liked it. Hard to imagine: it was instant love the first time I tried it at the home of an Indian friend who served a plate of mixed pickle with the meal. I had a hard time leaving it alone as the condiment it's meant to be vs. the meal I wanted to make of just that.