Letter #2: Memory Lane, Indian Coffee House & Autumn Mist [31.10.2022]

"You return like autumn, and I fall every time”

Photo Source : pinterest.com

Dear Friend,

I hope you're doing well, my friend. Autumn is perhaps my favorite season, and as Agha Shahid Ali said, "In autumn when the wind blows sheer ice, the chinar leaves fall in clusters" and captured the beautiful mist of autumn. Today, my childhood memories returned as I was taking a hot shower. I don't understand the science, but a hot shower brings nostalgia. I was thinking about a cafe I used to visit with my friends, Indian Coffee House, in New Delhi. I remember seeing every corner of Delhi with my childhood school friends. There's something about the old cities; they somehow talk to you. I decided to visit memory lane and have a sip of history at the Indian Coffee House established in 1957. Indian Coffee House has always been famous for Intellectual discussion and has been a melting point for politicians, journalists, and writers.

I ordered a coffee and sat to jot down this week's letter to you, but I needed help deciding on a topic to start. I soon realized that the purpose of Bohemian Dialogue letters is to write freely flowing letters to you, and I shouldn't think about a topic. I never shared the inspiration behind the Bohemian Dialogue letters. I was inspired by Bohm dialogue or bohemian dialogue envisioned by David Bohm. Bohm Dialogue is a free-flowing group conversation in which participants attempt to reach a common understanding. Bohemian Dialogue is my freely flowing writing, and I hope you try to understand and it helps you somehow. 

A beautiful quote by Ernest Hemingway beautifully captured my thoughts about the autumn mist and cup of coffee at Indian Coffee House that I want to share.

“You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason.”

- Ernest Hemingway

I’ll write again, my friend.

Yours,

Bohemian Dialogue