a certain something

In this playhouse of infinite forms I have had my play, and here have I caught sight of him that is formless
Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

But Coffee House, like its parent city, is soaked in so much character you drown in it — a personality and depth that can, perhaps, only be created by generations of people living in the same place, doing the same things, learning and creating art and talking about ideas and sitting down at the same cheap, chipped table an entire lifetime – and then doing it all over again. It isn’t pretty — only the most die-hard of Bengalis would describe the city as beautiful — but it’s got something that perhaps no other Indian city has. I’m just not quite sure what it is.

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