Mamta Kalia

Kerala or Rajasthan in India. Something
is strange every where. Even with media.
He thought ahead of Thomas and Sozen.
But he was just a camel. He had to
act as per the wish of his rider, Thomas.
Otherwise he could have dashed into
the glass-walled rooms of management
trustees anywhere but he had no words,
no vocabulary.
In the dark of night, inside the room
of Intensive Care Unit of Alfred Hospital
of Chennai, there was no one except
Sozen and Pankaj. For Sozen it was a
matter of routine, a daily affair, but
for Pankaj it was different. It could have
been the last day of his life. He had
seen the last moment but surprisingly,
he was not shattered. He had become
part of Sozen and Thomas at the last
moment of his life. But no, that was
not end of the light. He had crossed
a thousand lights mosque on the way.
One thousand lights was an attractive
chance of life. It was not only one ray
of light or hope. It was a collective
preposition of one thousand lights. He
thought, he will go back from the same
road of Gemini Bridge Chennai to life.
He looked at Sozen. He thought one
thousand lights of the Shia Mosque of
Annamalai are glittering on her face.
He had seen the end of life almost, but
was driven back by whom, by his cutefat
wife in the words of Sozen, or by
one thousand lights. He did not know.
He had simply heard a voice. “Where
are you moving? There is nothing outside
except darkness. That is another planet
98 :: April-June 2010
about which we do not know anything.”
He had looked back. He had seen
Sozen. There was no one else. His wife
Anupama was waiting outside and mosque
of one thousand lights was around.
Pankaj had looked at Sozen and had
turned back, to his bed.
“You are a different person I know,
but you look like Thomas.” —she had
said.
“When can I meet Thomas?”
“I had just passed through the end
of my life, but still I wish to meet a
new face.” Pankaj said. He was surprised
at himself.
“He may come anytime, he owns a
camel with wings” —she said and smiled.
She looked back. By then Thomas
was there.
Thomas’ face was familiar to those
moving around Chakrata and Biharigarh
of Uttarakhand around Dehradun. The
road to Chakrata was not that difficult
but it was so narrow that one had to
move by sizing it. It was ninety kilometers
away from Dehradun. There were gates
at identified spots. After you pass through
twenty kilometers, you had to wait. These
gates were opened and closed at a
particular time. The distance was like
our age. You run twenty kilometers. You
live for twenty years. Then stop and
wait. First you allow the caravan of
vehicles which is coming back and then
the gate will be re-opened. You can see
around you, women collecting dry-wood