The End Of The Line
An absurdly slow, cold crawl across
The Thar desert, dotted with small dark
Shrubs, which - of course - by night were imposs-
ible to see, during a ten-hour journey mark-
ed otherwise by nothing. A single train track
To the honeycomb-stones of Jaisalmer stopped short
Of the walled town, as if suddenly lack-
ing the will to move. The sullen, tethered thought
I had no hotel chilled me. It was just fool-
ish. I did try: from Jodhpur, I booked
A long-distance call, waited a hundred cruel
minutes, connected, spoke, failed. It looked
Like I’d doss down with the camels. It should have been clearer:
This would all be lost, with the end of a mobile-less era.
(18.9.26) v 1.5
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