NEW DELHI ~ He had been sitting on the roof of this restaurant in Lahore’s Hira Mandi on a cold winter night when he heard the voice. Across the street, and the mesh of wires, and a million other tangible and amorphous things, the Badshahi Mosque stood. Unmoved, and in between time. For it had crossed over, and was journeying to the next. Age of belief, or disbelief, of suspension, of freedoms, and clashes.