The Super Blood Moon

 


To the friend who missed seeing the moon of Buddha Purnima on the day of lunar eclipse:

Dear friend,

I begin to write this while simultaneously gazing at the moon. Or Super Blood Moon, as it is called today. This is a sight meant to be drunk in with the eyes. It calls for a complete surrender. If at all I am taking my eyes off this spectacular vision of life, it is to convey to you, the unspeakable beauty I have the fortune of witnessing today.

I was walking down the road this evening in a nonchalance that typically accompanies a deep meditation session. It was a normal evening, until this sight came to vision. I went out for a walk. Soaked in the colors of twilight. Sat by at my everyday corner to meditate. Completed the meditation and started walking down the remainder of the road, looking out for little feathered friends and the usual canine company. It was then that the road turned and brought me face to face with the moon of today.

It was like being thunder struck. I was rooted to the ground. The moon shone in absolute majesty. As a moon lover, I can tell, this moon held something special. It was as though tons of gold dust had congealed together to compose a marvelous sphere of gold. And that gold dust was still scattered and diffused around its shimmering, striking orb. It was like witnessing the sun itself, wrapped in the clothing of moon. As though after ages, this celestial body had finally decided to declare its unquestioned supremacy, and the universe acquiesced.

Even the maria, the marks on the moon, appeared like rusty patches on gold. The moon cast a yellow luminescence on the horizon. Everything seemed to melt into its silent, shining command. Even the stars seemed embarrassed to be around, unnoticed, more than ever. Only the moon of today comes closest to the face of a lover. A sight that you could resign your fate to. That you could die for. And be born again for. A sight so cherished and long adored that you can thank your stars for keeping you alive through this pandemic and all past crises, so that one day, you could stand – your soul bare and ripped – and just be grateful that your eyes saw this. The lover’s face. The only vision that can get submission and sublimation, together.

Which explains why this moon is called the blood moon. How can this vision not draw its share of blood? It nearly drew the air out of my lungs. Doesn’t the duality of life kick in for any such extraordinary glory? The majestic queen of the pitch black sky, which today holds to ransom, every tree and building, every bird and mountain, that comes in its path of reigning beauty, will she not shatter the glass palaces of your heart that you erected with the shards of broken dreams?

I hear the skies have been raining on your city. It’s May, and I would not have given the clouds away for anything else. It’s hard to choose the bigger love among my two – the rain or the moon. But for the moon of today, the choice would be easy.

My friend, come, see the moon through my eyes today. I invite you to bask in its ruthless splendor.

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