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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