The moon was but a chin of gold…




THE MOON was but a chin of gold
A night or two ago,
And now she turns her perfect face
Upon the world below.

Her forehead is of amplest blond;
Her cheek like beryl stone;
Her eye unto the summer dew
The likest I have known.

Emily Dickinson




The Moon shines so brightly through Emily’s lines. The full moon of this month looked bigger and brighter.  The benevolence that a silent moon scatters all around soothes the soul. The Moon can never be harsh like the Sun and nothing can equal the charm and magic of a moonlit night. It was a childhood pastime to sit with our father in the front yard and look up excitedly at the vast night sky to identify some of the stars such as the spoon shaped Saptarshis (the seven sages), the three bright stars in a row that we used to call Trimurtis (the triad of gods)…a playful learning time that we used to enjoy thoroughly. We were too small then to know that these seven stars together is an asterism known as the Big Dipper or the Plough and is the brightest in the Great Bear constellation and the Trimurtis or the Orion’s Belt is an asterism in the Orion constellation. The focus then was on who would first find and locate the stars with names or who would spot a planet, a star that does not twinkle. Such were the simple joys and moments of pride of childhood days.

When did I last see a beautiful starlit sky? I don’t remember. Anakkara sky looks so far away and Saigon sky is too dull now…My childhood sky was so close I could reach up and spot every single star. Now the only star I see is the bright one who watches me from up above. It jogged my memory when I came across a quote that says ‘In the end we’ll all become stories’. Achan always used to say this. He never said someone would become a memory…Memories that are interlaced with so many stories so that everyday you recall one story or another.

That was some mooning over the past, again. But definitely not like the lengthy rambling one on the blue moon and the rest. (




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