the same moon

 

the night was well past its prime. it was late bed time for me. as is wont, i check the room where my daughters sleep. making sure that all is well. preferring open spaces, they always have their windows open. but the mother was more worried about the early morning dewy cold that came in stealthy and spread moistness all around. and, the mosquitoes – the place we lived in were havens for them. 

i leaned across their beds to close the windows. it was a sight well worth a thousand births. the clear moonlight was literally overflowing. as if the whole world was covered with wet ash. not a leaf moved. not a bird fluttered. the whole world seemed to have sunk deep into slumber. and i wondered…

this moon must have overwhelmed my past generations. this moon would bathe my daughters’ lineage ad infinitum. and every time the night opens up its charms to a sleeping world, the wakeful hearts would remain transfixed in beauteous glow. wet shining eyes beholding a wet shiny landscape.

lives appear and disappear with every spin of the axis.

like the river, like the mountains, like the sun, the moon remains untouched – a perennial source of cold silent inspirations…

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