A moonlight sonata

Last night was a full-moon night. 

The full moon means many things to different people. It is presumed to bring on the poetic spirit in some, cause insanity in others, and instigate both in still others. Some believe it can herald vampires and werewolves. One of Bengal’s most distinguished poets, Kabi Sukanta, compared the full moon to a “full-cooked roti”, symbolizing the state of hunger and deprivation that the State was going through, in the pre-independence era.  The poet , P.B.Shelley, had depicted it as a picture of solitude, “Wandering companionless, among the stars that have a different birth”. Well, to each person his own depiction.

It is beyond 11 pm, and having had dinner, accompanied by some excellent Chardonnay wine, with a few friends, it seems like the ideal night to take a ride on my bike. The weather seems ideal, and though it is quite late, the comforting fact of a leave on the coming day makes me stick to my plan.

The city streets look different, somewhat eerie, at midnight. Shadows lurk around the corners, the neon lights highlight the silhouettes of buildings, and whatever traffic is there on the roads, follows a pattern of its own. I drive through the city streets and move on straight to the highway, at Chandani Chowk. How amusing that it is exactly on this full-moon night that I am passing through Chandani Chowk (literally meaning- the “square of the moon”)! In another city hundreds of miles away, there is another Chandni Chowk, which has been and will always be close to my heart.

The highway stretches end to end, passing through the gently rolling hills on either sides. I can see the bright lights on the hills, on either side of the road, and the glimmering lights far away on the distant hills. The atmosphere is bathed in the light of the full moon. A cool wind is blowing, and I soak in the moment, fully aware that I won’t be doing this again in a very, very long time. Every full moon night does not occur on a holiday, and mired within the stresses and strains of our daily lives, it becomes difficult to appreciate moments like these, which remind us what life, living and beauty is all about.

A bike with a pillion rider, clinging on, zooms across. I am reminded of another moonlit night, long long ago, in more innocent times, when I had undertaken a journey with someone, somewhere on the Western coast, on a highway such as this. The protagonist has long disappeared, but the memory lingers and comes out, unexpectedly, at times such as these, when we are free from the schizophrenia that our lives have become. Memories are always a mixture of happiness and pain, just like the lives that we lead, in which we must take the good and the bad in our stride.

I take a diversion at one of the highway junctions, and move on a side road, leading to the area that has now become the IT & Industry hub of the city. The streets are positively empty now, except for the occasional vehicle which passes across, or the odd person who is seen by the roadside. As I go on further, the buildings zoom up- glass and chrome structures lit up in a subdued light, the hubs which are a beehive of activity in the daytime. It reminds me of a similar spectacle I had seen long, long ago in another city, in another time and place, which was going through a similar “IT Boom”, and, somehow, oddly, it seems like yesterday once again.

Further out through the end of the Industrial Zone, I  pass through the hills. Somewhat incongruously, huge multistoreyed residential buildings have been erected here, in the middle of nowhere, in the lap of nature. It somehow does not fit in with the landscape of the place, but then, I guess that is what “development” in our country is all about.

The streetlights have become fewer by now, and I am bathed in the light of the full moon. Uncharacteristically, I take off my helmet, to take in and enjoy the cool breeze. It caresses my hair and my face, and this feels heavenly. I pass on through the hills- the buildings have vanished by now, and I am alone in the middle of this wilderness. The undulating hills stretch on either side, and I decide to stop and soak in the moment. 

From where I sit, in a clearing, I can see the bright lights shining on the nearby hills. The hills themselves are dark shadows in the background of the night sky, which stretches upwards like a canopy till it meets the full moon. The surroundings are bathed in the soothing moonlight, it is quiet all around except for the occasional vehicle that passes by. I see a few stars in the sky- the Orion constellation and the Pole star, but clearly, everything is overshadowed by the brilliance of the moon. A cool breeze is blowing from the distant hills.  It is a picture- perfect moment of tranquility, and as I sit there, the wind caressing my hair, going deep inside me, making me feel better than I have done in quite some time, and healing the mental  haemorrhages of the past few weeks, I do something that I haven’t done in probably more than a decade. I take out my phone, and compose a poem by the light of the moon.

But, then, like all good things, this also has to come to an end. It is well past midnight. I sit for some more time, enjoying the peaceful moment, for I know that this opportunity will not be coming again in a long, long time to come. Then I get up, ride a few more miles out into the country, passing the houses and farms, the dark shadows of the hills, and a small bridge with a rivulet running beneath, before I finally decide to turn back for home.

As I enter back into the city, the moon is still shining bright, depicting the splendor that the Persian poet, Rumi, had described in his piece, “Defeated by love”:

The sky was lit
by the splendor of the moon
So powerful
I fell to the ground.

Your love
has made me sure.

I am ready to forsake
this worldly life
and surrender to the magnificence
of your Being.” 

Having surrendered to the magnificence of the moment, I make my way back home, reluctantly, bathed in the light of the full moon.