via Daily Prompt: Moon

The moon specified in this essay is our very own Moon of Earth and not any other satellite of some far-flung imaginary planet.

I still remember the moon stalking me as my father drove through on a deserted lane. An eerie presence otherwise, the only assurance being that it was pretty far away. I was rather touched when it dropped me home, untroubled. From then on, I have always been assured of a partner beside me during my nightly walks.

Moon led me to my interest for sciences. Even at the age of 6, I was not deterred from understanding what parallax was. Moon just gave me the feeling of being on the cusp of a serious scientific breakthrough. “I won’t give up to this sombre-looking big round lump of rock”, I said to myself.*

I basked in the moonlight trying to gauge its milkiness which the poets rhymed about. It was neither milky nor cool. It was just reassuring. The invisible aura which hung in the air; waiting to be felt.

For whom the moonlight is not reassuring, the phases and shapes cannot fail to capture attention. I feel the moon being a perfect example of ‘captivation in imperfection’. It is not always your round ball. It is evolutionary. Another event which humans could feel and notice. Another instance when ancient man felt that it could understand nature.

A step on the moon might have been a giant leap for mankind. But we should not allow ourselves too large a leap. The ordeals and the wait for the first footprint on the moon is a testament to the mystery which abounds it, albeit enveloped in the nothingness of space. The spirit of the Moon is not felt through scientists and engineers but by poets and naturalists.

The poetic fascinations of the literary world are seedlings that shall continue to inspire generations of engineers and scientists to come.

*It is said that even Fermat succumbed to this thought when he found it unnecessary to state the proof of xn+yn=zn before it eventually became the famed Fermat’s last theorem. His vanity left the best mathematicians scratching their heads for more than 300 years.