Someone once found it intriguing that I knew what the moon will be like on a given night. It is just that I try to keep track of what the moon stage would be upon the night fall whenever I reminisce. Rest assured, I wasn't being a lunatic.
Only she knew why I would seek out the moon at nights. Just like I did the other night.
The night she left me.
But, I wasn't seeking the moon solely because it carried romantic vibes. I did it because I'd rarely seen a brighter night. And, I figured there had to be moon somewhere in the sky that had illuminated the sky so bright.
Little did I know that it was her.
I wouldn't call her a romantic type to be mentioned in a blog about the moon. She spent most of her life without the life partner. But boy she could brighten up people's life true to her name.
Qammar was her name. Which means the moon. In Arabic. And in Urdu too.
Her nickname was Chanda. Which affectionately meant the moon. You get the drift.
And, I was over the moon when I was invited to hop on to the car to share the ride alongside her.
Soon after thanking the gentleman who let me on board with her, I broke the ice and started whispering to her.
My whispers turned into sobs as I told her that this 45 minutes ride shall be our final journey together.
The two Multani siblings united one last time.
A year later, I was back in Markham, Ontario.
Seeking a re-union.
So, naturally, I was in a hurry to visit her. More so because the crisp early autumn daylight was fading rapidly on the Canadian horizon.
It was the seventh day of the lunar month. I knew it, of course.
I was keeping track of what the moon will be like that night.
What I witnessed moved me yet again.
The waxing moon was shining brighter than usual right above where she rested.
Whispering.
Flash back to a year ago. To that final journey with her on that brightly lit night.
In the hearse.
I had asked the undertaker if he could see the moon in the sky.
He hadn't answered. How could he state the obvious?
It wasn't the moon that was illuminating the sky. It was the noble, tranquil soul of my late sister, Chanda bajia, that was being welcomed in the heavens that night.
"Houston, this is Tranquility". The voice over the radio would crackle as it travelled across the vast space, more than two hundred thousand miles.
Tranquility. That was the Apollo 11 mission's radio handle when it called Houston on the Earth. From the moon.
And the Earth was oh so brightly lit, the moon was still 200 thousand miles away from Houston.
But a mere whispering distance from Markham it seemed. I didn't have to look far for it. Just above her grave, the moon had risen up even before the sun had completely set - eager, just as I was, for the re-union with her namesake.
No need for the radio.
Just a quiet word, a whisper really, would reach her.
Just like Chanda right next to bajia.
And, tranquility was all I saw being showered in abundance on her.
Only she knew why I would seek out the moon at nights. Just like I did the other night.
The night she left me.
But, I wasn't seeking the moon solely because it carried romantic vibes. I did it because I'd rarely seen a brighter night. And, I figured there had to be moon somewhere in the sky that had illuminated the sky so bright.
Little did I know that it was her.
I wouldn't call her a romantic type to be mentioned in a blog about the moon. She spent most of her life without the life partner. But boy she could brighten up people's life true to her name.
Qammar was her name. Which means the moon. In Arabic. And in Urdu too.
Her nickname was Chanda. Which affectionately meant the moon. You get the drift.
And, I was over the moon when I was invited to hop on to the car to share the ride alongside her.
Soon after thanking the gentleman who let me on board with her, I broke the ice and started whispering to her.
My whispers turned into sobs as I told her that this 45 minutes ride shall be our final journey together.
The two Multani siblings united one last time.
A year later, I was back in Markham, Ontario.
Seeking a re-union.
So, naturally, I was in a hurry to visit her. More so because the crisp early autumn daylight was fading rapidly on the Canadian horizon.
It was the seventh day of the lunar month. I knew it, of course.
I was keeping track of what the moon will be like that night.
What I witnessed moved me yet again.
The waxing moon was shining brighter than usual right above where she rested.
Whispering.
Flash back to a year ago. To that final journey with her on that brightly lit night.
In the hearse.
I had asked the undertaker if he could see the moon in the sky.
He hadn't answered. How could he state the obvious?
It wasn't the moon that was illuminating the sky. It was the noble, tranquil soul of my late sister, Chanda bajia, that was being welcomed in the heavens that night.
"Houston, this is Tranquility". The voice over the radio would crackle as it travelled across the vast space, more than two hundred thousand miles.
Tranquility. That was the Apollo 11 mission's radio handle when it called Houston on the Earth. From the moon.
And the Earth was oh so brightly lit, the moon was still 200 thousand miles away from Houston.
But a mere whispering distance from Markham it seemed. I didn't have to look far for it. Just above her grave, the moon had risen up even before the sun had completely set - eager, just as I was, for the re-union with her namesake.
No need for the radio.
Just a quiet word, a whisper really, would reach her.
Just like Chanda right next to bajia.
And, tranquility was all I saw being showered in abundance on her.
