A touch of Moon madness

There's a touch of Moon madness in every Cancerian. He knows a wild and secret place where two lilies and seven white roses grow among the iris. Sometimes the memory of this faraway garden causes him to explode with laughter. Now and then it causes him to weep with sadness.

Linda Goodman is so correct when she talks about the Moon madness. I have this distinct place in mind. I have always seen it in my dreams, in sleep and with open eyes.

There is a garden full of pretty flowers, purple, blue, pink and red. The ground is covered with tall, soft, green grass. When the wind blows the tall grass bends so uniformly to seem like a soft smooth green carpet made of silk.

And while this picture would be picture perfect on a pleasant day with clouds in the sky, the night seems so incomplete without the Moon.

I have always felt a strong connection with the Moon. Don't really know where it began. When I was about four we were driving down to Dubai from Salalah, Oman. Papa was in the driving seat and Mummy was sitting next to him. We three kids were on the back seat sleeping. Suddenly I woke up.

I got up and looked in the front to call Papa but I stopped. From the front glass of the car I saw outside. It was about to be dawn. The sky was bright blue, my favourite colour. The Moon was still in the sky. There were about two stars that were still twinkling in the sky. That is my first distinct memory of the Moon. It was so pretty as if the whole world had slept and the Moon had been watching them sleep, guarding them while they dream of a new, happy tomorrow. And at that moment it was about to leave and so it was waking people softly to the new day that was about to begin. My words may not capture the beauty of that time. But how pretty the Moon looked and how happy I was to wake up at that moment.

One another night was when we were going to a farm, far away from the city limits. This was again in Salalah, Oman. The night was dark and there were no street lights in that area of the city. Throughout the way I just kept looking at the Moon. I felt as if it was walking with me, hand in hand and talking to me. This night also I remember too well to forget.

And how can I ever forget all those nights in Tapovan when we slept in the 'Chowk' (open space in the center of the house) staring at the Sky. I spent hours before going to sleep just looking at the Moon and the moment I started to count the stars I would fall asleep. I never managed to count more than twenty of them. Also, when we had just returned from Salalah (Oman) and Papa was still there I used to imagine talking to Papa through the Sky. I would imagine that there was a dial on the Sky through which I would dial Papa's number and then I would be able to see him, sitting in his room, on the screen next to the dial which would be the Moon. This connection too I can never forget.

The Moon pulls me. Some voice from within of me talks to the Moon. It makes me smile. It makes me cry. It connects me to people I want to be with! And will forever do so, even when I would be in Bahrain!