Like me, the moon is a medley of many moods,

Which change frequently, though not so often,

As the strings of my emotions play a symphony,

That evolve, sometimes on their own,

But many times, guided by the whims and fancies of others.

Thus, one clear and peaceful night,

I see in the full moon, bathed in milk,

The visage of a compassionate Buddha,

Serene in its halo,

Benign, with a beatific smile.

While on a deep blue tinged twilight,

I see in the full moon, peeping through dark clouds,

The eternal embrace of Krishna and Radha

Languid with passion,

Eroticism dripping in every move.

On a dust smothered night,

I see in the full moon, an orb of orange,

Durga astride her fiery tiger

Aflame with righteous rage,

Full of thirst to punish evil demons.

On a pale and golden night, soft, and maybe helpless

I see in the full moon,

Meera, endlessly awaiting the realization of her dream.

Eyes steeped in piety,

Her heart aching with love for the image ingrained forever in her heart.

Withering in the early morning sky,

I see in the full moon, with the ardor of a kiss by the rising Sun

Draupdi- the object of despicable craving in the game of chausar.

Disrobed brazenly in a hall full of honorable and brave men,

Broken in trust, and soul, by betrayal.

In the midst of all this, many a times, sitting in the solitude of my library,

I wonder, and marvel at the beauty of the moon,

And contemplate on its myriad moods,

Which, over the ages, have enthralled us,

As also cast a mystical spell on my many moods.