The moon turns red as it loses its light during last Saturday’s eclipse
The little town of Paro goes wild on the night of December 10. The residents bark and howl at the moonless heavens. It is 8.45 pm, and the magnificent full moon has come under attack.
That evening, the full-faced queen of the night has risen from the eastern horizon, over the dark crown of the mighty mountains. As the night falls, Pachhu is a languorous ribbon under the first pallid light of the moon.
But it is not like any other night. Soon, a ‘ravenous monster’ begins to steal the light of the moon. And the moon hides behind the black, imperceptible shutter. Part of it turns orange and then red. By 8.35 pm, it is half devoured by the monster.
The Bhutanese believe that lunar eclipse is caused by a monster that eats the moon. The light of the earth at night is stolen by the monster.
As the red of the dissipating moon becomes smaller, people come out on the streets beating gongs and clashing cymbals, blowing conch and trumpets, and shouting war cries. They want to scare the monster off and save the moon. It could very well have been a march to a battle.
Twenty-one-year-old Ganga Maya believes that Drey Nagchung (black demon) eats the moon. In order to save the moon, one must chant Om Mani Padme Hum, she says.
Tandin Pelden, a mother, believes that the moon suffers because of human frailties. “We borrow things and do not return them. That’s when the moon suffers,” she says. She has never questioned the belief, which has been passed down to her from her mother.
Ngawang Jamtsho, a Class IV student of Khangkhu Primary School, is beating a tin container black and blue. He doesn’t know why he is shouting. But he has already lost his voice, yowling at the moonless sky. His friend Sonam Tshering has told him to do that to bring back the moon from the devil’s mouth.
“The monster is eating our moon. We must save it, or we shall never have it again,” he says, singing Ngesem Ngesem. Tired and cold, he hits a nearby electric pole for a while and retires quietly into the shadow of the gully.
The beliefs surrounding the moon-eating monster have been passed down from ancient times.
Most societies in the world have superstitions surrounding a lunar eclipse.
The Cherokee of the Appalachian, for instance, believed that a giant, scabby frog was swallowing the moon, while the Inca of South America thought the moon was scoffed by either a serpent or a mountain lion.
The Chinese were convinced that it was a spiteful dragon. The aboriginals of Australia thought that the solar cat ate the moon as she got lost and wandered onto its path.
The ancient Europeans believed that a demon would be born of the marital relations conducted during a lunar eclipse.
Closer to home, the Indians believe that a demon named Rahu, who stole the food of immortality from the gods, now lies in wait to eat either the moon or the sun. Some believe that pregnant women should not go outdoors during a lunar eclipse lest a child be born blind or with a cleft lip.
However, in Buddhism, solar and lunar eclipses are highly spiritual. Khenpo Phuntsok Tashi, the director of National Museum in Paro, says that a lunar eclipse signals the world’s attachment to material things will grow. He said it is important to meditate on the Buddhist concept of emptiness during a lunar eclipse.
Meanwhile, on the dimly-lit cobbled pavements of Paro town, the crowd becomes wilder and louder every passing minute. “Leave the moon alone! Release! Let go!” shouts a middle-aged woman hitting a sign post hard with a rotten shoe.
She remembers asking her grandpa why people had to howl like animals at night when the moon lost its light. She was five years old. He told her that people must learn to give back as much as they take away from others. If they did not, the moon suffered. “I believed him. I still do. For, why else must the full moon turn red and disappear?” she asks. The tin board that says “No Crossing” is all crumpled.
The policemen watch the crowd go wilder. They walk around nonchalantly as if acknowledging that the noise is for a worthy cause – to save the moon. But not everybody seems to think so. An intoxicated young man waddles up from the dark, obviously irritated. “Shut up!” he cries and staggers over to the town square.
A few feet away, across the street, Sonam Choden looks up to the sky, standing with her hands in jacket pockets. She is a plump little girl studying in Class VI in Taju Primary School. She knows what causes a lunar eclipse. Her Geography teacher has taught her that a lunar eclipse occurs when the sun, earth, and moon are aligned exactly with the earth in the middle.
She explains the phenomenon to her mother, who has come out with a stave and a pan to save the nearly-swigged moon. Her mother doesn’t even listen and continues beating the pan.
It is 10.20 pm. The crowd is becoming thinner and noise lesser. The cold is driving people indoors. The moon isn’t out still but the town is quiet. For all urgent pleas and hysteric howling, the monster devoured the moon.