Standing alone on my balcony last night, in a melancholy mood, disturbed by the death and destruction unfolding in a useless war in the Middle East, I looked up at the night sky.
The full moon, in all its glory, was watching me. It called out.
Moon: Hey, Human.
Me: Hey, Moon.
Moon: What happened? Why so down?
Me: Just saddened by the recent barbarism on full display in our world. We, the so-called most enlightened and intelligent species to have ever walked the Earth, are butchering each other with relish. You have seen our planet for nearly 4.5 billion years. What has been your experience?
Moon: I was formed as a result of a collision between a young Earth and a Mars-sized object called Theia. My buddy and I struggled together for billions of years, intertwined in a cosmic dance.
She shimmered softly and continued.
I have watched the planet evolve from rubble. I distinctly remember the rise and retreat of the oceans, like the breath of a dragon. I have seen life starting from nowhere. Before your stories, I watched strange creatures crawl out of the water.
I am a witness to the glory of the age of the reptiles, who were long-necked, armoured and thunder-footed. They ruled the land, sea and the air. They walked as if eternity belonged to them. Among them arose the mighty dinosaurs, creatures so immense that today’s elephants would be pygmies before them. They ruled the Earth for 165–180 million years.
But then one day, around 66 million years ago, I remember watching a long fireball, a rock hurtling towards your planet. I felt the impact on my buddy. I saw the death of life. I sensed the screams of the last dinosaurs, who had believed themselves to be the rulers of the planet.
But they ended in dust.
Me: What about our journey?
Moon: Initially, you were too insignificant to be noticed—just another species carving out its existence in a very harsh world. You would hunt, copulate and die at a very young age.
You forget that power is an illusion, glory is momentary, and time is the only true emperor. One day, even the cosmos will end, whether in a crunch or a whimper—no one knows
Slowly, your species developed. From hunter-gatherers, living moment to moment, you settled down along the Nile and other mighty rivers in Mesopotamia. You started agriculture and a family life.
I saw humans build the first cities: the pharaohs constructing the pyramids in Egypt, while others built them in Sudan, Mexico, and Peru.
It was a pleasure to see the Roman and Greek civilisations. But every powerful human, no matter the achievement, ended in dust.
I remember the young Alexander weeping because there were no lands to conquer, and then he turned to dust at the age of 32. I remember the glory of Julius Caesar, Mark Antony, Cleopatra, Ashoka, and the Chinese dynasties.
Today, the desert winds whisper through their broken temples. The kings who thought they would never die lie in tombs which no one visits.
They all ended in dust.
Me: What about religion?
Moon: I have seen the impact of the prophets, who withstood extreme brutality but did not budge from their belief system. Prophets changed the course of world history. But although they left an indelible mark, they, too, could not defy death.
Me: So what you are saying is that since everything has to return to Mother Earth, there is no permanence whatsoever?
Moon: Partially, yes. But your species has one peculiarity. If you do a good deed, it gives hope to your species. Just look at Mother Teresa. She has turned to dust, but her legacy lives on, inspiring millions today.
Me: What is our biggest folly?
Moon: It is the fallacy that your species rules the universe.
You forget that there are around two trillion galaxies in the visible universe, each comprising about four hundred billion stars. You live on a small rock in the most insignificant region of your own galaxy, orbiting an ordinary star, speeding away from nowhere to somewhere. Yet you believe that your species can impact the cosmos. Hahahaha.
Secondly, you tend to forget about the only reality there is—death. From the moment you are born, your clock starts: tick-tock, tick-tock. But your delusion keeps you propelling through life as if your material achievements mean something. They are zilch. Zero.
Because everything turns to dust.
Me: You have made me more depressed.
Moon: I have just shown you the truth, which you innately know. Tell me one thing: other species kill for food, territory and survival. No other species saves anything for tomorrow. None does it.
But you kill each other with relish and then justify it on religious, economic, cultural and other grounds.
Look at this current war. Where is the Western civilisation which always branded itself as the custodian of human values? One hundred and sixty-five girls have been killed in a missile attack on a school in Iran. Have you seen any hue and cry? If the same had occurred in any Western country, can you imagine what would have happened?
You are the only species which makes weapons to kill each other. Isn’t it unbelievable that you have created nuclear bombs which can finish my buddy thousands of times over? And you have already used them twice, in 1945.
Me: I whispered, what have you learnt?
Moon: Life has ended before because of non-human causes. However, it restarted from the womb of total destruction.
But now, as things stand, with inflated egos ruling my buddy, I fear Armageddon is likely to happen because of humans. Already, Earth is suffering from colossal damage wreaked by your species upon it. But instead of realising the seriousness of the situation, you continue to indulge in barbarity.
You forget that power is an illusion, glory is momentary, and time is the only true emperor. One day, even the cosmos will end, whether in a crunch or a whimper—no one knows.
But one fact is certain: in the end, everything shall return to dust.