Supermoon

For the past several days, the moon has been lighting up the skies in its full resplendent glory. While it has been stopping people in their tracks, or cars, even social media is in a swoon, with #bloodmoon and #supermoon turning into virtual beauty parades. For the moon that is fated to a life in the shadow of the sun, it is perhaps a good time to chime in with the current Bollywood box-office rage Gully Boy to rap that its time is now and draw attention to its large collection of myths.

 

In the subcontinent, the moon is identified as Soma or the drink of the gods and also the nectar of immortality. Heinrich Zimmer (Myths and Symbols in Indian Art and Civilization) says that it was seen as a source of life — while the terrible heat of the sun constituted deadly power, the moon’s ability to create refreshing dew was life giving. The moon also controls the waters and is the amrita that sustains life and also the favoured drink of the gods (Soma).

 

As a life-giving force, the moon is also the mother goddess who, contrary to popular belief, was worshipped universally, not just in India. Marija Gimbutas, one of the early women archaeologists and author of several books on the goddess, says that there was evidence of an ancient European goddess-oriented civilisation. Gimbutas wrote that the fertility goddess or mother goddess is a more complex image than most people think. She is not just one who commands fertility or governs the fecundity of animals and all wild nature. She is also the frightening form of natural destruction. The mother goddess is a composite image that draws on both pre-agricultural and agricultural eras in her worship and symbolism.

 

The goddesses’ association with the moon, Gimbutas says, was strengthened during the agricultural eras when, other writers have suggested, the moon’s waxing and waning was seen as representative of women’s menstrual cycles.

 

In the Indian traditions, the moon (Soma) is also linked to Indra as his most favoured drink. She emerged from the ocean, according to the amrita manthan (the churning of the ocean). She is also a part of the iconography around Shiva who is a pre-Vedic divinity and is often seen to straddle the worlds of gods and demons, much like the moon.

 

According to Meena Arora Nayak (Evil in the Mahabharata), after the linear traditions (as against the cyclical traditions of the moon worshippers) of the solar gods who were all male became the norm, lunar divinities lost their lustre. They were seen as demonic or “dark” gods. Consider the case of Nirrti, who is known as the goddess of death and sorrow and was a pre-Vedic goddess associated with the moon. In a Rig Vedic hymn she is referred to as the wife of Soma, who is the king of the plants and in the Satapatha Brahmana, Nayak writes, she is the earth goddess who marries Soma under the new moon. The moon, like the serpent, is also associated with immortality since every fortnight an old moon dies and a new one is born.

 

There are two strands that emerge here: one is the moon’s slow move to the demonic realms under the growing power of the solar gods (in the subcontinent), and the idea of resurrection that seems to have emerged among the early worshippers of the moon and continues to hold sway even today.

 

One of the early indications of the new identity that the moon would soon assume is in the amrita manthan story. After the devas and asuras finally get hold of the coveted nectar, Vishnu works out a plan to keep the demons away from the drink. As Mohini (his female form), he charms the asuras and restricts the distribution of amrita to the gods. However, Rahu (or according to some Puranic versions, a demon called Svarbhanu whose head is called Rahu and the torso Ketu) sees through the deception and manages to get a drop of amrita down his throat before Vishnu beheads him. And ever since, Rahu is the reason for the eclipse of the moon as she disappears momentarily and then emerges out of his severed head.

 

The journey of the idea of resurrection is more fascinating though. According to Mircea Eliade, this idea powers many rituals and belief systems and is still present in all the world religions. For example: the number three is associated with the moon, he says. The first sliver of a new moon appears (usually) three days after a no-moon night. The ancients, who were avid nature watchers, ascribe a sacred nature to the number three — tying up their rituals and every major rejuvenating event to that number. It is an idea that has refused to go away even under the onslaught of a patriarchal system that has managed to stamp down on every other divine aspect of the moon. Long live the supermoon.