In Hindu mythology, eclipses were explained as a celestial serpent swallowing the moon, plunging the world into darkness. Various restrictions were imposed on people, especially women. Families were asked to stay indoors, avoid food, and resist looking up at the sky until the shadow had passed. Yet, on the night of September 7, Marina Beach broke this age-old caution. A crowd was waiting in a queue a few steps away from a gigantic telescope that stood on the sand, waiting for their turn to gaze at the glowing moon.
The celestial body needed no telescope that evening. It loomed larger than usual, its surface marked with visible craters that even the naked eye could pick out.
A family of four with a toddler stood ahead of me in the queue. The father lifted the little one to the eyepiece, and her squeal cut through the hush of the night. It was possibly her first time seeing the moon in such detail, and her delight seemed to ripple through the line. Behind me, two friends were chatting about one of their earlier visits to the Birla Planetarium. But when their turn finally arrived, the chatter stopped. They peered into the telescope, then turned to each other in silence, almost reverent. The moon had stunned everyone.
Stepping up to the eyepiece felt like crossing into a secret doorway. The light intensified, shadows deepened, and suddenly, the moon wasn’t just a long-distance best friend who lived nearly 400,000 kilometers away but a silent companion who was just within an arm’s reach.
This experience was brought to the city by Sharan, an architect who chose to step away from blueprints and floor plans to chart the skies instead. His initiative, ‘Moon Show’ — for which he prepared for two month — has been attracting people at Marina Beach since September 1. “In Chennai, the only government spot for telescope viewings is Birla Planetarium. A few private players host sessions too, but usually from their homes, and they charge a higher price,” Sharan says. “I wanted to make astronomy affordable, because space, like air and water, belongs to all.”
That thought shaped his model: `50 for a first-hand glimpse at celestial bodies. Six months ago, Sharan began small, with a basic telescope and a fee of `30. The results, however, left him unsatisfied. “Four out of ten people weren’t happy,” he recalls. So he took a leap of faith and invested in a professional, oversized telescope. It is this instrument, taller than most children lining up, that draws passersby to stop, stare, and then queue up for their turn.
Marina Beach isn’t just a convenient spot for him, though he lives nearby. It also offered something other neighbourhoods didn’t — permission. While Elliot’s beach denied him clearance, at Marina, he found unlikely allies: police officials, fishers’ community, and stall owners, who embraced the show as an educational effort.
Still, challenges remain. Floodlights left on, and a brightly lit advertisement board across the street often washed out the view. On September 7, the very night of the blood moon, as the moon turned red, clouds rolled in, cutting short the spectacle. But for those who had caught even a glimpse, the memory lingered.
Sharan is already looking beyond Marina. His plans include star-gazing camps at light-free villages along the ECR, where not only the moon or stars but other planets may be visible. “People need not travel to Kodaikanal or Yelagiri to see the stars,” he shares.
The Moon Show opposite Vivekananda House, near the disability ramp, concludes today.