Gloriously sunwatching

Jan.15 was boring. I wasn’t in the mood for work. Just 3 of our 8-member team were working that day. The others had sailed off on Pongal holidays. I buried my nose in my system grimly. I must get into work mood. Then Elumalai showed me something that changed my day. Elumalai is one of the three of us who were working that day, the third being Mohana. He flashed a pair of funny-looking glasses under my nose. "To watch the eclipse," he said. "From the Science Forum people."

The eclipse. The total solar eclipse. The longest in this millennium! And here was a chance to actually watch it? Wow.

Our sales head RK came in worrying about train tickets and got excited by the glasses. He dashed off downstairs with Elumalai trailing anxiously behind. Ten minutes later they were back. “Fantastic sight. It has started,” RK announced. It was about 11.30. More excitement! Mohana and I ran down with the glasses.

Incredible! The sight of the sun, with a small portion nibbled off. As if it were just there, at arm’s reach. We see this on television every eclipse, but to see it with the naked eye is something else. To see the sun is awesome enough, to watch it hide behind a shadowy moon is incredible. To feel the palpable presence of the sun and the moon at the same time in our skies in daylight – how strange.

Elumalai saw our excitement. “I’ll try to get more glasses,” he said. Wow again.
“I’d like to send one home for my daughter,” I begged. My daughter was at home, and my husband who was at a meeting was close enough to my office to pick up the glasses and carry them home. I worked out the logistics and called him. He was loath to leave work, but he didn’t stand a chance. “Ok,” he resigned himself. “I will be there in about 20 minutes.”

Meanwhile Elumalai dashed off to get more glasses. “Let’s invite everyone in the office to watch this,” suggested Mohana. Yes, yes. She was right. This was for everybody. I scampered off to find the Software Team Lead whose team sits right ahead. And then a couple of calls to other Team Leads in the other floors. “Please spread the word,” I begged everyone. “Around 12.30 downstairs, in the courtyard in front of the building.”

Elumalai got back with five more pairs of glasses and some leaflets on the eclipse. My husband arrived. “You know the deal I’ve been talking off, “ he began with a broad smile, winding down the window pane on the driver’s side. “It’s finally…”

“Yes, sure,” I interrupted. “Now here are the glasses and this is how they must be used. And if you don’t get home in the next half an hour, Tara will miss the most glorious bit.” A baleful glare, and the car zipped up and zoomed off, bearing the precious glasses and an angry husband.

“Deals happen every day, total eclipses don’t,” I rationalized to myself, turning away.

It was close to 12.30 and restless colleagues from around the hall were glancing in our direction. Mohana, Elumalai and I trotted downstairs followed by various people from various departments. It was exciting to see so many people curious – who did not mind leaving behind deadlines for a dekko at the sun. What drew them to the courtyard, I wondered.

Their reactions and expressions were delightful to watch. A quizzical look up into the sky changing slowly into a look of incredible wonder, their jaws falling open and their lips forming a broad beautiful smile as they met mine. As if recognizing a sister, a co-participant with whom something precious has been shared.

Some of them were puzzled. “Is that the sun or the moon?” some wanted to know, upon seeing the fast growing crescent. “And if that is the sun, then where is the moon?”


We explained as best we could, and hovered around the little groups that borrowed the glasses, making sure to keep the glasses in view, recovering them from groups that had finished with them. About 500 people must have seen the eclipse at various times that day: many came back once or twice later to see it progress.

Besides our colleagues from other departments, there were employees of other companies in the complex, the security guards, some shop boys and delivery boys from nearby restaurants, some visitors and pedestrians who walked in out of curiosity seeing the crowd.

There were even three transgenders, who strolled in for a dekko and tried to make away with the glasses, only I caught them near the gate. It was delicate but I had to retrieve the glasses without creating a scene. I invited them to join us. That stopped them, “Look through the glasses,” I told the one who had it, and then insisted that the others follow. “Is that the sun?” one of them asked. “Will it disappear completely?” asked another. I explained that in about half an hour, the sun was expected to be completely hidden, but this would not be visible in Chennai. But it would definitely get darker than it was.

“Can we please take the glasses,” begged one of the trio.
“No, no,” I was agitated. Lots of people would assemble there soon and I had very few glasses, I explained. “You may come back again for another look.” The threesome gave up the glasses regretfully, but thanked us warmly before leaving.

It was a good two hours before we returned to our work stations, tired but happy. There was a feeling of having been privy to something momentous, of witnessing a cosmic phenomenon of significance, indeed of participating in the phenomenon, for were we not part of the earth ourselves? A sense of connectedness, of belonging to this cosmos – to the earth and the sun and the moon. No words can describe it.