A Date with Mars

“Twinkle twinkle little star, How I wonder what you are”

August 27,2003 dusk. A clear sky over Trivandrum city. Anyone who ventured to star gaze that night would have noticed a bigger and brighter star with an orangish hue. It was Mars, the Red Planet. The newspapers had announced this vision beforehand for it was on of the rare occasions in which the Sun, Earth and Mars fall in line. Mars comes closest to Earth in such a rendezvous.

Dad and I were not content by the naked eye vision of this ‘rare visitor’. So we ventured out that cool night to the Observatory where the local Amateur Astronomical Society had set up a telescope. We were surprised to see a long queue of bleary-eyed people ranging from babies to old-timers congregated there. We joined the queue and were told that there was a five-rupee fee being exacted for the vision. We rejoined the queue after purchasing the tickets. The man ahead of us, sporting a mobile, complained loudly of the five-rupee fee.

The telescope was nowhere in sight from the ground and no one knew the length of the queue. It winded up all the way up a 4964000-litre capacity water reservoir (which provided eleven hours supply to 71000 souls-a plaque said). Each time someone in front moved we climbed a step. After several weary minutes we reached a landing on the staircase. It was dimly lit. People who had their chance were descending. All of us in the queue scrutinized the expressions on their faces, which were quite discreet owing to the darkness. Even bits of their conversations were vague and implied nothing.

After an hour we reached the top of the reservoir. It had a concrete terrace with air vents like huge mushrooms. Most of the people were feeling under the vent holes, so did I, out of curiosity and found it warm. It was terrifying to be standing on top of 4964000-litres of water. The telescope looked like an overgrown fountain pen. It was inclined at a very steep angle and the observers had to crouch under the eyepiece. The planet rises as the night grows due to the rotation of the Earth, my dad explained.

A family ahead of the man with the mobile was taking a peep. The man tried first and moved away satisfied. It was the wife’s turn next. She ducked under the eyepiece and in the process disarranged the apparatus. The man sitting beside the telescope had a look and said it was out of focus and adjusted it for her. The woman had a look and said she saw something white. The man stared at her in disbelief and had a peep again. Then he jumped up and pulled down the other end of the telescope and wiped the lens. It was fogged he explained. Then it was the chance of their little boy, who declared he couldn’t see anything. The man patiently readjusted the telescope again. The kid looked again and exclaimed, “Why it’s just like a small moon!”

“What did you expect for five rupees?” snorted the man with the mobile impatiently. It was his turn next. He had a peep and commented loudly that it was only the size of a five-rupee coin.

It was my turn next. With bated breath, I ducked under the eyepiece, bracing myself for the historical vision and much to my disappointment all I could see was a small white orb akin to the moon. I had expected at least an orange one. I moved away and my dad had his chance. He took a peep and asked the man at the telescope whether he could have a clearer view. The man obediently got down and fumbled with the telescope. My dad looked again, this time longer. The people behind him were getting irritated and had started making waspish comments. Embarrassed I urged dad to get over with it. Finally after about ten minutes dad joined me. As we made our way down we could see more bleary-eyed people queuing up. My dad was blaming the authorities for not having efficient machinery. The telescope, my dad suspected, was the one the erstwhile king had owned. We returned home at around eleven to find my mum and grandmum eagerly waiting to hear our story. They sympathized with us.

Anyway we are part of history. Such an event will come next only on 28 August 2287.