The Moon, as we see it.

"Add right here, a blot on the right cheek. 

A BIG, 

UGLY,

BLACK,

BLOT." Divya shouted, each word loud and clear, pointing with her index finger the heading 'Other traits' in her biodata, pressing it against the sofa foam with a force that could tear a finger size hole in the paper. She gazed her parents in disappointment and barged out of the living room. Throwing the puckered biodata into the dustbin, she ran up to the terrace. The tantrum was thrown on the yet another rejection of arranged marriage proposal. 

She pushed open the door of the terrace, whamming it on the outer wall. The loud sound didn't although panic her parents who were familiar with this childhood habit- this running to the terrace, creating ruckus by whamming things, weeping badly and then coming back down, exhausted. But they didn't realise the gravity of the matter this time. 

Divya moved out with force and then feeling exhausted of the over-anger knelt down bending the neck backwards, to inhale the open sky while tears travelled in a straight path from the eye's outer corner to the ear helix, like an unwilling, depressed waterfall.

"What is the use of a creature like me? One with a blot on face." She sobbed to herself, "And I..... am a blot on my family." And she got up and started moving towards the edge unconsciously conscious, still drenched in monotonous thoughts of hopelessness. Step by step. One after another. Neither shivering, nor hesitating, as if the setting sun was giving her both, the heat of anger and the dose of negativity. Its rays fell straight on her forehead, giving it a crimson tone and on her wobbling tears, still in the eyes, giving it the sparkle of the dusk. She was just a step away from extremely visible impact of gravity when a voice from behind said

"Not from this side please." 

His voice was a perfect male voice to attract attention- perfect heavyness, perfect force and perfect bass, like that of a radio jockey. Moreover, it was unrecognisable. Or wait! May be recognizable, one that she had heard on a radio channel. Oh yes, somewhat like RJ Mayank. Oh! He was just awesome and Divya loved his Radio programme "The Un-beautiful". And indeed unbeautiful he was. Divya had searched him on 'Google Images'. He had ugly grafted skin, stoney eyes and distorted cheek. But he was one of Divya's favourites. She turned to her right in surprise and curiosity. On the adjacent terrace was a man, sitting clumsily in his arm chair, legs stretched in front, such that the soft straight sun rays acted like a warm compress on his sole. He rested his feet one over the other on a small mustard yellow stool and his neck on a thick off-white cushion. A blue thoroughly used hat slept over his face lazily, hiding it almost completely. Still, the corner of his eyelid, the ear, and some cheek cells peeped from beneath the hat. Anyone would assume him asleep had he not spoken. But how could he be asleep after the alarm of whamming door.

"What?" Divya questioned in a blunt tone, with an added expectation that he would remove his hat to reveal his identity.

"I don't want to be a witness of your suicide, unnecessarily." he said, holding his hat in his hand and slowly moving it away from his face, while stretching his body with a yawn. The face was revealed. He had deep brown eyes and a sharp nose. The chin had just the perfect curve, the cheeks, just the perfect fat. The eyebrows were well masculine shaped and the forehead was smooth and stretch-free. He was not RJ Mayank. Not at all. He was a potential fashion model with awesome voice, so, rather a potential actor, provided he knew acting, though. 

Divya, who was already in a mode of groom-seeking girl, kept looking at him for sometime blinklessly, wondering that a groom like him is unthinkable for her. He slowly started turning to his left naturally, to see Divya, but Divya, extremely conscious to avoid the blot on her right cheek to come under the notice of the handsome guy, abruptly turned her face away. The man inferred it to be her wish not to be seen by a stranger. So, retracted. Suddenly coming out of her marriage thoughts, Divya said, " Who are you? And how come are you here? And by the way, who gave you the right to stop me?" The first question was in a soft tone, second was a little hard and the third had considerable magnitude of anger.

"Third question first. No one. And I am not even stopping you. I just am asking you not to put me in trouble while you bring your own life to a fullstop. I don't want to be a witness of your suicide and then be a victim of regular interrogations." He spoke as he turned the pages of some magazine. His voice remained at the same pitch, no tonal variations.

"Now the second one. I am here as the new tenant of Agarwal uncle. Thus, your new neighbour, as long as you are alive." The tone had some variations this time, giving some extra emphasis on "as long as you are alive".

"And as for the first question." closing the magazine and sounding mysterious he said, " I am an undercover agent. ISI. On a mission in India." This reply went like a chilly winter breeze through Divya. She questioned him with a frown, "Why telling me then?"

"Because you are gonna die." He said as if it was something obvious.

"And what if I don't?" Her voice was confident but legs were ready to run back down in case he takes out a gun to shoot her. But instead he said,

"Then I will tell you that I was just joking and I am, Sanjay. Just a chef at 'Royal Meals'." He grinned, still consciously not facing her.

"And you think I believe you?" Divya taunted, one eyebrow up still.

"You should. And rather you should be thankful to me. I changed your mind that was taking you towards self-annihilation." The tone was becoming friendlier.

Divya quickly made all the calculations in her mind, "If he was really a Pak agent, he would have killed me by now. Moreover, Agarwal uncle is very selective about his tenants and no one can get a room without proper reference. May be he really said this to divert my mind. Nothing less could have brought me out of the thought of suicide." But the real reason for this soft consideration was something else. His face, his voice and him as a whole. It wasn't love. Wasn't passion either. It was just a sense of admiration with a pinch of hope of affection from the other side. A complicated feeling it was. She sat down slowly on the small chair-size stone platform made from left out bricks, sand and cement on her terrace.

"Thank you." She said humbly, looking at his flawless sideburn. By now, the sun had set completely. The darkness had begun to take over. The sideburn was becoming less visible with every passing moment, but the voice gave the proof of its presence and of the presence of deep brown eyes and a perfect nose, cheeks and chin.

"Your welcome. By the way, what made you take such a step? I mean don't mind while I ask this but..." Sanjay was curious.

Though, this was Divya's personal matter, when it is about seeking 'affection', the journey can very well start with 'sympathy'. So, Divya quickly replied, "No no. It's okay." and then added in a lowered tone, "Marriage rejection."

"Whatt?" He turned towards Divya with a reflex, but then turn back with the same reflex before she could notice that he had seen her, even though barely, because of the increasing darkness.

"Marriage rejection, I said." She spoke little louder.

"Just that? And you were taking this step?" He asked in a tone of utter un-amusement indicating the edge with loosely stretched hand. However, the hand, was not very clearly visible in the darkness that intensified by now.

"It was my eleventh rejection." She said and then lifting her face up, looking straight where the sun had set, added, "Did you notice there was light even when sun was almost below the horizon. But when it set, darkness prevailed in a matter of minutes. After a peak bearable point, end comes very quickly." Divya said in a heavy, firm yet calm voice.

"What you call an end is just a pause as I see it. All you need to do is to wait for the sun to rise again and be active enough to notice from where it is rising. Because it doesn't rise from the point it had set." He was completely RJ Mayank at this point- same voice, same fluctuation, but he was not because Divya couldn't imagine him to be ugly. Not that she no more admired RJ Mayank but because what she had for RJ was respect and not attraction.

She enquired the handsome Mayank sounding man, "You mean hope? But doesn't it have a limit?"

"Hope doesn't. We do. We stop hoping after we are tired of it. It all depends on us." He answered.

Divya was unconvinced, "That sounds so idealistic. Ah!", then with a sigh continued, "I want to have a family- a loving husband, children in whom I find my life. But I don't want it to be based on a lie, especially one that doesn't remain hidden for long." At this point, she broke down telling all she could, "I have a blot on my right cheek. A big, ugly black blot, some birth mark or childhood injury, I don't know. When Mummy took me to the lab for a photograph for marriage proposals, she pressed me to stand turning a little towards right, so that the marked cheek doesn't come in the photo at all. This resulted in repeated acceptance on photos and rejections on seeing me in person. People talk rubbish about me, murmur, look at me like a different human species. This blot has made me unworthy of living a happy life. How do you think can I sustain hope in such situations?" She was almost crying and wanted extreme levels of sympathy at this point.

Her gloomy description added to the intensity of darkness and by now nothing was visible- the handsome man, his eyes, nose, cheeks, chin, the armchair, the off white cushion, the stool, nothing. But sound could still travel.

Sanjay said, "You should not fake. Just be what you are. The worthy person will definitely come to you. Don't be ashamed of the blot. Turn towards the left, rather than right, before a camera. Just keep developing the inner you, your mind, soul, emotion and communication. There will always be someone, who will be influenced by you and not by that mark on your face. There will always be someone who will love your right face more than left." he spoke each and every word clear yet calm, firm yet soft. But Divya wasn't flattered and responded with somewhat unexpected question.

"So easy for a guy with flawless face to say this. And so hard for a girl with a blot to digest it. Huh. If that is what you say, will you dare to marry a girl like me, if she develops, your so called inner being?" Her tone was that of a not-so devoted devotee utterly disappointed with the explanation of the godman and she stared at the invisible figure of the handsome man, who no more seemed to be handsome to her. All her efforts to obtain his sympathy were going in vain, and he instead was trying to preach her. Now he had to answer a tough question.

"Welllll" the 'L' was elongated to think for a less hurting reply probably. "I will better not answer this." And he got up from his chair, the sound of the chair and the faint thumping of his footsteps going towards the terrace door, made his escapism almost sure. But he stopped, switched on the terrace light and said, "I would better leave it for you to answer."

Divya turned in surprise. He stood in the opposite direction to which he sat in. His right face was clearly visible, paler than it actually was because of the yellow light. Divya could clearly see ugly grafted skin, the disfigured cheek, the stone eye, the absence of a brow, yes the perfect masculine one. He was RJ Mayank, the 'The Un-beatiful' one. The RJ Mayank, whose mere an hour programme made his radio station the most famous one. The RJ Mayank, whose life could have been ruined after he accidentally rode past a girl who was going to be attacked with acid. The RJ Mayank, who decided that he will rejoice whatever life has given him and work hard to deserve more. The RJ Mayank who didn't have even one photo of his left face on internet. The RJ Mayank, whose story was not known to Divya, because of her only used search engine, 'Google images'. Yes, his real world name was Sanjay and real world occupation, cookery. He stood near the light, firm with a child like smile.

Divya was in tears, thinking in her mind all his words, so true. The admiration for the left face had been replaced by the love for the right face. Yes, she fell in love with him, with the so called inner him. In a love which was based on respect and not mere attraction.

"Divyaaaaaa!!! Is everything okayyy? When will you come down?" Her mother's faint voice reached her.

"Comingggg" she quickly responded many times louder than the voice she heard. And then got up, eyes still at Sanjay. She walked towards her terrace door, unconsciously conscious, still drenched in intense affection for the guy she met barely an hour ago. Step by step. One after another. Halting and hesitating to go down, as if his stoney "un-beautiful" eye was giving her a reason to stop. The light from the yellow bulb fell straight on her wobbling tears, still in the eyes, giving it a golden glow.

"See you soon." She said and closed the door behind her, the same door that she had whammed, the very wham which awakened Sanjay, the very awakening that helped him prevent the suicide by a girl, the very girl he too fell in love within few seconds when their eyes met- a stoney eye and a teary eye.

Dear readers,

Guess👉 why did I use the name 'Mayank' and the title 'The moon, as we see it'?

Let's see who gets it right.

Write in comments. 👇 Thanks for reading.😇

Edit 1

For all who guessed or could not (or even did not), here is the answer. 

We, from Earth can see just one side of the moon always. And so was true of Mayank.