I can go on and on about my love for stars.
Stars, that are rarely visible in Delhi. The night sky here is more like a kid trying to learn to tie knots and every time he tries to strengthen the last one he tied, he ends up tying another one in some distant corner on the thread.
It’s not strong, it’s not unified or a pretty pattern. Some even barely existent.
Some even barely existent.
But it forms something, something to cheer that little child up. One big accomplishment added to his face with a smile. I wonder if God gets all joyous and giddy when he creates another star in the night sky. But when he looks down if we are just as happy as he is, we are clueless. Because we don’t see anything. It’s all black and dim.
Can we not cover god’s art with a nasty polluted blanket?
We’ve all heard the “how people who die become stars” story. To some, it’s another one of grandma’s story which is too good to be believed. But then grandma knows the best, doesn’t she? I like to believe that version, it’s nice to put your faith into something rather than into nothing. And it’s calming and comforting that you haven’t really lost the ones you loved, they are wandering up above with some new found friends and are happy.