Dear Shooting Star,

I don’t know where you are or who you are. When will we meet or where will we meet. As a matter of fact, I don’t even know whether you will ever exist or not, because let’s be honest, an engineering student who likes poetry– there are better and dumber ways to die than to die of boredom, unless, of course you like my poetry or poetry in general. In that case you will be super awesome because you chose me (Hell, yeah!). It would take iron bullets to handle a personality like me. But I believe you exist. I just do. I am sitting on my roof right now under this mild luminosity of a shooting star high, high in the sky. Are you really that far from me? Or is it just me being metaphorically paranoid?

It is fascinating how 1 out of 7 billion people could affect your life to an extent where you start realizing that a pin like piece of you is always lost somewhere in this hay of a world and you apply your strength. You put your faith in yourself and you peddle your way throughout just to find that piece of you so that it could finish the puzzle of your life. My puzzle is yet to start. And I am already dreaming of the end. Maybe I like to imagine. Maybe that’s what I did in these years of college life. Imagine how good it will be when there will be you and me, and us against the world, a new task every day, a new challenge. But a partner to solve them and find the way out through the hindsight and achieve a state of advanced problems day by day because problems are never ending. It just who we choose to deal the problems with so that problems seem like just another hill you have to climb to and admire the beauty of this world. And how we take responsibility of a human being who was completely unknown to you a few days; a few weeks; a few months or if you are still surviving (which is wonderful), a few years ago. I just dream of the day when I will see you for the first time and you and I will both know that this is it. This is what we were looking for this whole time. Maybe even wasted our time on tinder but at least we won’t have any regrets. That is because achievements are measured by the weights-of-destination and not the waits-of-path, although, it is the path to you that I will enjoy travelling on.

I just wish that when we glance at each other for the first time, it starts to rain and leaves a non-swayable skid mark on my glasses. So that I take my glasses off and have a complete look at you with my naked eye and admire you. Thank the god (if there is any) for this moment. And for my plight, drudgery, sham because at that moment, I just would know it was all worth fighting for. I just wish, my shooting star, that I would accidently be holding your favourite flowers and you would have an SLR camera, like the one in 80s movie and you click a picture that captures this entire scene in a single frame. When the negatives of your camera would negate the negatives of my past and make a full positive in the equation. When, finally, you would make my life positive. A great philosopher said that whatever you wish under the light of a shooting star, you get it. One way or the other, you find that flickering light that leads you to the end of the tunnel that you thought was never ending and you know you have received what you hoped for. It’s all like a dry sea. Someday, it would rise up again when it rains.

I know I am a romantic maybe that’s why I have been thriving to find that perfect puzzle piece of me and not going all crazy and wasted in night clubs, having casual flings like others but it will be worth, for sure. Because I know you will understand me and appreciate the same. I know we will have lots of time to spend together once we meet but I wouldn’t bore you with details of my past then. Majorly because I won’t remember a lot of stuff and any story without details is not a story. Hence, this is a better way. Old? Yes, definitely. I could have just not bothered telling at all or made up a story when you asked me but if I am not being completely honest with you, I am not living fully. So, here it is, my past, completely and brutally honestly. Maybe, even the way which lead me to you, but who knows. Do you?


Yours lovingly,

To be or not to be.



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