My supernova.

Words. That was all it took for you. I’ve read many beautiful things in my life, but nothing quite like you. I find myself reading your lines over and over again, getting lost in the intricacy of your sentences, trying to untangle your metaphors.

Not one to get swept away easily but you are a tidal wave, and I am helpless. You came without a warning, shaking the world I knew around me. I can still feel the sting of sea water in my lungs. I’m still drowning.

His smile – my god, his smile. No matter how many times you tell me that you do not like it, nothing will change my mind of its beauty as my eyes trace the curve of your cigarette-stained lips whenever you talk about your hopes and dreams.

Your silhouette is my favourite shape and your skin is my favourite colour. Most people love the waves at the beach, but I prefer the ones in your hair.

Most people say that love is passionate like a raging fire, but you have taught me differently. Love is not an uncontrollable spark – it is sitting by the hearth, feeling the warmth reverberate through your body in the middle of a cold winter night. It is the silent humming of the earth amidst the hustle and bustle of busy city streets. It is not fancy dates and expensive gifts; It is comfortable silence and finding happiness in existence.

My biggest fear in the world is also the thing that I am most in love with: the unknown, the idea of what is out there in the universe. We’re nothing but dust and atoms to a world beyond our atmosphere. We’re insignificant, and that is how I have learned to see most people.

When a massive star runs out of fuel, it collapses inward under the force of its own gravity. This is the last stage of the massive star’s life, whose dramatic destruction is marked by one final titanic explosion. Gravitational collapses are a fundamental mechanism for structure formation in our universe. It is the gravitational collapse of a massive star that triggers a supernova.

And darling, in this galaxy of mine, you happened like a supernova. For a brief moment, my entire world was outshone by your radiance. I saw nothing but light. I was in fear, for this was nothing like I’d ever seen before. But this fear did not stop my quivering heart from getting captivated by you and all that you are.

For the longest time, I thought I was on a journey towards an unexpected beyond. I keep looking for a place to belong. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I’m going there. In the process, I’ve been hit left, right, and centre by debris that knocked me off course, but somehow you’re always there to catch me.

That’s when I realised that in this universe I’m travelling in, you’re not the destination neither the journey. You are the universe – one that I belong in. And no matter what hits me, you’re always engulfing me. I’ve stopped looking for an imaginary destination. I’ve learned to let go and appreciate your limitlessness.

Together, we’re explosive. But fear not of this magnificent cataclysm, for the most gorgeous shows in the skies are results of violent fusions.

Stephen Hawking: A Voiceless Thunder Laid To Rest

Today, a vacuum was left in the universe; a void in the shape of a man whose feeble body rests on a wheelchair. Despite his dormant state, his mind was alive – an active volcano behind the facade of peace and tranquillity.

Stephen Hawking was a paradox: A limitless mind in a limited body. He was an explorer travelling the stars in a broken vessel. He had a small frame but was a giant among men; a voiceless man whose echoes will reverberate throughout history.

His contributions to science were aplenty, but that is not what I am here to talk about today. What he offered to the universe was more than just his brilliant insights – He was a testament to, not only endless possibilities of the mind, but also the strength of will.

At a very young age, he had shown his brilliance. But unfortunately, sickness knows no bias, and at the age of 21, he was struck by a neurogenerative disease. It left him paralysed, but not terrified. More than anything else, it inspired him.

“Although there was a cloud hanging over my future, I found, to my surprise, that I was enjoying life in the present more than before. I began to make progress with my research.”

You can find many anecdotes from peers of his wild driving, naughty riding over toes, and spins at parties. Understanding the fragility of his life taught him not to let anything get in his way. The failure of his body did not stop him from enjoying life, and most importantly, the prospering of his mind.

“I have lived with the prospect of an early death for the last 49 years. I’m not afraid of death, but I’m in no hurry to die. I have so much I want to do first.”

There is so much that I want to say, but words seem to fail me right now. I understand that there should be no mourning in his passing, for the best that we can do is celebrate his discoveries and use them to advance. I would assume that that would be what he wants.

But you cannot help but feel the wave of sadness rippling through the universe, especially knowing that there could be many things hidden in that mind that he might have left unsaid. But for me, he has done more than enough for science – for us, for the world.

Out of all his insights, this was his most profound one yet:

“It would not be much of a universe if it wasn’t home to the people you love.”

To the mind that knows no boundaries, thank you for inspiring everyone. Rest in eternal peace. Your passing will be a silence louder than most.

Dear Little One

Dear little one,

I still see you sometimes at the corner of your bed in that dark room – crying, upset, afraid. You were always so happy and carefree, but I knew that deep down you had fears that were too heavy for a child to carry. Because your fears went beyond just ghosts and nightmares, you feared losing your family. Continue reading Dear Little One