The Sky Was My First Storybook
Why would anyone not be fascinated by stars and the moon?
From lullabies like “Chandamama Rave” to bedtime stories woven around moonlit adventures, the night sky was the earliest canvas of my imagination. Before books and the internet, it was the stars that told me their tales.
I still remember that one evening in the early 2000s — a news segment announced that Venus would be visible to the naked eye. I rushed outside. There it was, a tiny glowing dot stubbornly shining through the dusky sky. It felt like magic — a tiny planet playing peekaboo with Earth.
A few years later, during a lunar eclipse, my dad took me and my sister to a planetarium. The show we watched wasn’t just a display of astronomy, it was an explosion of wonder. Stars, planets, galaxies — things I couldn’t pronounce, suddenly felt personal. That night, we even got to look at the moon through a telescope. Seeing its craters up close made it real — not just the moon from my songs, but a world I could almost touch.
And then came the best gift ever: my uncle transformed our bedroom ceiling with glowing star stickers. Night after night, my sister and I would lie on our backs, point at constellations (some real, some made up), and spin wild stories about other godly worlds, space travel, and galactic adventures. Every night became an interstellar bedtime adventure.
Things got even more cosmic when all of us cousins huddled together in Hyderbad at our Aunts house, eyes wide with wonder, as “Koi Mil Gaya” lit up our TV screen for the first time. Aliens entered the chat. My imagination? Blown. So much so that when I had to give a presentation during my graduation, I boldly chose UFOs as my topic. I wasn’t just stargazing now — I was space-talking!
Even today, I often fall asleep to StarTalk podcasts. The conversations are so fascinating that I sometimes end up staying awake longer — lost in thoughts of quasars, wormholes, and civilizations far, far away.
Sometimes, I look up and spot the Orion Belt, those three stars neatly lined up. They remind me of summer nights on the terrace, chatting with cousins, watching the sky until sleep quietly pulled our eyelids down.
Of course, the stars aren’t as visible as they used to be. Light pollution has dulled the skies above our cities. The gentle glow of the moonlight is now overshadowed by streetlamps and neon signs. But in my memories — and whenever I get a chance to leave the city — the skies still shine just as they did when I was a child.
Astronomy isn’t just about science for me. It’s about stories, nostalgia, and curiosity. It’s a reminder that there’s always something more — something beautiful and mysterious — just beyond what we can touch.
Because long before I could read books, the sky was already telling me stories.