Light pollution

“We came spinning out of nothingness, scattering stars like dust.”                                                                       – 13th century Persian poet, Rumi

It’s been this long since I was held spellbound by the sight of stars.

I’ve been gazing at stars for the past 4 nights from the park bench. There’s been a good number of stars on display these recent nights. Clearish star-speckled nights with fast-moving fluff clouds;  some shy twinklers fading in and out of view and a handful of steady pulsating pinpoint of white light.

Looking up at the distant stars, I’m reconnected to the sense of infinity, possibilities and the dream of heading into vast uncharted, unconquered territories. I’m reconnected to my memories of star-filled nights.

It’s a biting cold moonless night in Dubbo, New South Wales. I’m 22. I’m standing in the middle of the austere Dubbo Observatory’s field, peering through the telescope at the ‘Jewel Box’, a bewitching cluster of red, blue, green and white stars. I’m shivering and stamping my feet and listening to the guide remarking “yesterday was a lovely night to stargaze but tonight is perfect”. I’m tilting my head back to take in the sight of the sky ablaze with stars. The almost bone white night.

It’s May 2002 . I’m on a recce trip at the Berkelah Falls, Pahang, with the Students Care Service. It’s too hot to be in the tent as I’m running a fever. I drag my sleeping bag onto a boulder next to the relentless stream. Lying on my back, I’m facing the midnight blue dome with the laced edge of black leaves. The thought that these many stars could be sardined into the sky never crossed my mind before.

Was I 19 when I went to Batam on a church retreat? It was a dinner of fried rice with abc soup cooked by a couple of godfearing men, followed by a stroll by the quiet beach. I’m standing near the waves and I know the tide is coming in. I’m reluctant to return to the house of worship while the many stars and the waning moon are hung so low in the horizon.

Why am I this fascinated by stars?

As a 12 year old with an ugly bob cut and uglier gold rimmed glasses, I would head to the Geylang East library just about every school day. I was done with Enid Blyton and Nancy Drew. On my reading list were books by Richard Llewellyn, Ruth Park, Arthur C Clarke and Isaac Asimov and I came across these lines in Asimov’s 1951 novel The Stars, Like Dust -

“The stars, like dust, encircle me
In living mists of light;
And all of space I seem to see
In one vast burst of sight. “

It’s been more than 15 years since I committed the lines to memory and in a week’s time, I mark the passing of another birthday. On the 28th, I turn 28, but I won’t be asking the existentialist’s questions. I’ll be getting my hair tenderly treated by Lawrence, have meals with my loved ones and bounce the little ones and be merry and remember the sight of stars these past nights.