After being on a long vacation from the language of all the literary words, something struck to me and made me pause- really pause- and ponder upon a few lines.
Two of the brightest stars in the night sky are Altair and Vega… separated by the celestial river of the Milky Way.
I have heard it so many times, over and over again but this time it really struck me a thought. These lines were by Raj Koothrappali in a The Big Bang Theory -it was meant to be a said as a nerdy romantic tale to impress Penny. But this time, it hit differently. Maybe because I have been so distant from words for a while or maybe because it reminded me how even the stars carry stories.
Many times a day, we look up at the sky, sometimes catching the stories the clouds in passing. But what we often miss is that those hazy stories are echoed by the stars themselves—twinkling dots that are in truth massive, suspended in the vastness of space. Some appear close, aligned just right, almost forming a pathway—a bridge—for a soul in search of its long-lost companion.
What exactly are Altair and Vega?
They’re not just two little stars out there twinkling away. They’re two of the brightest ones we can see from Earth. And every summer, they show up—clear, right there above us as part of something called the Summer Triangle.
But this isn’t about astronomy. It’s not about what scientists named them or how they fit into constellations.
This is about something older. Something softer.
It’s about how people looked up at the sky and didn’t just see stars—they saw a story.
A story of love. Of separation. Of wanting.
Of two souls too far apart, but still trying to find a way back to each other.
What is it about the two common stars?
Well, these two “common” stars? They’re anything but.
Altair and Vega, famous names in Chinese folk stories. Not because they shine the brightest or sit the highest. But because someone, a long time ago, looked up and saw something more. They saw two lovers.
Zhinu, the weaver girl. Niulang, the cowherd.
They fell in love, hard and fast. The kind that makes the universe jealous. And of course like all forbidden love, it was ripped apart. Gods said no. Rules were rules. She went back to the skies. He stayed on Earth.
The Milky way - It became the line in the wall. The boundary.
They could see each other, but they couldn’t touch. Couldn’t speak. Just two dots in the sky, staring across forever.
But once a year, everything changes.
Once a year, on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, the magpies show up.
They rise from wherever they are and they fly up into the night. No questions. No hesitation. They beat their wings and form a bridge across the Milky Way.
And just like that, for one night, the universe let's love win.
That’s it. That’s all they get. But it’s enough.
And maybe that’s what love is, sometimes. Not forever. Not easy. Just showing up when it matters the most.
As I heard Raj portray all his love and heart in those few seconds of a beautiful cinematography, It made me think about how love doesn’t always come easy. Sometimes it’s messy. Sometimes it's slow. Sometimes it means standing on opposite ends of a world and still hoping for that one night when everything lines up and you get to feel close again.
I’ve felt like Altair before.
Still. Waiting. Watching.
And I’ve felt like Vega, too.
Somewhere far away from what I wanted, from what I couldn’t reach.
But what stays with me isn’t just the love story. It’s the bridge. The idea that something will show up. People, time, maybe even the universe itself might offer wings to help you cross over, even if just for a moment.
And the moral, if there is one?
Maybe it’s this:
Even if love is distant. Even if timing is wrong. If it’s real, it will find a way.
Even if that way only lasts a night.
Even if it needs a sky full of magpies to make it happen.
This is purely perfect !! Very insightful and something new !!
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