This story is not a story about superheroes, or common men, or even ghosts. This is a story about a young man who wears baggy pants, loves science and likes to have his 2-minute noodles with pickles. It is a story about his outstanding feat of writing well-crafted, rhythmic poetry overnight, in spite of never having read a poem once in his entire life. It is a story when our protagonist (let us call him Boltu) surpasses the power of superheroes, the beautiful dullness of common men, and even the horror of ghosts - only to make this story superior than any other.

Before we move on with Boltu's story, let us shed some light on the setting this story takes place in. After all, every good story has great settings, and since this is the best story ever, the best setting is well deserved.

The night Boltu becomes a story within a story is the night his room with bright blue walls and bright green curtains channel all sorts of energy from the dead poets and chemists to help him write the best poem ever. Young Boltu sits in the middle of his room, on his bed, and writes notes on Chemistry, while listening to some Backstreet Boys music. His bed sheet has the picture of a giant Spiderman, with Mary Jane's face at the top corner. A poster of Messi sticks to the wall on his right; a grim look on Messi's face for being in a room that smells like socks, sweat and teen. 

As Boltu sits with a laptop in front of him, a Facebook notification pops up. But before we move on with what the notification is about, let us have a look at Boltu's take on social interactions as this has a lot to do with our story's plot and of course, a great story requires a great plot. 

Boltu is known in his class as the boy with the round glasses. No, he doesn't have a lightning bolt scar on his forehead but he tends to have a number of classmates who like to bully him often. He has a couple friends to have lunch with, and a few professors who are really fond of him. His favourite thing to do is to look out through the window and think about nothing, and still score highest in class. Our wonderful Boltu barely has any interest in other school activities except studying, but that was until the new girl joined his section. Boltu has stared at her from the corner of his eyes ever since, every day. He hasn't missed the opportunity of adding her up on Facebook from the computer lab. He even got a decent internet connection at home so he could stalk her as soon as she accepted his friend request.

This brings us to what the notification Boltu receives is about. The 16th night of Boltu impatiently waiting for his request to be accepted is the night this story takes place; the same night the beautiful pop up of Facebook's notification lets him know that the new girl has finally accepted his friend request.

With an incredible feeling of joy, Boltu brainstorms what this can mean - to figure out that the girl must like him too, and might be waiting for him to ask her out to be his girlfriend. Or even more. After all, they are "friends" on Facebook now.

Our protagonist runs to his prospective future wife's internet profile, and checks out all the pages she has liked. He finds several poetry pages liked by her. And like a predator who knows exactly how to catch his prey, he realises that all he needs to do is write her a wonderful piece of poetry and she will be his. Forever.

Pen in hand, brain in head - he writes down the best verses that have ever existed in the human world:

Your voice is like an organic acid, because it sounds like -COOH

And your face is like a lipid, gives me cholesterol; 

Makes my heart go lubdub-lubdub, faster than the speed of light.

I might be "shada bhaat", and you might be chicken curry,

But you and I, we can be an alkene - a strong double bond.

Without you, I'd silently say -OH, and drink all the alcohol. 

So, would you, give this inert gas one chance to react with you?

As he types the verses in the new girl's inbox, the universe shakes and quivers. A great poet is born. Our Boltu has made it to the best story ever.

And maybe, he has made it to the desired reaction too.

Mashiat Lamisa is often seen frowning at the sight of people who dislike poetry and tomatoes. She can be reached at mashiatlamisa@outlook.com