Blahsphemy

 The ink of compassion has dried up. Now all that flows out is stale air. The same air zillions of people around the globe inhale and exhale religiously without any qualms. Why can't we market it, thought a marketer. The rest they say is history. But, what about compassion, you might ask. Well, it dried up long ago and that's about it.   

You are too fragile. The mirror whispered to the ego. The ego snarled at the mirror. Truth they say is a great leveller. Here, a stone did the trick.  

You have to switch off to turn on certain things. R2D2 couldn't quite decipher what his master meant. He had stumbled on this cryptic message in a trash can. He tried following the command. He shut down his processors and that was it. The evening news reader conveyed that the entire staff at the laboratory are still trying to understand why a perfectly normal processor should shut down on its own. 

The mail trail was endless. Somewhere deep down wisdom lay smothered. No back key stroke could unearth it. It was lost forever to the corporate jargon jungle. Even uber-visionaries and macro studies failed miserably. It remained a sad reality that can be wiped off forever by the delete button.   

Flabbergasted. That's how he felt. Because, today he could remember his name. But his face was still that of a stranger. The mirror never lies they say. Bull crap.