Virtual Reality

Asmita Ranganathan


No time to talk to his father or mother —
Maybe a sister and maybe a brother;
He rejects them all and gladly embraces
A hundred and ten eager virtual faces.

He logs on to Facebook and reads all the posts;
Here one friend complains, there another one boasts;
He sends texts to a few, they text him replies,
Then back to the screen  — How the evening flies!

Family members separated by walls,
Conversation interrupted by images and calls.
No time to talk to those really near,
Companionship — so-called — of those virtually here.

Isolation of people, friendship with machines
Virtual windows showing virtual scenes.
Each keeps to himself, yet his thoughts are laid bare
To forty different people, but how many care?

Oh! How quickly by machines man is seduced,
Conversation is lost, autism is induced;
What a killjoy I am, a spoilsport, a pain!
I had vowed to be quiet, but I’ve done it again!                 ♦

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