The Assembly Line

                                          Everyone is an automaton here. The thing called dream is prohibited and individuality is compromised. They have a pattern, a schema and a prehistoric idea according to which they design their views. They created an assembly line to make the lifeless machines to implement their views. It starts from the very beginning they slowly start with the visualization of their plan in the eyes of the preliminary product; it’s a small seed that is planted. The prototypes can think and can dream but it is the reflection of the makers. Then the assembly line moves on the product is tested, evaluated, graded and judged and in the process questioned for uniformity when it was born for individuality. They singe the product, scar its ends, scrounge the last inch of pride and integrity from it and drain the colour from it. The products oblige for in the name of loyalty to the maker the product stands mum as it is chiseled and its soul removed. It takes hit after hit it loses sight of what it really is of what it really loves it knows not love anymore! They let no light in it, gets so dark. There are rebels, there products which fail to oblige but it is in the nature of the maker to destroy the infectious stray. So, at the end when it is scrutinized and compared to their planned patent it is thrown out as trash as it does not fit in.