What do you say when there is nothing to say. A tragedy strikes your friend when her loved one passes on. Whatever you want to say won’t bring them back and won’t comfort. And yet if you say nothing you worry that they’ll think you didn’t care. You bring them a flower. Your eyes meet. Then they glance at the flower and you discern a faint smile. Did they smile at the flower? Or was it a smile at your gesture? Or was it simply a smile at the connection? Did Kashyapa really smile at the flower? The flower didn’t need a smile. But your friend did. Perhaps the smile was a meta smile, from millions of miles away, a smile recognizing what would take more words than the sands of the Ganges to express.
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