He is mad!
Are you mad?
Must be mad.
Look at that mad girl (guffaws)
The word mad, how innocently and casually we push it across our mouths.
Why mock at the world, i do the same too.
Until recently, when i actually had a close encounter with a mad man.
Yes, he was MAD - mentally closed and lost in some other time zone.
if i were to narrate, it would not make a long story.
i was driving back from work and the road i park my car on - i saw this odd looking man with - disheveled hair, shabby clothes and dirt laden skin scramble. There was nothing new in this mad man, like all other mad men he fitted the mould. he had the abandoned and dazed look on his face and the jittery and fumbly walk on his feet.
But what struck me the most was his, eyes.
they look straight ahead, yet it seemed as if they looked nowhere.
they were open yet closed.
they had everything yet nothing inside them.
he walked staring onto the road and i slowed down to have a closer look at him.
he unconscious of his surrounding, time and space kept walking. i guess he moved as the road moved and didn't stop till the the road stopped. I felt strange looking at him, here i keep cribbing about not having a love life, not having a good bank balance, not having enough shoes, not having a cleaner Delhi and what not - and here is somebody who is so given up that he has no emotion of having or not having. i am sure we all get a little jolted looking at men who have or desire nothing when we spend half of our life's wanting something or everything. it is uncanny to meet a mad man in this materialistic world of sensible working people. We feel sorry for him and i am sure he feels sorry for us, he pities our chained and objective driven life - he must lie under the sky at night and mock at us.
Look, look at these fools running away from one corner to another, holding one hand after another - hoping to find that imaginary cloud of peace. And here i lie naked and hungry - floating on this cloud of piece. they live scared of not breaking their fragile dreams, not knowing that these dreams they so fondly nurture like parts of their own existence were born only to be broken. And the pain they will suffer then - will be so unbearable that they will fall on ground. they too will lie like me on some piece of land and cry over their lost happiness and i will laugh and offer them some sympathy. i have nothing and will disappear as nothing, but at least i will have laughed with no fear and walked carefree.
Feeling sorry for his non- existent existence i parked my car and moved home.
The very next day I see him walking over the newly constructed fly-over that connects the sane to the chaos.
As i looked at him from the rear view mirror, i noticed the slight smirk spread on his face.
Are you mad?
Must be mad.
Look at that mad girl (guffaws)
The word mad, how innocently and casually we push it across our mouths.
Why mock at the world, i do the same too.
Until recently, when i actually had a close encounter with a mad man.
Yes, he was MAD - mentally closed and lost in some other time zone.
if i were to narrate, it would not make a long story.
i was driving back from work and the road i park my car on - i saw this odd looking man with - disheveled hair, shabby clothes and dirt laden skin scramble. There was nothing new in this mad man, like all other mad men he fitted the mould. he had the abandoned and dazed look on his face and the jittery and fumbly walk on his feet.
But what struck me the most was his, eyes.
they look straight ahead, yet it seemed as if they looked nowhere.
they were open yet closed.
they had everything yet nothing inside them.
he walked staring onto the road and i slowed down to have a closer look at him.
he unconscious of his surrounding, time and space kept walking. i guess he moved as the road moved and didn't stop till the the road stopped. I felt strange looking at him, here i keep cribbing about not having a love life, not having a good bank balance, not having enough shoes, not having a cleaner Delhi and what not - and here is somebody who is so given up that he has no emotion of having or not having. i am sure we all get a little jolted looking at men who have or desire nothing when we spend half of our life's wanting something or everything. it is uncanny to meet a mad man in this materialistic world of sensible working people. We feel sorry for him and i am sure he feels sorry for us, he pities our chained and objective driven life - he must lie under the sky at night and mock at us.
Look, look at these fools running away from one corner to another, holding one hand after another - hoping to find that imaginary cloud of peace. And here i lie naked and hungry - floating on this cloud of piece. they live scared of not breaking their fragile dreams, not knowing that these dreams they so fondly nurture like parts of their own existence were born only to be broken. And the pain they will suffer then - will be so unbearable that they will fall on ground. they too will lie like me on some piece of land and cry over their lost happiness and i will laugh and offer them some sympathy. i have nothing and will disappear as nothing, but at least i will have laughed with no fear and walked carefree.
Feeling sorry for his non- existent existence i parked my car and moved home.
The very next day I see him walking over the newly constructed fly-over that connects the sane to the chaos.
As i looked at him from the rear view mirror, i noticed the slight smirk spread on his face.
