Story

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It was a gloomy evening, the sun had already set and there was no wind blowing. The streets were empty and people seemed to have nothing to do either inside or outside. This one street has some inhabitants though, some cows gazing at the empty spaces, some dogs running here and there purposelessly and barking occasionally and one madman sitting under the lamppost. I call him a mad man because he really is mad, though no one knows what, how and when it happened to him. He had been in this street for years and so everyone knew him, but still knew nothing about him. He was a skinny person, with long hair which shouted for a desperate wash, but he hardly cared, or didn’t even know what care was. He had long dirty nails and wore half torn clothes barely covering him. Survived on whatever people gave him to eat out of pity or whatever he managed to gather in the whole day from here and there. He had a polythene bag which always carried in his left hand and a tin box in the other. These were his only possessions which were filled with some stones, some pieces of cloth and hardly sometimes food for himself. At the end of the day one could see him having his food bite by bite with sips of water from the tin box. It seemed he was having a lovely dinner with exquisite wine.

The evening was getting darker, the lamppost was now shining with the yellow light and so was the madman sitting under it. He had just started having his lovely dinner when he felt a very strong itch in his head. He itched and itched and itched again. And when he took his hand out of his thick dirty hair, he saw a tiny little creature in his hand running for its life, as fast as it could, to find a place to hide. He found if amusing. He looked at that creature for a long time and finally he just smiled and put the tiny creature back in his thick hair he felt happy after doing that, although he didn’t know why. He had a feeling of content. After that he kept thinking for a long time and eventually slept without finishing his food and wine.

Next day he woke up really early and walked slowly without bending. Today he observed people; otherwise he was lost in his own world and didn’t bother about what others did. But today was a different day and he was a different man. As he was walking on the street he saw a man walk pass through him. He was carrying a little boy on his shoulders and was talking to the kid. The kid had a big smile on his face and looked very happy. The madman turned and started following them, observing the father and the son carefully. The father then stopped at a nearby shop to drink some water, he gave the kid some water as well. The madman followed and drank some water and then put some in his dirty hair and smiled. He felt the same kind of happiness as he had the last night, the only difference was now he knew what it was that he was feeling, it was familiar to him this time. The father saw the madman performing this strange trick and grew a little suspicious, but then he explained himself saying, “Oh he is just a madman,” and felt relieved. But the madman kept following and the father now saw him talking to himself looking upward as if he was talking to some invisible thing over his head.

From that day one could see him doing the same thing everyday. The madman would put some water in his head every time he would drink some. He also talked continuously looking upwards. People thought that he had completely gone crazy. But the father saw something more than just craziness, something which was very intense and unusual at the same time. It was as if the madman had grown emotional about his own head and the father knew that it had all started from that day and was somehow related to him, though he didn’t know how.

So one day, when the sun had already set and there was no wind blowing, the father went to the madman and asked him in gestures, in gestures because he was not sure if the madman would understand his words. He asked what he was doing. The madman looked at him for a long time, right into his eyes, and then a sweet smile ran over his face. The smile had the whole world printed on it, it had content and discontent, questions an answers and love as well as hatred. The father had never seen him looking so bright ever before, he was shining with something out worldly. And then after a long time he opened his mouth to speak. A very clear and controlled voice came out of his throat. That was the first time the father had heard him speak in all these years. He was taken aback by the way words flowed from his lips.

The madman said:

“When the whole world is out for killing, where nobody cares for anyone and where life means nothing to humans, I am supporting a life which took birth in my hair.”