I met a mad man today. Dirty, disheveled, rugged. He walked around naked, collecting dirt and talking to himself. I saw this mad man and I felt pity for him. But a curiosity gripped me. What passes through the mind of this lunatic? For he is a calm man, walking alone, talking. He troubles no one. What goes through his mind?
Does he wonder about the scorching sun? Does he wonder about the misery of other fellow men who are also gripped in their madness too? Does he console himself in the solitary world where he is not worried about his nudity and people’s thoughts about him?
Does a mad man wonder about the indifference he sees when he is denied food and warmth? Is he incensed by his loneliness? Does he miss love, affection? Does he think about tomorrow? Does he think back on how his day has been? Does he actually get irritated by the smell in garbage mounds and dustbins? Does he dream of bigger garbage mounds and dustbins? Is he jealous when he meets other mad men in the same marketplace? Does he remember what he used to be, his sanity, his lucid intervals?
What actually passes through the head of a mad man? Is he scared of his life when he witnesses an accident? What does he think of us? The ones who are really mad? Does he accept that he is mad? What keeps him going? Is he an optimist or a pessimist?
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