Who's The Madman ?

(The image is not of the boy talked about in the post but just a picture from the internet which I thought portrays him in some way)

This boy, have known him since quite a few years now, young chap, may be 20 plus one or two years. People say he is insane or rather he has been concluded that way in the neighborhood. Always doing things out of context; unclean, shabby, bald, running nose, clapping, shouting sometimes, were some of the usual scene with him.

Encountering each other on the streets would almost make me change my way. Urchins would be making fun of him every now and then, beating him up, irritating him which would also result in some strange reactions from him. But as I grew up I realized he does not mean any harm to anyone unless it was really called for and a sort of comfort developed between us. I felt that we just existed for each other for those passing tiny moment whenever we came across each other, smiling(not the mechanical ones), sometimes straight faces, sometimes just a look in the eye saying as if its all right to be wherever we were.

In this cool, moist, rain expecting breeze, standing on the terrace I spotted him again; picking up things from here and there on the road and handling them with quite a care, totally engrossed in whatever he was doing, simply present where he was without much noise in the head or purposes to fulfill or to reach anywhere but just playing with some pieces of paper, tearing them may be, saving and holding some for some purpose god only knew, was the work of the moment. Simply!

I looked at all this ceasing the stream of thoughts running through my head which I had been observing at the terrace in amusement since quite some time and felt for a moment how simple life is... With so many concepts, ideas, rules and regulations, notions about oneself and others I think I was normal and this chap though called crazy was just not bothered by anything but simply lived his life in whatever was going on.

If he cried he really cried, if he shouted he was really shouting at that moment, if he clapped he really clapped, if bothered he was really bothered, if he handled some useless papers picked up from the road side he really held them, that's all the reality. That's all the life for that moment of time. I never saw him carry anything further then it was supposed to be. One moment he would cry and the other he would clap if it required. He wouldn't bother about what was or what will be but what is. Whatever occurred now he was with that even if it demanded doing the most opposite things.

I really started to wonder how do we define normal? who sets the standard? If the world were full of people like this boy with one or two like me than I would be the one not normal and even now this crazy frenzy I feel in my head to which I give so much importance is in no way less than abnormal.

We assume its 'I' who has to take care of things, sleep, eat, earn etc but this simple crazy boy just lived, slept at some place, ate, took a bath, cut his hair etc. Was there a sense of' 'I' in him same as mine? I doubt that. Without thinking he has to do anything to keep on living he still just lived through every day, every hour, every minute, every moment and perhaps lived it more fully than most of us. The food he would eat without any thought of wanting something better in his plate, the sleep he would have would be without any burden from the day just passed and when he would get up in the morning his mind fresh and least bothered with the occupations of the day to follow but just simply he wakes up and starts...

Is this living not better than this false belief of 'I' taking care of everything, 'I' have to work, 'I' have to gain respect, 'I' have to prove or fulfill some purpose, 'I' have to take crucial/serious decisions in my life, but probably having none of these concepts in his head this boy just lived and lived better. Who took care of all his affairs? who provided him food whenever he was hungry? from where did the space made available when his eye lids felt heavy? who gave him a bath? who cut his hair? who gave him clothes? I don't know the details but everything was taken care by some way or the other.

I was convinced at the simplicity and profundity of his life rather than having this false satisfaction and assurance of the life I live. So tell me, who's the madman really?