He pointed his finger towards the door where a weird kind of man was sitting. The man was smoking, reciting a poem and acted as if he was addressing an audience. Then he signalled to me to watch near the doctor’s chamber. A lady sat on the floor and looked constantly into the mosaic flooring. It appeared to me that she knew of some hidden treasure lying inside the floor. There was a lot of hue and cry too. Patients were being called by their names in a screaming voice by a compounder. I was visiting IHBAS, Delhi, The Institute of Human Behaviour and Allied Sciences.
There was magic in his voice. He said to me in a deep, grave and clear voice like a teacher, “In fact they are not much different from normal persons like you and me. But for a small thing which might be some pain, grief, loneliness or whatever, they lose the balance.”
“Balance”, he repeated his words with a deep breath and stared out side and up, towards the skies. “Not an easy thing…you know…”. He looked sad.
His personality and the way he spoke were so captivating that I was almost awaiting his next sentence.
Just then the compounder screamed, “Deven…Deven.”
An elderly person came near me and called calmly, “Deven.”
He stood up. Bid me good bye and moved along with the elderly person.
His jeans slipped about an inch below, revealing his underwear slightly.
He was wearing a shoe in one foot only.
“My God….”, I could only utter a word,