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By K Sachidanandan.

Madmen don't have caste or religion;
and also maenads.
Our gender divisions are not applicable to them.
They are out of ideologies.
We don't deserve their sanctity.

Language of madmen is not of dream
it is of another reality.
Moonlight is their love and
it overflows on the full moon day.

When they look up, they see
goddesses we never heard of.
When the invisible wings are moved
we feel, they jerk shoulders.
They think flies also have soul,
and grasshopper's god
jumps around on its long green legs.

Sometimes, they see
blood flowing down from trees
sometimes, lions roaring
on the road
sometimes, heaven glowing
in cat's eyes.
They are like us only in these matters.
But only they can hear
the ants singing in group.

When they run finger in the air
a storm in the Mediteranean
is being tamed.
When step forcefully
taking care, not to erupt a volcano.

Madmen's time is different
for them, our one century is a moment
only twenty fillips to reach Christ.
Six more fillips to Budha.
In a day-time they reach
Big-Bang of the beginning.
Because earth boils violently
they keep on walking without sitting anywhere.

Madmen are not
mad like us.

( Original is in Malayalam. Translated by TK Thomas. )

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