The evening is quiet on the passage leading up to the Pashupatinath temple, as my inquisitive eyes sprint over the splendour of the temple area. As an agnostic, however, I have nothing to do with the silent Gods. I rather come here for a little tête-à-tête with an awe-inspiring personage, who is referred to as a “mad man.”

While the lunatic comes my way rolling out his tongue as usual, I take in his wretched appearance. An able-bodied man of forty or thereabouts, his only apparel comprises a pair of tattered trousers and a worn-out shirt, which is dottled with holes.

However, it’s not his unpleasant attire that intrigues me the most. It’s the hedonistic lifestyle that he seems to lead.

It is believed that “happy is the man whose pleasures are the cheapest.” This mad man epitomises this statement. It really amazes me how he discovers happiness in little things around him. I have often seen him elated when flies buzz around his grimy beard, when monkeys tease his haggard appearance, or even while he shares his little food with ravenous stray dogs. He spends the whole day talking to himself and nods off serenely on a noisy street to the great envy of an insomniac like me.

The mad man’s disdain for the sun is no less confounding. When the sun is blazing high at noon, he defiantly tolerates its warmth rather than look for a shade. Later, with his face awash with perspiration, he spits at the sun and laughs uproariously. I doubt if I will ever get to laugh so freely in my sombre world full of sorrows.

There is a method in his madness, which he manipulates to attain pure pleasure. He makes the most of his solitude and has his own definition of a personal life. For the outsiders, his life appears pitiable but, in reality, he is quite happy because his life is not as pretentious as that of some saner people.

The rain is heavy and I ponder over my return home. As I contemplate this, my lunatic friend leaps up in the air and dances animatedly with the rhythm of the rain.

I am left wondering why the pilgrims are hustling and bustling to enter the temple. The God’s here — in his new avatar of a mad man.