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Are we really sane?

Sunday mornings are a time to sleep, get lazy and relax for most people. But for me, it is a time to enjoy the tranquility of empty boulevards, empty buses... there is a sort of peace in getting up early and travelling when most are cooped up in their cozy homes, watching TV and drinking morning coffee. 
Today morning I saw a young woman from the window of my bus, who looked mentally imbalanced, walking on the footpath. She suddenly jumped onto the road and started rolling beneath the footpath, laughing to herself. I wondered what went through her mind which prompted her to do that.
Next I saw a group of footpath dwellers, mostly labourers, who live near the City Railway Station, squatting on the road side. A little away from them, a beautiful baby was placed on a mat. It was covered in blanket. It was turned over, playing to itself oblivious to the world. I wonder what she will become when she grows up. I wonder what ordeals she will have to face when she stops playing and starts looking around, taking in this cruel world and trying to interact with it. Hope she survives, being the child of a poor couple.
A little farther, passing the railway station and coming to KR Hospital stop, I got down and stood waiting for another bus. A mentally challenged man, probably in his thirties or forties, dressed in tatters and carrying a filthy bag, danced on his way to god knows where. The happiness on the faces of the two 'mentally ill' persons made me wonder, are we 'sane' people really sane to think we have everything and are happy? What is happiness? Where is happiness? In innocence? Or in being lost to this world?

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