A peripatetic god

I saw a man today...and I knew for the first time what beautiful meant. He was naked save a loincloth, and there was no way of telling whether he was an adivasi tribal, or a public exhibitionist or just stark raving mad. He seemed as if there was a definite goal to his journey, and his stride had purpose and determination, which coupled with his barefoot, naked, matted hair status would've looked absurd among the weaving traffic at the India Gate circle, but for some strange reason - it did not. The sheer incongruity of the man, with his matted brown wiry hair, his ebony skin, the bare feet and the dirty loincloth in front of the Shangri-La Hotel, with Corollas, Mercedes Benzes and Chevrolet's struck me on only hind-sight. At that moment, there was only the image of the man, surrounded by a sea of automobiles and the fact that he paid no attention to any of them. It was he who seemed to have the right to be there, not us. It was he who looked real and true in his raw, sexual, masculine beauty, while the rest of us just grow more numb, fat and puffy-eyed....It was my first brush with a true to life Billy Biswas come back to search the urban jungles for the essence of his inimitable, earthy sheerly masculine being.