Snooping and sleuthing come naturally to me — blame the desire to ferret on my journalistic acumen. (Perhaps I missed my calling as a private investigator.) Along with that, the secret desire to move around incognito has always wielded its own peculiar kind of charm. Now with masks becoming an integral face accessory, I am actually beginning to relish the quiet freedom that the face cover yields.
Honestly, I find the cover-up liberating in many ways. Fringe benefits abound, in fobbing off the grey fumes when you are walking down the road, full of squawking vehicles and BMC stations consistently drilling into the asphalt. Hugging your own breath to yourself in a crowded area. Protecting yourself against sneeze and saliva globules from all four-legged creatures. But the wonderful mainstream advantages that the face cover chugs in are simply matchless. I can count my blessings easily.
With masks becoming an integral face accessory, I am beginning to relish the quiet freedom that the face cover yields. (Representative photo: Reuters)
I find myself yawning peacefully when people afflicted by the 'I-me-myself' syndrome exercise their vocal cords relentlessly in front of me. Think about it, you are bound to endure the cacophony especially if you are stuck in the same space, but have full veiled freedom to go ho-hum, without raising hackles — it is a dream come true. The perfect solution for dealing with those full of hot air.
Secondly, attempting the facial yoga exercises beneath the mask is a beautiful, sneaky and stealthy articulation, especially when I am walking solo. I can practice all of Yasmin Karachiwala's verbal renditions including the alphabet pronunciation, without raising a holler-alert. Wonderful. I love maximising on my time. As I am wearing a mask, I can slip into a quick chant session, and even sing to myself without ten pairs of curious eyes boring into my back. Quite therapeutic. Better still, I can wear a fake, plastic smile on my face without letting out my extent of boredom, with ennui. Irate mothers striding up to discuss tween spats, mundane cribs and carps, chatty acquaintances drumming up conversations I want to end in monosyllables...
I find my mask increasingly emerging as an ingenious cloak to muffle my expletives too. Of course, there are many instances now when I mutter unsaintly oaths on losing my cool — I can easily expel these by reining in my decibel count beneath the priceless shield — even pry away an irritating morsel stuck between my molars in the privacy of the mask embrace. I can grimace at the sight of an undesirable person (I don't like everyone, so how can everyone like me?), pout in mock concern, clear my throat a tad dramatically, stick teeth out in an ungracious manner as a reaction, wear an obnoxious expression when I feel like, exclaim in mock horror all as wonderful alternatives to rolling my eyes visibly in despair.
You guessed it. I have fallen in love with my mask. I can grin, groan, guffaw in a snug shelter, plaster a plastic smile, snicker and spin my sassy, spirited style in complete peace, without offending anyone. That's what I call gloating about a Godsend.