Mask? What mask?

Negotiating a world in which no one believes in Covid protocols can be a scary experience

 

What do you do when you are the only person wearing a face mask in a room full of unmasked people? What do you say when the unmasked lady sitting next to you asks, in a very passive-aggressive manner, “Are you very scared of Covid?” 

 

Well, I don’t know what the etiquette in such circumstances is, so I can only tell you what I did. I kept my mask – an N95 no less – resolutely on, refusing to take it off even for the pictures that everyone was posing for. And I responded, as coldly as I could, to the question I was asked. “Yes, I am scared of Covid,” I said, and then added after a beat, “And so should you be.”

 

It’s probably needless to say that she paid no attention to my advice, and continued to keep her face mask off for the duration of the event that we were both attending. As did the rest of the audience in that large hall. 

 

I should not have been surprised, really. Ever since we landed in Amritsar for a book launch, the one thing we had noticed was the complete absence of mask discipline in the city. Nobody on the roads wore masks, not even the policemen. Guests at our hotel cheerfully ignored the signs that specified masks in all public areas and moved around barefaced. And those who did put them on, kept them around the chin area, leaving their noses and mouths unencumbered. 

 

When we mentioned this on Twitter, we were told by some people who had visited the Golden Temple that they had been asked to take off their masks by the guards before they were allowed inside the Darbar Sahib. “Don’t you trust in God to take care of you?” they were asked. There was only one way to respond: and that was to remove their masks.

 

Hurriedly cancelling our own plans of visiting Harmandir Sahib – hitherto an essential stop on every trip to Amritsar, given my Punjabi roots – we settled down in the safety of our own room to recover from this culture shock. Coming from Delhi, where mask discipline is strictly enforced and adhered to (especially after the second wave), this mask-less world took some getting used to. 

 

When I tried to explain this to some of the guests at the book launch the next day, they waved away my fears with an airy, “Oh, there is no Covid in Punjab now. Only 30 cases in the entire state.” Yes, I agreed, but there are only around 30 cases every day in Delhi too, and yet people wear masks to make sure that we don’t have a third wave in a few weeks’ time. Oh Delhi, they muttered exasperatedly, that is nothing like Punjab.

 

There was no good response to that, so I kept my peace and moved on. But this exchange – and many others like it – did get me thinking. Were these people being totally irresponsible and risking sparking a third wave in their city? Or was I being needlessly nervous about contracting Covid in an environment in which nearly everyone was double vaccinated? Were they being stupid or was I just virtue-signaling?

 

Well, you can make up your own mind about that. But, as far as I am concerned, in these times, discretion is the better part of valour. And in the age of Corona, discretion involves masking up in public, especially when indoors, practicing social distancing from people who are not in your bubble, and sanitizing your hands ever so often. So, that’s what I did during my short stay in Amritsar, ignoring the pitying looks being cast in my direction from all the mask-less people around. 

 

And it came as something of a relief to finally land back in Delhi, at an airport where everyone was masked, driving back home on streets where people observed mask discipline. Of course, it felt even better to take off my mask in the sanctuary of my own home. But that, as the saying goes, is another story.

 

Cover story

What lies beneath the mask? It’s often impossible to tell

The eyes – or so the saying goes – are a window into the soul. Well, perhaps they are. But it clearly takes a better woman (or man) than me to look into someone’s eyes and gaze right into their soul. As far as I am concerned, I can barely even discern anyone’s expression or mood by merely looking at their eyes.

And these days, with mask-wearing having become compulsory, that is all that you can see of anyone: their eyes. I have to confess that I find this rather disconcerting. Without being able to see someone’s mouth – whether it is turned up cheerily or downcast glumly – it is hard to tell whether someone is happy or not. Never has the expression ‘smiling eyes’ seemed more inappropriate when the truth is that you really can’t tell by someone’s eyes alone if they are smiling or not.

It turns out that all the visual clues that we rely upon during our social interactions depend less on the eyes, and more on the rest of the face. Is your nose crinkling up in disgust? Are your lips tightening with exasperation? Or have they risen ever so slightly in a sneer? Is your jaw relaxed or clenched with anger? It is all these non-verbal clues that we pick up on as we negotiate our way through the world.

But now that everyone we meet – except for the people in our own household – is masked, how on earth can we tell what they are feeling? And, equally importantly, how can they tell whether we are smiling or scowling underneath our masks?

Short answer to both questions is: no, we can’t. And that makes every social interaction that much trickier.

But the adaptable beings that we are, we have learnt our lessons from months of mask wearing and are now cued up with non-facial clues as we make our way through the world. I noticed this first when I went grocery shopping in my neighbourhood market. As I stopped and stepped aside on the pavement when I saw a man approaching from the opposite direction, he came to a halt and indicated with a sweeping gesture that I should pass first. I smiled my thanks before I realized that he couldn’t see that. So, as I passed him, I said ‘Thanks’ with a small bow that would have done a Japanese person proud.

For me, though, masks present another problem. I am ever so slightly deaf and over the years have developed the ability to lip read, which fills in the gaps that my hearing leaves. But now, with everyone’s lips masked, there is no way to glean that additional information. And it doesn’t help that masks end up muffling people’s voices even more. So, conversations have become more difficult to conduct, especially with people who are soft-spoken to begin with. Imagine my relief, then, when on my visit to my doctor, I saw him wearing a transparent face shield rather than a mask. Suddenly, I could understand every word he was saying. And, for a few minutes, I could feel like my old self.

It was on that hospital visit, though, that I realized that there are three kinds of mask wearers. The first group, in which I include myself, are those that put on their masks and leave them in place for the entire duration of the time they are outside. Then, there are those who seem to think that it’s fine to pull them down ever so often, sometimes to talk to their companion, at other times to have a sip of water, and so on. And then, there are those who seem to think that infections only enter through the mouth, so they can leave their noses bare, no problem at all. I find myself sorely tempted to tell them off, but then I think I am probably better off maintaining social distancing from morons like these.

Maybe as mask-wearing becomes a part of our lives – until they find a vaccine that all of us can take – people will become a little more aware of how best to use masks. And at the very least, they will stop touching the outside of their masks every few minutes to adjust it. I get particularly concerned when I see TV reporters doing this, because they are in a situation where there is a clear and present danger of contracting Covid 19. “Stop doing that!” I find myself yelling at the TV, like a batty old lady who can’t tell that the people on the other side of the screen can’t hear her.

It’s not all bad news, though. Wearing a mask means that I no longer need to bother with lipstick – which is a relief because I don’t know when I can next replenish my stock. On the flip side, my use of eyeliner and mascara – which I hardly ever used – has gone up exponentially!

So, while the eyes may not be a window to the soul, they are certainly proving to be key to my appearance. And even if you can’t tell, I am smiling with them as well.