Masks and masquerades

It was long ago, when we, the students of St Bede’s College, Shimla, were called upon to organise a social event and help raise funds for a charitable cause. Several ideas came up at our college meeting, and the one that struck us all was to have a ‘masquerade’ event. We managed to book the iconic Gaiety Theatre, and the palpable frenzy had enticed a huge crowd. We, too, were as excited as a child at Christmas, scouting around for elaborate masks for our event.

The theme resonated with the ‘masquerade balls’ that were very popular in the European countries, way back in the 15th century. Fancy masks were part of special costumes at the wedding celebrations of Charles VI of France. They were also used in a game of ‘guess the guests’ at grand carnivals, as the guests were supposed to hide their identity behind masks.

Masks were nothing new to our existence. History documented several instances where masks became imperative in daily lives. They had been thought of as a safety measure in the 14th century, when plague afflicted Europe. In fact, Edgar Allan Poe made a significant reference to them in his tale called, ‘The Masque of the Red Death’. Prince Prospero had organised a masked ball in his luxurious abbey and invited one thousand nobles to hide away from the disease.

The trend continued. Even superheroes like Superman, Batman, Spiderman, and our very own Krrish, had elegantly donned the little accessory. The masks had certainly added zing to their style.

Last year, everything changed. We witnessed an unglamorous version of the mask. The pandemic forced us to mask up most of the time and that made us weary. Fighting the disease was tough, but I realised that keeping the mask on was tougher. While we were better at masking our feelings and thoughts, we could not mask our resentment against this little piece of cloth. Call it bravado or Covid fatigue, we had unwittingly thrown all caution to the wind. The second wave of Covid has once again signalled strict precautions. I was disappointed at the turn of events, and almost felt as if I was being sent back to the cell, after being out on parole.

I poured my anguish to a doctor friend and what she said changed my entire perspective. What was easier, to lose your sense of smell, and wonder how nice it was to have it, or simply wearing a mask and have all the pleasure? Would you rather forget the taste of things and swallow them per force, or simply sanitise your hands instead? Would you prefer seeing your loved one in excruciating pain and fighting for breath or simply keep a distance and keep everyone safe? The price we ended up paying for avoiding a little discomfort was humongous. I had made my choice.