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KATHMANDU, JANUARY 18
I will never give up on a mask, life-saving or not. I had been wearing one for ages before it became a medical trope, a necessity, to keep the COVID-19 virus at bay. I've had only two jabs to date and no booster yet.
For me, no amount of jabs and booster shots would wean me away from my mask.
There is an ongoing backlash against masks at certain quarters, prominently in the Western world. Also, we read news of fine for not wearing masks in the public arenas in some countries. The government of the Federal Democratic Republic of Nepal does not give two hoots and leaves it to the people to do as they please.
But, someone posted a challenging question on FB: do governments think a piece of cloth would stop what two jabs and a booster could not? The bottom line is we must make sure that we do not transmit the virus to others. I am more convinced about the invincibility of the humble mask against the dreaded virus whose latest variant, Omicron, has reportedly infected those who have had their two mandatory jabs.
Long before I watched Jim Carey's blockbuster movie, The Mask, that catapulted him into stratospheric stardom, I was wearing a mask. My mother used to recount the bedtime stories of the supernatural power of the face shield of Goddess Mahakali's in Bhaktapur. She would tell us that the person who wears the mask for ritualistic religious dances instantly gains divine prowess.
However, neither Jim Carey nor Goddess Mahakali's masks influenced me to wear one. My first trip to Japan imbued my love for the nose and mouth cover. I was thankful I had something to cover up my face without holding it. Those who hold a folded piece of cloth to the nose and mouth for an extended period will vouch how tiring the exercise is, tying up one hand to the task permanently.
Sick of omnipotent dust in Raxaul, where my family spent some time, I started covering up my nose with a folded handkerchief. In the paradise valley, I had to repeat the feat to mitigate the overpowering smell of the eternal stink. As I became wiser, I folded the handkerchief into a triangle and tied up the two ends on my nape. However, I could not walk like this into my workplace. My bosses would taunt me. Sadly, the workplace did not smell pleasant either. I knew I looked like a bandit, but my sensitive olfactory could not bear the smell of the putrid odours.
The best antidote was my premium shaving lotion. I would pick up boxes of white masks with inner filters whenever I travelled to Japan. With the Kathmandu Valley earning accolades as one of the top ten polluted places on earth, I know I have to sew the mask to my face irrespective of the virus.
A version of this article appears in the print on January 19, 2022, of The Himalayan Times.
