My son has been searching for face masks in the city for some time now, but with little luck. It seems the panicking crowds in Delhi have ended up hoarding them, which is hardly unusual, though as yet there is little evidence of their wearing them in public places, so it’s pointless as well — but then that’s the way the city is: Someone we know buys a new car to tank up every time there is a rumour of an increase in petrol prices, as a result of which he now has more cars than he can boast of common sense.
Still, I was cheered by my son’s sense of public spiritedness in wanting to keep the swine flu disease in check till I overheard him tell his mother why he thought face masks should be made mandatory for all young people about town. Ever since the traffic police started checking late-night pub-goers exiting bars and lounges, by asking them to pull over and exhale in their face — there aren’t enough breathanalysers in the city — enforced prohibition has grounded the designated driver, making their evenings less than fun.
“But what do face masks have to do with that?” asked my bewildered wife. “I can explain,” I said, for I had seen through my son’s clever ploy. “When leaving the pub, he and his friends will put on their face masks, so the policemen will probably let them go, thinking they’ve got the flu.” “It’s true,” laughed my son, “but if they still want to check us, all we have to say is that we do have the flu, and they’ll probably have to let us go.” “And if they still persist,” said his friend, clearly someone who had been egging him on, “we’ll tell the policemen our masks are a preventive device, and before we remove them in their company, they have to show us medical certificates declaring them free of flu — after all, we are in our rights to ensure that we don’t pick up the virus from reasons of negligence.”
This wasn’t their only plan though. With colleges set to re-open in the flu-epidemic infested city of Pune, wearing face masks was a way of ducking questions in class to which they might not have the answers — the result of spending their evenings pubbing instead of studying, where, clearly, the mask would serve its intended purpose in other ways. I couldn’t help marvel at their ingenuity, when my son said, “Dad, think of how it could be useful to you.” I could think of no purpose a mask might serve till my son reminded me that it could be used to talk unintelligible gibberish behind a mask at office meetings, when appearing intelligent was no longer an option.
I could see that the mask had its attractions, not least when my wife wanted to know when I’d take the time out to reorganise the kitchen, or remodel the bathrooms — both pending for some time now — though even my son said he couldn’t see how I might put it to use to pend off speaking to my mother-in-law long-distance over the phone. But spotting his mother re-entering the room, with a man-to-man wink at me, he said to her, “Mom, you really should start wearing the mask even at home — we wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
After she’d gone out of the room, and I’d thanked him for attempting to muzzle his mother’s unceasing chatter, I asked him why he was suddenly so taken with my plight. “My heart goes out to you, Dad,” he nodded, “because I’m still trying to figure out a way to get my girlfriend to wear a mask, 24x7.”
