As a child, one thing I would insist on having, was buying a mask from the fairs held during various festive times. Well, everyone would agree here, that the multi-coloured, multi-shaped, multi-character masks were an attractive item, all would want as a child.
As I grew, the magical mystery of masks started falling upon myself, as a shadow inherent to my being. Wearing an invisible mask at various moments, through time, became a part of my character.
With age, I came across the varied masked people existing in the society. Not the Donald Ducks, Mickey Mouse, Clowns, Ghosts, Tigers, Monkeys etc - no, not the physical existence of the mask - but the invincible masks worn by each and every individual walking on the path of life.
During many such moments in my life, I came across the variety of masks women in our society wear. The masks I wear. It was just not about putting up a happy face when I was sad, it was much more deeper than it actually seemed to be. Being responsible for who I am not and for who I am - is a tussle that exists deep within myself and always will till the last day of my life.
It is a continuous walk down an unkown, untreated road - a mysterious journey where I am mostly acting on my impulse, presence of mind or emotions. The mask, has grown to become a part of my being and existence, unseen, veiled, hiding my soul, deeply tucked away in a world of its own. It has made me smile when I am not happy, be brave when I am falling apart, be a role model for my friends – cry or laugh with them, romance with my boyfriend, play the role of a devoting wife - committed and honest, a perfect daughter in law taking care of my in-laws, performing household activities, being responsible for the well-being of my parents - always having to be perfect in everything I do.
Mostly, it's not that I never wanted to run away from being what I am, but while playing these various roles through various phases of my life, to each it's own, I have often had to be someone I never was, and in that process, my real self, like an old rusted dusty element, lay un-cared for, unattended and deprived.
I am sure, each and every person reading this, will agree to the fact that they wear a mask over their souls, their existence in each and every moment or phase of their life. The mask is just like a second soul. One cannot do without it, and at the same time, cannot reveal that they are actually wearing one. The childhood memories of the mask, takes an absolute new dimension, turn over a new leaf, as we grow and finally when we reach adulthood.
Many people may say, just like I often do, I am myself. But the naked truth is I am myself wearing a mask. But there has to be exceptions. A few places, a few relationships does not need to be masked. Imagine me wearing a physical colourful mask at this point of time, walking out on the streets.
But the invisible mask that I wear for most part of the day, does not include the fun of childhood, I guess.
