Mask that Smile

You know what I hate most about Covid-19? The fact that no one’s smiling any more. Worse, I can’t return the rare smile that still flashes at me. Don’t growl. I know there are worse things to chew your nails over, not least being how we’ve proved quite definitively that we are not God’s finest hour.

But those smiles – I miss them. When we moved to the UK, we lived some years in London. Having lived a life in Delhi, I knew the rhythm. You wouldn’t meet a stranger’s eye without tightening your hold on your handbag.

Then we came to Swansea. In this fabulously beautiful corner of Wales, the people were, well, Welsh. Very. The first time I took a bus in Swansea, the entire bus smiled broadly at me. Fresh from London, I was panic-stricken. What was wrong? Then the man I sat next to looked affectionately at me, ‘Awwright, luvv?’ And there were no other empty seats!

When I got off the bus, the first thing I did was duck into a café and examine my face. Two eyes, one nose, lips, hair that looked like it belonged to someone else – all present.

Over the years, I’ve got used to the random ‘Awwright luvv?s’ Complete strangers waving at me from cafes. Whole conversations struck up in a queue for coffee. Lovely, warm, like a snug duvet when the wind is raging 70 mph outside. All I had to do to feel loved was go for a walk.

So, you see? Seeing as the number of people I know in Swansea can be counted on my fingertips, okay, throw in a couple of toes as well… And that access to them is heavily restricted these days… All I had left were these random encounters with strangers. But people steer clear of me now when I’m out for a walk, and I steer clear of them too. Many people are wearing masks, I am too.

The occasional person does still smile at me. I smile back and they hasten away in response. It puzzled me till I realised that when your nose and lips are covered, and only your eyes are scrunching up, it’s difficult to tell whether you’re smiling or glaring.

Shall I begin waving? I wonder.