<p>Recently parks have opened up once again in all cities. People who have been confined to their homes have re-started their routine walks, and are enjoying the lush green foliage and the fresh breeze. The only difference is that most of them are wearing masks and cannot see who they are crossing on their walking path.</p>.<p>This has led to a new game of ‘mask charades’ -- a method of communication between masked morning walkers. If the person crossing looks like the old uncle you have not seen for a long time, you bow a bit and do a half-hearted dive for the feet, without interrupting the stride of the walk.</p>.<p>This translates to mean “due respect Dadaji !” On the other hand, if it’s a young friend who you were used to meeting every evening for coffee, the signal is a quick thumbs up. Done with sufficient energy, it communicates the hopeful “Aal izz well” to your friend. </p>.<p>Older aunties shuffling along in over-tight salwar suits, shrug their shoulders and raise their eyes heavenwards while sighing dramatically to tell their friends “God knows when this blessed virus will let us have a kitty party again!” Lovers meeting on a park bench, maintain a safe distance and flutter their eyelashes at each other surreptitiously, hoping that vigilant aunty will not catch the undercurrents of romance being rekindled.</p>.<p>Some friends meeting after ages, flap their elbows outwards to indicate weight gain. Yet others touch their index fingers to thumb to communicate the universal “looking good” sign. A brief wave of the hand or a crinkling of the eyes is sometimes the code to indicate recognition and a hello. One friendly neighbour who used to flash a toothy smile every round of the walk as he crossed me in the park, now touches his palm to his heart in a gesture of social solidarity. The smiles, the grimaces, the sulks, the words are all hidden – and we have evolved into a new means of communication. </p>
<p>Recently parks have opened up once again in all cities. People who have been confined to their homes have re-started their routine walks, and are enjoying the lush green foliage and the fresh breeze. The only difference is that most of them are wearing masks and cannot see who they are crossing on their walking path.</p>.<p>This has led to a new game of ‘mask charades’ -- a method of communication between masked morning walkers. If the person crossing looks like the old uncle you have not seen for a long time, you bow a bit and do a half-hearted dive for the feet, without interrupting the stride of the walk.</p>.<p>This translates to mean “due respect Dadaji !” On the other hand, if it’s a young friend who you were used to meeting every evening for coffee, the signal is a quick thumbs up. Done with sufficient energy, it communicates the hopeful “Aal izz well” to your friend. </p>.<p>Older aunties shuffling along in over-tight salwar suits, shrug their shoulders and raise their eyes heavenwards while sighing dramatically to tell their friends “God knows when this blessed virus will let us have a kitty party again!” Lovers meeting on a park bench, maintain a safe distance and flutter their eyelashes at each other surreptitiously, hoping that vigilant aunty will not catch the undercurrents of romance being rekindled.</p>.<p>Some friends meeting after ages, flap their elbows outwards to indicate weight gain. Yet others touch their index fingers to thumb to communicate the universal “looking good” sign. A brief wave of the hand or a crinkling of the eyes is sometimes the code to indicate recognition and a hello. One friendly neighbour who used to flash a toothy smile every round of the walk as he crossed me in the park, now touches his palm to his heart in a gesture of social solidarity. The smiles, the grimaces, the sulks, the words are all hidden – and we have evolved into a new means of communication. </p>