My Mask Is My Weapon

Once upon a time, there lived a girl named Pooja. She was fierce and adventurous in all the things she does. She loved going down the street, on her cycle, playing with her friends. But today she was low and moody. Standing by her window, she gazed out at the streets. The sun had just dawned in the sky but the streets were quiet. The stores were shuttered, sidewalks empty. Except for the muffled television, everything was quiet.

'What happened love? Why are you so sad?' asked Pooja's mother.

Pooja looked up at her mother. 'I don't like this mom? This new version of life where I am forced to stay indoors where we can't even go for a walk?' 

Being Sunday, by now, she, along with her parents would have gone to her favourite Tiffin centre and relished fluffy Idlis, her favourite south Indian breakfast. And then she would have gone on her cycle for a ride along with her friends. But, these days, pretty much everyone was locking themselves inside their homes, day and night and planting themselves in front of the TV or mobile which she hated most.

Pooja's mother brushed her hair softly. 'It's for our safety, my love. The deadly virus is keeping everyone from coming out.'

'What virus?'

'It's named Covid. Due to the outbreak of the pandemic, we are forced to stay indoors.'

Pooja thought over for a moment. 'Covid?' she murmured. 'I am going to smash that Covid under my foot for doing this to me and my friends.'

Pooja's mother couldn't help herself to chuckle. 'How could you smash something that is invisible to our eyes?'

'Invisible?'

'Yes, my love!'

Pooja's face fell. 'What do we do now then? Can't we do anything to kill it?'

'Of course, we can! Don't be disappointed. There are many other ways to smash the virus. Like wearing a mask whenever you step out of the house, washing your hands frequently, sanitizing them and maintaining social distance.'

Pooja took a long moment, pondering and absorbing her mom's words. 'Then the virus will be dead?'

'Yes, we can even root it out completely', her mom said.

'And then I can go out and play with my friends as earlier?'

'Yes, my love!'

A new ray of hope surged inside her heart. Pooja sanitized her hands as told and pulled a mask her mother stitched for her, wearing it around her face. She then hopped on her cycle, looking at her reflection in the mirror. It wasn't the mask she saw, but armour, a protective shield in a soldier's hand.

'My mask is my weapon!' she roared, punching her fist in the air and peddled the cycle like a horse, feeling like real Manikarnika, ready to smash the invisible virus!