Duck Mask or Gazelle Mask?
On a rainy day in classic Glasgow, years ago, I met my friend Qais in one of the cafes there. To my surprise, I found him veiled in an orange shemagh and wearing a gazelle mask, unlike his usual self. To understand what happened, come with me to the next scene.
One day, Qais stepped out of his gleaming car, in a hurry to find the nearest restroom after spending his long day drinking copious amounts of Turkish coffee while working on his anticipated philosophical novel. He walked around searching for a restroom on an unpaved road until he reached a building with a wooden door adorned with a taxidermied gazelle head. As soon as he opened the door, he was greeted by a raucous party, with colorful lights shaped like stars and hearts. Qais surveyed the crowd of people wearing dubious animal masks, some embellished with pointed crystals, and dressed in attire that was barely transparent. He asked one of the attendees if there was a restroom in the building, but the man, overwhelmed by the noise and hysterical laughter filling the place, failed to understand him. Qais kept asking, raising his voice to locate the restroom to relieve himself. As his voice grew louder, one of the guests mistook Qais for singing along to the same song they were dancing to. They placed Qais in the center of the hall, surrounding him in a closed circle, celebrating their new guest. Some threw a dog collar at him, others handed him a lion doll and tried to dance with him. A few attempted to understand what he was saying and shouting, but their efforts were in vain. They continued dancing, ignoring Qais and his pleas, as he only wanted to find a toilet and leave the building.
After a third of an hour, Qais was sweating profusely and struggling to hold back. In mere seconds, his strength failed him, and he could no longer control himself. His elegant Italian suit, complete with a burgundy tie, became soiled, and our friend Qais, having failed to reach the restroom, collapsed unconscious.
Hours later, Qais found himself in different clothes, transparent and resembling a "women's bra." As he was trying to comprehend what had happened, someone knocked on the door and asked, "Are you leaving the party? Do you want a duck mask or a gazelle mask?" Qais replied, "Give me the gazelle mask, and I want a Latin song so I can join in!"
What I described in the preceding lines is merely a story that reflects the absurdity of the raucous social party we are living in, filled with triviality, the pursuit of artificial fame, and competition rooted in crude human selfishness. When the cultural elite and writers relinquish their role, transforming from thinkers into "fashionistas" or "TikTokers" (with all due respect to them), and cede the stage to the brain-dead, the headline will inevitably be "Party." When Qais entered, pleading for the bathroom, no one heard him. How could they possibly listen if he had tried to explain his philosophical ideas and awaken them from that noisy celebration?
The transparent clothes symbolize the nakedness of thought devoid of culture, and the rise of ignorance. The masks represent each person's attempt to live contrary to their true self and level, pleasing fake standards of success and an idealistic, deceptive lifestyle created by globalization through social media. The noise was the sound of those who dominated the system of triviality via screens, drowning out the voices of reason, science, and literature. Qais’s mask was nothing but the intellectuals' surrender to the tsunami of triviality that dominated the scene, reducing cultural activity to an annual book fair or an old newspaper clipping about ruins. Qais’s identity was erased, and he became a masquerader to please the party guests, without resistance.
