I told you I'm a dreamer and then I dropped hints again and again here and there. Repeatedly. Yet, all you can talk about is people People who wronged you or didn't. People in politics, business and bureaucracy basking away in second-had success and delving into second-had failures You talk about boundaries when my head is limitless I suggest you hammer nails around my head and build a fence and see if that might conform me into what you want me to become. Don't tell me about work that is uninspired and safe like docu-men-tation and how you do it for 60 hours a week. It tires me. It tires me how You talk about money Like it can buy culture or class. It tires me when you recite what you hear on one idiot box and scan on another- never pausing to read between the lines Yet, I envy you. I envy you for your depth as well as outwardness towards things, yes, things that I feel nothing towards and your stoicism towards subjects that keep me sane. I envy how effortlessly you stay afloat while I am suffering and struggling I wonder where are your layers? or are you as one dimensional as what meets the eyes? I dont know what am I more afraid of. I dare you, for once- Tell me about your deepest, darkest secrets, fears and fantasies and watch me not flinch. I promise I will not look away I will not blink and hear me out just once - For I am here to find out if you can return the courtesy. Can you for once be real? and not what they are telling you to be. For once, can you tell me when was the last time you felt alive.
Tag: LOVE
🌻
A shadow engulfs
My heart
When i remember
The sunshine
My lover was
And like a little girl
Off i went
Running in the park
Mother said,
Come back, before it gets dark.
But I was gone too far.
I was helpless.
For one doesn’t
Escape the sunlight.
One can only surrender
And so I did,
I ceded.
Threw in the towel,
And lay down on it.
Soaking in the golden sun
With every inch of me
Drowsed by the fondness
Of the tempest heart,
Raging to be devoured.
I don’t know
how long
I lay there
I wish it were a lifetime
Because when I woke up
It was dark, and
Winter had arrived
And now,
the night doesn’t end.
Hope, a dear friend
Dear friend Hope had settled down in the corner of my mindspace like an unwelcome guest indisposed to leave. With utmost politeness, I tried to raise this subject several times over tea or during one of our late night dialogs until I couldn’t be polite anymore, ‘don’t you think it’s time for you to leave?’ I asked, almost agitated.
‘But didn’t we have such a lovely day yesterday? So much positivity!’ Hope answers like a child brimming with possibilities.
‘Look, not that I do not like having you around but this time I truly believe it’s a lost cause.’
Hope is quiet for a moment as if carefully choosing her words.
‘I will, I promise. Tomorrow.’ She replied in her placid voice and that was the end of our conversation.
Days turned into weeks and weeks into months but Hope was showing no inclination towards leaving. On the contrary, she regularly had a nice little get together with her other friends such as Delusion, Irrationality, Over-optimism and Fantasy.
‘Oh, come’on! Don’t you see their actions? How blind are you? It’s high time that you leave. Please.’ and that was when I first lost my temper.
‘Also, Acceptance wants to move in and he can’t until…you are OUT, you know.’
For once, Hope seemed to be embarrassed. ‘Of course, yes, I will,’ she muttered under her breath trying to get her bearings together, ‘I’ll start packing right away.’
Hope had such a pleasant face that it made me second guess myself every single time.
But, I was wrong. Three years passed, maybe four. At some point, I realised that Hope had no intention of leaving at all. Whenever we had a fight she would just disappear for a while and then return saying that the ‘situation’ has changed/progressed and she is, wait for it, ‘hopeful’. So I decided to throw her out of my limited but precious (head)space.
I try to drag Hope outside my head but she refuses to even budge. Unable to contain my anger, I end up punching Hope’s face. For a moment she doesn’t react but then she kicks my guts so hard that blood spills out from my mouth. I am furious now. I leap at hope and pin her against the floor. My hands are closing around her frail neck but she is rapidly moving her limbs trying to break free. In that moment, I know that I want Hope gone forever. I am crying because I haven’t killed many things before. Just some childish dreams here and there. Between my tears, I tell Hope, you must die. I can’t live with you. And then just few minutes later she stops moving. She’s dead. Hope is dead. Yes! I am exhausted at this point but also giddy with triumph. Look, I got you. Now I can live in peace with Acceptance.
Ah, how lovely. Acceptance indeed is lovely. Healing will join us any day now.
Only a few days have passed, as I lie with my eyes shut on my bed. Or maybe I was walking through the market or was it the office corridor. I was perhaps in the kitchen chopping a perfectly round tomato when I spotted something lingering. The ghost of a lost cause, my dear friend Hope. But at least, I lived in peace for a full week after all. That’s longer than ever.
Until one fine day, she never returns at all.
//“Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.” – Friedrich Nietzsche//
The Other Woman
I, have a confession to make The truth is I like being the other woman. Yes, The One Hated by all But revered by One I like the questioning eyes that follow me when I step out their gaze like a red carpet rolled out right in front of me to strut over. I like the judgement bestowed upon me from the moral high horse The scoff, in their tone. The smirk, on their lips. The surprise, in their innocent eyes. The freedom. Ah, the freedom! Maybe, I want you Maybe, I want you too. And why not? I like driving’em crazy. Feet on the accelerator, The car's gonna spin off. I like knowing We are headed to this Beautiful town called ‘no-where-land’ Where we make no promises hence, dispense no misery. But there’s adrenaline and ecstasy and love As selfless as promoted in the archetypal world. I like keeping secrets And also being one. I am the secret, I am the truth, I am the sin and The forbidden fruit. I like pulling the strings I like being worshipped And I like the taboo I am the taboo. I am the taboo, Yet you are drawn Like moth to a flame - Unable to retract what you started. Even if you wanted to. But don't take me Otherwise. After all, It was you who started with “Everything is fair In love and war” And when we meet In the folds of midnight, When the world drowns in darkness- It's a dance of both.
A new year?
I woke up this morning
And looked outside the window
To the same view
Constant for months now
10 months to be exact –
A quiet yellow house
jaded by rain and sun
With a rusted red door
And a black car
I think, a Wagonar
That disappears at 9
and reappears at 7,
Sharp.
Dutifully parked across the
asphalt abraded road.
But I know the house has
residents
As they sun dry their clothes
In their verandah
On an aluminum stand
Near a banana tree
That refuses to grow any taller.
But they say
A year has gone by.
A year, is it?
True it must be
As it was this cold,
A long time back
When we wore 2 pairs of socks
And sweaters and pants.
Also, some people have
Made their presence scarce.
But alas, sooner the better.
Yes, a year must have gone by
For I don’t remember much from
That life.
The one before the virus.
Yes, the virus
That succeeded in breaking
My body but
Not my spirit
As I came back
Even stronger than before;
Ready to take on
Whatever comes next
And so did many others
For there is no other way to go on
Than to go on fearlessly.
Outside, the winter air
Hangs heavy with silence
Of those who mourned the past
10 months
From the loss of lives and livelihood.
Their heads
Scarred yet unbowed.
But apart from that
Everything is pretty much
Constant
yet they say,
A year has gone by.
I don’t believe them.
Walls
The walls were
pretty high
when you first started knocking.
No, I wasn’t behind the walls.
I was curled up
Under the bed, behind
the walls.
And you walked straight in
like you
owned the place.
You started talking
And looking around,
fiddling with my things
while i was still under the bed
I kept listening.
I can’t remember
at what point
did I decide to peak a boo-
Was it when you called me home?
Or was it when you told me about the time you decided to kill yourself?
Was it when you told me
you can’t sleep without me by your side
I can’t seem to recollect the exact moment
When i changed my mind
I wonder if it was when you told me if you hadn’t felt this way in a while
Or was it when you told me
that you had never felt this way before.
You said it
So many times
That i believed you
And slowly i crept out
From under the bed
And sat on it
Right where you were sitting.
And you put your
Arms around me
And told me
Your deepest darkest secrets
And i can’t remember when
But somewhere at some point
The walls came down
Oh, I cannot seem to remember
The exact moment when
I changed my mind about you.
but I know it doesn’t matter anymore
Because just when
I changed my mind
You changed yours too.
1 folly less
I know
our guise
changes
in time
forming
depressions, folds
and lines
sagging
underneath the weight of
Judgment
and dust
collected every minute
with the air we breathe
and on we go
changing and changing and changing
and transforming
But wouldn’t it be
so much better
I wonder
And I wonder –
Would
you still
look the way you do
If
your face resembled
your deeds
And
your thoughts.
If not all of them
even a few of them
And if
and your guise wasn’t really
a surmise of your genes.
and yet
There are
advocates and advisors
of law and equality?
When
It seems like
Even the nature did
Not intend
Transparency.
If only
you resembled
your deeds
I’d be
One
Folly less.
That first sip
That first sip of morning coffee
The music that trickles down my ears to my soul
The mirths of laughter
that make my body come alive from merely existing
That book on the bookshelf
The warmth of happiness
that spreads across my chest
like sun
on a winter morning
when my dog runs in circles
chasing his tail
just as I do
time to time
A call from a friend
lost in the race against time
A poem
transforming a lonely night into
a gathering so magical
that now I don’t want to shut my eyes
Watch my mother
adjust her bindi
in the mirror and
tuck that loose strand of hair
behind her ear
because she knows it’s time
and dad’s about to come home
A gesture of kindness
from the one I thought needed saving
A gesture of love
I thought had no feelings
Make me wanna keep coming back
From the precipice
to witness the colours of life
and to laugh
with him, with her, with them
laugh so much that
now I want to cry
Because once I believed
very firmly
I’d never laugh
this much.
again,
or ever.
What else could I ask for?
What else is there to live for?
…
I should have known
I should have known that the world has become a shallow place,
a little vain
But the values from antecessors
Remain.
To give us a reminder of
What we’ve lost
And what we’ve gained.
It’s a confusing
time to be alive
To be forever torn
To be a semi-fit
Rather, an ill-fit
To have a grounded body
But a fluttering soul
Like a bird about
to take off
And off I would have gone
If I could
But only that
I cannot be everywhere.
do everything
not possibly.
There’s a limitation
There’s a price to pay
For one to be born as
Nature’s proudest experiment
To be its finest creation.
or a cosmic joke
Equipped and armed for
any adversity
But,
Only on the outside.
There’s a universe
Vast on the inside
That cannot be
Fathomed
Can never be fully explored but
Only survived.
The Price of Freedom – A Short Story
Inspired by real events
August 19, 2019, 9:20PM
Aditi
Tonight is going to be a long night. I look at the clock and I know it’s showtime. My father laying still in front of me. Ah, what a sight! His chest heaving up and down to the rhythm of his torpid breaths. I almost want to paint this tranquility. I want to capture this serenity, this moment. The tables have turned. Today, I am in control. Today, I am spoiled by choice. I could talk to my boyfriend, I could be out till late at night, and I could watch a movie. I could do any goddamn thing under the sun. Today, I am a bird and I will spread my wings. I think I want to dance.
Overwhelmed by choice, I decide to play some Frank Sinatra. Music calms my nerves. It’s time to examine the subject. I go near my father and slap him just to ensure that the sedatives have kicked in. He doesn’t move. Impulsively, I slap him again. This one’s for taking away my phone. Then another, for throwing away my skirts. I am enjoying this now. One more, for forbidding me to fall in love and for hitting me. One, for being alive instead of my mother. And last one, for taking away my freedom. His cheeks have flushed red at this point but he doesn’t move. I know he won’t move for a while.
The first time I wished to be away from my father was when I had to go through a whole year without buying a single new piece of cloth because I hadn’t scored all ‘A’s in my third standard. When my grades didn’t improve, the cable connection was cut off next year and this feeling of wanting to be away from him intensified. I felt like a dog on a short lease. I was only rewarded when I performed. Worse, I felt like a circus animal. A performing animal. But I really wanted him to be dead when he almost beat me to death for falling in love. There is this boy with who I want to spend my life, make babies and my father almost kills me for that. I remember laying in a pool of blood. My blood. I felt molested as there was no part of my body, his belt hadn’t touched. The scars were all over my body. My flawless face wasn’t so flawless anymore. My reflection almost irked me. He not only took away my beauty, but also a part of my life. Today, it’s my turn.
August 20, 2019, 5:59 AM
Dad
The rain is relentless. I hear it thrumming on the metal roof and running down the broken pipe into the mud, and I moisten my cracked lips with my tongue. I wonder if they’ll bring me food and water. I wonder if they’re coming at all. The last thing I remember was going to bed and the next thing I know I am here, waking up from a hazy cloud of numbness. I am wearing the same clothes that I had worn to bed last night, my white kurta pajama which are now mildly soiled as if I have been dragged through my bedroom to the living room to the porch and further down my garden until here. I feel paralysed with my limbs tied and my mouth taped shut. My mouth feels as parched as it gets on the morning after a continuum of inebriation. My head weighs like a hundred kilos. I realize I may have been drugged.
I could hear the thunder ripping the sky outside. It seems even the Gods are furious. It hasn’t rained like this in New Delhi during the past six years.
I am almost certain that this must be a case of robbery as I do not have any enemies that I know of. I suddenly remembered my daughter and wondered where she was. A current jolts through me and I become fully alert. I realized that she was not here so she must be inside the house. Has she also been left to die somewhere like me? But goons don’t just tie up little girls. She could be raped. She could have been gang raped and then killed. No. No. No. No. No. Dear God, may they not touch her. Dear God, may Aditi be safe.I tried to call out her name but I cannot. There were just stifled cries.
Almost 10 feet away from me, is our backup LPG cylinder that we keep here, as it is safer to keep it outside the house. Next to it stands an antique wooden cupboard that contains a whole arsenal of weapons: a tool box with a hammer, pliers, handsaw, screwdrivers, and knives amongst other things that would have helped me untie myself right now, if only I could reach them. I know this because I assembled this kit myself over a span of 14 years that I have lived in this house and today, I have been held captive in my own garage. I have been tied to a hinge that I planted myself almost ten years back. I helplessly looked around. I observe that there are two sets of muddy shoe prints all over the floor. One must be around size 10 and another it’s half. Probably a male and female.
I must have been dreaming because I see the door storm open and Aditi walks in. She glides in like an angel in her spotless white school uniform. I almost jumped with happiness to see that she’s alright and unharmed. Hot tears once again streaming down my cheeks. It’s over.
August 20, 2019, 3:00 AM
Aditi
You know you are soul mates when even your thoughts are in sync. I remember seeing Praveen almost three weeks after the incident. My whole body melted when we embraced. With my best friend’s help, we managed to meet after school at her place. I wept that day in his arms. His strong protective arms almost felt like a warm blanket. He stroked my hair and softly kissed my scars. He told me everything will be alright. “Nothing will be alright till that man is alive…” I said somewhere between my cries. “Then let’s get him out of our way,” he said. I looked at his face to fully understand what he was saying or to search for any traces of humour but there were none. I knew he was suffering too. Praveen and I are not just any high school sweethearts but we have actually battled hardships together. We are endgame. He was the only person by my side when my mother succumbed to her illness and father drowned himself in alcohol without a care in the world. I knew Praveen truly cared for me. We hadn’t been with anyone but each other in past three years. In my heart, I knew I couldn’t live without him. No one else matters. In life, I know you are either a hunter or the hunted. I choose not to be hunted. I choose life.
I have to admit that this was the day when the seed was planted. This was almost two months back. But when last week, he found out my secret phone inside the pillowcase, he not only smashed it against the wall, but also declared that I will be sent off to an all-girls boarding school, almost 5000 miles from Delhi. That was the exact moment when I decided to kill my father and I am not sorry about it. Only I have the decision to choose my own life. No one else can choose for me. Not even “my father”. With Praveen by side, I knew I could do this. Nothing is invincible.
I thought about this decision for days. My decision only became stronger when I realized how much there was to gain from it. After all, one cannot put a price on freedom. I may not have been a class topper, to my father’s plight but this time, I had done my homework. I had watched at least a hundred documentaries and read at least a dozen books on the subject. I am almost excited for my future for the first time in years. I know I will get away with this. I had called Praveen from a friend’s phone and asked him to be here tonight. He should be here any moment now. Outside, the rain hasn’t stopped pouring for hours. It looks like God’s on our side. Amen.
August 20, 2019, 6:15 AM
Dad
I see that Aditi has carefully locked the door behind her. Her angelic face looks eerily calm and composed. I felt a pang of guilt for treating her the way I had been for the past few years but children tend to be lost and they need to be guided. Her grandfather wasn’t the one to spare a stick and that made me what I am today. I am thankful to my father and I know in my heart, one day she will thank me too.
“So you are up, huh? Sooner than we expected.” she says as she looks at me without blinking. “The pills were supposed to knock you out for at least 15 hours.” She continues speaking as if it’s business as usual. She crinkles her nose as she comes closer. “Did you piss your pants, Dad? Ewww!”
I realize the questions were rhetoric. My mind’s running haywire now. Why hasn’t she untied me yet?
“Praveen will be here soon. He’s probably late because of the rain.” She announces. For the first time, it begins to dawn on me that perhaps it is not a case of robbery and maybe, I have been held captive by my own 15 year old daughter. “This must be a joke.” I thought.
“What now? Why do you look so shocked? Don’t act like you didn’t see this coming.” she says as if reading my thoughts. Her voice laced with childlike rebellion. “Did you really think that you could get away with trying to sabotage my freedom? Not-going to-happen. Dad. ”
There have been a lot of times in the past 41 years when life hasn’t made any sense to me such as when the only woman I ever loved died a slow, painful death right in front of my eyes and there was nothing under the sun I could do to save her but this moment definitely takes away the prize. I hadn’t felt more futile in my whole life. After each chemotherapy, I could see my wife withering away until there was nothing left of her. I knew that life would never be the same. And now, it seemed like my own daughter, the only thing left from my wife, had trapped me in my own house and is on some kind of childish mission to teach-me-a-lesson.
It wasn’t long before I heard another knock on the door. Aditi unlatches the door and strides in the boy whose face is etched in my memory. He too is in his school uniform which is drenched from the pouring rain outside. He’s the boy who took away my little girl. The animal in me awakens, I want to tear him apart. He’s the boy who’s fucking my daughter. Period. There’s no other way to put that.
I still remember the night I first saw this scumbag. I had come back home after a hard day at the shop around 10:30PM. As I parked my car outside, I could hear the music coming from my house. This was unusual. Aditi usually slept around this time and almost never had any friends over. As I walked inside my home, the music got louder. I realized that it was coming from Aditi’s room. I opened the gate at once and there he was, merrymaking with my daughter. The room was filled with cigarette and Aditi was smoking one herself. The room was lit by fairy lights. She was draped in only a bed sheet. It seemed like a scene from a movie. I did what any father would. I grabbed the little bastard by his neck and kicked that piece of shit out of my house, naked in the middle of the night. No warnings were left to be spoken. The message was clear. I wondered for how long all this had been going on, under my own nose. In my own house. I wondered if the maids and the neighbors knew before me.
My daughter, as beautiful as she is, like her mother, walks up to me and rips off the tape from my mouth. That hurt but I didn’t make a sound. I realized I was choked.
“What’s with the tears now, Dad? Do you really expect me to buy all this drama especially when you never gave a shit about my feelings? Huh?”
“Are you going to kill me now?” I asked, sarcastically. She wouldn’t, I knew. We were blood after all. But I felt like I had to ask.
August 20, 2019, 6:47 AM
Aditi
Praveen was finally here and he had brought everything that we would need today. I looked at my father who was looking at me intently. His face was almost unreadable. I didn’t like that. I wanted him to be scared. Like I had been of him all these years.
“What’s in there?” Dad asks looking at the container.
“Just petrol.”
“What the hell are you thinking? Release me right now, you dumb goat!!” He yells, just as he always does. Yelling is his first reaction to everyone and everything.
“How does it feel to be tied up, father? To feel that your life is in someone else’s hands.” I asked playfully. I could finally afford to be playful after all.
“You have gone mad. Release me right now!” He commanded again.
“Why did you had to be so strict, Dad? Why couldn’t you just let me be? Let us be?” I wanted to know. “He is just using you, you dumb girl. Boys use girls like you and then they leave when they find another one. You think I don’t know anything? I had lived in a boy’s hostel for 8 years. I know how young fuckers think. Your naivety almost terrifies me.”
“You terrify me!” I yelled back but realized now is not the time to lose my cool. “It’s too bad, these will be your last words.” I told him.
“Open the fucking knot…” He almost pleaded. His voice almost begging. I looked at him and for a moment, it all seemed too unreal. He didn’t seem like a man who could hit anyone, let alone his own daughter. He looked so sweet. So vulnerable. I wondered if I was doing the right thing. But it’s not like I had a choice. If he lives, I suffer. I become the hunted.
“Don’t look at me like that, Dad. This story is real. Maybe, a bit too real. No one is going to come in to rescue you. It will be short and simple. You will die and I will get my life back. It’s really that simple.” I told him calmly. I did not want to be angry at him in his last moments.
“Wouldn’t you wish me Happy Independence Day, Dad?” I asked, as I lit a cigarette.
August 20, 2019, 14:59 IST. Times News Network.
Delhi: Businessman killed after fire breaks out at residence in West Delhi
A 41 year old businessman was killed after a fire broke out in his garage at his West Delhi residence on Tuesday morning. The victim lived with his daughter in the house. As reported by his daughter, the victim had gone to fix the garage door early morning when the fire broke out due to a faulty cylinder, supposedly after he lit a cigarette.
“The fire department received information at around 7:30am regarding the fire. We rushed to the spot with two fire tenders. The fire was doused before it could spread to the rest of the house,” said a senior Delhi Fire Services officer. The victim was a widower and is survived by his 15 year old daughter.
29/9/19.
PC: Unspalsh. elijah-hiett-ISUqlGMU7o0-unsplash. ❤
Why Me?
I don’t go to a temple often
Neither do I go to a
A mosque or
A church
or anywhere else
Get the drift, right?
But yesterday I went
To a temple
Not too far
But the one in my home;
It was awkward
I have to say
The face off
With Him
Like meeting an
Old lover.
So I cut straight to the chase
And asked –
Why me?
I stood still and
Waited for an answer
Minutes passed
But nothing happened
No one spoke
None of the statues moved
But a tear did trickle down
My cheek
And I collapsed
On my knees.
Ok. I am on my knees.
Now, tell me.
Answer me.
Why me?
First, I howled
Then I pleaded
In a mumble
That barely escaped my throat
I submitted in a barely audible Why me?
I waited for a sign.
The hibiscus or the marigold
To fall on my feet
Or a cosmic intervention. Anything.
For I am stranded
in a vast
pitch-dark-room.
But, nothing happens.
So, I wanted to unhinge the temple,
slam it on the floor.
Watch Their smiling faces shatter
Into tiny little pieces
Perhaps then they will talk.
But they were quiet
As a stone could be.
And I collapsed further
My warm cheek pressed
against the cold floor
I need an answer.
See. You got me.
You got me on my all fours
for never bowing
before You the
Omnipotent
Omnipresent.
Now
Tell me-
Why me?
I did everything by the book.
I followed protocol.
I need an answer.
A reason to go on.
I laid there for a while
Made myself
Comfortable.
Maybe His holy Highness
Is busy
I laid there for
I don’t know how long
Like a wounded animal
Only wanting to be relieved of
her misery.
Wondering why people
Are so scared of death after all.
As I studied the scratches on my floor
I realised
Perhaps
The silence is the answer.
The quietude
The still flowers
The motionless figurines
Because you see
I had never raised
this question earlier
Never had I wondered Why me?
When self absorbed
I had strutted around
Like an
Entitled
Little
Snob.
Ashes
I walk through ashes Left behind From the fire that consumed my dreams. The ones I concocted As a little girl Sprawled on the grass Under a tree beneath the sky Of chocolate houses And unicorns Swaying with the swings thinking- monsters are four legged And fairies have wings. The dreams Uninhibited Vast Lark, Open. Quite a fire it was Ignited by a spark Of doubt. I walk through ashes That fly From the fire that emblazoned my reveries The ones I concocted Sitting in the classrooms Bedrooms, parks and places Comprehending the quagmires of the system And their measures of artistry Knowledge Decorum and Duties Via books and lengthy monologues Telling me about the foundations And a way of life. Quite a furnace it was Ignited by incongruity Of the preacher that practiced Hypocrisy and atrocities. I walk through ashes Left behind From the fire Which consumed my dreams From when I was younger And walked with a Cloak of invincibility That years Will bring clarity Less, if not much Half, if not full And a Change shall commence Sooner or later For They must see their oversight, their error. The dreams of walking alone For those who seek love are weak and imbecile And friendships don’t fray Just as flowers don’t wither, That honesty must win hard work must pay. Radiant it was The pyre of My visions and dreams Or lies force fed to me In legacy. And then the world tells me They think I have changed In ways they don’t recognize Of course! Of course, They do not recognize The immolation, the devouring Of my dreams, in the fire That raged within me An inferno in my core That singed my soul Time after time They tell me I am not the same But they do see a Flicker of light in my eyes And a fleck of ember When i speak at times. Caught off guard I don’t know what to say. I lean forward Closer to their ear Unsure how else to cover I clear my throat And I tell them- Likewise.