Conversations

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22/01/2019 by Siddiqui Fayesal

I hate conversations;
If I’m expected
To be an active
Participant.

Conversations in
Elevators.
Especially elevators.

Enclosed within
The confines, the
Claustrophobia,
The weak smiles,
The soft salaams,
The awkwardness.

I fake phone calls
If I reach the
Elevator and see
Someone else
Waiting for it.

I have even learnt
By rote, the number
And the length of pauses
To make it seem
Genuine.

Not only strangers;
I do that with family
Too, at times.

Once, I sneaked
Away from a grocer
Seeing my uncle a yard
Away.

Hell, I’ve even escaped
A Salaam
To my father, when I saw
Him walk by me.

Imagine that?!

I hate conversations.

In the Movie hall’s
Queue, in the check-out
Line at stores.

My escape?

A phone call or a
Sudden interest in
A product’s 
Fine print.

I make sure to toggle
The flight-mode on.

I’m careful.

I’m a schemer, you see.
Not very intelligent,
but sharp as a 
Tack, if I have
To be.

I hate conversations.

But, at times, I talk
A lot,
To hide my fear,
My insecurities and
My bumbling.

A phone call can’t
Help always.
Especially, a fake one.

So I talk
Nonstop.

I interrupt others,
Preventing them from
Getting a word out,
But, mind you, I’m
Suave and funny.

Self-deprecating funny,
But what the hell!

At times like these,
I have entire
Conversations by
Myself.

But, mostly you can’t
Get me bothered enough.

I usually have a 
Phone call waiting
To happen,
If it does!

-Siddiqui F.
(26.10.2018)

NB: At Home.

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