Monday, April 23, 2012

Or So It Would Seem...

Picture Taken at Taj Mahal, Agra.

You said you would understand me. I knew you would. I was afraid of being understood. I was never the one to say Sorry. I was wary of being forgiven. I was not afraid of crying. But of drying up my lake of grief very soon. What if some greater tragedy strikes? Though it is hard to imagine a greater one than the one which has already struck, but fate surprises the most cynical of us. And in strange ways. I keep inventing them in my mind. What if I am branded heartless then? But it doesn't make any difference now. I have been called heartless before. See? You hide the truth. You die slowly. You say the truth. You die instantly.

Since, you are here, probably for the last time, why don't you play that song. Yes, that one. It’s been on pause ever since you left. You just have to play it. One button and everything will come back to life. Or so it would seem to me.

The mirror of your eyes which I never looked into. The hurt which I never noticed. The hurt which it gave me when I needed it most. Envelopes waiting to be filled. With the unwritten words on the unwritten letters which were never posted. I never used the word. I was afraid of being heard. You always knew my punishment before I have thought of the crime I was never going to commit.

Won't you do it for the last time? For my sake? Yes. I know. But, I am asking you to summon every courage that it would take. After all, its one last time. I promise when the song ends everything will be back to as it was. Or so it would seem to you. Because I will not be here. As I was not there before.

You were the medicine for all the illnesses I never caught. Colorful vases half filled with water waited for all the colorful flowers I never brought. You were ready with the healing touch to soothe me of the scars caused by running all day which I didn't do in search of you. I was not tired. I wasn’t afraid of loosing you. I was afraid of being found.

And while the song plays in the background, why don't you come along? For a stroll. I promise we  will always walk in the direction away from the song. For your sake. Because, I can not hear the song anyway.  Or so it would seem to the rest of the world.

P.S - You might want to visit Aakriti's page to read the wonderful words penned by her after reading this humble post. Here is the Link -
Happy Reading!              
                                         - HAUSLE BULAND

Friday, April 13, 2012

Little Bit

Kerala, India

Little bit of rain and a little bit of storm.
Little pinch within. Where it came from?
Little bit of thunder and a little bit of noise.
I dined with the terror in a gentle poise.

Little bit of hope. And Little bit of despair.
You never came, but I was always there.
Little bit of sun and weight of my shadow.
A lot of darkness and its ever shining glare.

Little bit of cold fire burning in my heart,
Little bit of wind blowing from my hands.
Little bit of promise, floating in the air. And,
Limping thoughts seeping from the sands.

Little bit of Love. And a Little bit of Lust.
Red cherry of Betrayal on the cake of Trust.
Over a cup of greed and a glass of freedom,
I can still remember you, but only just.

Dead pieces of soul trying to breathe in smoke.
Fluttering bits of wet paper and the words I wrote.
Little bit of shame dangling proudly from the table,
And there lies an unforgiving lump in my throat.

A bit of shine and the brightness of your face.
A bit of wine and memories of your embrace.
Little bits of attraction. Little bits of distraction.
Little bit of Denial but always full of grace.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Don't Lean Back That Way. You Might Fall.

Bay of Biscay, Near Bilbao, Spain
                                   You took away your shoulder.
                                   When, I only want to lean.
                                   Thank You for coming to my end. 
                                   Now, I can peacefully begin.

                                    I know your history.
                                    But, not  your past.
                                    Tears in your eyes.
                                    How long will I last?

                                                                                                      - HAUSLE BULAND

P.S - Not getting enough time to read all your wonderful posts. But, be patient my friends. I will visit them all soon. Real soon. :-)

Title taken from a chapter from the book 'The Museum of Innocence' By Orhan Pamuk.

Photo Credit - 'Me' :-)