Opposites Attract

The devil sat captivated across the angel. Eyes fixated and focused on trying to find that one tiny flaw that would make her just like him. Obsessed with finding a chink in her perfect armor.
The angel sat bewitched across the devil. Eyes stubbornly searching that broken part through which light could get inside him. Obsessed with finding a tiny ray of hope behind his perfect mask.

- S. Chaudhary

But what about her wounds?

Thousands thronged and waited at her doorstep. The crowd continuing to pour in, never diminishing. Broken, bleeding, twisted, hopeless. Ceaselessly, the angel met them one by one. Soothing wounds, applying healing balms, touch or words of assurance, whatever they needed. Then someone saw a large horizontal slit across the angel's back - unattended, septic and bleeding her to death slowly.

- S. Chaudhary

The doctor and the patient. Head versus Heart.

"No option left. You will have to cut them off and let them go," the doctor said heartlessly.

"Noooo," I screamed out of fear, "The pain my God! How will I ever bear such excruciating pain? And then what about after that? Could I ever cope with such irretrievable loss?"

"You'll live. You'll survive," the doctor said rather coldly.

"But why do I Have to cut them off?" I tried to reason as well as plea as a last resort.

"Because," the decisive doctor spoke with finality, " gangrene has already set in your relationships."

- S. Chaudhary.

Cycle

...and so the more tighter she held, as she felt him slipping away through her fingers

The more suffocated he felt under the chains of her insecurity and fear,

The harder he tried to break free from those clutches and run away

...and so the more tighter she held, as she felt him slipping away through her fingers

- S. Chaudhary

No Idea

She woke up, filled a coffee mug and turned her computer on. Strange! Not a single idea today, what do I write? She stared at the blank page and the blank page stared back at her. Intimidating, like threatening to swallow her into a white nothingness. She stared back with equal determination, sipping hot coffee from her mug. With each sip she tried to birth an idea internally but the idea Gods were just not with her today. Gripped with horror, what if I cannot write anymore? What if I have no ideas? She gulped the coffee, mixed with terror and looked for answers on the empty page in front of her. This is a blank canvas and now what picture do I paint here she thought? Should I build an entire exotic city here or a crazy character? Should I write about imaginary ghosts, fierce beasts or just the story of a sweet child? The coffee was getting over but she hadn’t even started. And sip after sip till her mug ran empty she suddenly realized that she was indeed full of ideas. The exotic city, the ghosts, the beasts, the crazy, the child – not one but many ideas! Armed with the keyboard she started creating the many worlds. Out of a blank page. Out of nothing. Out of no idea.

-          S. Chaudhary

 Images courtesy Google Images