Short story

A heavenly love

Ultimately what will I be left with? Am I going to be left with a heap of promises only? How many times have I told her that she is the queen of my dreams? How am I to convince her that she should be brave enough to accept challenges in the name of love?

Will she ever fulfill her promises?

"Perhaps,... promises are promises. Only a string of words having more weight and intensity than just words." My conscience came to my rescue and answered the questions. The answers disturbed me more only.

How can I be satisfied with promises only? Am I not made of flesh and blood? My feelings and emotions: are they to be aborted in the bud. Why can't she compromise her ways in the name of love. Am I not worth doing such dedications? Oh! God have compassion on me. This mental torture is intolerable.

I felt furious. The hackneyed saying that women posses deceitful wiles to which men become easy prey seems quite true. How can I deny that? Who was so foolish to call them the weaker sex? In my standards, they are far above men in most aspects.

Don't be offended. I was judging them through my own experience. My prejudice against them worsened with this incident. I sensed that I'm at a disadvantage. I couldn't get away from the feeling that I'm being used by her.

Her demanding nature at times drove me crazy. She decided everything. I accepted all out of sheer love. If one calls it cowardice, I'm not against it. I'm ready to accept anything in the name of love.

I was so moved and wanted somebody to share this with. My quest for a companion ended up in a pub. It was a place I frequented often. All sorts of people were there. Most of the faces were quite familiar to me. They regularly visited the place. But nobody seemed to be bothered about other's affairs. How wonderful if the outer society could also be like this.

I sat in a table which was at a corner. The tables were covered with grime. The dark light cast a reddish glow on the people who were seated here and there. The strong odour of liquors lingered in the air. It caused me dizziness. But I loved it.

A tiny fly was involved in a struggle to come out of a glass kept on the table. It climbed up a little and then slipped back to the bottom of it. Finally, it gave up the struggle and became motionless. The person I needed was there. For years, I've observed this guy in the pub engaged thoroughly in his writing. He was in his late thirties.

As usual he was busy writing. A half-drunken glass of liquor and a cigarette were there to cast away his loneliness. He looked exhausted and disheveled. Yet it didn't reduce his speed of writing. I thought a poet could best be inspired in a romantic setting only. But he proved it otherwise. I went there without second thoughts.

"Am I disturbing you?"

"Yes, indeed" he replied and looked at me sharply.

Agony

"I feel you are the best person to share my agony with. For no reason, I feel that you are also suffering from some kind of an agony. Perhaps that might have made me choose you to have an intimate chat." I anticipated a harsh reply going by his looks.

He guffawed at my remark. "You, mind reader... You came to me to have a discourse on love. How nice of you! I was eagerly waiting for somebody to come to me and to be enlightened about my version of love. As you came to me seeking a companion, you are forced to listen to me first.

Then weigh your version of love according to my standards. Afterwards you could decide whether it is worthwhile to tell your story.

"My little Lolita... he sighed passionately and gulped the dregs at the bottom of the glass. Tears were glistening in his eyes.

"Her name itself is enough to cause tears in my eyes. I called her Lolita simply because she was very young to me. Apart from that, I loved her character in the movie very much. My Lolita was so divine in beauty and quite playful. If you happen to see her, you might not see that beauty. It was love which made her appear so beautiful to me.

Love could work out miracles. I've met a number of beautiful women in my life but I never underwent this kind of feeling for any of them. But I know it was not mere infatuation. What I had for her was something deeper than that. I don't want to analyze my love. The obscure quality of it adds more marvel to it.

Believe me. I haven't even told her explicitly that I loved her so much. I still don't know whether she knows about it even now. Let me be frank. I'm not a hypocrite to hide my true feelings. If I do that, I myself will be betraying my little Lolita. It would be the last thing that I would do in my life.

It was not platonic love. I've wanted to kiss her supple cheeks a number of times and the soft touch of her tickled my spirit many a times. But I purposely controlled them. I felt that it was what I should do if I really loved my Lolita.

It was only her smiles and sight which I have had the taste of. The tears I've shed in the name of her have taught me how painful love could be. The pain in the name of love itself is a source of joy for me. The memories of her have made me realise how wonderful and poignant love could be even if it is not consummated.

It was she who made me poetic. Even the intoxication I dwell in during the whole day has become productive because of my little Lolita.

Pleasure

Love didn't grant me a lot of things. It granted me neither fortune nor pleasure of possessing her. But it granted me hope. Hopes enlivened my dull life. When you have lost everything, you can still go on, if you have a hope in your life.

My dry life was rejuvenated by the presence of Lolita. I live in the hope that she would come to me one day. I'll be nowhere the day I lose that hope. I feel I'm really living my life only when my life and hopes granted by Lolita taken together. This is the utmost dedication that I could make in the name of love."

He gave way to tears to roll down his cheeks.

I started to weigh my relationship according to his standards. All my quarries were answered.

"Love is worth doing dedications even if we are at the losing end."

Indu Gamage,
ELTU,
University of Ruhuna.