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LOLITA
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Lolita is dead. As this realisation sinks in,a sense of loss overwhelms
me no doubt, but at the same time there is also a nostalgic sense of
freedom. For six long years, Lolita had me in bondage, chained to
herself. And yet all through these years never once did I realize that
I had been confined to a penitentiary in my own mind. On the contrary
I never doubted for once that I was in complete control of my emtotions,
that it was I who had allowed Lolita to reign supreme in my heart and mind.
Lolita was an image that I had painstakingly and passionately put together
I had suffered from her birth pangs, had nurtured her and had finally made
her an identity within myself. I had intended Lolita to be a reflection
of someone I knew long ago, someone who had first made me toss and turn
in bed till the wee hours of dawn - a certain "she".
I first saw her on a sunny morning perched at the topmost step of the
college verandah. There she stood in all her radiance and beauty, a glow on her
seraphic face. There was the hint of a smile on her lips;a gentle breeze
had blown a few strands of hair across her face and the morning sun rays wallowed
in the black cascade of her hair. Her eyes frolicked around, probably searching
for someone; their crystal clarity a sight to behold; their depth
portrating a serenity that stood in sharp contrast to the playful
exuberance of her face.
She stood there for a while, almost a statue , with only her eyes dancing
around, while I savored the innocence of her enchanting beauty. And when,inevitably
the curtains came down on that beholding sight, I walked off with that
ethereal moment firmly entrenched in a corner of my mind - a moment that
would sustain my dreams for years to come.
It was sooner than later that I fell in love with her. I tried to woo her in my own
subtle ways, to make her see my love for her ; but alas my efforts were to no avail.
She side stepped all my overtures with considerable ease and with an effeminate grace
Slowly my infatuation for her grew to gargantuan proportions. She invaded
my dreams,pervaded my mind and enslaved my heart. But she feigned complete ignorance
of her hold over me , though I suspect she always knew the truth.
And then sudenly our ways parted. I was left salvaging mewmories of her,
cherishing her images that I had frozen in my mind. It was then that
LOLITA was born.
In the beginning, it was all very easy.I could see her face in the moonlit nights
among the starts, feel the silkiness of her hair as the wind brushed past me
and feel her presence beside my bed as she tip-toed up to me. But with time the images began to get blurred
Those seemingly trivial details whether the mole was on her upper or lower lip began to elude me.
It was at such moments of desperation when my memory failed me that my
imagination took over. And sl,owly but surely LOlita bagan to take shape,
innocuously at first but soon Lolita imbued my mind and indeed my whole being.
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