Lolita Game

Rudra deserved everything, money, fame, and respect. He was handsome enough to have attracted a much women fans. Rudra Sen was not only a name of a bestselling author but also more than that. He always raised his hands against the oppression. He was such a man who could neither bend with the wind nor pretend. Rudra walked over to the full-size mirror and stood before it. He caught her reflection in the mirror. Stone-cold displeasure filled his face when he looked at his image. A mid-forty person from the mirror had been, staring at Rudra.

The image asked him, “Do you not believe in what you write?

Rudra shook his head. “No, I do not. I have to achieve the best literary award, above all I am not the God, I am a human being at all,” he murmured.

The image said, “Do you know what Lord Buddha said?He said, good words without good deeds are like flowers without scent, but good deeds added to good words are fragrant flowers.” His voice was icy and hard.

“You are right, my dear reflection. However, I am a human at all; I have my pleasures and displeasures. It is not possible to follow what I write.” Rudra answered in a cracked voice.

His thoughts were interrupted by the realization. He could realize that hunger was related to life as a child related to his mother. The main purpose of life was to satisfy hunger. He lit a cigarette and stepped out heading towards the balcony.His eyes were darting from one side to the other as he moved through the hallway. The hallway was dim.

Next on the left was the first bedroom. It was for Mita. The door to the second bedroom was closed; it was for her daughter, Portia.As he approached the guest room, he glanced at the door of the first bedroom; the door was slightly open.He stretched his hand and pushed it fully open. With no thought whatsoever about the morality of what he was doing, he stepped in.

Rudra could not think it wrong and illegal to trespass on one’s bedroom, however, he ignored everything, even his mind’s voice. The bedroom had a nice king-size bed. A dim light was illuminating the room and Mita was sleeping on her back. She was looking like a sleeping mermaid. In her mid forty, she looked younger than she was. He stood there for a minute watching her as if she stole his breath away with her beauty. He could smell the scent of lavender wafting from her hair. A little hesitant, he moved over to the bed. A strange tension was building at the base of her spine as he saw her minutely.

He had not known quite what to expect but what he saw amazed him. Mita was wearing a nightgown. It barely covered her enormous breasts. He could see her round and firm breasts and even a good view of cleavage. It was hard enough to move his eyes from her inviting breasts. He was spellbound. He could remember what Mita told him two decades ago. His mind jumped back to the past.

Rudra could hear her voice whispering in his ear, “They are yours, Rudra, but do not touch them now.”

Suddenly, Mita rolled on her stomach giving him a view of her bare back. The rest of her garment stretched tight across her wide hips. His throat was dry. Suddenly fear permeated Rudra’s entire body.He was in two minds about what he should do.After two decades, he came back to India, just to meet her. He had to go back in a week. Rudra could still remember how Mita rejected him and held the hands of Sam. Now, this was nothing but history.

“There is no use flogging the dead horse.” His mind murmured.

He listened to her rhythmic breathing for a moment. He was in the depth of despair, almost broken by the guilt and he swore not to repeat his mistake. Someone was whispering in his ear from the remote corner of his brain, “Sex is important, but not so important that you have to submit yourself to its feet.” Rudra headed back to his room quickly. Ten minutes later, he took a shower and went to bed.

The next morning Rudra woke up at 6 a.m. as it was his usual time. It was Sunday.He was much more relaxed. He raised his head and looked through the window lazily. It was early September, the sky freaked with soft white clouds. The morning sun was lovely. A majestic, huge oak, a hundred feet or more tall came to his notice.

Rudra looked around the room. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. He got up from the bed and walked over to the door. He opened it and found Mita standing in front of the door. She looked very fresh in green salower kameez. Rudra stood back to let her in. She stepped in with two cups of tea.

“She has still an attractive body and kept herself in shape,” Rudra thought as he glanced at her.

She put the cups on a coffee table and glanced at Rudra with a little smile.

“Good morning author.”

She watched him out of the corner of her eye for a moment and moved to the door. Before she left, she turned to him and said, “Hope you had a sound sleep last night.” She went back to the kitchen leaving him in a mess of confusion.

Rudra was speechless. “What does she mean? Did she notice him last night?” He thought for a moment and finally walked back to the couch and sat down. He was fully confused. He should not have done that. Rudra thought to himself.

A few minutes later, Mita entered the room and sat in a chair opposite him. There was silence for some time, after which Rudra broke the ice and began to talk.

“We cannot ignore the social changes and developing attitudes around us. We are all changing as life is going on and we are getting close to the point of no return; however, you are breathtaking even now to look at. You are as beautiful as you were when I first met.” Rudra said with a smile and stirred his tea.

“Thank you for your compliment, author; but you should know better that changing is natural and it is a sign of life. I am also changed.” A smile crept across her face. She pushed a strand of her hair from her face.

“However, I cannot see the change at all,” Rudra watched her very slowly and carefully.

For a moment, Mita became silent as if her mind went back into the past. She rose to her feet and walked over to the window. Rudra’s eager eyes followed her movement. She suddenly turned her head and looked directly into his eyes.

“Do you think I am unchanged? Probably not, Rudra, you are something wrong. Anyhow, you cannot see it with your naked eyes. Sam’s lifestyle taught me a lot of things and forced me to change myself.”

After a while, she walked back to her seat.

“There are so many good things to remember and there are too many bad things to forget. I am trying to forget the bad things,” Mita whispered almost to herself.

“What are the bad things, Mita?” He looked directly into her eyes.

“That I do not want to look back. However, what is the use of ripping up old stories, Rudra? Now tell me about you. I have read all your books. What are you writing now?” Mita tried to dribble the question.

Rudra looked outside over her head. His face darkened as he heard her reply. He lit a cigarette.

“It is more important to live for yourself. Life is a gift of God, don’t waste it, Mita. I know you were in misery, suffering from agony, however, you have to live for your daughter Portia. Moreover, you have to set up your new identity.” Rudra took again one puff and looked straight, though his eyes were not touching anything.

“Where is Portia, I could not see her still.” Rudra tried to change the atmosphere.

“She is getting ready for her office. She has been working with a news media, Newsline, a national newspaper for a year. She got home just after midnight, and you fell asleep before.”

There was a silence again. After a while, Mita smiled a little and said, “We have left all our memories in Kolkata, more than twenty years ago. Now you are in London, and I am in Devhill, a city in India, far away from you.” Mita stared at Rudra for a few moments with a small smile on her face.

“Nothing is lost Mita, nothing is changed. We are changing ourselves for our own sake. I know, Sam was a good husband, a trustworthy...”

Before Rudra could complete the sentence, Mita cut in. “Please Rudra, the chapter is closed. Love is not the whole of one’s life. It happens sometimes, like an accident. I indeed left you. I do not know what I did, was a sin or anything. However, I know well now that I believed a wrong person.”

Mita held her peace. Then she murmured, “One who lives fast, dies early. None can save him.” Mita looked away as though in deep thought.

After a silence, she said, “Life has a great purpose. However, we blindly follow the footstep of hunger. Trying heartily to nourish and satisfy our hunger. So sad!”

Rudra stared at her with a strange look as if he could not understand what she was speaking. He could not find his known Mita who burst after laugh now and then. Now, she looked much unknown, like a woman from another world.

“Listen, Rudra, the character is always larger than life and it is immortal.” From the tone of her voice, it became apparent that she was focusing on something. But what it was, Rudra could not realize, it went away over his head.

“I don’t know the thoughts running through your mind, however, I guess you are still in confusion.” Rudra thought to himself.

“Well Rudra, I am going to the kitchen, tell me about your favorite dish for breakfast; I think, you will like paratha and potato curry. Won’t you?”

“That’s fine Mita. You are a thought reader. Thank you so much for this sweet breakfast.”

“I have not prepared it still.” She winked.

“Okay, Mita. Then, I will give you many thanks after breakfast.” Rudra got up and lit a cigarette. Mita left the room and the conversation they had started was in ruins. It was then that Rudra realized Mita would never change.

He was now alone in the room, overwhelmed with deep thought. “There is something hidden in her mind that she cannot reveal, is it about their relationship? Is it the cause?” Rudra was confused. Sam invited him several times, but he could not manage time to visit him. He requested Rudra just for a one-day visit. “Did he want to tell him something?” Rudra thought. He was looking exhausted. Suddenly he thought back and could see a teenage girl coming out from an old album. She was an angel in high school. She was Mita, the only daughter of a senior journalist of the ‘National Daily’, everyone in that small town knew Mita’s name. She was the type of girl every mother hoped her son would bring home. At least, that was what all adults thought. Mita was his dream girl, a girl who stepped out of a dream.

This was a history now, or a myth. Rudra wanted to find a difference between the two Mita and finally, he found it. She had cut her long black hair, which he loved; today her hair fell just to her shoulders.

Moments after, Rudra walked out of the room and approached the door to the kitchen. Mita was preparing breakfast, and she noticed him. “Your breakfast is ready, paratha and potato curry, I guess you like it, won’t you?” Mita smiled a little.

“Of course, but I have to go out now to buy cigarettes. I will be right back,” he said.

Rudra came downstairs. As soon as he opened the front door, a naughty wind, mixed with floral perfume, jumped upon him. Rudra inhaled the sweet smell of the air and looked around. A bright morning was inviting him to explore her beauty.

Devhill was located on the outskirts of the city. The entire area was surrounded by small hills, valleys, and coalmines; the nearest city was five miles from their residence. Two miles from Devhill was a little mountain, covered with a dense forest. He looked at the sky and watched several birds flying towards the hill. “The smell of air varies from place to place,” he thought to himself.

Rudra was walking slowly along the sideway as if he was in deep thought. Suddenly he could hear the sound of crying as if a woman was screaming for help.

“Don’t hurt me.” a soft feminine voice whimpered pathetically.

Rudra halted and looked for the source of the sound. It was coming almost directly to his left. Then he turned his head to the left and saw a row of huts on the roadside. He noticed a fence stretched in both directions; he scanned the area before crossing the fence. Then he turned left and headed towards a hut. The sound was directly coming from that side.

Many huts looked like the nest of crows. Ragged people were wandering here and there; he paid more attention to locate the source of the screaming and suddenly noticed a young woman with long black hair and fair skin. A middle-aged man was beating her like a beast. He was startled at the sight. He could not make sense of what was happening. She sat on her knee and the man was kicking at her back like a demon, sometimes he slapped her.

She tried to push him away, but he was too strong for her. Stopping her struggles, she fell to the ground and looked up at him with tear-stained eyes, frozen in her terror. She cried and pleaded with her eyes for mercy.

“You, bloody bitch, whore of the hell, I will kick you out. Get out, you fucking woman.” The man was getting desperate. He kicked at her knees and with a roar he pushed the woman violently. She could not say a word, just screamed in pain and terror. Rudra could not understand what he should do now, pulling the woman out of his hand. or to call the police. Above all, he was not a social reformer. After a moment’s hesitation, he stopped just short of her.

“Hey man, what are you doing? Are you a killer?” Rudra could not control his anger and shouted violently. His voice was so loud that the man raised his head and looked at him. He was at first surprised, then roared with a vulgar gesture.

“Who the hell you are.” He looked directly into his eyes and asked bitterly. Meanwhile, he had stopped beating.

Indicating the woman, he asked, “Why are you beating her?”

The man stared at his face, and then he spat on the ground and glared at him angrily, “It is your wife?” A sinister smile curled his lips.

Rudra was puzzled. He replied with hesitation, “Certainly not.”

The man took a few steps towards Rudra and scanned him up and down. A wicked smile flashed on his face. Then he said like a villain, “Well, you mean, you are not her husband, then why are you poking your nose into our matter? Listen, man, we are not gentlemen like you, we treat our wives in this way, any problem?” Some people already gathered there. They were watching Rudra with a curious intentness. They began to laugh and said, “This should not be enough for her. She is a whore.”

The ragged man shouted, hoarse with anger, “Oil your machine, man, I hope you have your machine.” He laughed like a beast.

Puzzled and annoyed Rudra stared back at the others. The signals were so clear to understand. He could not say anymore. There was nothing to do except go back. As he walked back, he could see a shadow of simplicity on the face of the woman, she was nodding her head and sobbing.

He walked towards the market thinking about the woman. “Is she a whore? Maybe, she is. She is cheating on his husband, but so what, I am not her husband. I have no right to protest against her husband. However, it is time to think again, about why women are selling themselves. She can earn money from another job.” He was trying to banish the thoughts from his mind.

Rudra returned home after thirty minutes. As he approached the bedroom, he heard Mita’s voice. She was sitting on the couch.

“I have been waiting for you, Rudra,” Mita said looking at him.

“I am sorry, Mita. Have you not had your breakfast still?” Rudra asked as he sat on the couch.

“No, at first guest.”

“Hey, mom? It’s Portia, may I come in?”

“Oh, sure, come in,” Mita replied.

Portia walked in. She was ready for the office. Rudra raised his eyes and stared at her face unblinking. His eyes went wide. He could not believe his eyes and became puzzled. “Is it possible?” Rudra murmured. Portia was a photocopy of teenager Mita. He was so surprised that he could not say a word even he forgot to welcome her. Portia was dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a yellow top that complimented her beautifully. She was very sweet like her mother, pretty and intelligent.

“Come on darling, take a seat. What can I help you with?” She patted the cushion beside her. “Come, sit.”

Portia sat beside her. Suddenly she glanced at Rudra and smiled sweetly at him. Then she said, “Mom, I will be late tonight. Don’t worry; I will be back before 10 at night.”

Suddenly her cell phone rang in her purse. Portia grabbed her cell and answered.

“When? Where? My god! It’s burning news.” Next ten minutes Portia was busy talking to his office boss. Portia ended the call with a jab of her finger to the phone. Staring at her face for a moment Rudra asked her, “What happened, Portia, anything new?”

“Author uncle, strange information has just come to me. A handicapped person died from starvation. He was a poor person, but not a beggar. I am assigned to cover the incident. My cameraperson is on the way, soon he will reach here. Uncle, you are a writer, would you like to go with me to the spot? I am sure; you will get a new experience. Do you know, why?” She looked straight at his face.

“I cannot guess, Portia, but I would like to get a new experience. I am writing my new book on hunger. I know hunger kills a man, even it can change a man to a beast.” Rudra replied.

Mita said with hesitation, “Your uncle is tired, honey, would be able to stay with you all day long, without any lunch?”

Meanwhile, Rudra said, “Mita, ready my breakfast quickly, I cannot wait for a couple of seconds.”

Mita handed him his breakfast.

“Now tell me, Portia, I can’t control my curiosity,” Rudra said as he ate.

“He was a poet, but no one published his poems. He had nothing to do anything to rescue himself from this hungry world. He had been protesting against drug trafficking in the slum area for a few months. Local politicians went against him.” Portia became silent. Her eyes were full of tears though she knew well that a journalist should not be got involved. She fell silent for a moment, and then said, “We better make a move now.” She was in a hurry to cover the news.

After a few minutes, both of them rushed downstairs.