Waiting days to reach a fatigued love that seemed like a shadow of far bliss was more than Saeid's endurance. His days of practicing to become a sufficient soldier and nights of sleepless solitude were not absolute clarity to him. Ironically, what gave him a faded gleam of hope, instinctively, was not his future goals but it was Behroz's promising letter. A day off for other soldiers meant going to town from base, getting drunk, and perhaps even ending up with a prostitute before returning. For him a day off meant staying in barrack and pondering over his plans and problems. Reading books, once had been his best joy of life, seemed far from his poor concentration.
~~
It was a colorful autumn day when Behroz for the first time introduced him to his niece, Hana. She was only ten then; and her petite body made her look even younger than her age. They were in the big garden of Behroz's parents. Many children, he assumed belonged to neighbors, were playing or climbing trees. But Hana was sitting on a rocking chair on the balcony of the second floor that face the garden with a book in her hand. How old she looked at that first sight being so young! He was amazed and perplexed by her behavior. Why didn't she play with other children? She was all alone, far from everyone, on her rocking chair, and in the world of book she was reading. Before their game of soccer, he asked Behroz about Hana:
"Is your niece okay? How come she doesn't play with other kids?"
Behroz, smiling, shook his head. "She's been like this as long as I remember. She doesn't care for anything but reading books."
That memory was imprinted in Saeid's mind as his first impression. A tiny girl that did not care for anything but the fascinating world of books.
None of Behroz's family ever befriended his family. They had always looked down to them. Those bourgeois landlords owned many properties and most of that town's buildings belonged to Behroz's family.
Inside, where the blinds were drawn, in the darkness of the night, lying on his bunk, he remembered Behroz's father. He was the nicest in that family- a humble, considerate man. However, it was not him that ran the family's business but it was Behroz's older brother, Nabi, the brain of the family, who was in charge of everything. He thought Nabi was a cruel businessman, who had no mercy for the tenants and neighbors. He, who had become the keeper of the family's earnings, walked on dusty streets with his head up, chest blown, while having a light canvas shoes on, and had his hand locked in his back. When he passed, shopkeepers bowed of fear not respect. People, behind his back, called him, the king of parish. He knew about it and did not mind it and in fact liked it. Saeid recalled that even Behroz did not care much for his brother. Ironically, the power he had was earned through the weakness of others and his own ability to be a leader. His own family even feared and obeyed him.
The thought of Behroz's brother and his influence over the family, especially his sister, Hana's mother, frightened Saeid. Humiliation and rejection which had been the attitude of such family made Saeid to think more about going back home to try again with Hana.
As many families with young daughters or sons, Saeid's mother wanted him to marry her old friend's daughter. She had talked about that heavenly marriage so much that everyone believed that they would marry soon. Maryam was a nice and simple girl he could marry and have children with. A girl that did not expect much and had learned that the only duty of a wife was to be faithful and obedient, to bear children, and to endure whatever misery came her way. Hana would be a challenge- an intelligent, self educated young woman who would argue and disagree, and would have an opinion. He could marry Maryam to have a normal life, like his father; would perhaps take over his father's bakery, raise five children. He could be even unfaithful to his wife without objection occasionally. Or he could win the battle to win Hana's family and marry their opinionated daughter or niece, who did not believe that stifling culture and the way it treated the women. He just could not see himself go for the easy life with Maryam, even though that would be a big disappointment to her mother. He much preferred the audacity and excitement with Hana.
Pondering on his lonely bed, he could see the outcome of being with Hana- the constant humiliation and rejection by her family. On the other hand he could have the fervor of defying her, have many accomplishment for just being together, and above all the pure love they had for each other. However, in his vexed thinking, he found himself very weak to confront the majestic behavior of Hana's family specially Nabi, the decision maker. That infirmity opened his vision to a new solution. He knew those people very well. Even though Behroz had written to him to return, with an exhausted pride, he had a hard time to face that perfect embarrassment. Besides, if Behroz could do something, he did not have to give up Lida. At that moment, he did not feel sorrow, but a blind, directionless rage.
The walls of barrack moved as they wanted to suffocate him. It seemed he was the only breather in that world of weapons and solitude. Jumping down from his double bunk bed, he searched for a to tool to help him with a decision that was shaping in his mind. He found a screwdriver which seemed sufficient enough for the valiant act of opening a door, where the weapons were stored. There were many to choose from; but what made him to select that particular rifle was the similarity to one he had seen in a movie. The hero of that movie wanted it easy and fast; therefore, he assumed that rifle would be the best choice. Now before the return of everyone from their holiday, he needed to hurry and discover where the bullets were; since they never stored the loaded weapons. After opening four doors with he help of the screwdriver, he finally came across the bullets. To find the right one for that rifle, he had to open many boxes and suddenly he sighed of joy: "That is it!"
With the loaded rifle on his shoulder, he walked out of the building to the big compound of the barrack, where they practiced everyday. Far in a corner, there was an old whipping willow tree, very much like the one in his house. The branches were bent, as they did in his house, and they almost touched the ground. He sat there, leaning to the trunk of his favorite tree, imagining his home town, he had so many memories. That corner looked like his house. The image of his house assaulted him like an inconsolable sorrow. He caught a last glimpse of that compound, and as his eyes slowly became accustomed to the grimy shadows of the tree which were crowning him with the last joy, he looked at the dusky sky, where clouds piled upon each other, and down cast his eyes to the land which amazingly looked lucid. The reflection of Hana when she was ten years old enlightened his vision. Feeling fulfilled, he put the barrel into his mouth, as he had seen in the movie. His spirit and mind went blank; and only one word echoed in his mind, Hana. He put the stock of the rifle on the ground between his legs, and placed his toe in the trigger, just like the hero of the movie, and...
Dallas-
To Be Continued
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