A dim light forces through the crevice of closed drapes. It is the light of the vanishing sun in the twilight; and if one of the hooks of drap was not missing, Hana will not be able to see blazing sun which is disappearing behind the furthermost skies in the dusk of the day. That obscure gleam slowly fades away and leaves her in the dark room; where she has made a museum of all her memories. She laughs when a good reminiscence passes her mind and frowns to see all unsightly ones which they continue to torment her. She wonders about the cold, unfeeling, and unaware Behroz in his dreary grave. She does not know how long ago he died. Nobody has told her. If she knew the exact date of his death, she can estimate what stage of mortality his body is at this time. Is he all bones, or some of his skin and flesh are still connected to his body? What about his eyes? Those penetrating, warm, and kind eyes which always were soft for her and many tormented others, and pierced through for spiteful, and arrogant users. What really happened to him?
Even though life separated them five years ago, just the feeling of having him on the other side of the world has been so blissful for her that anytime she wanted to practice her forgotten skill of writing, she wrote long letters to him. In his part, he never was able to write her back the very true feelings and ideas he had, especially when it came to soothe Hana for her woeful life with Hamid; because he knew that Hamid would read all her letters from Iran. However one thing the uncle and niece had learned from childhood to prevent others from discovering the theme of their conversation, and that was to speak in code language; that was to talk in a secretive way which looked meaningless to others but very significant to them. They used the material of all the books they had read to apply to their own situation and problems. In his letters to Hana, mostly Behroz used the same technique to answer her letters and sometimes give a code message to her when it came to problems she had with ever evil husband of hers. Hamid never understood those letters and in his derisive and contemptuous manner found them funny and immature and called them backward people who lived in dream world and pages of the books.
In the absolute darkness of the room in the city of lights and activities, she suffers to see the last vision of her uncle and mentor is dissipating. She remembers his faithfulness to Lida, the only woman he ever loved, who had gone to Canada. Even though Lida was married, Behroz never looked at another woman; and refused his family's repeated insistence to marry. He stayed single in his world of books and knowledge; a loner who knew more than anyone and understood all types of pains. Hana was the only one in the family who knew the real reason of him not getting married. When she told him at some far, lost year, that she had heard about Lida's marriage in Canada, he nodded his head and said:
"I already know about it. I expect more than this from you, Hana. I don't care if she is married. I truly wish her happiness; but I can't and won't marry as long as I live. How can I? Lida's memory has overwhelmingly captivated my life. There is no other woman for me!"
Hana scolds herself for not having the sublime quality of her uncle, who stayed faithful to Lida until he died. She, on the other hand, did not remain devoted to memory of Saeid after his suicide. Nevertheless, she wonders if her marriage to Hamid was only because she wanted to torture herself! Wasn't it because she felt so guilty for Saeid's death that she wanted to carry that bitter incident with her till death? Therefore, in every minute of her life a drop of that poisonous taste would enter her blood stream and she could feel the indelible weakness and resentment that her only true love, Saeid, had faced. In that moment of timorous striving, she hears applause of the world to her unfathomable repentance; and casually she drifts away to a more privet place, where all spirits wander, to conjure up more of those days.
Tehran-
To Be Continued
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