Although Neda felt better after writing the poem, her dark eyes showed a strange hatred. These were the same eyes that in placid times revealed only meditative and dreamy feelings. Now sitting on her bed, she looked out through window. Her bed was set right alongside of the window, with only a little space between the bed and the window, so she could sit on bed, dangling her legs on the floor between the bed and the window. She looked outside into the dark; and then opened the window so she can hear the sound of the night. The wind was moaning outside. She listened to its lament among the trees. Then she heard and felt the first drops of rain. Nature's heart was in mourning, as her heart that had suddenly become dull and sad. She folded her hands on her chest as if grieving. A stream of tears rushed down her face.
Despite the fact that she thought sleep would be impossible, the next morning she woke up form a night of more sleep than ordinary times. She was confused by all these mixed emotions that swarmed in her. She opened her eyes, rested, yet still feeling the same unpleasant misery within her as she had felt before sleeping. However this morning things in her mind were more unclear than ever. She was baffled by a great fear that was overshadowing all her other senses. Regret, what a word! She regretted these new auspicious days! Would happy days or prosperous things repeat themselves again? She felt an indescribable hatred towards everything, everyone, and all who had turned their lives to this uproar! Revulsion, she was sure, used to be only a refuge for her in old days; now it seemed that it had become a vocation and comfort.
Through the mist of her inward suffering, she contemplated at the great sadness of her mother and the fact she had no way out of her calamity. She stared through the open window to the thick morning mist and the faded light, to the variation and dullness of morning colors, to the motionless walls around the yard which guarded the house like a prison; and to her lonely mother, who was walking in the yard with the attitude of a hostage to her weakness and captivity in her own house. The shadow of clouds were blush color. The entire home looked to her empty and soundless.
Neda wanted to think of her father as an egoistic man; however, all the former feelings for him clustered in her mind. Was it possible that unselfish man like her father suddenly became selfish? She felt that her father was not self indulgent before. He had just no compassion for life and especially for her mother. She was certain of that. She saw how her parents' lives together was only a habit, an obligation. Now that her father was self- centered, she could see the return of color to his life! When he was unselfish, Neda had discerned that he had no individuality; he was part of the family. Now his independent identity had returned. He was full of life. Neda finally realized that it was the marriage which brought all these complexity to life, even though her father had married this younger woman. Perhaps in his mind he was only married to his first wife, her mother; and this second one was just a love affair which was bringing up his old flare back up to the surface.
To Be continued
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