UNFULFILLED- Sixteen- ☗☗ The Will

Neda made a room, next to her own bedroom for Aria. She painted the room herself and tried her skill of painting with different shade of blue. She made one wall like a jungle with trees and animals. No one could believe that she could paint and do it this skillfully. She said to them: "If I wasn't a poet, I would be a painter!"

All the furniture she bought for Aria's room were in same kind of blue shades. She made a short fence in one corner of his room, shaped like a little square room with door and every indication that it was a separate room. This was Aria's play room inside his room where she placed all his toys. The fence she had made was with different color thick and heavy ropes. She made them in a way that they had a diamond shape. Her companions were surprised to see her other talents. She spent more time to fix Aria's room than the entire house.

The master bedroom was next to Aria's room. It was big enough for her to have a work area. The third bedroom, she called it guest room, was mostly where Kasra slept at night, unless Maryam and Sohrab were staying, then Kasra would either go home, or slept on the coach. There was a little addition to the living room, almost like a separate room, that she arranged it for her secretary, Goly. She bought a new desk, a cabinet, and some other item for her, so she can have her own little place, being her secretary. She used her old furniture for the entire house. The only furniture she bought was for Aria's room and a desk for Goly, her secretary.

Her bedroom had two windows. She fell in love with this house mostly because of these two windows in master bed; one of the window was on the north side and the other one was on east side of the room. One opened into the yard, the other into the alley. She loved the morning sun to pour in from east window and showering her room with sun rays.

Aria's room became more like his play room. Anytime he spent the time with his aunt, and stayed over night, he slept with Neda, Everybody said that he loved Neda more than his own mother. Fortunately Maryam was not a jealous type. She was grateful to have so much love for her son from all over since Kasra and Goly loved him and spoiled him, too. What a Lucky boy! Neda bought him any toy he wanted. Almost every day that his parents worked, Aria was in Neda's home. He had not yet once spent in a baby sitter, or in one of the grandmas'. Neda had help; Kasra, and Goly were not only her editor and secretary, they did baby sitting if She was not home, they shopped, cooked, and...

Neda bought him a swing set with slide and with Kasra's help insulted in the back yard. When summer came, she bought a very big plastic pool. She went inside the pool with all her clothes on to play with him. She taught him then how to splash water. But never once any harm was done to this little boy, who had become the joy of every one's life. The little Shih Tzue was smart and loving. She gave them such an unconditional love that Neda was happy to find out there are all kinds of different love on earth than she had prior imagined. It took them a long time to train her not to empty herself in the house. The cat, on the other hand, was cunning, yet very smart. No wonder they called Simeeze the second smartest house cat. Some days he would disappear, and would show up late at night to eat and sleep. However he never slept outside of the house. Neda's bed was crowded with the cat, dog, and Aria.. The dog's name stayed "Doggy" That was how Aria began calling her, and that is how it was. The cat, however had a name. His beauty was so overwhelming that they called him "Ziba" (beautiful); even though it was a girl name.

One weekend when Maryam and Sohrab wanted to take Aria home, he hanged to Neda's neck and cried his little heart out. He did not want to go; so they decided after Neda's insistence to stay there themselves. If he cried, Neda cried, too. She had practically replaced Aria with her lost Ariana. All knew that; and no one could do anything about it. Sohrab was kind of angry; but it was Maryam, who told her husband:

"If your sister loves our son and he loves her, too, what is wrong with it? Don't be worry. There is no harm. The more people love him, the better off he is! He knows we love him. He knows we are his parents. I would not harm Neda."

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Sixteen- The Will

To everyone surprise, an American film crew of a Cable Production came to Tehran to make a documentary about Neda's life. She had no idea that people in other countries, especially America, knew about her. She did not say no and invited them to her apartment. They were awed to see the most popular woman in an Islamic country lived such a simple life in a very small, two bedroom apartment. They followed her every where for a week. They recorded everything she did. The good thing about the whole deal was that Neda knew English. She had learned it on her own. She read books in English language. Her speaking was not perfect but was adequate. They interviewed Sohrab, Maryam, and Kasra. They asked her why she was not married! She did not like that question; however, she told them that marriage would block her artistic mind and therefore it was not for her. She never mentioned her short marriage and her daughter. Aria, her nephew was in all their shots from her. They noticed that as busy as she was, she was practically raising her nephew so his mother and father could work and they did not have to take their child to a stranger for baby sitting! By the time they finished with their interviews, filming, and having dinner at Neda's home every evening of their one week stay, they still could not understand her strange life. They wondered, especially the producer, a blond, tall woman with the same jeans and different shirts which she tied them in front instead of buttoning them all the way down, wearing her hair in a ponytail, that perhaps in a country like Iran, in order to be an artist, one had to have a strange life! They also were amazed by the hospitality of all the people they had seen, particularly Neda, herself, who did not let them to spent any money on food or hotel; even bought gifts for all of them before their departure. They left after one week and promised to send Neda a copy of the finished product, about an hour film after editing. This film was supposed to be shown in a cable network in America.

Her nephew, now three years old, was the reason for her living besides her poetry. There was nothing more important to her than that little chubby boy that looked so much like Maryam, except his eyes and forehead that looked like Sohrab. Aria had deep, penetrating eyes that Sohrab had. The first word that he ever said was, "na". Gradually he was able to improve in his speaking and Neda became, "aunti na".

Neda loved to give Aria his nightly bath. He loved to play with his toys in the water. She would sit next to the tub with her nightgown and did not care that she would get all wet by the excitement of the little boy playing with his toys and having his aunt there. She would watch him so he would not go under the water. Then when she would see that his eyes was getting heavy with sleep, she would wrap him in a warm, big, blue towel and held him close to her heart while carrying him to her bedroom. There, he was not sleepy any more. Playing in the water always made him hungry. Neda kept his favorite late night snake always handy. Maryam's backing was excellent. She made different shape and type cookies; some looked like animals, some like trees or toys which her son loved. She always brought plenty of them to Neda's apartment. So every night after bath, when Aria told his "aunti na" that he was hungry, she brought him one or two cookies with a cup of milk. Then she put his pajamas on him and put him on her own bed. He always fell asleep after this routine right away.

Sohrab and Maryam told Neda that she was spoiling him. Neda thought that she was not doing enough.

Neda finally changed her apartment. It was not because that her three companions kept putting pressure on her. It was only for Aria, her little nephew. She wanted him to have a yard so she could get a dog and a cat for Aria. It was not common thing to have a house pets in their culture; even though some modern families did. Neda's reason was first for Aria and then for herself, and for doing one more thing against the culture and everybody that rejected the pet and called them impure. After looking around for a while and when her three companions positively approved, she bought a house in Shemiran, the Northern part of Tehran. There were three bedrooms, two full bathrooms, a living room, a separate dinning room, and a bright kitchen with window opened to east so all the morning sun poured in. The kitchen had a nook which was perfect for breakfast area. The yard was not too big, but big enough for Aria to play, big enough for a dog and cat, and big enough for Neda to make her hands dirty in earth and plant seasonal flowers and even a few trees. First she got a poppy, a Shih Tzu. She was black and white with big, black eyes, and long ears. She had heart shape marks on her back and sides. Then she got a kitten, a Siamese, flame color, with beautiful blue eyes. His nose and ears were dark pink, the rest of his fur almost milky color; that is why they called his color flame. She was lucky to find this cat. It just happened that an acquaintance of her had a female Siamese, who had many kitten, and Neda got one of them.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Fifteen- ☀☀The Silent Heart

Neda had won many awards. They did not mean anything to her. She even went to Rome, Italy, to participate in a conference of the poets from all over the world. Some of her works were translated to Italian and English language. Being what she was, famous, or infamous, was breathtaking. But she had only one joy, a complete one, and enduing one, and that was her nephew, Maryam and Sohrab's son, Aria. They had asked her to name him; and she had picked Aria, the male version of Ariana. He was the light of her eyes. She would rain him with her love and many toys. She would beg Sohrab and Maryam to let their son spend the night with her. He had become what she expected to have from her own child, who had been ripped from her arms with the scheme of her father, Mansour, and even the doctor. She was even suspicious to the doctor that he had a role in this plan of stealing her child and getting her a different identity. There had always been this hole in her heart for the last twelve years. The hole was getting deeper and deeper as she got older. She lived, thrived, went to different places, travelled, had interviews in radio, or television, and with different literary journals.

But life for her was now all about her nephew, Aria. There were plenty of friends around, but she could not consider them friends. The only people she cared for were Maryam, Sohrab, Aria, and somewhat Kasra. Now she had a secretary to keep up her appointments. She was scatter minded in her writing as well as things she needed to do. Sometimes she forgot everything. Like for example once she forgot that she had an interview with a big literary European journal, and she did not show up. Goly, her secretary, was a God sent to her. She was her right hand. Besides keeping her appointment, she would tell Neda how to dress and even shopped appropriate clothes for Neda's different appointments.

Neda began sleeping with kasra when she turned twenty nine; the first after her broken marriage. The intimacy with Kasra was just intimacy. It had no meaning. Kasra always had to leave her bed and either go home or sleep in Sohrab's old room. The passion was gone if she had ever had it. She knew that she could be in love and she could be passionate but only after she would find her daughter.

She had searched for her daughter continuously; but all these pursuance were ended five years ago when Mansour, his wife, and their children had moved from Tehran. Nobody knew where they had moved. Neda did some investigation about Mitra's background. The only thing she found out, which she had already known, was that she was originally from Shiraz, a city in the southern part of Iran, where in some books the three thousands years of the history of the country had spurted there, and in some other books the five thousands years history of their country had emerged there or around there. According to her father, in the days of her childhood, when she had been the love of his life, the three thousands years of written history and two thousands years more of unwritten history which made it to five thousands.

One day suddenly she told Kasra that she was going to Shiraz. When she returned after ten days, she was more disappointed than before. Mitra's parents were killed while driving to Tehran in a car accident. Mitra practically had no family left; if she did, Neda was not aware of it. So they had disappeared five years ago and no one knew where and how?!

Nobody knew about her searches, not even Sohrab or even Kasra, who was now mostly lived with her. Why should they know these things? It was her heart she was seeking for not theirs! She had left her life essence in that hospital bed twelve years ago; and she had lived heartless ever since. Her zest for life was silenced in the crowded country, who mostly did not know her twelve years ago. She did not care that women envied her! She did not care men hated her! She did not care male poets had grudge against her! She did not care the animosity toward her from all over! She wrote, "THE SILENT HEART".

✎

"Soothing hope is gone from my heart!

I hear neither call, nor message, nor a new start!

Here there is neither alluring eye,

nor appeasing music close by.

☄At dawn, a woman left in winter cold

From a city full of light, love, pain, and gold.

Did anyone weep for her absence?

Did anyone find her trace?

✐She stared at a pair of eyes to know

The secret place of hope, dream, or rainbow.

But those eyes filled her with blaze;

Transformed her to more misery and daze.

✉They told her nothing but strife,

Skin was the only thing on her body, no life.

Anywhere she went, they sang

absurdity, those words in her ears rang.

✍One night she lay on grass and cried,

'Don't go!' She said, 'let me be at your side.'

'Let me sleep and feel the rain!'

But the ghost disappeared, it ignored her pain.

Now it is only her and her silent heart."

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Fifteen- ᚙᚙ The Silent Heart

Years changed; they came; they left. When Neda looked back to all those years form the time of her marriage at age sixteen, to now, almost twelve years after, they all looked like a short period, yet they were long, tiring, and boring. She was waiting! Would it be a day that the door opened and Ariana walked in and Neda recognized her right away? Would it be a day that by chance they would meet in the street and by luck they would know each other? "All the women out there, who envy my life, and because of that you call me horrible names, I change place with you in a heartbeat just to have my child with me!"

As Neda grew older, and with that many changes happened to her, her patience, her love for Ariana, and her poems also changed.

Years came and then they disappeared as if they never existed. She joined this group of mountaineers and paid a monthly fee to be a member. There were plenty of them in Tehran of those days. Those people called themselves intellectuals of the time. They travelled north. She wanted to do it on her own; but Sohrab and Kasra convinced her to join this group. One day when she returned from one of these trips, she thought to herself: "Everyone in this group are couples except me. I am all alone. I've always been all alone." She sighed. "Would it be a day that I climb the mountain with Ariana?" She sat at her desk and wrote:

ᚕ

"Towards the night,

The time that the site

Is subdued by a blaze,

Yet mystical dying rays,

So overpowering and mystic,

That even this city looks artistic.

ᚑ

Towards the night,

The time for the artificial light,

Someone may die;

Someone may soar to sky

When the twilight of the day,

Will live all the way.

ᚘ

Towards the night,

In my thoughts with delight

My little child

Brings to my pride

The seeds I planted in earth;

The time I didn't know hurt.

ᚖ

Towards the night,

I always invite

Hands that touched mine;

And brought me sunshine.

But I won't know tomorrow

When night arrives, my sorrow

Will be for the death

Of a hand that gave me breath."

☁

Neda was a prolific poet. She already had seven published books and many others which were not yet but would soon. All the writings were scattered around her apartment. She was still living in the same apartment since they had separated from her parents. She answered Sohrab one day when he asked her why she was not changing her place, or even buying a house:

"Why?"

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Fifteen- The Silent Heart

But what good had come from this pricey independence? Neda had things that she did not need; she had plush leather chair, so she could brought the footstool up and placed her feet on it, she had money; but she preferred to have her daughter and her family. She had needed Ariana for many years, in fact since her birth. She was hoping that when Ariana could read, she would read her poetry ! Perhaps she would see herself in Neda's poems, May be then she would be of the age that she could look at the picture of Neda in the back of her books and somehow would connect herself to this famous poetess. Then perhaps she would trace that picture and like happy movies, they would all come to an happy ending.

Neda was prosperous but sad. She was the envy of many women, but she envied their lives with their children. She always told Kasra:

"I wonder why I have been given this talent to prosper, succeed, to do anything I want, if it is only to be alone and childless."

Talk about Maryam and Sohrab having a child continued. However when one day Maryam broke the news to her that she was pregnant, Neda was so happy that she could not stop laughing, crying, screaming. They were in Neda's room. Sohrab and Kasra came in without knocking the door. They just opened the door and entered. First they were frightened that something horrible had happened in that room; but they saw the two women hugging in a style of dancing and turning round and round, screaming, laughing, gesturing funny things. They stopped when they saw the two women in that kind of mood of jubilation. Maryam turned red. It was obvious that something horrific had just hit her. She turned to Neda:

"Sohrab doesn't know!"

On one hand Neda was delighted to be the first to know, on the other hand she knew why Maryam had became nervous. She came to her cousin's/ sister- in- law's, rescue:

"She was planning to tell you first Sohrab. I've just guessed it and had my suspicion, and quizzed her so much until she told me."

Sohrab looked at his sister and wife. He was upset inwardly. He divined what the issue of the two women's happiness was about; but he, being a real gentleman always, came to Maryam deliverance and hugged her:

"You're pregnant. Don't worry. I'm not upset. We wanted this baby since the beginning of our marriage. I am delighted. I did not want us to have a baby after we were thirty. This is so perfect, sweet heart!"

Maryam's pregnancy was nothing like Neda's. She was not sick. She did not vomit; however Neda spoiled her as though Maryam was her child.

The day that the baby boy came to this world, Neda played the role of Maryam's mother, and participated in the delivery room along side Sohrab. That day was the happiest day of her life. No one from outside could tell who had given birth, Maryam or Neda. She acted as though she had given birth to the baby. They named the baby Aria. They asked Neda to name her:

"Aria, it matches Ariana; what else!" Neda said without thinking. So it was ARIA.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Fifteen-★★★ The Silent Heart

One evening when everyone was ready to leave, as usual, they stood by the door for some more talk. Their good byes always lasted a long time. They talked and talked while they already had said their good byes numerous times. Sohrab and Maryam were talking about that they might want to have a baby, being in their late twenties and all. Kasra was interrupting them to say things to Neda about what he had forgotten earlier concerning her last book. They stood half inside, half outside of the door. They had already said their farewells so many times. Finally Neda stood in the middle of the door and pushed them all outside!

"Go, go! We all have work to do tomorrow. It's one in the morning." She laughed, moving her hands, pushing the other three to the stairs. Finally they all hugged again and said good bye again. When Neda hugged kasra again, as she had always done, He bowed and kissed her hand. They all looked at him surprisingly and laughed at his odd act. Neda practically pushed them towards the stairs and closed the door.

She lit a candle and a cigarette at the same time and went to her room. Kasra was absolutely noting to her, except only just a good friend and editor; yet his presence, his manner, the warmth of his glances and above all the touch of his lips on her hand, just a moment ago aroused her like a numbing person in the desperate search of a drug to get her fix. He always kept her indoors. She was scatter- minded in her writings as she was in her living. Kasra kept her organized in both.

A sudden hot passion and tenderness for him filled her heart. Was this a momentary and passing desire or something long lasting that would interfere with her writings?

Neda considered Kasra a common man. In his company, the world was beautiful and direct. But when he was not around, no one remembered him. For the first time, nevertheless, she felt his influence on her. She did not like it, but she liked it.

Autumn approached in Tehran, breaking up the green dreariness of summer; touching the trees with brown shimmer of mist. The plain trees with reddish brown, the oak trees with gold! On the height of Alborz Mountain, where Neda had gotten into habit of going there by herself, the black pines witnessed the change without changing themselves. The sound of hush on the mountain top was seductive. It never ceased; it whispered, then it cried out, it buzzed, then it invited the souls like hers to wander in its abyss of loneliness! The cheerless lowering sky, sometimes she felt she could reach it, which for some unknown reason had depressed her a few hours before, now seemed exhilarating and stimulating her nerves and gave her ideas that would come in bits and pieces. She sat on a cold rock and took out her notebook from her backpack and wrote her thought.

At home she sat on a chair that she had recently bought, a luxury chair with high back, made of leather, with a foot stole which was part of it so she could put her feet on it. What an indulgence! She spread her arms which suggested a woman in command, the one, who would rule, who would watch others, and one who was lonely herself.

She thought about all her achievements, about the money she had made without any one's help. She contemplated the attitude and the culture that considered women like her, inferior to men. That culture believed that women were different than men not in the sense of anatomy, but in the sense of their intellect, and brain. They thought that women's mission mission was not to aquair themselves but to inspire their men to obtain. She was not like those women. She had broken all the rules. She did not care what people said about her. She knew that none was true and that was enough for her.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Fifteen-ᚖᚖᚖ The Silent Heart

Days followed nights. Sohrab and Maryam came to Ned'a apartment often in the evening. Neda had turned out to be a good cook. Kasra, her editor, was almost always there for dinner. He had become very close to all of them. Nobody knew about him much, his back ground, his education, if he had any sisters or brothers, his parents, and how he had landed this position as an editor. His friendship with Neda was more than editor and a client. Some nights that was real late, Kasra stayed and slept in Sohrab's old room.They had no intimacy. They would if they wanted to, but they did not. He even did grocery shopping for Neda in the morning on his way, without even asking her. He knew exactly what she needed.

One evening when Neda saw Maryam so happy in her little life and big marriage, she laughingly said:

"What happened Maryam? I thought you never wanted to get married!" Neda had this blushing like a rose of spring on her cheek.

Maryam took Neda's statement seriously and began defending herself:

"I don't know! I thought so, too! But when I got to know Sohrab, how could I not love him, marry him? He is the best!"

Sohrab waved his hands with a loud laughter to show that he was not the best. Maryam continued without hesitation:

"What about you and Kasra? Are you two...?"

Neda cut her off before she was able to finish:

"No, no, we're just friends, aren't we Kasra? He is so invaluable to me. I need his help. He is very good in editing all my mistakes and organizing my writings." She looked at Kasra for affirmation.

"She is right! We are not made for marriage. We can be together from now to eternity and not be married." He paused for a moment, had a sip of his wine, and then continued:

"You know better than me that Neda has broken all the rules of this country for women specially at such a young age. Women are envious to her, and men are afraid that she may start a wave of young women craving freedom and wanting to follow her footstep, that among all her fans, she has also have many enemies. That is why her publisher admire her so much that he has assigned me only to her work; because controversy sells. I don't think she cares one way or the other, what people, even her own family think or say about her. She does what she wants as long as she can create; and if a day comes that she can't create, then it doesn't matter anymore." Kasra widened his eyes and exhaled a soft stream of admiration for his boss and friend. Sohrab's face wreathed in a big smile:

"That is my little sis all right. I knew it from beginning, from the time that she was a little girl! I even remember that our father once said, before Sima came to the scene, that Neda would be a big writer one day!" They all laughed or did the act of laughing!

There were days that Neda was happy without knowing why. She was delighted to be alone and breathing; she was ecstatic when her whole being was one with sunlight, the colors, the fragrance, the copious warmth of a sunny day. Days like these, she wondered alone into a strange and unfamiliar places. She would find many sunny, sleepy, little corners, shops, cafes, so perfect to dream, to be alone, and unmolested. She wrote the "SUN OF TOMORROW" on a piece of napkin in a cafe that she was drinking tea, and smoking, in one of these escaping deviation.

★

The color of dusk wraps around sun.

A lonely tree in the vast lawn

Craves water and finds none.

◆ From the gloomy sky, flees light

Towards the far horizon with spite.

Rain of light pours from red tulip of night

● To a silent humming, cities retire.

On the roof of sky, stars inspire.

The wine of moonlight I desire.

■ It is midnight and a cloud in a vast sky

abuses the moon with its threat and sigh;

And the old crow mocks beautiful butterfly.

〓 In the bosom of this night, I get a surprise,

The glow of your eyes becomes my prize;

Like the sun of tomorrow that I never despise,

★

After every one was gone, almost always, when she was not in high spirit, she felt depressed rather than soothed. She would lie down in the bathtub with her cigarette and glass of wine thinking, or sometimes even dozing. The little glimpse of domestic harmony which had been hers for a few hours gave her no regret, no longing. It was not the condition of her life that shockingly elevated her, when she could see in her life but an alarming and hopeless weariness.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Fifteen- The Silent Heart

As Neda was turning in the balcony to get back inside the apartment, she heard whispering of Sohrab and Maryam beneath their home in the parking lot. Being curious, she looked down at them. The big drops of rain fell on lovers and distinguished her cigarette. She opened the big umbrella which was always there, and hold it over her head; she put down her glass of wine which was in her hand on the table. Sohrab has his jacket wrapped around Maryam. Neda heard, hating herself for intrusion:

"My love!" Maryam almost cried, moved her face up to look at Sohrab. Neda could feel that she was frightened and panic stricken, yet amiable with fascination of euphoria. Neda thought to herself: "Is it real?" Then at once she considered their ages, twenty six. They were not sixteen, when she had thought she was in love with Mansour. Neda knew that her brother's eyes were beautiful at that point. In the dark, cloudy, and rainy night, her soul of a poet could see that Sohrab's eyes were dreamy, insusceptible, and free from any affliction or incitement!. She could imagine that he was smiling buoyantly to her or with her. Then she noticed that Maryam hid her face in his bosom. She saw that as Maryam hiding herself from him, Neda guessed, she perhaps knew that Sohrab could see her entirely. She was sure that they loved each other. To Neda, Maryam was more like afraid than at ease. It seemed to her that her cousin was in a foreign medium. The rain that was falling was a new heaven to Neda. Wasn't Maryam's fear because of her one bad experience? Sohrab, among the three of them was the one that had not gone through betray of a lover. She thought about her short marriage. She wished that she had a chance to tell Mansour before the divorce: "I wish that you loved me more and wanted me less!" This was what she saw between the two lovers under the balcony. How lucky they were!

Sohrab and Maryam married on September with the blessing of both families in a very small ceremony. Only the immediate family attended the wedding. It was more like a party than a wedding.

Sohrab would start his new career as an English teacher of the secondary school in a week. They had rented a small apartment close to school and also near where Maryam worked. Neither one used the the one old car that Sohrab had had for many years to go to work. They walked to work. In the evenings since Sohrab would get off work earlier, he would go with the car and pick up Maryam when ever she called him that she was done.

Maryam refused that her parents, as it was customary, to give her household and furniture. She bought very modest things herself with the money she had saved and with the money that Neda gave them as wedding present. Both of them were sad to leave Neda. They knew that she would be under pressure from her father to move back to her patents' home.

All along this second searching for freedom and independence, the anxiety Neda felt and the pressure her parents put on her, kept lingering with her like the memory of a bad song. By the time she regained her authority and was able to stand her ground against her father and made him to listen to her repeated no answer, that bad song no longer echoed in her head.

She was in her apartment. She was alone again. From time to time she went to her parents' home only to please them and to keep the peace. Those visits were always rather artificial and always sad. They were like verification of separation than introduction of reunion.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Fourteen-❢❢❢❦❦ Beyond Grace

❤

As she was still pushing to find a way among that big crowd of people, trucks, and tanks so she could be on the other side walk, she noticed that she was still in the middle of the street, right in front of a big truck, filled with people, men, women, and children; all carrying some kind of banner, some bearing weapons, some children on the shoulder of their fathers. The odor of people and machines were mixed. It made her almost sick to her stomach; reminded her of the days of her pregnancy, the days that any odor had made her to vomit.

But suddenly right there, among that terrible stench, she conjured up something from way back, from when she was in the hospital. She had seen her baby only for a few moments. Now she recalled that she had noticed something in the baby's half open eyes then, something like love for her. Strangely it was an unexpected discontent and weariness and painful discovery to be loved like that as she had seen it in that short few moment she had with her baby and in her half open eyes. It was an unfamiliar and terrible sensation since she knew what the black law of the land had done to her, took, or better yet, steal her baby for ever. There was something else she had seen in that half open eyes, a little mark, like a dot in the iris of her eyes exactly like the one she had. They told her that hers was a birth mark. So Ariana already had something from her.

Ever since that moment of birth, she had thought only about her daughter, her future, her point of view about her real mother if she ever knew about her, and knew that Mitra was not her real mother. Neda was too terrified to have a clear perception of what Ariana thought about her now that she had found out. She was even horrified to find out how Ariana had thought about her when she was a toddler, a teenager, or even an older teenager if she knew about her real mother! Had she hated her if she knew the truth? Had she known what happened to the woman who gave birth to her? Had she cared to know? Had she even known that Neda existed? Would she love her now the way she did at the time of birth? Did all these nineteen years of mystery, secret, and hiding had affected her so drastically that even if she knew the real truth now, she would and could not forgive her? Did all the nineteen years of not seeing each other enable her to accept Neda, her real mother, with open arms? Would she believe her when she would hear the true reason of the divorce and the circumstance under which it happened? Had Mitra treated her like her own child? Had she been a good mother to her?

All these years, Neda had tried to avoid these questions and moreover what had happened to her daughter to no avail! Now, she was right in the middle of the revolutionary crowds who wanted to change the regime to another which was most certainly would turn out disastrously. Now she was going to see the half open eyes of a baby, who was born more than nineteen years ago and soon she would find out for herself how those eyes looked like now!

At birth, she knew that her baby was a new spirit, whole and complete, a new reflection and idea, and a new love. At the time, she recalled, it almost unnerved her. The baby was her first and only born from a man she hated. How was it that she loved her so much and hated her father even more?

She remembered when they ripped her baby from her and before she fainted, she said to herself:

"You, Mansour, I hope you would be colder than a lonely child! I hope you would die in the cold of hatred!"

Rain started falling. She did not have the right shoes on. She felt that water was filling her shoes; she felt that the bottom of her pants were all wet. She tried to pull her scarves higher over her head to protect her face from rain; nonetheless, people were shoulder to shoulder. There was not a centimeter of space between people from her to raise her hand and to do what she had thought. Her mind deviated from past and birth to rain and where she was caught and how late she would be to see Ariana! Would her daughter wait for her? Would she know why she was late?

❰❱

After dinner, Sohrab and Maryam went for a walk. Kasra also left. Neda cleared the table and then sat on a chair by the dinning table. She thought how her life would be when Sohrab and Maryam would leave her in a few months when they would be married. The wedding would be right before the beginning of schools in September. She knew that most likely they wanted to live separate from her, to have their own little place! She knew that was the right thing. But what about her? Would her parents (Father) return to torture her, to dominate her life, to order her to come back home? She made up her mind that her answer to their demand to return home would be no, no, no! There was no way that she would go back to her former life in a home with her father, Sima, a child, half sister. She was not far from twenty two years old. She had lived on her own for two years now.

She went to the bedroom and got her book of poetry. She lay down on the bed and wrote a poem. She named it: "Beyond Grace"

ᚖ

"Into a world of white washed Walls

Where the dead and dying lay-

Wounded with bayonets, shells and balls

Some one's darling was borne one day.

Some one's darling, so young, so brave,

Wearing still on her pale, sweet face,

Soon to be hidden by the dust of grave-

The lingering light of girlhood grace."

ᚖ

It was an obscure April night. She thought Ariana would be five years old in a few days. "How does she look?' Does she know about me?" An unvaried shroud, so gloomy, of cloud muffled the whole expense of the sky from Zenith to Horizon. Neda walked to the small balcony in from of the living room window. She had set a small rod iron table and three white, rod iron chairs on the balcony. One of her book was on the table. But now lay motionless while it was caressed all morning by the sun rays, and now was harassed by the rain and storm. Its cover was raised slightly as though acknowledging the fondling by sun of the morning. Neda found herself like that book. She needed caressing by sun, by moon, even by a man...

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Fourteen-❡❡❡ Beyond Grace

Neda's editor, Kasra, an attractive, young man, about thirty, came to her apartment almost everyday. Neda's writing like her mind and soul was scattered and all over the place. sometimes she wrote at the side border of a book she was reading. Kasra was the one worked with her on her dispersed, and dispelled writings for hours, which soon they would become manuscripts. Neda returned the favor by asking him to stay for dinner. Evening meals were not only food for nourishment, but it was getting together of all these young people after a day of work to talk with each other, to have a little laugh, or drink wine, a glass or two. When the evening meal was over and everyone was done with his or her work, mostly they sat around and talked about Neda's success at such a young age. Kasra told them how the publishing world worked. He told them the publishers were all business men. They were after making money. For them, there was no place for a really good writer that nobody would read her or his writing; even though Neda was not only among the good writers but people bought her books.

"There are a lot of good books that never are published." He would say to them.

With all the rumors and controversies that surrounding Neda's personal life, they kept publishing her books as long as she would attract people's curiosity. Kasra everyday brought with him the cut off pieces of newspapers, magazines, or literary journals that had said something about Neda. Those pieces were mostly untrue things about her life, not her poems. Sometimes they all laughed of so many untrue events that people had sworn to seen about Neda. Like this woman, who wrote a lot, was saying that she knew where Neda was meeting her secret lover. However every so often Kasra would find some nice thing about her. Neda started a journal. She glued all these cut off articles about her in that book, good or bad; and she arranged them by date not by their nastiness. Everyone was surprised that she was not offended what people told about her. Those passages that people had written about her were important to her for the sake of history. As young as she was, she knew that she would be a part of future history of Persian poets, a book that was not written yet! That was why she made that journal. They were not important to her for their contents. One evening she told the other three:

"I don't care what they say about me; as long as they read my poems, I am happy."

Maryam and Sohrab always laughed when Neda talked like this and told her that her life experience which had practically started at age fifteen, had made her skin thick.

Neda and Sohrab had not seen their father for two years now, They had not seen Sima or their little half sister, Mina, either. Their mother, Mehri, and Maryam's mother, Zari, now would come only once a week and always together. Every thing was normal in the sense of what normalcy was in Neda's view. A conformity that had had a big price for Neda. She had paid dearly to be where she was while she could had had this without marriage and a baby.

Then it came an evening that Maryam and Sohrab got engaged. Kasra, Neda's editor was there, too, for the party. He brought flowers for Maryam and cut off piece of article for Neda. They were also were celebrating Sohrab's graduation for the two years college. Neda made a cake; it was much harder than she had thought. By now she had mastered the art of cooking, but this was the first time she made a cake. The cake broke in several places when she was taking it out to put in a dish she wanted to serve. She patched the cake with the icing and fresh fruits.

Neda gave money to Sohrab so he could buy a ring for Maryam. They had all become very straight forward people. They never hold anything back. They said what it was in their minds. While cutting the cake, kasra unexpectedly said:

"I read this article that in Western countries, cousins don't get married. It says because of their blood line, it is not good for cousins to have children." He was blunt, especially now when they were celebrating the cousins' engagement. Neda thought it was tackles of Kasra to say such a thing at such an evening.

"I've heard it, too." Sohrab began. "You know here in our country, cousins have gotten married for ever; and frankly I don't care. I have yet to see a deformed child because of the marriage of two cousins!"

"Just thought to tell you what I've read." Kasra answered as if to himself.

"Enough Kasra!" Neda finished the subject and poured more wine in every one's glasses. She picked up hers and made a toast:

"To Sohrab and Maryam, and let's their disagreements wouldn't be so much!" Every one laughed, and sipped their wine.

❧❧❧

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Fourteen-~<~< Beyond Grace

Sohrab's two years college was almost over. He would become an English teacher for junior high school. This was a new system of education that the Shah had implemented it. There were no more six years of elementary school and six years of high school. This new system was five years elementary, three years secondary or junior high and the last was four years of high school. Sohrab would be teaching right in the middle, the secondary school. For high school, one should need a bachelor's degree at least. His income from teaching would not be a lot, as it was custom everywhere in the world. Teachers were never paid good money for the hard work they do. They mostly did it for the love of teaching. But the way Neda figured it out, after getting confession from Maryam that she was in love with her brother, if they would ever marry, the combination of both income would be enough for a simple life. Neda knew them both. she knew that they don't want anything but simple life. Besides Neda knew if she had extra money, she would give it to them. But she never thought what would she do as a single, widowed twenty two years old woman living alone by herself. No one in her family, even Sohrab would think about it right away. "We think about it later!"

Secrets were out. Sohrab and Maryam, who had never talked about their love openly, now were acting more than two cousins. They did not have to hide their affection for each other living with Neda since they knew she loved it and praised any kind of true love. Now they were officially lovers.

One evening Maryama told Neda while laying on her bed and Neda was getting ready for bed:

"Oh that thing! What am I going to do about it?"

Her voice showed a true sadness. Then as if she was not clear enough, she continued, this time with firmer voice:

"Well, what do I do if we get married? How will I say to Sohrab that I am not Virgin?!!"

Neda began a big laugh :

"If my brother is that kind of man, you better not marry him at all, but you know he is not!"

The next day, Friday, everyone was home. Neda and Maryam were cooking together. They always had a nice meal for Friday (a holiday in Muslim countries). During the week, Neda cooked for everyone. She was happy that she had watched her mother's cooking and had learned a lot. Besides she constantly called mother and asked her questions about cooking. She began to love cooking and the process it took to prepare meal for people that she loved. To her cooking was like a form of art. Since their separation from their parents, her appetite was back and she loved to eat, and eat good meals. Her cooking, according to her mother and aunt Zari was very good and getting better.

This particular Friday, at dinner table, while the three of them finally sat to dinner, Neda looked at Sohrab, then Maryam; and without consulting Maryam, she suddenly said:

"Sohrab!"

Sohrab raised his head from his eating and looked at his sister. He saw a glimmer in her eyes like the days of their childhood when she had done some nutty thing like touching something she should not in his room.

"What Neda?"

"Maryam isn't virgin!" Her sudden statement, so matter factually, almost made Sohrab and Maryam to chock on their food. The color left Maryam's face. Sohrab's eyes seemed larger than normal. He looked first at Neda and then at Maryam, and said:

"If you're trying to find out what kind of man I am, you should know by now; and I think there are many other things that you can come with to test me! But even if she is not, so what! Her past is hers not mine. Her present and future are mine. Besides I knew it!"

The surprise of saying, "I knew it" was so shocking for both women that they stayed quiet, and independent from each other, they decided to close this chapter of Maryam's life. No one ever talked about it anymore.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Fourteen-❡❣❦❧ Beyond Grace

If nothing could change mother from the "look at poor me", woman that she had become, her children thought, perhaps if they would become successful in this parting from family, she could.

"Mother told Neda one day:

"Your life, as moderate as it is from the rest of the world, from us, it is making me, I believe, perfectly happy; but like everything else in my own way that your greatness will make me great, too."

Neda believed her then; but she knew her mother's wretchedness would move backward and forward. She thought about her childhood, about everything that had happened to her and brought her to this point. She recalled when she was a little girl, there were times that she felt so unwanted like her mother these days. "I guess everyone feels this way at some point of their lives!" However, her mother's had begun when father took another wife. The days of her childhood that she deemed undesirable, rejected, and even was called cold more than once, she conjured up that she broke her little money box and took all the money that she had, mostly were coins, and went to the store. She bought presents for herself. She brought them home and wrapped them in beautiful papers that she had taken from her mother's closet and gave them to herself. At home, she told that her friends had given those to her; and at school she told her classmates that her family had done so. She thought if other children and her family saw how many presents she had gotten for her birthday, or New Year, or ... they would think that she was very popular and they wanted to be her friends! But it did not work that way. Her classmates had figured her out. They told her so to make her embarrassed and because they were hateful and mean spirited like most children at certain point of their lives. They told her that she was strange and weird. Where were they to see her now, to see how famous she had become at such a young age, the same weird, and strange girl!

Autumn came. Then it was winter, spring and summer which followed in the order that nature wanted them to, as they always would! The threesomes now were more like friends than relatives. They lived peacefully under one roof. But something new was happening which Neda had known it even before the other two, who were involved. The players of this new event did not know it yet. But Neda knew it even before the real participants. She had an eyes of the poet, heart of a poet; and she knew that her brother and cousin were falling in love with each other. The way they looked at each other at the dinner table, without even knowing why, a small touch of their bodies in passing one another, the way they listened to the other with so much interest, all these, indicated to Neda that she was right. What had happened to the promise that they had given each other not to ever fall in love?

One night, in their joint room with Maryam, she asked her in her own style of straight forwardness:

"Are you falling in love with Sohrab?"

Maryam, who was lying down, stretching herself from a day of hard work and standing on her feet, suddenly sat up on bed, confused, harassed, and petrified.

"Why do you ask such thing?"

"I'm not blind. I love it. Love is beautiful. Tell me you are; tell me you're in love with Sohrab! I know they say that first cousins should not mix up, but love is more vital. Love is life!" Neda was very excited. The thought of her brother and Maryam, her beat friend and cousin, in love was delightful to her.

Maryam thought for a moment.

"I think I am!"

Neda rose up from the chair which was behind the small desk they had fit with difficulty in the room, where she was writing. She threw herself on Maryam's bed and began kissing and hugging her. Things that she was saying to Maryam were mostly meaningless, inaudible, and funny; but they were the true feeling of happiness that she was sharing with Maryam. Both of them were laughing loud and making strange, girlish noises. The door of their room suddenly opened. Sohrab was standing inside the door way and looking at her sister and cousin with confusion. He loved them both; but at that moment, he did not know what their silliness was all about!

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Fourteen-❣❣ Beyond Grace

Neda was becoming famous, yet infamous. There were many articles had already written about her in every literary journals. Some people thought she was too young to be a good poet, some praised her for what others hated, others chastised her, women envied her; nevertheless, females bought her books more than males. Neda welcomed praises and ignored criticism. She became a household name since she had left her parents home, almost overnight. However some of the disapproving remarks about her had nothing to do with her poetry, but her life style, her freedom, her divorce, and almost everything that she worshipped. No one yet had written anything about her child. She prayed that the existence of Ariana would never be known by these unmerciful people!

In a few months after she was able to send her bother to college, she bought a type writer. She taught herself how to type, but she only used two fingers, one from each hand. She began sending her manuscripts typed written now instead of hand written.

She wrote merely naturally and cleverly, but ingeniously and without pretense. She attached no value to her ideas. She wrote about energy. She said that energy based on love and love would not come as legacy; there was no forcing love. She believed in a higher power that brought the energy to everything; but this higher power was not the God of Islam or any documented religion for her. This energy came from nature, from sun and moon, stars and planet.

People bought her books, though they did not know why! Her poetry, each and every one of them, were connected to each other; each one of them was the continuation of the one before it; yet each one by itself was meaningful and stood apart.

In her writing, she always saved something to fear, as long as there was something to love. Words like Love, fear, courage, will..., were words that she used the most. She connect fear to love. There was no love without fear, and outside fear, there would not be love. But when she wrote about love, it was not love between men and women; although people who read her writings thought that was what she meant. But how could she? She did not know anything about love between a man and woman. Without saying or speaking her name, it was Ariana, her daughter that portrayed love for her. It was with a wrench and pang that they had taken her child from her, and it was with a mother's emotion and love that she wrote her poems. She had carried the sound of her daughter, her breathing, the touching of her cheeks, the smell of her newly born body mixed with blood with her; and these she transferred to her poems.

Both Sohrab and Maryam were frightened that people would find out about Neda's child through her poetry. She disagreed. She was smart enough to form Ariana like a lover than a child. Then she wrote with ease. It eventually became her style. She wrote about an unknown lover that was hard to reach; but in fact that lover was her child. All poets wrote about love. So she felt safe. She knew, in fact, she had found out later that they had registered her in the hospital with a different name. Father had covered all his track very well. So according to hospital doccuments, Neda had never been in the hospital, or had given birth. There was no where in the country that anyone could know that Neda had given birth. Would anyone question Mitra, Mansour's wife, in future that how was it possible that she had two babies four months apart in age from each other? They all knew that at time of Ariana's birth, Mitra was pregnant. Did they bribe the authorities to get a birth certificate for Ariana in a way that would not betray them for the act of stealing her baby? Or had they gotten Ariana a birth certificate that showed her older, perhaps five, six months older? Neda did not know the answer. She was sure that her father knew; but she was not talking to her father, so there was no way for her to find out.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Fourteen- Beyond Grace

All her life, Neda was accustomed withholding thoughts and emotions which never voiced themselves in her writing. They had never taken the form of struggle. They belonged to her and were hers alone. She contemplated about the conviction which she had a right to it and it related to no one but herself. This new place was rented in Sohrab's name, since single women could not rent or lease unless they were old, grandmothers, widowed with older children and grandchildren. Here for Neda freedom was so heavenly that she could not stop thinking and then talking about it to Sohrab and Maryam. Why did she have to go through four years of despondency? To get to this freedom she had gone through a child that she could not see, and a dishonorable badge of divorced woman that she could not change! Wasn't that strange?

Their income was almost adequate. Neda's from the sale of her book and magazines, Maryam's from her job at the beauty parlour. Sohrab yet to find a job. He had worked for his father, had gone to service, and at the moment he had no job or perspective. But the two women loved him so much that they did not mind to pay his share, too. He had the greatest fight with his father before moving out. Jalal told him with all the anger that he could gather in his voice:

"Don't you ever come back here or the store anymore?"

Sohrab answered with a derisive smile on his lips:

"With pleasure!"

They parted. Mehri and her sister- in- law, zari, the two mothers visited them a few times a week. Life for them had become also easier by their children leaving them. But no way they would admit that to anyone especially their children! Besides, now the two mothers had some place to go. Mehri was almost jealous to her daughter for her courage; but she never mentioned it. She wanted to stay in a good relation with them, so she would not lose this freedom of leaving her home to go their home for visit. The two fathers, Jalal, and Mehri's brother, Maryam's dad, never went to see their children.

After they settled down, and when Neda got an advance for her second, upcoming book, she gave the money to Sohrab so he could go to the two years college of teacher training for becoming a teacher. He always wanted to become a teacher. He loved to teach and that was what he would do when he would graduate. So this was not out of desperation for him. Now he was a full time student. Maryam's job was full time; but she was paid only commission. She left home early in the morning and did not return till late in the evening. She had to work real hard to make good money. Her only day off was Friday, the holiday in Muslim countries. The apartment was Neda's during the day. She worked at home. Her writing became more clear, and mature. She used both free style and old style in her poetry. The publication of her second book was imminent. She had an argument with her publisher about the name of this book and they finally agreed on "SECRETS".

Now that she was free, she openly smoked. She had gotten into the habit of smoking after they ripped her baby from her; but no one knew about it in the other place. In this place, no one objected since both Maryam and Sohrab smoked, too. There was some strange connection between her smoking and writing which made her poems so much more cultivated. None of them minded to have a glass or two of wine with dinner. Not long after moving out of the claws of their father, they lived their lives entirely free.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Thirteen-/////// The Twist

That fight did not end there. Later on, Jalal realized that his young wife had truly said those things about Neda. But now there was a life of a child involved. For the first time he was angry at Sima. Should he do to Sima what Mansour had done to his daughter? No, that was not in his character. Besides, even though he was really angry at Sima, and he knew that she had overstepped her boundary, he still loved her! How could he separate a mother and a child like Mansour had done?

Neda finished school and got her diploma. She knew that her Ariana was out there somewhere. Oh, what if she could see her, hug her, take her shopping, rain her with kisses, and hold her little hand! Despite all these desperate thoughts, when her first book was published, she felt a little glow in her life. The book got little praise and lots of criticism. Nonetheless, the sale of the book was great. Persian people always liked poetry in any from or shape. Her Ariana, whom the book was in her name, was a little over two years now; she, herself, a little short of nineteen. Sohrab was back from service. He had gone as a boy and returned as a man. Neda's only friend was still Maryam, her cousin. She was now officially a beautician. Now that she had a licence, she worked in a very modern beauty parlour; but her goal was that one day she would be able to open her own business.

Every time that the two cousins got together, they talked about getting their own place and leaving their parents. Living with their parents for both of them was despondency.

Maryam was the same age as Sohrab. Neda a Poet, Maryam a beautician! In people's eyes they had nothing in common, yet they were very close to each other! They both knew what they wanted in their lives. First, of course for both of them was being independent. Soon Sohrab joined them. He wanted to be liberated, too. He and Maryam were the same age. His joining in their quest for independence, in fact would help the two girls to convince their parents a lot better. Now it was three of them who wanted to be unchained from the rules of their fathers.

Sohrab agreed with everything that Neda said, specially the way their mother had turned out and was treated. The poor woman was so submissive, so desperate, so needy, that her children's talk and advice to her did not change the helpless woman. She had practically become the cook, the nanny, the maid, ... in that house of horror. Her wealth was gone, her beauty was vanished. At the age of forty two, she was all wrinkle and fright, all bones and skin. She had forgotten how to take care of herself. No more make up or going to the beauty salon for things that women do! They were all gone. Sima was doing those for the lord of the house. In her consternation, she had changed to a woman that even her children were not sure of her age anymore.

Neda read one of her poems that her mother's situation inspired her to write to her brother:

*

"Night and the silent fiction,

Full and gloomy with abstraction;

Miles of sky and forever alive;

Somber and wretched, always thrive.

The glowing man, and aging woman,

The weary lives, minds full of plan.

Big, empty homes, roads filled with frost;

Sunset that fades, dawn we can't trust;

Sky so eternal, full of offense,

Showing aging woman, nothing but suspense.

Youth had flamed like a wild thing.

It had bloomed like a rose of spring.

The wasteful youth, its harsh blow,

Or wild desire, with color like rainbow.

Now the old woman hums, hums with fright;

With a silent mouth in the dust of night."

*

The clock was ticking. Days were passing. Nights had stars and moons. Things to eyes, any eyes seemed normal except the eyes of the three young people yearning to part from their family and have their own little, but free lives. All three needed courage to break this unwritten law that the children, no matter their age, should live with their parents until they get married. But none of these three wanted to get married!

What Neda craved for was not the darkness made by enfolding arms of God, but was silence which was not solitude by compassion holding its breath. No longer she was content to feed upon opinion of others when her soul had invited the kind of liberation she longed for.

To Sohrab, this life was inferno of pain and smelled and sounded of rush, hurry, hurry...

For Maryam, every step she took from relieving herself from obligation, added to her strength and expansion as an individual. She began to see and apprehend the dwindling drift of life.

Therefor, when it came to decision making, it was a mutual three ways desire of a brother, sister, and their cousin. They announced it to their families after they rented an apartment with two bedroom, one for Sohrab, and one for Maryam and Neda. Neda now was twenty and Sohrab and Maryam were twenty four...

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Thirteen-<><><> The Twist

Every evening, walking from school homeward without knowing truly the torturous, tragical streets of Tehran in future for the change of regime, or where much heavier and weightier sorrow than hers had been happened under the stars in past, Neda looked around and still did not know what she was searching for! She looked for anything to give her an answer; any sign to show her a way, something pleasing; but she knew that she could not find that one thing. If she did, if she saw what would enchant her, she most likely recognized it.

She had not seen Sohrab for seven months. Sima had a baby Girl. They named her Mina. She said Mina rhymed with Sima. How appropriate! She claimed that she had lost a sister named Mina at very young age; that was why she chose that name for her little girl. No one really knew about her past life and the reason she had not married at a younger age. Neda was certain that her dad knew it. Father was like a toy in Sima's hand, especially since the baby was born. What ever Sima said was like a word of God to him, particularly now that the old man had a baby.

Mehri for some reason or no reason at all, fell in love with this new blood in their home, baby Mina, the child of her rival. This happened right away. Very soon, Mehri turned to be a baby sitter or a nanny to baby Mina. Again Neda suffered to see her mother's low self esteem. She saw everyday that her mother became lower in her role and higher in her lack of personality. Sohrab heard about all these by one of Neda's letter; and father, oh father again, he was so proud of having this baby, so beautiful, so much like Sima that he could not stop talking about it. He was not ashamed to show his pride to anyone but Neda. At this point Neda knew that father would not resist if Neda asked to live on her own and with Maryam. On the other hand, she knew because of egoism and the society, he could not allow such thing no matter how much he wanted to. He could not get rid of Neda through another marriage since he knew that Neda would rather to kill herself than marry again. Neda and Maryam had broken a wish bone together that none of them would ever get married.

Life was terrible in that house. She hated that life; she hated her new half sister; she hated everything. If she could not have her own child, she called it, "stolen", she did not want to love any other child. Sima called her in front of everyone jealous. Neda said that she was right.

She caught her mother and Sima were talking about her one day in the kitchen, while mother was warming the baby's bottle in a pot of boiling water and Sima was standing with her hands at her waist.

"You know Mehri, Neda never touches my baby. After all Mina is her sister!"

"Come on Sima! You know she is busy with school and all these writing she does. I don't believe you should think that way about her." Mother said in a soothing way.

Sima looked at Mehri frustrated and said:

"I don't think she would have made a good mother anyway. All she thinks about is her writing. Ariana is better off with her dad and step mom." Sima's tone of voice was bitter.

"Stop it Sima! That is not a right thing to say! What choice does she have? Besides how do you know how she feels? How do you know if she made a good mother or not? She never had a chance!"

Obviously Mehri did not like Sima's comment about her daughter even though by now the two rivals were like best friends; but not to Neda! Sima was using her mother, while her mother was thinking that they were friends. Father had peace at home between his two wives especially since he did not see Neda very often because of her school.

"You know what I think Mehri! I have figured it all out. She is jealous that I have a baby and she doesn't!"

Neda left her hiding place and ran upstairs to her father's room where all those books of his had introduced her to the world of writing and poetry, and the love for literature. Father was dozing behind his desk with his pipe in his mouth and his hands on a thick open book. Neda'a sudden entrance brought him back from his slumber and trance. For a moment or two, he looked at Neda through the haze of his stupor. Then suddenly he said:

"What, what, what is the matter?'

"I'm moving out dad." She said it matter factly.

Jalal was now completely out of his lethargic world.

"What did you say?'

"You heard me, dad!'

"How dare you to speak even of such thing?'

"I dare because you ruined my life! I dare because you made my mother a servant to your second wife! I dare because you stole my mother's money! I dare because your wife calls me jealous and not a good mother..."

"Ho, ho, ho, stop! What are you talking about?" He banged his fists on the table loudly.

"Go ask your sweet wife. You have made my mother to listen to Sima's description of me for a piece of bread. You have used all her money and then vomited on her. If she wants to live like this, that is her business, but I don't!"

To Be Continued