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

UNFULFILLED- Thirteen-[-]-[-] The Twist

Neda blurted these words out, and then got up from her chair and without eating left the room.

The Spilled water could not be put back in the jar, as Sima's pregnancy could not be hidden anymore. Father's attitude became much harsher than before. He became less communicative to others, specially Neda, than before. He had a right to another child, he thought. Nobody had an authority to object that; he had a privilege to his first wife's money! Mehri had no validity to ask for some of that money for their son's education. He had a lawful and moral claim to get married again; and no one should complain about it. He had a right to give his daughter into a marriage, almost arranged; no one had a say in it. He had earned his position as a man to be angry at her return. She did not have any right to tell him that his action had affected her for the rest of her life. So life, death, second wife, eternity, ruining one's daughter's life, cheating one's wife from her money, not helping one's son to get education, were all simple matters for anyone like Jalal, who had capability enough to do them. What he had conquered with enfolding arms, silently with no solitude, like compassion holding its breath, was only darkness for others.

That afternoon, Mehri told Neda:

"I don't understand you! You don't act like yourself. I know you still have not recovered from your pregnancy and child birth..."

Neda cut her mother off. She retorted, kindling like a fire at once:

"Don't you care that your rival is pregnant? Don't you care that they took my baby away from me and dad is going to have a baby? Don't you care that he wanted to get rid of me? Now, I'm back, weaker but wiser, more thoughtful yet still dependent!"

Mehri looked into her daughter's face. It was a new face, so delicate in its newness, in its glowing perplexity and dread! She put her arms around her daughter's neck and Neda buried her face on her mother's bosom. It looked like peace, just a simple peace, as Mehri stood folding Neda quietly in her arms. She noticed later where they were standing exactly where Neda had stood only several months back and looking with fright at the bloody water running down her legs. But for now it was peace between mother and daughter at last. The old, abhorrent hostility between them had gone away finally; Mehri's soul was strong and at ease.

They found out that Sima's baby was due in November; that meant that when Neda had given birth to her Ariana, Sima was pregnant. Neda thought and told her cousin, Maryam later when her mother was also in the room:

"Now perhaps dad after losing her grandchild to Mansour, after Sohrab leaving for draft, and after he had lost his love for me and mother, is not to blame for wanting to hide this baby from us as long as he could. Now he's going to have a baby younger than his grand child!"

When Neda was younger, she had always thought that father would be always with her, from then to now and later, and follow her to the end of earth where ever destiny would send her. She conjured up that once father had told her:

"You're always be my baby. I never let you go or marry!"

She was twelve years old then. Now her heart heaved. Now she could not find that place with her father, their special place, as her father used to say.

Sohrab's absence, finding out that soon she would have a half sister or brother younger than her own Ariana, her mother's return to moaning and complaining, Sima's increasing power in the house, and father's unapproachable ways, added to Neda's growing pain. At this point she did not want anything but her own place and leaving this place and everyone. If her father would help her financially at the beginning, as he had done to get rid of her a only a couple of years back, Neda thought she was able to do it. She did not have her diploma yet, but now she had a contract for a book of poetry. The advance payment and the royalty of the book would pay for her living if she kept things simple. Besides Maryam, her cousin had a decent income, too. Her first book's name, she decided would be "ARIANA".

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Thirteen-~`~`~ The Twist

Neda told her brother:

"If you write simple things, then they wouldn't be poems."

She had changed her style from old, typical Persian poets who used rhyme, meter, and equal syllabus to a new style that had not been sued before. She called it, "New Wave". She explained all these to Sohrab and he absorbed all from his little sister with so much fervor. Sometimes Neda practically translated her poems to her brother. On those occasions, he would say:

"Oh, now I understand!"

She loved her brother. She always did. But he finally got his assignment in the infantry somewhere in suburb of Tehran. It was a good deal for someone, who only had high school diploma. By fall, Neda enrolled again in night school to finish her high school. Just having a legitimate excuse to leave home every day and go to school was such a relief for her. Her parents were still treating her like a little girl. She had gone from girlhood to womanhood, motherhood, and back to girlhood again.

Sohrab was gone, so was Neda's heart and soul. The empty place in her stomach was not just showing that she had given birth, but was showing that she had given her baby away, her Ariana; or her baby was taken away from her. Her relationship with Sima for a reason unknown to her had gone sour. She was suspicious that her father had something to do with it. So these days since Sohrab was gone, Sima treated her like a stranger, and mother was back to her old self- pitying, she practically had no one to talk to. Once or twice a weak she would see Maryam, her cousin. She was the only one that knew Maryam's story. How the two cousins' lives were affected by the black law of the land! Their destiny in a dissimilar and distinct way had come together in a web of complexity. Her case was her child that her former husband had the right to her not her; and Maryam's case was that she had given to the want of her fiance only once and lost the chance of having a family of her own forever. The two cousins had become one in the body of women's oppression!

Her mother told her once that she was suspicious that Sima was pregnant. Neda knew all about it. It was not very far away that she had gone through it herself; so she began paying attention to Sima's behavior, her eating, and her attitude in general. She was not sick like her. If she was, no one knew about it. Neda put it in the back of her mind until one morning, very early , when she left her room to go to bathroom, she saw the light of the bathroom was on. She could see the gleamer from under the door. She put her ear on the door. Someone was there. She listened intensely. She heard the sound of vomiting. She ran back to her room; but stayed behind the door. After a few minutes, she saw Sima leaving the bathroom; her father had her robe on his arm. He put it on her shoulders and and positioned his arm around her to help her to go to their bedroom. So they had been hiding this from everyone. How long could they do that?

That morning at breakfast table, Neda gazed at Sima's stomach. Non one noticed that but Sima. She averted her eyes, but it was obvious that she knew that Neda's eyes were on her. Being very uncomfortable, Sima finally said:

"Why are you keep looking at me, Neda?"

Everyone stopped eating. Father turned so red on his face all the way to his neck that it could not be hidden from anyone. Neda continued her stare and finally said:

"You're pregnant, aren't you? How long can you hide it?"

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Thirteen- The Twist

The familiar fragrance of spring filled Neda's lungs as she returned home from hospital. She told herself that one should absorb the scent of the life, but the same person should never remember its features. To her details of everything was boring. Perhaps since the color of life for her was left in the hospital, or taken from hospital somewhere else, not her house, the elements had become irksome as well.

She returned quickly to normalcy from a painful and long pregnancy and childbirth. Some aroma of life returned to her face. She even gained some weight; however, that piece of her which was taken from her by the black law of religion and men had made an empty hole, very deep within her, which was not noticeable to anyone but her brother and her cousin. Sohrab was drafted into the army, which was mandatory for all men unless they had some physical or mental disability, or they were the soul provider for their parents, or even in some cases some would buy their way out of it! He had not passed the big exam to enter the university two years in a row after graduating from high school. Once he told Neda:

"I guess I'm not smart enough!"

Neda did not like her brother to belittle himself in any shape or form:

"You're smart enough. It's just very difficult when only one tenth of the people who take the exam, are expected. That is only ten percent. Why don't you go to a privet college?"

He had thought about that himself. But he did not have the money for it; and father, who had the money, refused to help his son. For the first time, Mehri, their mother, told Jalal:

You took all my money and you don't even want to help your own son and send him to college!"

Of course Jalal did not like the money matter would be mentioned at all; but he knew what his first wife was saying, was correct. Everything he had belonged to Mehri, his first wife, who had inherited from his father.

Sohrab had no choice but to go for his two years draft. He spent the next two years as a regular soldier since he had no college degree. The only thing that the father did after Mehri cried her heart out to use his influence to get their son a good assignment, was to arrange for their son to serve his two years in the suburb of Tehran, not some far away Military base in some horrible place; and to have somewhat an easy task.

Neda suffered very much when her brother left. But that was out of every one's hand. All young men should go to service either before or after college. There was no escaping it. That was the law of the land; what an irony, the same law that too Neda's baby from her.

Sohrab was the only one who understood Neda, talked to her in a level she wanted. he was the only one that deemed his sister was a poet. Before sending her poems to the magazine, Sohrab read them and became her best critics; even though mostly he did not understand the complexity that Neda used in her poetry.

To Be Continued