UNFULFILLED- Three(~)~(~) Three- The Others

Mansour frowned slightly and did not say anything for a moment, as though thinking what kind of answer best suited her. Finally he said:

"You and your ideas!" He began after the short silence: "Sometimes I feel that your convictions are dangerous! Why don't you open your eyes and see where you are, where you live? Why can't you go along with the reality of your life, our lives in general?"

"Reality of our lives stinks. Look at my poor mother! Yes, I am an idealist. I don't want to be like my mother." She averted her eyes while speaking and remove his hand from hers.

He got up from the bench and walked a little. He lit a cigarette and returned to where she was sitting. He stood in front of her.

"To be too idealistic sometimes hurts people." He said calmly.

"So let us be wounded! At least we know what to do; we can get in a fighting position to defend ourselves, so what!"

"So you don't care to be injured?" He almost demanded an answer from her.

"No, if I must pay a price for my viewpoint, I will pay that price."

"So if I tell you that you can't do certain things when we're married, what would you do?"

"You must be joking! You want to use my love to dominate me! I won't allow it."

"But if I did!" He wanted a straight forward answer.

"Then I don't stay with you!"

There was a silence that ensued. The sky was suddenly darkened in the garden. Quietly the shadows of night crowded from sky to where they were sitting. Things lost their color irksomely.

"You don't know life. You're still a child, a stubborn child." He said bitterly

"Oh," She smiled. "Why are you marrying a child then?"

But before he was able to answer, she continued:

"I want to feel the life, to see it all, to touch all sides of it. For that I even risk my life!"

"Oh, you're so naive. All you think about is rebelling. You say things just to be against everyone else. That is just your habit. I'll bet you'll calm down in a few years when you see your ideas are just ideas and nothing else."

"We see!"

"Are you angry at me?" He asked her discontentedly.

"No!'

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not. It's time to go inside. I haven't done my homework yet."

They walked inside the building together. The hallway was dark. A dim light gave a little shade of light at the end of the hallway, where there was a storage room under the stairs. They gazed at each other in silence. She would remember this stare for the rest of her life. To her, his desirous and fervent glare grew intense. She saw that his glance pierced her through her deepest and most internal awareness. She shuddered. He saw it. He offered his hand. She refused it.

"I'm going home now. Can I hug you?"

She looked bewildered. A minute ago he was explosive; now he was gentle. She was not sure which of them needed the other more. She slowly put her arms around his neck. He kissed her for the first time, a prolonged kiss.

She went to her room and wrote a poem that showed her ambiguity about their relationship:

"The part of my body choose

To do things beyond my command.

But when life doesn't confuse,

They listen to me like a friend.

When my eyes see enchanting change,

They glow with a fire of gale.

When my soul is not strange,

It diminishes the color of pale.

When my head craves for ease,

It doesn't hurt of a constant pain.

When my legs carry me to breeze,

They endure the nature, sun or rain.

At times, love melts into sky.

Mind is tired of what we've done.

Obscurities won't be untangled, they die.

Eyes loose the sight of what we've begun

When they only want to see why!

A beloved, who has searched for long,

Comes upon her love, where ever it was laid.

Love has a new look, like a new song;

Echoes in air, as we are over our dread.

It has a genuine feeling, no longing for wrong;

But is it this new born love what we've said?"

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Three- {_}{_} The Others

Their engagement was not without quarrel. Neda had ideas that Mansour did not like. At his age, without knowing that he was set up by Jalal, he had chosen Neda for reasons of his own. First she was very young; and he believed he could shape her character in any way that suited him best. Second, she was almost pretty, if it was not for her slender and girlish body. Third, she was from a good family, a very well respected family which was very important to him. She was unassuming and shy, so he thought. Marrying an insecure girl was important to him; and above all, in recent months she had gone through a lot of turmoil at home because of her father's second marriage and she had witnessed her mother's capitulation to this new situation. Mansour thought all these would make her to yield to him entirely; would make her to look at him as his hero, would make her to worship and admire him fully; and most of all would revere him, only him. His imagination created all these occurrences on this young girl. He found her to be a perfect wife for himself. What he did not know was that beneath the skin of this shy and diffident girl laid a tiger of woman, who was nothing like her mother.

Mansour, of course had his doubts, too. There was another side to this measured girl that truly bother him. She constantly talked about the mediocre culture they lived in and especially the way women were treated. She also talked about her goals and dreams. "I'll be a famous poet one day." She had said that to him so many times that if he heard it one more time, he would probably leave her.

Each evening when they saw each other, before proceeding to almost familiar tone of their conversation of the evening before, he would ponder on the question: "will she be commendable or obnoxious tonight?" And Neda would ask herself: "Will we be friend or enemy tonight?"

In his opinion, her ideas about life were beyond a woman's capability; however internally he knew that women like men were able of understanding and creating. But he did not want that kind of woman for himself. He had his doubts about this whole thing; nonetheless, even in their constant disagreeing, Neda was always lovely. He hoped that things would be different when they were married and she would settle down like her mother or his mother. Acting more like a teacher to her than a fiance, one evening he told her:

"You must consider the society, your family's status, my feeling before soaring to sky with all your dreams!"

Neda, who was never without an answer, retorted:

"You want to put me in a box; but box has doors, and I can go outside. I've gotten to a moment of my life that I pick my ideas and poetry over pleasing others any time! I want to live my life fully. I don't want to fall into shallow existence that sometimes hypocrites like you would impose on me."

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Three- {~} The Others

Neda had mixed emotions when she looked at her father and Sima together. The way he looked at his new, young bride seemed to Neda as if Sima was life itself. She was too young to recognize if this relation was all passion and lust or was something more profound. She talked to Mansour about her confusion. His response was:

"A man needs passion in his life all the time. A woman loses her eroticism when she gives birth. Then her children become her affection. Your father is not that old. It is obvious that he has no desire for your mom because your mom has no craving for him. A lot of men don't do anything about it, or perhaps do temporary things. Your father did something about it."

His answer somewhat made sense to Neda; however, it was harsh.

"I wouldn't be that way when I have a child." She retorted.

"All women are the same. You're no exception."

Neda thought for a moment and then exclaimed incredulously:

"No, I won't be that way. I am a poet. Poetry is all about strong emotion and feeling. I'm different."

Mansour shook his head and gave of his unbecoming laughter that Neda never liked:

"You and your poetry...!"

She never liked when he made fun of her writing poetry, or belittled her or called her writing "Childish stuff". For days she thought about what Mansour had told her. They were engaged now. Was it possible that a baby would replace a man for a woman? She really did not know the answer! It seemed to her that it had for her mother.

This was not the first time in her life that Mehri realized that she was exposed to the onslaught of the culture. She had experienced this kind of calamity by her father and brothers before. Now it was her husband's supposedly superior mind which was set against her by the most horrific abhorrence. She began despising herself since she did not know how to defend herself for this great humiliation. She thought if she would praise her rival, Sima, her husband would at least give her back the respect she deserved. As it was customary in the rare occasion that a husband took a second wife, the first wife would always be the first lady of the house. Mehri voluntarily stepped back from that role and allowed Sima to become the first lady!

This gesture brought Neda such an anguish that she was at the point of breakdown. Her mother's beautiful soul, in which perhaps falsity would prevail from now on, and it would be shaken in the most sever way, was no more.

In the middle of one night Neda woke up by some noises. She decided to step outside and use the bathroom, too. What she saw, she would never forget. Her mother was standing without shoes without her robe, behind the door of bedroom of Jalal and Sima with her ears pressed to the door. She even did not notice that Neda was out of her room until she touched her.

She was so shocked that Neda could see even in dark her shaking.

"What are you doing mom here, mom?"

Mehri did not answer anything and ran down the stairs. Neda had heard also the noise. Her father and sima were having passionate time with each other. Neda knew what was happening. Would she have done what her mother had? Perhaps yes; nevertheless, in the morning she told her mother what a poor soul she had turned into. Mehri had her to promise not to say anything to anybody about the event. She was not about to.

In a short time, Neda thought that she had lost both her mother and father. She tried to make friend with Sima but to no avail.

Her erroneous love to Mansour was not apparent to her or to her family. Father had planned all these for Neda, and what became of that scheme bore its fruit. Mansour had agreed to come to their home every evening. He had agreed to the engagment. The only person who made Jalal uncomfortable for marrying a second wife was his daughter. His friends, all of them, cheered him up, and perhaps even envied him. They wanted the same for themselves, if they could afford it.

Now that they were engaged, Mansour's visits on evening became much more intense. They were not allowed to leave the house without a chaperon. In honesty, father even did not mind that; he was just pretending that he was acting according to custom. However, no one stopped Neda and Mansour of walking in the garden, or sitting on the bench beneath the great cherry tree.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Three-~`~` The Others

This imaginative touch and contact brought Neda a false happiness that was disturbed by qualm and apprehension. She, who longed for her father, the way he used to be, found a new father in Mansour. Notwithstanding, she mistook this feeling of wanting her father back with being in love with Mansour. If she only knew that her mother, as always, was right.

Her mother's recent complaining and feeling sorry for herself made her children to forget her perpetual wisdom. Father did not object Neda's marriage to a man much older than her with no real job or education. Mehri was right. He had planned all these to get rid of Neda, since she was the only one who knew how to make him conscience- stricken of himself. He was better off without Neda at home. He knew Neda hated Sima, his second wife. He knew they would never get along. If Mehri, his first wife, finally accepted the existence of the second wife, Neda would never approve of her or her father's second marriage. There would always be a turmoil in the house especially when Neda would be a little older. The only bachelor he knew at the time was Mansour. He knew that Mansour was not an evil man; but he also knew that he and his daughter had nothing in common. But that was not his concern or standard to marry off his daughter at this point. All he cared for then was that Mansour was a decent man. He hated and resented the intrusion of his fifteen years old daughter on his personal affair!

Jalal was a changed man! He wanted passion in his life. Sims, he believed, was the one who could give him that affection. Intimacy with this new wife was delightful and so different than what he had with his first wife. Sima gave him pleasure; Mehri did a job; Sima mutually enjoyed their affinity and knew what he wanted. She had desire of her own. Mehri used to tell him to hurry up and get it over with. How poorly he and Mehri understood each other. That was an obvious thing to him and to the majority of men his age around him, who observed the new him with envy, yet gratification.

The way Mehri acted when it came to closeness with her husband was not an unusual action for women her age or even younger. Women were never taught to enjoy intimacy the same way men did. In fact their mother's advice to them on their wedding night had always been to be dutiful, to please their husband, and to bear children; but never among those counsels were: "You have right, too. Intimacy is for both men and women; or you can refuse to have children."

Therefore, Mehri was not an exception. She did her job well; she was dutiful, she bore two children; and after that for some unknown reason, she never got pregnant again. Since she had done her role well as a wife, Jalal's indiscretion made her to suffer even more. She just could not stop moaning and crying.

Neda could never forget or forgive her mother's complaining and whining. She did not understand why mom did not do anything about her misfortune which in her opinion was horrific and disgraceful. Why didn't she cry and lament for her husband? Why didn't she say those hateful words to Sima, her rival? Then it came a day that mother immersed herself in defeatism. That was the day that father was finished with decorating a room for his new bride and brought Sima home with a lot of fan fair. Mehri continued her grieving, but now only when she was alone. It came a day that she finally accepted the second wife of her husband. She talked to others about her situation in a way that seemed to her audience that she has convinced herself that Jalal had a God given right to have another wife. Her pain now appeared to be more physical than emotional.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Three- ~~~The Others

Jalal was commander of the house. Without having served in military, he acted like a Colonel or General. His family to him was below him and they needed to obey his orders as if they were in military. He showed no emotion for the suffering of Mehri or his children. He believed that his second marriage should be accepted as a normal act by his first family. He had changed over night. He was now in that constant mood that had always frightened his children; but in past his children knew that kind of state of mind was temporary. Having a double personality, these days he chose the temper that was hated by his family and was loved by his second wife, Sima.

The second wife, Sima was a miracle to him. She poured light all around him and herself; like making an invisible wall between the two of them and the first family. She called his first family "The Rest" audaciously. Neda, who used to be his light and comfort, as she was to her grandparents, being the youngest of all the grandchildren from both sides, was not allowed to enter his study anymore. The grandchildren were all boys except Neda and Maryam, the daughter of Mehri's brother. Maryam, her cousin, was Sohrab's age; however, she was Neda's best friend. She told Neda one day:

"If you're waiting for your father to change and this love affair loses its color, you're waisting your time..."

How well Maryam knew her family and her. Neda was certain that Sima was poisoning her father's mind against his first family. Neda was not allowed to criticize her father for what he had done to them all. How could it be possible for a man like her father to change this much and this quick almost over night?

The very first day when father brought Sima home without even being embarrassed, Neda's heart pounded violently. She just could not concentrate anymore on her writing or school. One thing father did though that seemed almost fair in their situation. He let Mehri, his first wife to keep their bedroom on the first floor. This was the bedroom they shared for over twenty years. He furnished a room on the second floor for his new bride. This room was across from his study. Neda's room was next to his study. They practically never used this room and within years it had become like a storage room. He hired some people to clean up the room and painted it and used one of his most beautiful Persian Rug in there. He bought a very beautiful bedroom set for this room. Nobody knew it was him that choosing the color or it was his new bride that was telling him since she had never been in the house until the day the room was completely finished with furniture, red covering for bed, and dozen of red roses to finish it up. They used the second floor's hallway as a second living room with antique furniture. This was not a normal hallway but it was square shape with window which faced the garden area.

The day that he, single handily finished all the work on the second floor, he slept in this new bedroom by himself. The next morning was the day he brought home his second wife. He began sharing this bedroom with Sima and never went to see Mehri, his first wife again as most men with more than one wife do. The Koran said that a man who was financially capable, could have up to four legal wives as long as he treated them all equally. He was financially able, thanks to Mehri's money, but there was no equality in his behavior and the way he treated his two wives.

Neda longed old days, her rapport with her father, his love for her, his passion for his family, and above all his allowing her to use his books and to talk to her about them. They were all gone. Memories of childhood and her father's interaction with all of them, brought Neda a strange and poetic touch and a relationship with Mansour, one of her father's friend, who also helped him in the business. For some odd reason, Mansour visited them almost every evening now, and even for more astonishing purpose, father did not mind this visits. He rarely came to their house before. But now he visited them almost daily. Neda and Mansour were becoming close to each other. In fact, father was encouraging it.

Her mother noticed everything and knew exactly what was happening. One day, she took Neda aside to have some privet conversation with her.

"I see that you and Mansour are always talking with each other." Mehri began, trying not to irritate her opinionated daughter.

Neda thought for a moment. She knew that her mother was right, yet since it was her mother who was giving her a warning, she objected it as most teenagers her age would do.

"Yes, we're not doing anything wrong. Dad is not objecting it. We just talk!"

Mehri responded as if to herself:

"Don't you see what your father plan is? He wants you to fall in love with Mansour so he can marry you off. You're the only one who makes him uncomfortable!"

Neda broke in rudely:

"Mom, you're paranoid. Since you can't do anything about your situation, you think everyone has a plan. I don't think dad is having Mansour to come here for this reason! He used to come here before."

"Not every evening sweet heart! Don't you see how your father is pushing you two together. You're only fifteen years old. Mansour is twenty years older than you. He doesn't have a real job. He hasn't finished his college. He still lives with his parents. He..."

"Mom," Neda broke in: "I really like him. You're just so delusional..." Then she left her mother and went to her own room.

To Be continued

UNFULFILLED- Three- The Others

Learning about her husband's infidelity, Mehri was appalled. She trembled as though with an invisible blow. She practically twisted in pain and broke out in sweat and also against her normal tranquility into a series of hateful and sour words as she ran out of the room. The mysterious, yet amicable veil which appeared to be wrapped around this family had fallen. No one ever knew any flaw about them. People imagined that behind this serene and enigmatic shroud was the grandest, most tender, and possibly the ultimate impeccability.

The tormented restlessness of childhood reappeared worse than what it had been for Neda before. It reached such a climax that she feared she might fall apart under that unendurable and excruciating pain and twist. To see her mother's tame feebleness, even in her young age, was not acceptable to Neda. She could not bear her mom's groaning, and feeling sorry for herself. Mehri used her daughter, Neda, to complain about her situation instead of showing some courage to complain and show her disgust to her husband, Jalal. Instead of telling him that she wanted a divorce and she wanted her inheritance back, what was rightfully hers, she would go to Neda's room and would say all those things to her daughter. Neda, only fifteen, thoughtfully told her mother more than once:

"Why don't you get a divorce? Why don't you do something? "

Mother's response was:

"I can't get a divorce! I have two children. What can I do? He won't give Sohrab and you to me! I have no money!"

Neda responded almost with hostility:

"First of all Sohrab is nineteen years old; and dad can't make me to live with him. I make his life miserable. He willingly wants to get rid of me anyway because I'm the only one with guts in this home that tell him things. The other day, he threw me out of his room. And secondly, why did you give your money to him in a first place? You just put your money in a tray and handed to him as though serving him tea. Now the money is all in his name; and you have nothing!"

Mehri wished she had the wisdom of her fifteen years old daughter; but it was too late for money issue.

"What could I do? How could I have known? No one in our either families is ever divorced! I married him to stay with him always!"

She wiped her eyes with he corner of her skirt, and then with an ominous venom continued:

"Besides, he won't divorce me. He doesn't want other people know about our problems. He just want to have another wife..." Mehri stopped here since her silent weeping had changed to a loud cry. Neda wished to tell her mother that "always" did not exist. Nothing was for always.

Sohrab, her brother, did not discuss this menacing subject with his mother, or father, or even Neda at all. He was drawn into himself and was trying to avoid everyone. Besides taking some classes to prepare himself for college, and still working for the father, he spent most of his time either in his room or out with his friends. Neda wanted to talk to her brother like old days, but Sohrab would not want to get involved in anything that had to do with their parents' problems; therefor, he refused talking even to Neda since the affair of their parents was hard to avoid. Nobody knew whose side he was since he refused to talk and get tangled in this ugly web.

Talking to mother was useless. Neda's anger towards her parents was immeasurable. Mehri's two brothers lived their own lives and had no worry for their only sister. Both of them were married. One of them did not even live in Tehran. Their wives mostly were gravitated towards their own families. Mehri had no sister. Both her parents were dead, her mother when she was pregnant with Sohrab and her father only last year. She practically had no women friend to talk to and tell them about this terrible misery in her life. She had dedicated her life for the last twenty years to her marriage and children. She had married Jalal at age eighteen. Now she had become like an old handkerchief that her husband had crumbled and threw it out after using up all her money, wealth, and youth. She had no skill to work, never had worked, just as women in her era and family type never had. She saw herself as a victim. In the last few weeks since the news of her husband's infidelity was broken, she had aged so much that no one could believe that she was only thirty eight years old. She continued praying, as though the great God would come to her rescue. However, her praying these days always began with a flood of tears. She started questioning the God's fairness for her grievous misfortune.

On the other hand, Jalal, who at age forty nine had found a new kind of love and excitement in Sima, the twenty nine years old woman, who was the daughter of a friend, did not pay attention to neither what Mehri felt or suffered from, nor what his children thought about him. Sima was a virgin woman. No one knew why she was not married yet. People called her an old maid behind her back. She was a beautiful woman and had a very respectable family. It was a mystery why she was still unmarried; a mystery that Jalal's family would never find out about it. Sima's parents did not mind that their daughter would become the second wife of an older man with another wife and children.

To Be Continued