The Iranian Girl – 2

I thought about Sarah and her SOS messages for a month, was it a prank or was she really in trouble. I discussed with my friends who said I was crazy but I still decided to take on a journey to Iran.

I had to wait for another three months to get the visa. I didn’t hear from Sarah in this period. I read up on Iran – history, culture, places, people, hot spots, political situation, universities, gangs, terrorism etc and got my tour planned to spend most of the time around the town of Karaj. I booked myself a seven days and five night tour to Iran. I knew I was taking a risk.

I had three names- Sarah, Amir and Karaj to find her. After spending time shopping in Bazaar of Tabriz, Kish Beaches, Jangal-e Abr and Baghe Melli Gate, I decided to look for Sarah. I called in sick and skipped the tour and decided to travel to Karaj. It is situated 20 km west of Tehran, at the foothills of the Alborz mountains. A populated town making it the 5th largest city in Iran. Culturally very rich and a hub of educational institutes. The Art University was the only university which offered masters degree in English – that must be the pace where Sarah used to go.

I pleaded with the authorities that I was looking for my pen friend, Sarah and have traveled all the way to meet her. They relented and tried to help me. There was no one by the name of Sarah enrolled with them. Then I tried asking about the English professor – one of them has been away on a sick leave for quite sometime and the rest of the professors were ladies. I bribed the clerk and got the professors address.

He lived a short walk away from the campus in a small bungalow curtained by thick shrubs. I knocked on the door and a suave looking gentleman in his forties opened the door. I inquired about Sarah, one of his students but he had never heard of her. I tried describing the girl but he pretended to be busy and tried to shoo me away. I could sense he knew something about the girl but he maintained a straight face.

I had not traveled all the way here to be turned away. I pushed the professor in and closed the door, I held his tight in a choking grip under my arm. He squealed and I didn’t relent, I punched him hard on the nose and almost broke his jaw. I tightened my grip and he gasped for breath; he pleaded to be let free and then he started talking.

“Her name is not Sarah, her real name is Fatima. She was in the final year of the university, a very precocious girl. I don’t believe in getting close to my students, I knew she had something for me I  ignored her completely. She wrote me letter, sent me flowers, and got me email address and send out erotic and dirty note. I ignored it all.” He sighed and asked me if I would care for some scotch. I nodded and he poured a large shot for me.

“About four months ago she knocked on my door in the dead of the night. She was crying and looked shaken. I let her in and that was the biggest mistake of my life”. He walked to the window and gazed out for long. “Amir was looking for her while she slept on my couch. They seem to have had a fight when he was forcing her to join his friends for a night out. He and his friends chased her here and broke open the door and beat me up and took her away. That was the last I saw her”.

He opened a drawer and handed me a paper cutting, it had news about Fatima. Amir pushed her into prostitution and when she couldn’t take it anymore she decided to end her life. There was a picture of Fatima with a beautiful smile and a big nose.

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