Free City of Lies by Ramita Navai Page A

brought with it a fully functioning sex life. This change of fortune was mostly down to his neighbour Arash, a cool kid in ripped jeans and Prada sunglasses with liberal parents. Arash’s life consisted of girls and parties. In this part of town, some girls would have sex after only one date. Which was all very well when they were sitting astride Amir-Ali, but he did not want to marry a slut. That was when he realized that, when it came to marriage, he needed his own kind. He had never felt comfortable with the liberal, secular kids. Somehow, they could always tell him apart, no matter how much he spent on designer clothes. They thought it was cool that his father was a real
bazaari
done good, but he soon tired of being a novelty. More than that, he did not like the way the boys allowed the women to be so independent; it had not only spoilt the girls, but these rich men were being emasculated: they seemed to have lost their place in the world; they were constantly depressed even though they had it all, everything a young man from the Meydan dreamt of. Amir-Ali felt much more comfortable with his childhood friends, and that even included the more religious ones who disapproved of his new life. At least they behaved like men and were respected by their wives. He hung out with those who had turned out more like him; they were flexible in their adherence to religion. They slept with prostitutes and the one time in their lives they had a little extra cash, they had blown it on lads’ holidays to Turkey. At weekends, Thursday and Friday nights, they smoked pot and
sheesheh
, crystal meth. Amir-Ali’s best friend Reza, a judo champion, had started to spend more time with his
sheesheh
pipe than at the gym. Even the middle-class kids of Shahrak-e Gharb smoked
sheesheh
at parties.
    Life was changing for Amir-Ali; at twenty-six years old, most of his friends were married and they saw each other less. He realized it was time for a wife.
    *
    The call to Somayeh’s parents was made early the next morning. Haj Agha was flattered that Mohammad thought Somayeh good enough for his family. Amir-Ali could have anyone, but they had chosen Somayeh. Fatemeh had cried, ‘She’s still a girl, she’s so young.’ They had agreed that while they should approve any
khastegars
, suitors, Somayeh should be free to choose her own husband.
    When she got back from school Fatemeh and Haj Agha were listening to a cleric on television discussing virgins in paradise.
    ‘They are always fresh, energetic and young, they never age. And they’re untouched! In the Koran, it says their eyes look downwards; now we know this type of look to mean
khomaar
[a sultry come-hither look] but they don’t give this look to just anyone, only their husbands!’ The presenter was rapt. Discussing the virgins of paradise with the cleric was probably one of the highlights of his career.
    ‘Darling, you have a new
khastegar
,’ said Fatemeh as Somayeh walked through the door. Since she had turned fifteen, her parents had repelled a stream of
khastegars
on her behalf, but she knew instantly the identity of this latest one. And she did not want him batted off.
    ‘Amir-Ali wants to come round for
khastegari.
’
Khastegari
is
the first step of a marriage proposal, when the suitor visits the bride’s house with his family. Somayeh wanted to scream. Instead she cocked her head and shrugged her shoulders as if to say
I couldn’t care less.
    ‘We’ll just tell them no. Darling, you know I think you’re too young.’
    Haj Agha came to the rescue, ‘But he’s an excellent catch! They’re rich – it would be a good life. And they’re family … ’
    ‘Well, if
baba
thinks it’s a good idea, they may as well come and I can think about it.’ The
khastegari
was arranged for the following evening.
    Fatemeh had recognized the look in her daughter’s eye and she was worried. She saw that Somayeh was flattered by the attentions of her urbane cousin. What she could not see