Title: Dark Horse: Chapter Eight, Over the Wall
Rating: PG [rebellion]

Summary: After three weeks of lockdown, Sitara is ready to break out, at the encouragement of her best friend. George might be progressing with meditation, but his thoughts aren't really focused on that. Donovan is finding the retreat... boring.





Sitting in the garden in front of a large easel, Sitara stared off at the nearby garden. She was supposed to be painting, perfecting another one of the arts. However, she could not focus at all. No longer allowed to leave the estate, as her father claimed his trust was broken, her days blurred together. Banal activity after banal activity made Sitara one bored – and lonely – girl. Approved guests did not feed the loneliness in her soul. She yearned for something greater.

She yearned for the British men back at the Maharishi’s ashram.

Her green eyes glanced up as her maid and best friend approached with a tea tray. Tucking away her untouched paintbrush, Sitara pretended to clean up her activity, but as she had not touched brush to canvas once in the past hour, little needed to be stored. She forced a smile as the maid set down the tray and quickly poured two cups of tea.

“So, how much longer?” the slightly older girl asked, handing over a cup of tea.

“Until what, Kanti?” she asked, turning completely around on the stool to face the other woman.

She pulled another stool over and sat, “How much longer are you going to abide by the lockdown?”

Sitara sighed, “I don’t know what else to do.”

Kanti smirked, “Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Let’s go over the wall tonight,” she suggested.

“If my father were to…”

“Seriously?” she set down her teacup. “He could not have broken your spirit.”

“I just…”

Her best friend stared at her for a moment, “That’s it. We’re going over the wall tonight. And we’re getting out of here.”

“Kanti, if we’re caught, it will be so much worse than–”

“We’re not going to be caught, because we’re not coming back,” she declared.

Sitara dropped her teacup on the saucer, “What?”

“I know you’re miserable here. You were even before you met those men at the ashram. Doing what your father says is not going to make things any better. If anything, it will make it worse. So stop kidding yourself. You were not meant for this,” Kanti proclaimed. “You were never meant to just be married unhappily to someone of your father’s choosing. Your mother would never want that. She married the man she loved. And that’s precisely what she would tell you. Defy convention, Sita.”

She sighed, “I…”

“Come on,” Kanti stood. “Let’s go pack bags for tonight. We’re getting out of here.”

Leaving the tea service in the garden as well as the painting supplies, the two young women headed back into the house. Though she felt nervous about the idea of sneaking out permanently from her father’s house, Sitara began to warm to the thought. By the time the two young women reached her quarters, her soul began to buzz alive. It was time to live her life, not the life of a caged bird.

As Kanti headed to the large walk-in closet to pull out luggage, the phone rang. Both girls halted and looked at each other. Shrugging, Sitara headed over to the phone and picked it up. She sheepishly answered and dropped the phone a moment later, causing Kanti to giggle.

Shooting her friend a glare, Sitara picked up the phone again and sat on the nearest bench, “Sorry about that, George. I was not… it has been three weeks. I certainly did not expect to hear from you.”

“You left without saying goodbye. I have been ringing you daily since then.”

Her eyes widened, “You have? Why?”

“I wanted to talk to you. At first, I thought the Maharishi gave me the wrong number, but someone named Neela did answer a few times.”

She gasped, “No!”

There was a long pause, “She did not give you any messages?”

“Not at all.”

“Well… at least I can hear your voice now.”

She smiled, glancing at Kanti who dutifully packed the bag, though was clearly listening to the conversation, “I am grateful to hear you as well. Have you found nirvana yet?”

“Not yet. I find it hard to concentrate…”

“I am certain the Maharishi has a solution to that.”

“He might, but I have not mentioned it to him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I do not mind thinking of you.”

She flushed, turning on the bench so that her back was to Kanti, “You do not.”

“All the time.”

“George…”

“I want to see you again. Can I see you again?”

She paused for a moment and smiled, “Yes, yes you can.”

“When?” his voice filled with hope.

Sitara glanced over her shoulder as Kanti closed her suitcase, “Sooner than you think. Much sooner than you think.”



After spending all evening meditating, George opened his door and headed out of the sparse room. He stepped over his evening meal before picking it up. Though he did not intend to eat anything that bugs had nibbled on for a few hours, he would not leave it there. Instead, he tossed the food to the monkeys chattering around the dining clearing before heading into the kitchen himself.

Shuffling through the cupboards, he pulled out a couple of biscuits before turning to where the teas were stored. Prior to that day, the act of making or even drinking tea beset him with a tinge of melancholy. However, that was no more. Finally, after weeks of calling, he heard her voice. In addition to that, her voice held great promise. He did not know what, but he trusted great things were on the horizon.

Leaning against the counter, sipping one of Sitara’s teas and munching on a biscuit, he looked up as his wife entered the kitchen. A bit surprised to see Pattie up that late, he nonetheless smiled at her. They exchanged brief pleasantries as she made herself a cup of tea. It was an odd exchange, at least in his mind. He could feel the distance growing between them with each passing day. He wondered if she noticed or if she passed it off as being part of this excursion.

“There have been rumors,” Pattie stated, sitting down.

“Oh? About whom?”

“That you’re going to go up into the mountains with the Maharishi,” she claimed.

“Oh,” he smirked. “Not true. Who told you this?”

“I have just heard it around,” she shrugged. “You are his favorite student.”

“I have enjoyed learning his lessons,” George stated.

“But?”

“I understand that we have other places to be, things to do,” he responded, turning to set his empty cup in the sink. “I… I just do not want to leave here and get on a plane and go right back into it, savvy?”

She nodded cautiously, “What are you considering?”

He glanced at the door as Cynthia entered, “Going south.”

“Meet up with Ravi?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, watching John’s wife idly go through cupboards. “What about you, love? You and John going right back to London?”

She turned and looked at the guitarist, “Um… I suppose so.”

“Is he not talking with you still?” Pattie asked.

“No…”

“I’m sorry.”

“I just… Julian…”

“He will not abandon his son,” Pattie stated. “Right, George?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, of course,” he quickly responded. “I’m going to, uh, go. Good evening, ladies.”

Leaving the kitchen, George tried to not think about his mate’s marital discord, especially as his own weighed on his mind. Perhaps it was all in his mind. There was nothing wrong with him and Pattie. All couples went through phases. This could just be their down phase, because his thoughts were focused elsewhere.

On another woman, to be more precise.



Setting down their suitcases in the hotel, Kanti smiled as Sitara moved to the window and pulled the curtains wide. With little pause, the heiress opened the window and leaned out, inhaling deeply. Kanti approached her best friend, wrapping her arms around her from behind, and squeezed gently. Grinning, Sitara glanced over her shoulder.

“I can’t believe we did it.”

Kanti rested her chin on Sitara’s shoulder and looked out over the vista of Delhi stretched before them, “I can. I just cannot believe it took you so long.”

“Why?”

“No one likes to be oppressed, Sita,” she claimed.

“It’s not like I’m the first girl to be kept behind closed doors before.”

“Well no,” she swept Sitara’s hair off her shoulders. “But you’re not really the ‘kept woman’ type of girl.”

“How do you know?” Sitara asked, turning in her friend’s loose embrace.

“Because,” Kanti quickly kissed her forehead, “your spirit yearns for much more. Now come. Let’s go have dinner and explore some of this city I have never been to before.”

The two young women headed out into the city. They found restaurant nearby the luxury hotel and soon giggled while dining. As a hub for tourists, people of different nationalities filled tables around the two young women. While they drew the attention of others, especially men, neither woman entertained any flirtations. They kept to themselves, talking softly amongst themselves.

Once their meal was complete, the two stood and headed from the restaurant, intending to wander the streets as the sun set. However, before they completely exited, a newspaper by the entrance caught Sitara’s eye. Without saying anything to Kanti, she approached the waiting man and asked to borrow his paper.

She held it out to her best friend, “Look.”

The other woman accepted the paper and glanced over the print, trying to see what her friend saw. Turning it over, her eyes widened as her gaze settled on an image and headline. She said nothing but handed the paper back to the man. Saying nothing, the two women stepped out of the building.

“So…” Kanti muttered as they began to stroll down the street.

“Yes,” Sitara responded to the unasked question.

“So…” she smirked. “I suppose we should go find out who The Beatles are.”

She shook her head, “No. I know who they are. I don’t need to know what the press thinks of them.”

“But–”

“No,” she interrupted, “what they say about them is not what the guys are really like.”

“But–”

“You will see tomorrow when we reach the ashram. They are men, not gods,” Sitara declared. “And that is how you are to know them.”

“If you insist…”

“I do. Know them as men. That is a far richer experience anyways,” she stated. “And far truer in any matter.”

They wandered through the streets for a while, stopping a few times to purchase small trinkets. As nighttime settled on the city, they returned to their hotel. They deposited their purchases on the small breakfast table. With little thought, both drifted towards the bathroom, intending to wash off the day’s grime. Rather than defect to Sitara, Kanti stripped the other woman’s clothing off and then her own. With the hot shower running, both stepped in. As they had many times before, they soaped each other up before stepping out and wrapping in fluffy towels.

Neither woman bothered to dress after the shower. Remaining wrapped in her towel, Kanti pulled out their clothing for the next day and stowed their worn clothing. Comb in hand, she sat on the bed behind Sitara and worked the tangles from her long, dark hair before plaiting it. Both turned around so that Sitara could do the same for Kanti.

Returning the comb to the dresser a few minutes later, Kanti turned out the single lamp and discarded her towel. Sitara threw hers aside as well before ducking under the bedcovers. Neither even considered the existence of the other bed and Kanti slipped under the covers and cuddled with Sitara a moment later.

“Sita?”

“Mmmmhmm?” she lazily replied.

“Sweet dreams.”

Waking at dawn far too few hours later, the women quickly dressed and hurried from the hotel room. Both knew time was of the essence that morning. While Sitara’s father likely had not noticed her absence until dinner or later, morning presented a different challenge. If they wanted to stay a few steps ahead of him, they needed to get to Rishikesh sooner than later. 

On the road before air traffic between Jaipur and Delhi would minimize the chances of being caught before they were safe at the ashram – not that Sitara particularly liked the idea of the Maharishi’s ashram being safe. She believed him to be much of the charlatan that her father claimed him to be – which he had repeated ad nauseam since the virginity test. They had no other choice, however, as Sitara’s circle of acquaintances were not an option, as most only knew her because of her father. The ashram was their only choice; one Sitara accepted based upon her friendships with the Maharishi’s guests.

Reaching Rishikesh, the women were left in the middle of town, as their cab driver refused to cross the river to the ashram. As they skipped breakfast to hurry along, neither fought the man’s declaration much. Instead, they found a decent restaurant and sat to eat.

Kanti instantly noticed Sitara hardly touched her food, “What is wrong? Did they prepare it wrong?”

“No,” she shook her head. “The food is fine.”

“Then what is it? Are you worried about your father?”

Sitara’s green eyes flicked to her best friend, “No, not at all. Why? Should I be?”

“No,” Kanti responded. “What is it then?”

“Nothing.”

“I do not believe you for a moment.”

“Well,” she leaned forward and lowered her voice, “George…”

“Ah,” her best friend nodded and sipped her morning tea. “I am certain you have no need to worry about him either, Sita. He has been calling you repeatedly for weeks now.”

“You knew about that and didn’t tell me?”

“Just because my mother was keeping that information from you, does not mean I was. You told me about his call last night,” Kanti declared.

“Oh right.”

“Relax, Sita. He wants to see you again. And I am certain the other one… Donovan?... will want to see you again as well. Relax and eat your paratha,” she stated. “We’ll be across the river before long.”



After a morning snog with Mia before the Maharishi’s lecture, Donovan stole away for a smoke. He inhaled deeply, letting the smoke curl about in his lungs. With half of The Beatles gone so were half of his smoking partners. At times, he could convince John to join him, when the songwriter was not hurrying to the post office or sneaking booze with Magic Alex. Convincing George to take a break from meditation or reading whatever books the Maharishi pressed upon him, happened more infrequently than smoking with John.

If Jenny and now Mia had not been at the ashram, he would have been bored out of his mind. He knew he was supposed to be there for spiritual enlightment – and at times, he truly did feel enlightened. But mostly, lately, he had just been bored – and sexually frustrated. He needed something to shake things up. Perhaps another trip into town was in the cards.

Deciding to seek the Maharishi’s permission for another journey to Rishikesh, Donovan snuffed out his cigarette and got to his feet. He stopped at his cabin to freshen his breath and brush his hair quickly, not for any particular reason. With a bit more spring in his step than before, the folksinger headed to find the Maharishi.

As he neared the building, his heart skipped a beat and he instantly halted. Leaving the Maharishi’s gathering hall were two of the most beautiful and exotic women he had ever seen. One he knew, the other he did not, but that was about to change.

“Well if it isn’t beautiful Miss Barlow,” he stepped into their path.

Sitara’s eyes widened. Grinning, she instantly embraced Donovan, kissing his cheek. His arms looped happily about her waist, keeping her from stepping away should she attempt it.

“Hi,” she muttered, her green eyes looking up into his.

“And what brings you back here finally?” he muttered softly, reaching up to tuck a flyaway curl behind her ear. “I’ve missed you.”

She flushed slightly, “I’ve missed you too.”

“Then what took so long?”

Her eyes dropped and she stepped out of his arms, “My father.”

“Is he here too? I’d like to–”

“No,” she interrupted. “And hopefully it stays that way.”

His eyebrows arched up, but he let his curiosity remain fallow for the moment, “Who is your pretty friend?”

Sitara stepped to the side and motioned to the other Indian woman, “Don, this is my best friend, Kanti. Kanti, this is Donovan.”

“Enchanted,” he smiled and kissed Kanti’s outstretched hand before she could shake his.

She smiled and snapped her hand out of his, “I have heard much about you, Donovan.”

“I’m certain I am far better looking in person,” he responded.

“Perhaps,” she replied, glancing at Sitara. “However, I do not need to be charmed, sir. I have more than enough to handle without expending energy rebuffing you.”

Donovan grinned, “Feisty, aren’t we?”

“More like uninterested,” she retorted. “If you will excuse us, we need to go get settled in our quarters.”

His eyes went to Sitara, “How long are you staying?”

“I don’t know. As long as we can, I suppose.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll tell you later,” she claimed.

Before Donovan could push for more information, Kanti grabbed Sitara’s hand and tugged her towards the gate where their luggage remained. With this new development, Donovan certainly no longer needed to go into town. He had two ladies to charm – and he felt like it was going to be quite the challenge. Life just got a lot less boring.



Disappointed, but not surprised, that George did not join the group for the evening meal, Sitara and Kanti returned to their shared apartment. The other women usurping all of Sitara’s attention had kept Donovan at bay. However, Kanti kept stealing glances at the folksinger, trying to figure him out. Though she was no longer expected to protect Sitara, she still felt it her duty to do so. Understanding one of the men apparently intent on her best friend’s affections seemed prudent to her purposes. She was certain she understood Donovan, at least enough to warn Sitara away from him.

“I think I’m going to go on a walk,” Sitara claimed as they reached their room.

“I’ll come with you,” Kanti instantly responded.

“No, no need. I’m just going to clear my head out some before bed.”

Her dark eyes stared at her best friend, “You’re going to go and see Donovan.”

“No!” her eyes instantly widened. “I am not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not. I swear.”

She folded her arms across her chest, staring in disbelief.

“If you really must know, I’m hoping to find George.”

“I’ll come with you,” Kanti declared.

“No!” Sitara quickly replied. “I mean, no, no need to. I’ll be fine.”

She stared at her for a moment, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “And don’t wait up for me.”

Her eyebrow arched up, “Sita?”

“Don’t worry about me. Everything is fine here.”

“Uh huh.”

She rolled her eyes, “Everything will be fine. I’m going now.”

Before her friend could attempt to talk her out of it any more, Sitara turned and left. Smiling to herself, Kanti closed the door of the apartment. Though she acted suspicious, perhaps more so than necessary, it really had been an act. She wanted Sitara to feel comfortable to do as she pleased, to live her life. Caution did play into her thoughts, but not as much as she voiced. She hoped by slightly resisting Sitara’s wishes, the heiress would learn to stand up for herself. Though she did not wish it, Kanti knew Sitara’s father would eventually track them down. She just hoped the young woman did not buckle to his wishes right away. Going to see George when Kanti seemed to not like the idea was the first step to learning how to resist.



He knew she was there. He could feel it. He had felt the shift in his aura long before, likely the moment she set foot in the ashram. Everything he thought and felt seemed to be filled with emerald green. He wanted nothing more than to roll out of his meditation and hurry out to embrace her. However, George did not want to seem suspect. Therefore, he kept his routine, struggling to meditate all day.

Giving up at nightfall, George stepped over his untouched meal tray as he left his quarters. He stopped and picked up the tray, intending to drop it off at the kitchen. Perhaps, she would be there too, stopping for a cup of night tea or something of the sort. Arriving at the kitchen a few minutes later, he frowned upon finding it empty. He deposited his tray, drank a glass of juice, and munched on a biscuit. When no lovely joined him in the kitchen, George headed out. He paused for a moment, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Nodding to himself, he set out through the complex, with purpose in his steps and emerald green in his mind.

He should not have been surprised at all. Lit by a waning moon, Sitara looked up at the large tree branch, likely considering pulling herself up onto it. Remaining motionless for a few moments, he watched the girl reach up for the branch, but stop just short of pulling herself up into the tree. Her hand dropped and she turned around. She looked directly at him and a smile instantly lit her face.

He barely had time to open his arms to catch her as she rushed towards him, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Hi,” he muttered, looking down into her emerald eyes.

“I’ve missed you,” she breathed.

George pulled her close, one hand reaching up to caress her cheek, “I have thought of you every day.”

Sitara smiled, “While you were learning meditation?”

“Most often during those times. Maharishi says to embrace whatever thought crosses our minds during that time. You are what crosses my mind,” he admitted softly.

“Really?”

“I would not have called you so many times if it were untrue.”

She instantly frowned, “I am sorry for that. I have been… highly restricted since I saw you last.”

“Why is that, pretty girl?”

“I… it’s complicated. But it no longer matters.”

“Why not?” he pulled away slightly, guiding her to sit beneath the tree.

“I… well, simply put, I’ve run away from home.”

George remained quiet for a moment, waiting for Sitara to settle in his lap, “I am glad that you chose to run here.”

“There is nowhere else for me to go,” she breathed.

His lips touched her temple, “Then stay… forever.”