Chapter Thirteen, Fated Wandering
Posted by DiF on Saturday, February 18, 2012
Title: Dark Horse: Chapter Thirteen, Fated Wandering
Rating: PG-13 [language, drugs, violence]
Summary: The ashram in Rishikesh is left behind. Sitara and Kanti are forced back to Jaipur. Donovan wanders to the Pink City as does George and Pattie.
“Sitara,” a deep voice boomed behind the pair, forcing Sita to step away from George.
Her eyes instantly dropped to the gravel pathway and she stepped away from the musician. His fingers reached for hers, but Sitara evaded his grasp. His brows rose slightly, though he turned his attention from her to the man apparently her father. George looked the man over briefly, instantly feeling as if the older man’s aura was charging at him. Remaining silent, he cautiously took a step away from Sitara.
“Come with me,” he ordered.
She took a step forward, but George’s fingers touched her wrist, stopping her actions.
“Sita does not have to go with you if she does not wish it,” George stated evenly.
Geoffrey’s eyes went to the musician, “Not that you have any say in the matter, but why do you think that?”
“She is a grown, mature woman, who can —”
“Sitara is seventeen. That alone does not qualify her as an adult, but I can assure you that Sitara is in no position to be making such decisions. The girl knows nothing of adult life,” he declared.
“Maybe because you have never given her the chance. I am certain she would surprise you if you gave her the chance.”
“Because sneaking out of the house during the darkness of night and fleeing hundreds of kilometers away is such a mature action.”
“You can’t keep her locked up forever.”
His green eyes darkened slightly, “Who are you to say what I can and can’t do with my only daughter?”
George’s thoughts fell silent. He wanted to declare that he was the man who loved his daughter, but found it impossible to say. That likely had to do with the fact a small crowd had gathered: including his wife.
Donovan stepped forward, “Someone who cares about Sitara, just like I do.”
The older man’s dark eyes flicked to the folksinger, “You most certainly have no say here. You were—”
“No,” Sitara spoke softly, but evenly.
Her father’s attention focused on her, “Excuse me.”
“I do not want to go back with you,” she declared.
George’s hand left her wrist, his fingers intertwining with hers.
“You have no say in the matter.”
“I think I do,” she stated boldly. “It is my life, not yours.”
Geoffrey quickly grasped her other hand, yanking her towards him, “You have no say in the matter.”
Before anyone else could protest, her father pulled Sitara down to the car. He threw her into the back of it, motioning to Kanti with a glare. The other woman quickly scrambled in, reaching to console her friend. Sitara slapped her hands away, turning to reach for the handle of the door on the opposite side. As her fingers closed over it, George hurried to that side of the car as well, intending to help her out of the vehicle. Geoffrey slipped into the car, slammed the door closed, and barked at the driver to go. Not about to disobey his master, the driver quickly slammed down on the gas.
Sitara cried out and pushed the door open, not caring that the vehicle was moving. Her father’s arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her from vacating the car. She flailed about, begging Kanti to help her. The normally headstrong woman did not speak nor move, but seemed completely frozen in place.
Once the car crossed the bridge across the river, Sitara stopped fighting. She settled down, folding her arms across her chest. Kanti shifted closer, wrapping her arms around her friend. She knew she was going to cry the entire drive back to Jaipur — and that Geoffrey would not allow the car to stop a single time before returning to the house. He had won. For the moment.
Pacing the room, George replayed the afternoon’s events in his head. He could not believe what had happened, that men like Sitara’s father existed. There was nothing more that he wanted to do than chase him down and teach him a lesson. Never before had he such the inclination to turn to violence, but never before had he known anyone like Sitara before. It was so… antiquated and wrong. He needed to do something; he just did not know what.
A loud knock at his door interrupted his thoughts and pacing. With a sigh, he headed over to the door and opened it. He blinked, seeing his wife standing there.
“Pattie…”
She stepped in, “Look, I know you’re attached to Sita. I like her a lot too. And today was traumatic, but…”
“What?” he asked, his voice a bit harsher than intended.
“This isn’t your responsibility to fix.”
George stared at her for a moment, “Yes, it is.”
“Why?”
“Because… I care about her.”
Pattie stared at him, “Excuse me?”
“I care about her,” he repeated.
“You had sex with her,” she stated.
His eyes widened, “No, I did not.”
She folded her arms across her chest, saying nothing.
“I have only slept with you, Pattie,” he proclaimed. “I just do not think what her father did is just. At all.”
She sighed, her face softening, “It was rather horrid. Do you think she’ll be …okay?”
“I don’t know,” he began to pace again. “We have to do something, Pattie.”
“Do you really think it’s our place to do so?” she asked, sitting on his single bed.
“If not us than who?” he paused in his pacing to glance at her. “Who else is going to see the injustice of it all?”
Pattie watched him begin to pace once again, “Surely someone else will see it and intervene, George.”
“Don’t you think it was fate that introduced us? It would be against everything that I feel in my soul to just walk away and not do anything,” he claimed. “We have to do something.”
“Perhaps the Maharishi will help.”
“If he was going to help, he would not have stood there silently while she was dragged to the car!”
She sighed, “George…”
“We need to do something, Pattie. We just do.”
“But…”
A soft knock sounded at the door. Moving silently to the door, George opened it. Finding Cyn there, his brows furrowed slightly. She glanced beyond him, noticing Pattie. Biting her lip, her eyes went back to George.
“Um…”
“Cyn?” Pattie stood up.
Her eyes flicked to Pattie and back to George, “John wants to talk to you, George.”
“About?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know. He just said it’s something you need to be a part of.”
He nodded, “Okay.”
Glancing at his wife, George left his apartment, not caring what the two women did. He hurried down the steps and over to John’s hut. Not bothering to knock, he pushed the door open and entered. His eyes flicked to see who else was there; just Alex Mardas sat with John.
“The Maharishi is not what he seems,” Alex announced, pouring a drink for George.
Sitting on the floor and pulling his feet into his lap, he responded, “What do you mean?”
“I talked with Prudence and he definitely made a pass at her,” he proclaimed, handing the guitarist his drink. “And then earlier, after the whole Sita thing, I spied on him.”
George shifted uncomfortably, “You really shouldn’t be spying on—”
“He porked that Rosalyn,” John blurted out.
George quickly downed his drink, “I don’t believe it.”
“And I have it on good authority,” Alex took a drink from his own glass, “that he probably fooled around with Sita, and that’s why he let her father do whatever with her.”
His vision instantly filled with red, “That isn’t possible.”
“I think so, mate,” John stated. “Probably got his fingers up in her minge and—”
“Enough,” George interrupted. “What are we going to do?”
“We’re leaving at first light.”
Curled up in her bed, Sitara clutched a pillow to her. Her door had been locked from the outside and the walls around her small garden constantly watched. There was no escape from her gilded cage. She was not allowed visitors, other than Neela who brought her tea and food she did not touch. Kanti for certain was banned from seeing her, making Sitara fret about her best friend.
Hearing the door unlock, she briefly considered sitting up. As she had no desire to eat, no matter what Neela tempted her with, Sitara remained curled around her pillow. The door opened and the overhead lights were flicked on.
“Get up,” a deep voice boomed.
She wanted nothing more than to ignore him and hoped that he would go away. However, she knew better. Slowly, she rolled up into a seated position. Her bloodshot eyes turned to her father, but she remained silent.
“Make yourself presentable.”
“Why?” she asked in a small voice.
“The doctor has arrived.”
Sitara’s eyes narrowed, “Excuse me?”
“Nevermind. I will send him in here.”
Staring at him blankly, Sitara watched her father leave her room. With a groan, she laid back down, pulling the pillow close again. It was completely humiliating that her father did not trust her. She certainly was a virgin still, even if she had been found topless with Donovan. But there was certainly no reasoning with him, that she knew. She would just have to be mortified again.
Minutes after her father left, her door opened again. Neela entered, followed closely by the swarmy doctor. The matronly woman stopped, glancing over her charge who did not move from her fetal position. The man also halted and muttered something in her ear. Her eyes snapped to his, questioning whatever it was he whispered. For a long silent moment, she stared at him before lowering her head and leaving the room.
Once the door closed, he turned towards the young woman, “Remove your clothing, Sitara.”
She glanced at him, but did not move, did not speak.
“Sitara,” he warned, “do not make this harder than it is.”
Remaining curled around the pillow she responded, “You have no right to touch me or order me around.”
“Incorrect,” he approached her bed. “Remove your clothing.”
Her eyes focused on him, “No.”
His fingers closed around her arm. Without a spot of emotion on his face, he yanked her up. Eyes locking with her defiant stare, the older man slapped her hard across the face. She cried out, her free hand quickly covering the red mark.
He struck her again, “Remove your clothing.”
“No,” she whimpered.
His hand once more hit her, causing her to cry in pain once more. He released her arm, pushing her backwards onto the bed. She resisted until he hit her again. With a triumphant smile, he forced her skirt up and pulled down her panties harshly. She kicked her legs some, trying to stop his actions, but all it did was anger him more, leading to more strikes.
“Cease or I will be forced to call for your father.”
Sitara went completely still, letting him press her legs apart. His rough hands touched her sex, pulling apart her petals. He leaned forward and sniffed her. She whimpered slightly, eliciting his hand to slap her pubic mound harshly. With her spread wide, he brusquely pushed his middle finger into her, causing her to gasp. His fingertip bumped against a thin barrier. With a sadistic grin, he pressed against it.
“St-stop,” she whispered. “You’re h-hurting m-me.”
He pushed a bit more, until he felt the barrier break some. Quickly pulling his finger out, letting his nail scratch her dry, vaginal walls, he held it up in the light. Sitara’s eyes focused on the blood on his finger.
Quickly standing up, he smirked, “Not quite the virgin now, are you?”
She said nothing, merely watched as he licked her blood from his finger.
Flashing her a smile which revealed his gold tooth, he moved away from her bed with a flourish, heading towards the door, “You’ll be married before long, Sitara. If your uncle will not have you, I shall. With a bit of training, you will make quite the subservient wife. I am certain of it.”
Chuckling to himself, the doctor exited her bedroom. As he announced his discovery to her father, Neela rushed into the room. Shocked and humiliated, Sitara remained precisely how the doctor left her after violating her. The older woman took one glance at the young woman and instantly regretted leaving the room. She rushed to the bed, sat down, and pulled Sitara into her arms. The young woman instantly began to cry.
“Neela…”
“I am so very sorry, my dear sweet girl,” she held her tight, rocking her slightly. “I will find a way to get you — and my daughter — out of here. Some way. Somehow.”
With the last of the Beatles gone, returning to England he supposed, Donovan decided he was going to leave the ashram as well. He and Jenny had a heart-to-heart the previous evening, deciding that their fling was fun, but also over. Her heart was pining for someone else and he honestly could not stop thinking about a pair of Indian maids himself. Jenny returned to England, he presumed on the same flight as John. He had the freedom to travel wherever he wanted in the world.
So he got in a taxi and headed south.
Wandering the pink streets of the holy, ancient part of Jaipur, Donovan glanced around. There was definitely a grace and beauty to all of architecture. Part of him wondered what it meant or what the buildings were for, but he did not stop and ask anyone. Instead, he waited for the city to talk to him.
Passing by a tea shop, Donovan found himself drawn towards it. Turning off the walk, he slipped in through the open door. He paused for a moment and inhaled the sweet scent of tea. His eyes glanced around, zeroing in on a shelf of colorful tins. Weaving through the other shoppers, he approached the shelf. As he picked up a tin, turning it over to view all sides of the design, Donovan realized why he had been drawn south, to that particular Indian city. It certainly had not been for the heat, as that was already beginning to make him consider returning to dreary England. He could not read the majority of the text on the tins, but he did recognize the logo.
“Barlow Teas,” he muttered to himself.
With the tin still in hand, he headed towards the counter. He did not know if the shopkeeper would even speak English, but he hoped that he would. Setting the tin on the counter, his eyes went to the man.
“Can you… can you tell me where I can locate the office of Barlow Teas?”
The man stared at Donovan for a moment, “Yes.”
He remained silent, waiting for a location.
“It is here,” he pointed at a map.
His eyes dropped down, “Thank you. I would like to purchase this as well.”
After paying for his purchase, Donovan left the small tea shop. He did not even know what kind of tea he was now in possession of, just that it was one of Sitara’s. It would be his in to see her, he hoped. If nothing else, he would be able to track down where she was. Perhaps there was a pretty secretary he could flirt with in the office.
It took him the better part of two hours to locate the office, maybe because he stopped for a late lunch. Once he located the office, he lingered across the street, watching. He leaned against a wall, smoking a joint. His eyes watched the comings and goings, trying to figure out the building’s activity. In a brief moment of clarity, he decided to come back the following day to watch more. He needed more information before heading it.
It made him feel like an international spy. That thought alone amused him. With a half smirk, he turned away from the building once a young man stepped out of the dark building and locked the door. He strolled the street, a cigarette in his mouth, returning to his hotel. Passing people on the street, his eyes glanced over faces.
Suddenly he was arrested in his place. A very familiar face crossed his vision. It was not quite Kanti, but she had to be some relation. Her arms were full of wrapped paper packages, clearly having spent the evening shopping for dinner. Seeing a package starting to slip, Donovan bolted forward and caught it before it could hit the ground.
“Thank you, sir,” she muttered softly, her eyes not meeting his.
“You’re welcome,” the Scottish folksinger smiled. “Tell me, miss, do you know a Miss Kanti?”
Her eyes flicked to his, “Sir?”
“You have a remarkable resemblance to a beautiful maid I recently had the honor of meeting,” he spoke. “Tell me you know of her?”
“Perhaps…”
“Kanti… Singh?” Donovan offered softly.
Her eyes widened slightly before dropping to the ground again, “I do.”
“Is she near? Is she okay?” he quickly asked, forgetting himself briefly.
“Sir…”
Donovan touched her elbow and guided her away from the busy sidewalks, “Is she near?”
“Sir, I do not know who you are,” she responded.
“Donovan. I met Kanti and Sitara in Rishikesh.”
Her eyes widened once more, “Mr. Donovan…”
“Tell me… tell me are they okay?”
She looked away, “Sir…”
“Are they okay?”
She shook her head slightly, “Mr. Donovan…”
He squeezed her elbow gently, “I want to see them.”
“I do not see how…”
“Tell me where they are,” he requested. “Please, Mistress.”
“I cannot.”
“Why not?”
“Her father… Mr. Barlow would never allow it.”
Donovan blinked, “Tell me where I can call on Mr. Barlow. I will handle the rest.”
“I cannot,” she pulled her arm free.
“Please.”
She shook her head, “Return to this market tomorrow at sundown. I shall meet you once more.”
Before he could press her for any more, the older woman pulled away and quickly disappeared into the crowd. Donovan attempted to track her, but the woman was skilled. With a sigh, he stepped away from the wall and lit another cigarette. He would return to the hotel for the night. Tomorrow he would see Sitara and Kanti. He was certain of it.
Seated in the lotus position on a deck overlooking the city of Jaipur, George attempted to meditate. He could hear the sounds of his wife moving about the suite inside, but his attention focused more on the city below. Not once had he admitted to Pattie why he chose that city to head to. They had offers to stay with Ravi Shankar and his wife, but George politely declined. He needed to go south, not to Delhi.
His wife seemed content, even excited to be in the Pink City. Though he promised to show her around, they had remained in the hotel room. Pattie seemed to be soaking in the luxury of the hotel, especially after being sequestered in the ashram for two months. It pleased him to see her happy, even if his mind continued to wander to another woman.
Cracking open the door to the deck, Pattie softly spoke, “George?”
Giving up his failed meditation, he pivoted slightly and met her eyes, “Yes?”
“I know you are meditating, but I thought perhaps you would care to join me for dinner?”
He carefully got to his feet, “Of course, love. Have you ordered room service?”
“Let us go out and explore this new city, George,” she suggested.
He stepped closer to her, glancing over her quickly, “I can see you are already dressed for as much. Let me shower and we can go.”
Thirty minutes later, the couple headed towards a popular restaurant, recommended by the hotel staff. They were quickly shown to a table near the window, overlooking a lush park. They happily chatted, though George was slightly distracted. He felt completely unsettled, but could not seem to find a cause behind it.
“George?” Pattie’s hand touched his.
Pulling his attention from his vacant stare upon the park, he looked to his wife and smiled slightly, “It’s a beautiful night.”
She nodded, “It is. This city is beautiful. I can see why you chose it.”
He smiled again, picking up his glass of wine, “Perhaps tomorrow we can take a brief tour of it.”
“I don’t know if I can handle the heat.”
Sipping the wine, he considered a proper response, “Then we’ll go early in the morning, before the day gets hot.”
She smiled, “Or perhaps we can walk tonight?”
“Of course we can, for awhile. I think it will be far more interesting with the light of day,” he stated.
“Then we won’t stay out too late tonight,” she declared.
George nodded, “As you wish.”
Waiting for the dessert course, George excused himself momentarily, heading to the washroom. He relieved himself and turned to wash his hands as another man entered. Glancing up, George met his eyes briefly. Though he had no reason at all to think it, something about the Indian man was remarkably familiar. Something in his facial structure tickled the back of his mind. Perhaps they had passed each other on the street earlier that day.
Yet as he left the restroom, he could not help the feeling that he knew the man, more than just in passing. It was almost as if their connection was stronger than that. Something about him… reminded him of Sitara. He could not quite understand it at all. Turning it over in his mind, he headed back to the table where Pattie waited. His eyes glanced over the dining room and froze.
Sitara’s father sat in the center of the room, at a table set for two. Tearing his sight away from the tanned Englishman and carefully making certain to remain unseen by Geoffrey, he returned to the table where Pattie sat. However, George did not sit. Instead, he quickly muttered they needed to leave and left a small pile of rupees on the table without counting the notes. Confused, Pattie snatched up her purse and followed George out of the restaurant.
“George?” she trotted to catch him on the street. “What’s wrong?”
He glanced at his wife, “We could not stay another minute.”
“Why?” her hand slipped into his.
“Sita’s father was there,” he declared.
“Oh.”
“I did not want him to see us,” George quickly crossed the street.
“But, George—”
“This is…”
His brows furrow as he hurried back to the hotel. Pattie attempted to engage him once more, but he brushed off any attempts of conversation. The near run-in with Sitara’s father could not be a mere accident. He knew she was from Jaipur, but did not think he would easily find her. Fate crossed his path with her father’s that evening. He just was not certain the reason behind it.
“George,” Pattie touches his shoulder, stopping his pacing in the hotel room.
His eyes meet hers, “Yes?”
“Clearly we are meant to help Sita,” she declared. “Why else would we be here?”
Rating: PG-13 [language, drugs, violence]
Summary: The ashram in Rishikesh is left behind. Sitara and Kanti are forced back to Jaipur. Donovan wanders to the Pink City as does George and Pattie.
“Sitara,” a deep voice boomed behind the pair, forcing Sita to step away from George.
Her eyes instantly dropped to the gravel pathway and she stepped away from the musician. His fingers reached for hers, but Sitara evaded his grasp. His brows rose slightly, though he turned his attention from her to the man apparently her father. George looked the man over briefly, instantly feeling as if the older man’s aura was charging at him. Remaining silent, he cautiously took a step away from Sitara.
“Come with me,” he ordered.
She took a step forward, but George’s fingers touched her wrist, stopping her actions.
“Sita does not have to go with you if she does not wish it,” George stated evenly.
Geoffrey’s eyes went to the musician, “Not that you have any say in the matter, but why do you think that?”
“She is a grown, mature woman, who can —”
“Sitara is seventeen. That alone does not qualify her as an adult, but I can assure you that Sitara is in no position to be making such decisions. The girl knows nothing of adult life,” he declared.
“Maybe because you have never given her the chance. I am certain she would surprise you if you gave her the chance.”
“Because sneaking out of the house during the darkness of night and fleeing hundreds of kilometers away is such a mature action.”
“You can’t keep her locked up forever.”
His green eyes darkened slightly, “Who are you to say what I can and can’t do with my only daughter?”
George’s thoughts fell silent. He wanted to declare that he was the man who loved his daughter, but found it impossible to say. That likely had to do with the fact a small crowd had gathered: including his wife.
Donovan stepped forward, “Someone who cares about Sitara, just like I do.”
The older man’s dark eyes flicked to the folksinger, “You most certainly have no say here. You were—”
“No,” Sitara spoke softly, but evenly.
Her father’s attention focused on her, “Excuse me.”
“I do not want to go back with you,” she declared.
George’s hand left her wrist, his fingers intertwining with hers.
“You have no say in the matter.”
“I think I do,” she stated boldly. “It is my life, not yours.”
Geoffrey quickly grasped her other hand, yanking her towards him, “You have no say in the matter.”
Before anyone else could protest, her father pulled Sitara down to the car. He threw her into the back of it, motioning to Kanti with a glare. The other woman quickly scrambled in, reaching to console her friend. Sitara slapped her hands away, turning to reach for the handle of the door on the opposite side. As her fingers closed over it, George hurried to that side of the car as well, intending to help her out of the vehicle. Geoffrey slipped into the car, slammed the door closed, and barked at the driver to go. Not about to disobey his master, the driver quickly slammed down on the gas.
Sitara cried out and pushed the door open, not caring that the vehicle was moving. Her father’s arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her from vacating the car. She flailed about, begging Kanti to help her. The normally headstrong woman did not speak nor move, but seemed completely frozen in place.
Once the car crossed the bridge across the river, Sitara stopped fighting. She settled down, folding her arms across her chest. Kanti shifted closer, wrapping her arms around her friend. She knew she was going to cry the entire drive back to Jaipur — and that Geoffrey would not allow the car to stop a single time before returning to the house. He had won. For the moment.
Pacing the room, George replayed the afternoon’s events in his head. He could not believe what had happened, that men like Sitara’s father existed. There was nothing more that he wanted to do than chase him down and teach him a lesson. Never before had he such the inclination to turn to violence, but never before had he known anyone like Sitara before. It was so… antiquated and wrong. He needed to do something; he just did not know what.
A loud knock at his door interrupted his thoughts and pacing. With a sigh, he headed over to the door and opened it. He blinked, seeing his wife standing there.
“Pattie…”
She stepped in, “Look, I know you’re attached to Sita. I like her a lot too. And today was traumatic, but…”
“What?” he asked, his voice a bit harsher than intended.
“This isn’t your responsibility to fix.”
George stared at her for a moment, “Yes, it is.”
“Why?”
“Because… I care about her.”
Pattie stared at him, “Excuse me?”
“I care about her,” he repeated.
“You had sex with her,” she stated.
His eyes widened, “No, I did not.”
She folded her arms across her chest, saying nothing.
“I have only slept with you, Pattie,” he proclaimed. “I just do not think what her father did is just. At all.”
She sighed, her face softening, “It was rather horrid. Do you think she’ll be …okay?”
“I don’t know,” he began to pace again. “We have to do something, Pattie.”
“Do you really think it’s our place to do so?” she asked, sitting on his single bed.
“If not us than who?” he paused in his pacing to glance at her. “Who else is going to see the injustice of it all?”
Pattie watched him begin to pace once again, “Surely someone else will see it and intervene, George.”
“Don’t you think it was fate that introduced us? It would be against everything that I feel in my soul to just walk away and not do anything,” he claimed. “We have to do something.”
“Perhaps the Maharishi will help.”
“If he was going to help, he would not have stood there silently while she was dragged to the car!”
She sighed, “George…”
“We need to do something, Pattie. We just do.”
“But…”
A soft knock sounded at the door. Moving silently to the door, George opened it. Finding Cyn there, his brows furrowed slightly. She glanced beyond him, noticing Pattie. Biting her lip, her eyes went back to George.
“Um…”
“Cyn?” Pattie stood up.
Her eyes flicked to Pattie and back to George, “John wants to talk to you, George.”
“About?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know. He just said it’s something you need to be a part of.”
He nodded, “Okay.”
Glancing at his wife, George left his apartment, not caring what the two women did. He hurried down the steps and over to John’s hut. Not bothering to knock, he pushed the door open and entered. His eyes flicked to see who else was there; just Alex Mardas sat with John.
“The Maharishi is not what he seems,” Alex announced, pouring a drink for George.
Sitting on the floor and pulling his feet into his lap, he responded, “What do you mean?”
“I talked with Prudence and he definitely made a pass at her,” he proclaimed, handing the guitarist his drink. “And then earlier, after the whole Sita thing, I spied on him.”
George shifted uncomfortably, “You really shouldn’t be spying on—”
“He porked that Rosalyn,” John blurted out.
George quickly downed his drink, “I don’t believe it.”
“And I have it on good authority,” Alex took a drink from his own glass, “that he probably fooled around with Sita, and that’s why he let her father do whatever with her.”
His vision instantly filled with red, “That isn’t possible.”
“I think so, mate,” John stated. “Probably got his fingers up in her minge and—”
“Enough,” George interrupted. “What are we going to do?”
“We’re leaving at first light.”
Curled up in her bed, Sitara clutched a pillow to her. Her door had been locked from the outside and the walls around her small garden constantly watched. There was no escape from her gilded cage. She was not allowed visitors, other than Neela who brought her tea and food she did not touch. Kanti for certain was banned from seeing her, making Sitara fret about her best friend.
Hearing the door unlock, she briefly considered sitting up. As she had no desire to eat, no matter what Neela tempted her with, Sitara remained curled around her pillow. The door opened and the overhead lights were flicked on.
“Get up,” a deep voice boomed.
She wanted nothing more than to ignore him and hoped that he would go away. However, she knew better. Slowly, she rolled up into a seated position. Her bloodshot eyes turned to her father, but she remained silent.
“Make yourself presentable.”
“Why?” she asked in a small voice.
“The doctor has arrived.”
Sitara’s eyes narrowed, “Excuse me?”
“Nevermind. I will send him in here.”
Staring at him blankly, Sitara watched her father leave her room. With a groan, she laid back down, pulling the pillow close again. It was completely humiliating that her father did not trust her. She certainly was a virgin still, even if she had been found topless with Donovan. But there was certainly no reasoning with him, that she knew. She would just have to be mortified again.
Minutes after her father left, her door opened again. Neela entered, followed closely by the swarmy doctor. The matronly woman stopped, glancing over her charge who did not move from her fetal position. The man also halted and muttered something in her ear. Her eyes snapped to his, questioning whatever it was he whispered. For a long silent moment, she stared at him before lowering her head and leaving the room.
Once the door closed, he turned towards the young woman, “Remove your clothing, Sitara.”
She glanced at him, but did not move, did not speak.
“Sitara,” he warned, “do not make this harder than it is.”
Remaining curled around the pillow she responded, “You have no right to touch me or order me around.”
“Incorrect,” he approached her bed. “Remove your clothing.”
Her eyes focused on him, “No.”
His fingers closed around her arm. Without a spot of emotion on his face, he yanked her up. Eyes locking with her defiant stare, the older man slapped her hard across the face. She cried out, her free hand quickly covering the red mark.
He struck her again, “Remove your clothing.”
“No,” she whimpered.
His hand once more hit her, causing her to cry in pain once more. He released her arm, pushing her backwards onto the bed. She resisted until he hit her again. With a triumphant smile, he forced her skirt up and pulled down her panties harshly. She kicked her legs some, trying to stop his actions, but all it did was anger him more, leading to more strikes.
“Cease or I will be forced to call for your father.”
Sitara went completely still, letting him press her legs apart. His rough hands touched her sex, pulling apart her petals. He leaned forward and sniffed her. She whimpered slightly, eliciting his hand to slap her pubic mound harshly. With her spread wide, he brusquely pushed his middle finger into her, causing her to gasp. His fingertip bumped against a thin barrier. With a sadistic grin, he pressed against it.
“St-stop,” she whispered. “You’re h-hurting m-me.”
He pushed a bit more, until he felt the barrier break some. Quickly pulling his finger out, letting his nail scratch her dry, vaginal walls, he held it up in the light. Sitara’s eyes focused on the blood on his finger.
Quickly standing up, he smirked, “Not quite the virgin now, are you?”
She said nothing, merely watched as he licked her blood from his finger.
Flashing her a smile which revealed his gold tooth, he moved away from her bed with a flourish, heading towards the door, “You’ll be married before long, Sitara. If your uncle will not have you, I shall. With a bit of training, you will make quite the subservient wife. I am certain of it.”
Chuckling to himself, the doctor exited her bedroom. As he announced his discovery to her father, Neela rushed into the room. Shocked and humiliated, Sitara remained precisely how the doctor left her after violating her. The older woman took one glance at the young woman and instantly regretted leaving the room. She rushed to the bed, sat down, and pulled Sitara into her arms. The young woman instantly began to cry.
“Neela…”
“I am so very sorry, my dear sweet girl,” she held her tight, rocking her slightly. “I will find a way to get you — and my daughter — out of here. Some way. Somehow.”
With the last of the Beatles gone, returning to England he supposed, Donovan decided he was going to leave the ashram as well. He and Jenny had a heart-to-heart the previous evening, deciding that their fling was fun, but also over. Her heart was pining for someone else and he honestly could not stop thinking about a pair of Indian maids himself. Jenny returned to England, he presumed on the same flight as John. He had the freedom to travel wherever he wanted in the world.
So he got in a taxi and headed south.
Wandering the pink streets of the holy, ancient part of Jaipur, Donovan glanced around. There was definitely a grace and beauty to all of architecture. Part of him wondered what it meant or what the buildings were for, but he did not stop and ask anyone. Instead, he waited for the city to talk to him.
Passing by a tea shop, Donovan found himself drawn towards it. Turning off the walk, he slipped in through the open door. He paused for a moment and inhaled the sweet scent of tea. His eyes glanced around, zeroing in on a shelf of colorful tins. Weaving through the other shoppers, he approached the shelf. As he picked up a tin, turning it over to view all sides of the design, Donovan realized why he had been drawn south, to that particular Indian city. It certainly had not been for the heat, as that was already beginning to make him consider returning to dreary England. He could not read the majority of the text on the tins, but he did recognize the logo.
“Barlow Teas,” he muttered to himself.
With the tin still in hand, he headed towards the counter. He did not know if the shopkeeper would even speak English, but he hoped that he would. Setting the tin on the counter, his eyes went to the man.
“Can you… can you tell me where I can locate the office of Barlow Teas?”
The man stared at Donovan for a moment, “Yes.”
He remained silent, waiting for a location.
“It is here,” he pointed at a map.
His eyes dropped down, “Thank you. I would like to purchase this as well.”
After paying for his purchase, Donovan left the small tea shop. He did not even know what kind of tea he was now in possession of, just that it was one of Sitara’s. It would be his in to see her, he hoped. If nothing else, he would be able to track down where she was. Perhaps there was a pretty secretary he could flirt with in the office.
It took him the better part of two hours to locate the office, maybe because he stopped for a late lunch. Once he located the office, he lingered across the street, watching. He leaned against a wall, smoking a joint. His eyes watched the comings and goings, trying to figure out the building’s activity. In a brief moment of clarity, he decided to come back the following day to watch more. He needed more information before heading it.
It made him feel like an international spy. That thought alone amused him. With a half smirk, he turned away from the building once a young man stepped out of the dark building and locked the door. He strolled the street, a cigarette in his mouth, returning to his hotel. Passing people on the street, his eyes glanced over faces.
Suddenly he was arrested in his place. A very familiar face crossed his vision. It was not quite Kanti, but she had to be some relation. Her arms were full of wrapped paper packages, clearly having spent the evening shopping for dinner. Seeing a package starting to slip, Donovan bolted forward and caught it before it could hit the ground.
“Thank you, sir,” she muttered softly, her eyes not meeting his.
“You’re welcome,” the Scottish folksinger smiled. “Tell me, miss, do you know a Miss Kanti?”
Her eyes flicked to his, “Sir?”
“You have a remarkable resemblance to a beautiful maid I recently had the honor of meeting,” he spoke. “Tell me you know of her?”
“Perhaps…”
“Kanti… Singh?” Donovan offered softly.
Her eyes widened slightly before dropping to the ground again, “I do.”
“Is she near? Is she okay?” he quickly asked, forgetting himself briefly.
“Sir…”
Donovan touched her elbow and guided her away from the busy sidewalks, “Is she near?”
“Sir, I do not know who you are,” she responded.
“Donovan. I met Kanti and Sitara in Rishikesh.”
Her eyes widened once more, “Mr. Donovan…”
“Tell me… tell me are they okay?”
She looked away, “Sir…”
“Are they okay?”
She shook her head slightly, “Mr. Donovan…”
He squeezed her elbow gently, “I want to see them.”
“I do not see how…”
“Tell me where they are,” he requested. “Please, Mistress.”
“I cannot.”
“Why not?”
“Her father… Mr. Barlow would never allow it.”
Donovan blinked, “Tell me where I can call on Mr. Barlow. I will handle the rest.”
“I cannot,” she pulled her arm free.
“Please.”
She shook her head, “Return to this market tomorrow at sundown. I shall meet you once more.”
Before he could press her for any more, the older woman pulled away and quickly disappeared into the crowd. Donovan attempted to track her, but the woman was skilled. With a sigh, he stepped away from the wall and lit another cigarette. He would return to the hotel for the night. Tomorrow he would see Sitara and Kanti. He was certain of it.
Seated in the lotus position on a deck overlooking the city of Jaipur, George attempted to meditate. He could hear the sounds of his wife moving about the suite inside, but his attention focused more on the city below. Not once had he admitted to Pattie why he chose that city to head to. They had offers to stay with Ravi Shankar and his wife, but George politely declined. He needed to go south, not to Delhi.
His wife seemed content, even excited to be in the Pink City. Though he promised to show her around, they had remained in the hotel room. Pattie seemed to be soaking in the luxury of the hotel, especially after being sequestered in the ashram for two months. It pleased him to see her happy, even if his mind continued to wander to another woman.
Cracking open the door to the deck, Pattie softly spoke, “George?”
Giving up his failed meditation, he pivoted slightly and met her eyes, “Yes?”
“I know you are meditating, but I thought perhaps you would care to join me for dinner?”
He carefully got to his feet, “Of course, love. Have you ordered room service?”
“Let us go out and explore this new city, George,” she suggested.
He stepped closer to her, glancing over her quickly, “I can see you are already dressed for as much. Let me shower and we can go.”
Thirty minutes later, the couple headed towards a popular restaurant, recommended by the hotel staff. They were quickly shown to a table near the window, overlooking a lush park. They happily chatted, though George was slightly distracted. He felt completely unsettled, but could not seem to find a cause behind it.
“George?” Pattie’s hand touched his.
Pulling his attention from his vacant stare upon the park, he looked to his wife and smiled slightly, “It’s a beautiful night.”
She nodded, “It is. This city is beautiful. I can see why you chose it.”
He smiled again, picking up his glass of wine, “Perhaps tomorrow we can take a brief tour of it.”
“I don’t know if I can handle the heat.”
Sipping the wine, he considered a proper response, “Then we’ll go early in the morning, before the day gets hot.”
She smiled, “Or perhaps we can walk tonight?”
“Of course we can, for awhile. I think it will be far more interesting with the light of day,” he stated.
“Then we won’t stay out too late tonight,” she declared.
George nodded, “As you wish.”
Waiting for the dessert course, George excused himself momentarily, heading to the washroom. He relieved himself and turned to wash his hands as another man entered. Glancing up, George met his eyes briefly. Though he had no reason at all to think it, something about the Indian man was remarkably familiar. Something in his facial structure tickled the back of his mind. Perhaps they had passed each other on the street earlier that day.
Yet as he left the restroom, he could not help the feeling that he knew the man, more than just in passing. It was almost as if their connection was stronger than that. Something about him… reminded him of Sitara. He could not quite understand it at all. Turning it over in his mind, he headed back to the table where Pattie waited. His eyes glanced over the dining room and froze.
Sitara’s father sat in the center of the room, at a table set for two. Tearing his sight away from the tanned Englishman and carefully making certain to remain unseen by Geoffrey, he returned to the table where Pattie sat. However, George did not sit. Instead, he quickly muttered they needed to leave and left a small pile of rupees on the table without counting the notes. Confused, Pattie snatched up her purse and followed George out of the restaurant.
“George?” she trotted to catch him on the street. “What’s wrong?”
He glanced at his wife, “We could not stay another minute.”
“Why?” her hand slipped into his.
“Sita’s father was there,” he declared.
“Oh.”
“I did not want him to see us,” George quickly crossed the street.
“But, George—”
“This is…”
His brows furrow as he hurried back to the hotel. Pattie attempted to engage him once more, but he brushed off any attempts of conversation. The near run-in with Sitara’s father could not be a mere accident. He knew she was from Jaipur, but did not think he would easily find her. Fate crossed his path with her father’s that evening. He just was not certain the reason behind it.
“George,” Pattie touches his shoulder, stopping his pacing in the hotel room.
His eyes meet hers, “Yes?”
“Clearly we are meant to help Sita,” she declared. “Why else would we be here?”
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