Title: Indian Stars
Characters: George Harrison, Sitara & Geoff Barlow, Kanti Singh
Word Count: 4280
Rating: PG-13 [kissing, smoking, partial nudity]
Warnings/Spoilers/Summary: George is still in India, after escaping there to spend Valentine's with Sitara. Sitara throws a day-long party for him, which may even top the Maharishi's party of the year before. Canon with my epic. Contains spoilers.




February 1969
Jaipur, India

Lying on crisp white sheets in George’s hotel suite, Sitara smiled as his fingers gently rubbed up and down her spine. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly as she kissed his chest. He did not regret escaping London, and by extension the band, after the rooftop concert to come and be with Sitara. He had not really intended to spend so much time in India, but leaving her side seemed impossible. Therefore, he remained, ignoring pleas to return to England from the band, managers, lawyers, and even his wife. He was happy with the beautiful dancing girl in his arms. Happiness was so hard to get by these days. He was not letting it go.

“George?” she muttered, her breath dancing on his chest.

His fingers found hers, weaving his fingers with her delicate light caramel-colored fingers, “Yes, beautiful.”

“Are you happy?” her face pivoted up to his, her green eyes locking with his brown eyes.

“Right now with you, I am,” he responded without pause.

She smiled slightly, “That I can tell, but I mean overall. Your letters… and phone calls…”

“Of course I am.”

“I do not believe you.”

“Of course I am,” he repeated.

Sitara stared at him blankly, remaining silent.

George pulled away from her and rolled out bed, leaving the Indian beauty lying in bed in her panties. Glancing sideways at her as she propped her head up with her hand, he shook a cigarette from the pack, slipped it between his lips, and lit it up. He inhaled a few tokes deeply as he paced about the suite. His dark eyes glanced out the crack in the curtains, into the Indian night, before he turned to look at her. Still lying propped up on her stomach, Sitara was quite the vision. Her long, dark hair curled lazily about her shoulders, a few escaping over her chest to dust her pear-shaped breasts. A jade-colored bindi glittered in the center of her forehead, reminding him of her dinner apparel hours before she snuck from the house to come with him. He had not asked why she kept that adornment, but removed her fancy clothing and jewelry for the simple black attire she preferred when slipping out from her house. He knew the red bindi indicated marriage, so perhaps keeping the jade jewel was a subtle reminder that she did not really belong to him? He did not know.

He could not lie and declare he hated how she refused actual intercourse with him. Though he certainly wanted her that way, George admired how steadfast she was in her declaration of no sex without marriage. A little over a week ago was the first and last time she was without panties around him. Every stolen moment since, she would touch, kiss, stroke, and even suck him, but never would her panties slip off her hips. He knew she wanted his touch and more, as he did touch her with the silken garment still covering her pubic mound, but still she refused him. George respected that, perhaps loved her a little more.

However, that was not what she asked. She asked if he was happy. He meant it when he said he was when he was with her, because every moment with the Indian beauty hewas happy. No longer finding happiness in the studio with the band, no longer finding happiness in his marriage with Pattie, no longer finding happiness with his small bungalow Kinfauns house, George could not actually say that he was happy.

Grinding out his cigarette, he headed back over to the bed, sitting on the edge, “No, I suppose I’m not.”

She turned on her side, “Why not?”

He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, inadvertently exposing her breasts fully, “All the things that should make me happy… don’t. I’m happiest when… I’m away from it all, to be honest. I’m happiest when I’m here with you.”

“Well what are you going to do about it?” she asked softly.

George leaned down and kissed her deeply, pushing her back onto her back, “Be with you forever?”

“I’m certainly not opposed to that,” she smiled at him. “Be with me right now is enough.”

“Sita…” he kissed her again.

Her eyes flicked to the clock next to the bed. With a grin, she pushed him up enough to turn them over. Sitara quickly showered his face with kisses until he smiled. Straddling him still, she sat up fully, her sparkling eyes down on him.

Confused at her actions, George asked, “What, love?”

Sitara quickly leaned down and kissed him, leaning back up before his arms could circle around her waist, “It is now officially your birthday, at least here in Jaipur. How shall we celebrate?”

His pointer finger reached to the hollow at the base of her throat and slowly traced down between her breasts. He paused when he reached her sternum. Flattening out his hand as much as possible between her breasts, he closed his eyes and felt her heart thump against his palm. His mouth twitched in another smile, finding his heartbeat quickly synchronize with hers. She leaned down, forcing his arm to bend at the elbow. Her lips softly touched the corners of his smile. His other hand quickly circled around the back of her head, pulling her close to deepen the kiss. His fingers released her hair as the kiss came to a natural end, allowing her to sit back up. His hand remained on her chest.

“How shall we celebrate your birthday?” she repeated.

“I wish… I could be with you during light of day, not just hidden away at night like this,” he declared.

“Well then,” Sitara quickly pivoted off him and reached for her black clothing, “I should go then.”

“Wait, what? No,” he reached for her.

She stepped out of his reach, pulling her blouse over her head, “I need to be leaving soon anyways.”

“But you normally stay until dawn,” George pointed out.

“I normally,” she quickly kissed him before pulling on her loose cotton pants, “don’t have a million things planned for the following day either.”

“You do?”

She grinned, “It won’t be anything like your birthday last year with the Maharishi, but I do hope you enjoy it.”

He paused for a moment, “You have a day of activities planned for me?”

“My father said nothing at dinner last night?” she pulled her shoes on.

“If he did, I did not hear it over my focus on you.”

Sitara smiled again and kissed him quickly one more time, “Try and get some sleep, George. You need to be at my house for breakfast.”



Stealing away Sitara after lunch, George escorted her to a quiet location in the gardens, with Kanti near as escort. Glancing to make certain they were out of view of the house, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her happily before guiding her to sit on a stone bench. They sat side-by-side for only a moment before he could not resist and pulled her into his lap. His lips touched hers again, but did not linger.

“How did you manage to pull all of this off? I was under the impression that your father does not like me,” George stated.

“He is just wary of your intentions with me,” she responded. “He doesn’t not like you, George.”

“My intentions with you are honorable,” he declared.

“He knows you’re married, George.”

He instantly frowned, “Sita…”

“Anyways, this isn’t about that. Father agreed to it because of the same reason the Maharishi liked to show you guys off in Rishikesh last year. And because he loves a good party,” she explained.

“Are all Indian birthday parties an all day thing?”

“No,” she nuzzled him. “You are a person of honor in this house, that is why the party will last many hours.”

George eyed her suspiciously, “What more is planned, beautiful girl?”

Sitara winked, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Sita, George,” Kanti spoke loudly, though did not approach the two.

“I’ll show you to a room where you can rest,” she got out of his lap.

“What? Why?”

“You should nap, darling,” she touched his nose before he stood up. “It will be a long night if you do not.”

With her best friend still attending them, the couple headed back to the house, passing by people tearing down tents and setting up other platforms. George’s steps slowed as he tried to figure out what was going on, but Sitara tugged on his hand, motioning to the house with her head. Shaking his head, he followed her into the large Indian mansion. They hurried down a tiled hallway to an ornate door before stopping. Sitara dropped his hand and opened the door, pushing it open wide but did not step into the room. George briefly glanced in, but his gaze did not settle on the opulent room. Instead, his eyes settled on the beautiful woman in front of him. With no one but her best friend, who well knew the nature of their relationship, he quickly gathered the young woman in his arms and kissed her.

“George!” she gasped, pushing weakly on his chest.

He kissed her again before releasing her, “How long must we be apart?”

She smiled brightly at him, “A few hours. Someone will come escort you back to the party in a few hours.”

“Not you?”

“Not me.”

He frowned, “But why not?”

“Because,” she glanced quickly around before stealing a quick kiss. “Go rest. I will see you soon.”

Before he could say anything else or worse, gather her back into his arms, Sitara stepped away and hurried down the hallway with her best friend. George stepped into the center of the hallway, watching the two women walk away; wondering if either would give him any indication where Sitara’s rooms were. In all of his visits to her home, he was always kept in the most public of spaces and had no clue where the Indian beauty slept at night. However, before he could really get any idea of the girls’ destination, a group of young boys and girls stepped into the hall behind the girls, obscuring his view of them. Once they dispersed, Sitara and Kanti were no longer in sight. Sighing and shaking his head, George stepped into his appointed room and closed the door. If the deluxe breakfast, yoga session in the gardens, massage, and opulent lunch indicated anything, music, food, and laughter would fill the night. He had been right the night before; Sitara brought him happiness.



Seated next to Geoff, as the guest of honor, George wondered where his girl was. As he had been informed, a young man retrieved him from his quarters, where he was astonishingly able to nap, and led him back outside to the gardens. Though there was no threat of rain that evening – nor would there be until the monsoon weather during the summer months – gauzy, multi-colored canopies had been erected throughout the garden, providing places for fragrant garlands and warm glowing votives to hang. Platters of all kinds of delicacies circulated about as musicians played on a platform off the side of patio. 

George kept up conversation with Sitara’s father, but his thoughts and eyes continued to wander about, looking for any indication as to her whereabouts. He did not even see Kanti among the guests. Did his girl still sleep? He could not imagine Geoff allowing Sitara to sleep through the birthday meal. Perhaps there was something wrong. Maybe she had fallen ill in the hours apart?

Before George could voice his concern, the musicians finished their raga and let silence fall over the gathered partygoers. George’s dark eyes left the tray in front of him and glanced about, settling on the musicians. Apparently awaiting his attention, the leading musician nodded to his fellow players. They set down instruments and picked up others. Intrigued, George set down the fruit in his fingers and sat up straighter.

“You are in for quite a treat, Mr. Harrison. If I may say so myself,” Geoff grinned. “We all are.”

The lights in the house and on the porch went out, leaving only the candles in the garden illuminating the party guests. A heavy, scented smoke filled the porch, obscuring view of the house and any who stepped out of it. George closed his eyes for just a moment and inhaled the incense. When his eyes fluttered open, a bright light shone from the house, silhouetting her body in the smoke. His heart stopped. He knew exactly what was about to transpire: Sitara was going to dance for him.

“This is different than what she danced a few days ago,” her father muttered, setting down his beer. “I did not expect…”

Wearing a sheer white sari that she pulled over her head like a veil, Sitara started the song with a few sung words, peeking out from under the veil. As she pulled it back, she got to her feet and moved backwards, her hands and body moving with the rhythm of the song. Her top and skirt were also white, embellished with silver and gold embroidery and beading. Gold, silver, and diamond jewelry adorned her wrists, ankles, throat, nose, and ears. A smile teased George’s lips as he noticed one of her bracelets was a gift from him. 

As Sitara danced and sung, George felt himself pulled into her world. He did not understand the words leaving her lips, had not even remembered that she sang, but he was completely entranced. Though he could feel her father glance at him, George said nothing, his attention remaining completely focused on the dancing girl. As she twirled about in her full skirt, he was a bit surprised to find she did not wear the long slim pants to conceal her legs. Instead, she wore what he could best describe as pedal pushers, not short-shorts, but not pants either. That glimpse of her calf when she danced about the back patio, utilizing the different levels to tell her story, seemed far more seductive than the current fashion of miniskirts in London – and he did not know why.

Midway through the dance, other girls joined Sitara in her performance, wearing similar outfits but in different colors. He appreciated the contrast of their dancing as much as he would the backing tracks on an album. Sitara was the true star, however. The other twelve dancers could not even touch her sparkle. 

Colored chalk dust added another layer to the dance, blown by the additional dancers. George’s eyes dropped to Sitara’s feet. He smiled again as she quickly danced through the colors, her toes dusted with rainbows. Her eyes only settled on his, sending glittering sparks up and down his spine. He could feel as if something monumental was to happen that night; he just did not know what.

As the music and dancing abruptly stopped, George quickly got to his feet, grinning and clapping along with the other guests. He quickly approached Sitara and without thought, embraced her, kissing her cheek. Her eyes widened and quickly dropped to the stone floor underneath their feet, but she did not speak. Realizing his mistake, he stepped back, hoping no one had seen his transgression.

“That was beautiful, Sita,” he muttered softly.

Her eyes fluttered back up to his, “I am glad that you enjoyed it.”

“What does it… mean?”

“I shall tell you later,” she smiled. “Let us join my father for dinner.”


After many hours of entertainment, food, and smoking, the partygoers thanked their host and headed home. Even as the midnight hour approached, George did not indicate he was returning to his hotel suite – nor would the Barlows have allowed it. Surprisingly, Geoff wished both well for the night, leaving them in the garden alone. Seeing the patriarch enter the house, Kanti jumped forward to volunteer to attend the couple.

Geoff shook his head, glancing out the window, “Worry not, young Kanti. He will not transgress with my daughter on my property. You can leave them be.”

“Are you certain, Śrīmāna?”

He nodded, motioning her away from the window, “Leave them be, Kanti, and prepare for bed.”

“Yes, Śrīmāna.”

Waiting a few moments to see who would attend them, Sitara’s mouth dropped open in slight surprise that no one joined them. Not about to argue against it, she stood, offering her hand to George. With a smile, his hand slipped into hers and he stood. Hand-in-hand, the pair headed away from the house and into the night-blooming garden. Neither spoke, uncertain how to bridge the gap from being surrounded by busy partygoers to being alone.

Eventually the two sat on the ground, his arms pulling her close. They remained just like that, looking up at the sparkling stars. He did not understand it, but the stars seemed brighter in India. Perhaps it had something to do with the woman in his arms.

“My eyes met my lover’s/Who know what will happen next? My eyes met my lover’s/Who knows what will happen next?” Sitara softly declared.

Figuring that she was translating her performance, George remained silent.

“The world has brought down the stars to the earth/But my mind is unattached/This wonderful Diwali is here, but without him present/ My mind thirst for a meeting/ My beloved, my anklets call/ My eyes met my lover’s/Who knows what will happen next? My eyes met my lover’s/ Who knows what will happen next?”

He squeezed her gently.

“In the evening, on the edge of the river, I fill my water pot and walk in such a state/In the evening, on the edge of the river, I fill my water pot and walk in such a state/And when I saw you, my bangles tinkled/My eyes met my lover’s/Who knows what will happen next? My eyes met my lover’s/Who knows what will happen next?”

His foot tapped slightly to the rhythm in her translation, finding music even in English.

“My eyes met my lover’s/Who knows what will happen next? Holi has come, bringing all colors/ Without you, though, even Holi is not pleasing/My friends are spreading color all over me/My sari and my whole body are wet/And my body is shivering, my body is shivering. My eyes met my lover’s/Who knows what happens next? My eyes met my lover’s/Who knows what happens next?”

His lips touched her still adorned ear.

“When the moon shines at night, my body burns for you/ I ask the moon not to come here, unless you are here, too/ When the moon shines at night, my body burns for you/ I ask the moon not to come here, unless you are here, too/ Come only when my lover comes/ Shine only that night when our bodies and mind shall unite/ My eyes met my lover’s/ My eyes met my lover’s/ Who knows what happens next? My eyes met my lover’s.”

George remained silent for a moment, in part, to be certain her translation was complete, in part, to allow the words to sink in. A smile teased his lips. He understood why her father tensed during the performance. However, if Geoff was worried, why allow them privacy now?

“Can you see why I danced it for you?” she asked softly.

He leaned back, allowing her to pivot in his embrace, “I certainly do. Your father was not… pleased. He expected the same dance you danced on his birthday.”

She rolled her eyes, “You have already seen my Sattirya. And I wanted something special just for you.”

“He knew the performance, though.”

“Of course he did. It is from a movie that came out in 1965, called ‘Guide.’ I do not have talent to write music like you do, George,” she declared.

One hand left embracing her to caress her cheek before he quickly kissed her, “And yet he allowed us to be alone now.”

“I know. He must trust that you will not sully his daughter’s reputation in the gardens of his house,” she teased.

“How little he knows me,” George kissed her again, this time lingering a bit longer.

“Or perhaps after many months, he has finally decided to trust me again.”

“Enough to let you go back to England with me?” he quickly responded, a note of hope in his voice.

Sitara chuckled, shaking her head, “I highly doubt that will ever happen again.”

“But–”

“Let’s not bring down the night with such talk,” she interrupted and kissed him quickly. “Have you enjoyed your birthday?”

“You have made me feel like a king – no, a maharaja,” he winked.

“Oh really?”

“That would make you my maharani.”

“No, that would make Pattie your maharani,” she argued.

Both fell silent for a moment.

“Sitara, you know I love you.”

“I do.”

George kissed her softly, “I want to be with you, as a man is with his wife.”

“We cannot.”

“But–”

“I know that there are many ways to keep from conceiving a child, George. Even if you had not tried that argument before, I would know. That is not the point.”

“Then what is?”

She sighed, pulling out of his embrace, “If I were to give you my virginity, I would have to marry my uncle.”

His mouth dropped open in shock, “What?”

“I would be deemed unsuitable to marry and thus given to my mother’s brother to marry,” she explained. “Presuming my father defects to my mother’s family’s customs, as he often does since we live here.”

“First of all, your virginity is none of your father’s business. Even if it was, he could not… that is outrageous,” he declared, getting to his feet. “We’re leaving. You’ll come back to the hotel with me tonight and tomorrow we will leave for London.”

“George,” she reached up for him but did not stand, “we’re not going anywhere. Just sit and relax with me.”

“But–”

“Sit,” she tugged on his hand. “My father has given us leave to be out here on this beautiful night. Let us not squander it.”

“But–”

“Sit with me, George,” Sitara requested again, softly.

Sighing, he sat back down and pulled her into his arms, “That’s just wrong, Sita.”

“I don’t disagree, George, but until I can circumvent that, we must abide by his rules and expectations.”

“But–”

“Do you like your tanpura? I know you already have a sitar, so I commissioned it especially for you,” she stated.

George blinked, “That was your idea? Your father made it sound like it was his idea.”

“Of course he did. That’s his way,” Sitara declared dismissively. “Do you like it?”

“I do. I haven’t an idea how to play it.”

“I will show you… later,” she did not move to get up. “I suppose it is similar to the sitar, though it is more of a drone instrument.”

“It is beautiful and very thoughtful of you.”

She nuzzled him, “I know better than to shower you with fancy things. You have money enough to buy your own racecar. A gift should be something of your interests and from the heart.”

“That means so much to me.”

“And I have already given you my heart and soul…”

George pulled her closer and kissed her. Though beginning innocently, their embrace heated and deepened. Slowly he pressed her back against the warm ground, both shifting their position to accommodate the movement. His hand moved down from her cheek, gently caressing her neck, before cupping her breast. He felt her heart race and her nipple tighten. George wanted nothing more in the moment than to slip their clothes off and make love to her under the glittering Indian stars.

However, her recent declaration of what could happen should they cross that boundary shot through his mind. With a sigh full of regret, George pulled away, rolling to lie on his back next to her.

“I would die before allowing that to happen.”

“Uh, what?” she turned on her side, facing him.

“You marrying your uncle.”

Sitara quickly kissed him, “That is not going to happen, George.”

“But…”

“You’ve had a long day. Let me escort you back to your room,” she declared, pulling away and standing up.

“I… okay,” he got to his feet as well.

Before Sitara could step away, George pulled her close in his arms and kissed her deeply. She smiled at the end of the kiss and kissed him again. Wiggling free of his arms, she headed deeper into the gardens, leading him in a very circuitous route back to the house. He noticed another walled-in garden near one side of the house. Without asking, he had a feeling that was Sitara’s own private garden.

“Some day…” she muttered softly as they entered the house, “I hope to show you things…”

“Like?”

Sitara stopped in front of the ornate door, “Places men do not step in this house.”

“Is that where you go now?”

She winked, “Perhaps.”

“Stay with me tonight,” he blurted out.

“Oh how I would love to, but we both know I cannot,” she responded. “Tomorrow though, unless you travel to see Ravi…”

“I am not going anywhere without you.”

She glanced around quickly before gently kissing his mouth, “Good night, George. And happy birthday.”

“Good night, beautiful girl. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, kissed him once more, before turning to flee down the hallway.

George watched her leave for a long moment. She turned and looked back once, flashing him a bright smile, before disappearing from sight. Oh, he loved her. He loved her more than anything, even music.