1968

Chapter 11

I had woken up early the next morning, deciding to get some air out on the porch before I became too overwhelmed with the culture shock that today would bring with meditation, when I found George sitting on the edge of the porch, playing a lovely tune on the guitar.

I smiled to myself before George had turned overhearing the door open.

"We have to stop meeting like this." I smirked faintly as I went to sit by his side, referring to the night at John's party when George had found me in the same spot.

He smiled with a chuckle and shook his head, watching as I sat looking out at the emptiness of the ashram grounds because of the early time of morning, the sun just beginning to rise.

"What do you call that one?" I hummed softly, a blissful sparkle in my eyes breathing in the morning air.

"I haven't got any words for it yet. Probably won't ever really see the light of day." George wrinkled his nose, brushing it off shyly.

"Why not? It sound really good." I gushed, seeing his demeanour become softer, a smile pulling the corners of his mouth upwards.

"I dunno," he became sheepish looking off in front of us,"I suppose I don't expect it to be to par with the other songs I have to put out. I only get a couple per album y'know, I just wanted to get it out of my system before the day started. ." He spoke about the two songs per album with a slight bitterness messing around with the tuning on his guitar.

I pursed my lips, cocking my head to the side in contemplation of what he meant by it. Surely he couldn't think his songwriting was lesser than the Lennon-McCartney machine, he had some brilliant songs.

"Well, if it means anything to you, 'Blue Jay Way' and 'Within You Without You' were brilliant songs." I nodded seeing him perk up with a lopsided grin, looking back to me with a warm gentleness in his eyes that caused my heart to flutter.

A sudden opening of the door shifted George and I'd attention, the two of us looking over our shoulders to see John in a slight panic, not having expected George and I to be on the porch.

He cleared his throat, "morning." He bowed his head, quite different that the John I'd endured before.

George and I greeted him with a hello, the two of us slightly curious as to what he was doing up so early.

"I'm expecting a letter through the post, from the sitter." He said sliding past the two of us down the porch steps quickly, not looking to elaborate much.

"Now, I may not know how fast Beatle mail travels, but not that quickly across the world, does it?" I asked quietly to George as we watched him walk off to the little post office on the grounds of the ashram.

John was looking around in paranoia, and I could tell what he had said  was a blatantly lie as George had let out a bit of an irritated sigh.

"I don't ask questions anymore." He looked unimpressed, scratching his forehead as lost as I was.

I accidentally let a small giggle escape my lips as he did so, watching his furrowed brow diminish, his face lighting up once again.

"Play is a song, would you?" I asked batting my lashes sticking my lower lip out slightly.

"'Course." George smirked amusedly.
              ______________

The communal breakfast had presented a chance to meet some of the other attendees of the 'Transcendental Meditation Academy' as they had called it. I had chatted with a few new people, though I had still come to feel very out of place where I was. We wore the garments the staff had given out, the boys mostly in their all white outfits, and the girls in sarees. Mine was a beautiful light pink, though I felt I was far from being able to pull of the intricate garment.