by Zoe May
I hurry to the toilets and wash my face, dabbing it dry with my towel. Having a proper shower would be preferable, but I don’t have time. I need to go and find Paul. I’m pretty confident he’s going to be glad to see me. It’s been a few weeks now. Surely, he’s calmed down? He’ll have had some time to think and gain perspective. Hopefully, he’ll have realized that life with me wasn’t really so bad.
Hopefully. I just need to make myself look pretty. I have a fairly standard make-up routine that I usually use for workdays – foundation, powder, blusher, a dusting of eyeshadow, eyeliner flicks and a bit of mascara. I usually add a touch of tinted lip balm after I’ve chugged a few mugs of coffee, but something about being dressed completely differently to how I’d ever dress in London makes me feel like experimenting with my make-up too.
I decide to go a bit wild with my eyeshadow, opting for an electric blue shade from my eyeshadow palette that I’ve never worn before. I dab it onto my eyelids, before blinking, inspecting my reflection in the mirror. My eyeshadow’s pretty bright, but the look is lacking something. I add a dusting of a gold glitter that I’ve used only once or twice before on nights out. I check out my reflection. With my blue clothes and blue eyeshadow, I feel quite coordinated. I root around in my make-up bag and find a lipstick lurking at the bottom that I’ve hardly ever worn. It’s a glowing pink shade, almost highlighter pink. I think it was a Christmas present from my mum several years ago and I’ve never got around to wearing it. But why not now? It’s vivid enough to match my eyeshadow and will go well with my unusual new clothes. Now is the perfect opportunity.
I apply a slick of it to my lips and pout in the mirror. I don’t look too bad! I run a hairbrush through my hair and then wind my locks up into a bun on the top of my head, binding it in place with a few clips. I pluck out a few loose tendrils.
I step back from the mirror and check out the final result. I look pretty nice, for someone who’s not washed in quite a long time and spent the whole day sleeping in a treehouse. I gather my things, pausing to spritz my neck with perfume and then I head back to my treehouse. I leave my washbag inside and grab my wallet containing rupees. I place it in a little woven boho bag I bought online and sling it over my shoulder, feeling a tremor of butterflies as I crawl back out of my treehouse. This is it. The moment of reckoning. I’m going to be reunited with Paul.
As I climb down from my treehouse, I catch the sound of a Seb’s voice – that hard-to-place European and American accent. I look over towards the guests. There he is. Sitting, having dinner with some of the others, leading the conversation. I can’t help noticing how a few of the other female guests are hanging off his every word, looking enamored with him. I try to catch what he’s saying, but he’s too far away. He must sense me looking as he glances over and waves, his face lighting up.
I wave back, mirroring his enthusiastic expression. It’s easy to see why people are drawn to him. He comes across as so genuinely friendly, as well as being seriously gorgeous.
I jump off the ladder and head over to the group. Seb breaks off his conversation and comes over to me as I approach.
‘You’re looking nice,’ he comments.
‘Thanks!’ I reply, smiling gratefully, while noticing, over his shoulder, that the other women from the guesthouse are eyeing me with a strained, conflicted mixture of politeness, wariness and disappointment.
They’re both quite a lot older than me and Seb, but I get the feeling they quite liked having him to themselves. Somehow, I don’t sense that I’m a particularly welcome addition.
‘I love your outfit!’ Seb comments, taking in my attire.
I feel a sense of relief. I’m not exactly used to wearing hippy stuff so it’s nice to be complimented.
‘Really?’ I ask. ‘This stuff isn’t my usual vibe.’
Seb nods. ‘Yeah, you look good. It suits you.’
‘Oh, thank you!’ I reply, blushing.
I’m blushing. I’m actually blushing. I can feel the warmth rising to my cheeks. Damn. I look down to my feet. This is so embarrassing. It’s the Indian weather. It’s the heat. It must be. I try to pretend it isn’t happening. The more I think about the fact that I’m blushing, the more I’m going to blush. Just think about something else. Brazen it out. Except, when I glance up from the ground, the first thing my eyes land upon is Seb’s eyes, his wide smile, the dimples in his cheeks. Dimples. I hadn’t noticed he had dimples before. And up close, now that I’m not talking to him from up in a treehouse or panicking as a dildo rumbles under my stomach, I can’t help noticing that his eyes are really blue. Staggeringly blue. His irises are a cool pale hue with a darker border. They’re stunning. They look almost Photoshopped. I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes as striking in real life.
‘Are you settling in okay, then?’ Seb asks.
‘Pretty well, although I’ve slept all day,’ I admit, a little sheepishly. ‘I’m probably going to be up all night now,’ I add.
Seb laughs. ‘Well, there’s not much night life here, I’m afraid. We tend to go to sleep not long after the sun’s gone down.’
‘Oh…’ I look towards the setting sun, the darkening skyline. ‘Not long then?’
Seb follows my gaze towards the red-tinged horizon.
‘No, not long now,’ he concurs.
He looks back to me ‘So, shall I introduce you to everyone?’ he asks, glancing towards the group.
‘Sure, but I’m in a bit of a hurry. I wanted to meet someone in the main hall before it closes,’ I tell him.
‘Oh, you know someone here?’ Seb replies, seeming taken aback.
‘Erm…yeah,’ I reply, wondering how much to tell him about Paul.
Do I admit that my ex-boyfriend is here? Do I admit that I followed him halfway across the world and that he has no idea? No. I might save that for later.
‘Cool!’ Seb enthuses. ‘Where are they staying?’
‘Umm, I’m not sure,’ I reply, shrugging, affecting a casual air.
Seb frowns. ‘Have you called them?’ he asks.
‘Uhhh… No, I thought I’d just, erm, surprise them!’ I insist.
‘Wow, okay!’ Seb replies, still looking a bit bemused.
I look towards the path leading out of the guesthouse.
‘I should probably head over there. I need to make sure I don’t miss him. Is it that way to the main hall?’ I ask, pointing in the direction of what I think is the center of the ashram.
‘Yes, it’s that way. I’ll walk you there if you like?’ Seb suggests helpfully.
The ashram seems quite sprawling and I am in a hurry, up against the setting sun and the entire place shutting down for the night.
‘Sure, thanks!’ I reply gratefully.
I glance towards the other guests, a few of whom are tucking into a big dinner.
‘Are you sure you’re done with dinner though?’ I ask.
‘It’s fine. I’ve eaten. Let’s go.’ Seb smiles, beckoning me to walk with him.
‘Okay, great,’ I reply, noticing the women Seb was talking to before shooting slightly disapproving looks our way, clearly not overly pleased about me stealing Seb away from them.
I smile awkwardly at them, before turning to walk with Seb. We amble along a bit, heading out of the guesthouse. Part of me is a bundle of nerves over potentially seeing Paul, but even though I’m hurt over everything, I’m looking forward to seeing him. I’ve missed him. Desperately. I can’t wait to be reunited and talk things through, properly for once. Not just in the form of a strained argument in a restaurant. And yet in spite of my eagerness to see him, I’m also a bit excited at the prospect of walking with Seb to the main hall and finding out more about him and what led him to end up in this strange place.
‘So, your friend has no idea you’re here?’ Seb asks, as we head out of the guesthouse and begin walking along the dusty path.
‘No, he doesn’t,’ I admit, a little sheepishly.
A warm breeze brushes past us, rustling the tendrils
of hair around my face. It’s so pleasant. The evening is ambient and balmy. There are no sounds of traffic, no sirens, no screeching foxes like there are at night-time in London. The ashram is calm and peaceful and yet inside, I’m on edge. Now that we’re outside the guesthouse, I could run into Paul at any moment. He could walk past us right now.
‘So you just flew from London to surprise this guy?’ Seb asks, looking curiously towards me as a man and a woman appear in the distance.
The man is about Paul’s height with similar dark hair. My stomach twists with nerves, but then he gets a few paces closer and I realize it’s not Paul, it’s a stranger.
‘Yep, I guess I did!’ I admit, feeling a little ridiculous.
My plan made sense back home. Priya helped convince me that it was a good idea, a sensible move, a way of fighting for my relationship and my future, but now, walking alongside an easy-going person like Seb, I feel a bit crazy and out-there. Am I a bunny boiler? Is jetting on a plane and following your technically-ex boyfriend half-way across the world actually a bit weird?
‘He must be really special to you,’ Seb observes, a tender expression in his eyes.
‘Yeah,’ I reply. ‘He is.’
I feel a pang of emotion and look down at the path.
A moment of silence passes between us as we pace ahead. I’m thinking about Paul, that night in La Dolce Vita and how wrong I got everything. But I force those sad thoughts out of my mind. I’m here now. I’m trying my best to salvage what Paul and I had. I’m giving it my all. There’s nothing more I can do. There’s no point wallowing.
‘So…’ I look over to Seb. ‘Where are you from? What brought you here?’ I ask.
‘I’m from Quebec,’ he tells me, which explains his accent since Quebec is a French-speaking part of Canada. ‘And as to why I’m here. Well, that’s a long story,’ Seb laughs, rolling his eyes.
‘Okay,’ I laugh, feeling unsure whether to press him.
Perhaps his reason for being here is really personal. Maybe someone died or he had a breakdown. Maybe you shouldn’t ask people staying in ashrams what brought them there? It’s not like going to stay at an ashram is like booking a couple of weeks in Ibiza. You don’t go to an ashram to party and catch a bit of sun, you go to reflect and unwind. Perhaps asking someone at an ashram what brought them there is like asking someone at a rehab center what led them to end up in rehab – it’s probably unlikely to be a particularly happy story. I need to get a better handle on ashram etiquette.
‘It’s okay, you don’t have to answer!’ I add, with an awkward laugh. ‘Sorry to pry.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Seb smiles, looking pensive as we walk along. ‘I guess it was a bit of a mad time though. Things got a bit crazy back home. I was working at a ski resort and it was pretty full-on. Lots of partying, hanging out with tourists, lots of girls, drinking, drugs.’
I look over at him, shocked. Drugs?
‘When you’re working in a place like that, life’s just one big party. I got sucked into it. All I was doing was partying,’ Seb admits.
He glances over at me, a rueful look in his eyes.
‘Sounds fun!’ I comment.
‘It was fun. Too much fun!’ Seb jokes.
Another silence passes between us. I’m curious to know more, but I also don’t want to pry. I glance towards Seb. He looks reflective and I wonder whether he’ll elaborate. In the darkening sky, his face looks different. The shadows make his face appear more angular, emphasizing his chiseled features, his perfect bone structure. He’s seriously handsome and I can imagine I’m not the only person to fall for his looks. I’ve known him less than a day and I’ve already been drooling over his eyes, his dimples, his muscles, even the golden hairs on his arms and legs. And I’m meant to be here to win back my boyfriend! I can easily imagine how Seb would have been on the receiving end of a lot of attention from tourists, free and single and ready to have a good time. But most guys would love that attention. Most guys would love their lives being one non-stop holiday, with partying and women and endless fun.
‘It must feel different being here after all of that?’ I venture.
Seb shrugs. ‘It is, but I love it.’ He glances over at me, smiling softly. ‘Life’s completely different here. I gave up all my vices. Sex, drink, drugs. I decided I’d have a year off. A year of complete abstinence. It’s been hard at times, but I feel like it’s helping me clear my head,’ Seb tells me, with complete sincerity, seemingly unaware of how strange such a pledge sounds.
‘You’ve given up sex for a year?’ I balk.
‘Yeah!’ Seb laughs, his eyes flickering with amusement at my reaction.
Maybe I shouldn’t be shocked. Perhaps everyone in the ashram has taken some kind of abstinence vow. That sort of stuff could be the done thing around here.
‘Wow, okay…’ I murmur.
I spot a large building in the distance which I’m pretty sure is the main hall. I vaguely recognize it from the pictures I browsed of this place online, and even though I feel a twinge of nervousness, I’m still distracted by Seb’s confession. He’s given up sex for a year! The idea that anyone would do that voluntarily is bizarre to me. Was he a sex addict? A total player? Is this some kind of self-imposed punishment for a life of depravity? I’d never voluntarily go without sex for that long. The thought is horrible. I haven’t had sex since Paul and I broke up, which has been a month now and I’m already beginning to feel frustrated. We had sex just a few days before he dumped me. In fact, our healthy sex life was one of the reasons I didn’t realize that there was anything wrong with our relationship. Sex with Paul was always good, really good. We’ve had chemistry ever since we first clapped eyes on each other and it’s stayed strong throughout our relationship, even during the past few years when our life apparently became insufferably dull, according to Paul. He’s always been a passionate lover, sparks have always flown between us. Maybe our healthy sex life is one of the reasons I’ve been so reluctant to let him go. I haven’t wanted to give up on those sparks and that intimacy.
‘So, how’s the celibacy going then?’ I ask, bemused.
‘It’s okay. I went to Thailand for my birthday though a few months ago and messed up, but otherwise it’s been fine,’ he tells me.
It’s none of my business, of course, but I can’t help feeling an almost sordid sense of intrigue. I want to know more. What happened in Thailand? I try to think of a way of subtly getting Seb to elaborate, but I can’t think of a way to phrase the question that isn’t just downright nosy.
We arrive outside the main hall and I realize the moment’s passed. If there ever was an appropriate moment to pry into someone else’s sex life.
‘So, this is it!’ Seb declares, gesturing towards the hall.
It’s a striking building, with pillars and a towering roof like a temple, yet it’s been painted in eye-poppingly bright shades: neon yellow, glowing orange and fuchsia pink. It’s so cheerful and rainbow-like that I feel like laughing. It looks like something from a children’s storybook. It couldn’t be more different from the slick colorless office blocks I walk past every day on the way to and from work
‘Wow!’ I gawp, awed by the sight of the place.
‘It’s quite something, isn’t it?’ Seb comments, skipping up the steps towards the entrance.
I peer through the open door. I can see people milling about inside: a few people carrying plates of food, others waiting to be served at a canteen, diners sitting around tables. Paul could be one of those people. He could be among that hubbub. My nerves intensify, my stomach squirming at the thought.
‘Are you coming?’ Seb asks, turning around at the entrance, eyeing me expectantly.
‘Uh, yes, definitely!’
‘Well, come on then!’ Seb beckons me towards the hall.
I laugh awkwardly and head up the steps towards him.
‘Do you want to come in?’ I ask as Seb lingers by the entrance.
‘Well, I don’t want to ruin y
our reunion,’ Seb replies, backing away slightly.
I realize I really don’t want him to go. He’s so laid-back that he’s a comforting presence. Even though I haven’t known him for long, I feel relaxed around him. It was a bit surprising how he just opened up about his sex life or lack thereof, but it was also kind of cool. He’s an open person. He doesn’t seem fake or cold or wily, like people in London can sometimes seem. He comes across as genuine and flawed, humble and sweet. His easy demeanor is soothing. It’s the perfect antidote to how wound-up and stressed I feel right now.
‘Come! It’ll be fine,’ I insist.
‘Really?’ Seb replies, sounding unconvinced, but he narrows his eyes and seems to register something on my face. An expression of unease no doubt.
‘Okay, if you want me to,’ he relents with an encouraging smile.
‘Thanks,’ I reply, feeling genuinely grateful.
We walk into the hall. It’s huge. There must be a couple of hundred people inside. The canteen is bustling. People are sitting at tables, eating their dinner from silver trays, chatting convivially. There’s a stage area at the back and quite a few people are sitting on it, just hanging out. A lot of the people in the hall are wearing ashram robes – loose white linen tops and trousers. I read about the robes online. They’re meant to encourage the individual to relinquish their ego and the trappings of Western life. I can sort of see the logic, but there’s something a bit creepy about them to me. After all, where else does everyone wear uniform robes like that, but in mental hospitals and prisons.
I look around, scanning the hall for Paul, but I can’t spot him. He might not even be here anyway. After all, the ashram is huge.
‘Where’s your friend?’ Seb asks.
‘I’m not sure…’ I reply, looking along each row of tables, trying to spot Paul’s familiar face, but to no avail.
‘Shall we eat?’ Seb suggests, checking out the canteen’s enticing array of fresh salads and curries and naans.
