Summer Of Love

“No, dear friend. My parents will not like it.” The young man’s bell-bottoms were pressed, his collar starched, and the mass of curly hair atop his head had been tamed with a rather excessive application of pomade.

“Bugger your parents, old chap. Everyone at Trinity is going. And the birds from Lady Margaret’s have something funny planned. Be a good lad and get in.”

Lady Margaret’s. Latha studied Classics at Lady Margaret’s College.

Rajesh had sat next to her on the Air India flight from Madras to London. She had worn a pink saree and had jasmine flowers threaded through her hair. She had kept to herself, exchanging just the barest pleasantries. As befitted a respectable Indian girl, of course.

Harry was right. His parents needn’t know. He got into the car.

It was a bit of a drive from Oxford to the Stonehenge, but by evening, the giant stones came into view. Lanterns swung from a few tents in the surrounding fields and the air smelled of patchouli and weed. They parked in a lane and made their way through the crowd, nodding at acquaintances.

“Oh bloody hell, look at that, Rajesh - a kissing booth. Those cheeky birds!”

“Your English women do not leave much to the imagination. In India, we still have something to look forward to after marriage.”

“Don’t be such a drag, old chap.” Harry was already leaning towards a pretty blonde.

Rajesh stood next to the booth. ‘Stonehenge Solstice Sunrise - Free Kisses All Night’ the sign said. He wanted to look at the girl making out with his friend but he wasn’t sure it would be polite. Did Harry even know her? This type of behaviour wouldn’t be permitted at home. His mother would faint if she knew he had such immoral friends. She would rush to the temple and make offerings to cleanse the evil influence. 

A group of students with guitars settled down nearby and someone started singing.

I…can't…get...no... sa...tis...faction…

The Rolling Stones. He felt a sense of achievement at recognising the band. He wished he could tell Harry. Glancing over, he saw that the blonde had been replaced by a brunette. What did it feel like to kiss someone? Touching lips probably felt good because lips are soft. But the touching of the tongues seemed unclean. Did the spit flow from one mouth to the other? He wrinkled his nose in disgust. Maybe you were supposed to keep swallowing the spit while you kissed. He would check with Harry later.

I can't get no satisfaction…

Didn’t these girls feel cold in their miniskirts? Women’s lib they called it. He didn’t understand what the legs had to do with liberation but that’s all they seemed to wear. Back home, only actresses showed this much skin, and everyone knew what kind of women they were.

'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try…

Would Latha be here somewhere? No, she wouldn’t come to a place like this. He remembered the graceful way her hands had held a fork during the flight’s dinner service, her measured bites. She had put down the fork and knife after a while, and had eaten the pie with her hands. He felt a spark of pride at her surrender to the traditional way of eating. A true Indian woman.

I can't get no, I can't get no...

Harry had to be done by now. He looked around but couldn’t see him anywhere. Hmm. Should he go look in one of the tents? He suspected that this festival to celebrate the summer solstice at Stonehenge was just an excuse to have a, what was it called? A love-in. Maybe he should just wait next to the kissing booth in case Harry came back.

I can't get no...

How could these girls kiss strangers so freely? Didn’t they feel any shame? What would their parents think if they found out? Maybe English parents didn’t care about these things. Maybe they encouraged their daughters to do all this women’s lib business and wear pants. No, that couldn’t be true. Harry had hidden his cigarettes that time his parents had visited, hadn’t he? Parents are parents wherever in the world you go.

Oh no no no...

Would his parents like Latha? With the surname Narayan, she must be a Brahmin too. The right caste, so that was one point in her favour. She was educated, that was another point. Of course, she would have to give up her studies when they got married, but that was to be expected. The only problem was that she was a little dark. His mother wouldn’t like that. He didn’t care, though. He puffed his chest out a bit. He would argue with the whole world if it was necessary. “So what if her skin is the wrong colour?” he would tell them. “Her heart is pure!” His parents would surely give in and agree to the match.

Hey hey hey...

Harry had laughed at him when he’d told him about Latha. “You love a bird you sat next to on a plane once? You’re barmy, man.” Harry just didn’t understand these things. All he did was go out with one girl after another. Birds, he called them, God knows why. Didn’t understand love, didn’t understand the pain of loving someone from afar, didn’t understand the weight of his parents’ expectations. No, Harry didn’t understand anything.

“Do you want a kiss, love?” 

Rajesh turned and looked into a pair of smiling blue eyes. Wisps of golden hair tickled his cheek as the girl wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in.

It turned out Harry understood some things well enough.

That's what I say.