Trever Collier was on his way to work one Monday morning, dreading the day ahead at the office. The job was really grinding him down. There just wasn’t enough hours in the day. He could feel the headache coming on already.

As he was sitting at the traffic lights, not wanting them to change in any hurry, as he really didn’t want to go to work, he spotted two people lurking, hovering at the lights. They didn’t seem to be crossing the road, more hanging around. Trevor watched them with interest, as he waited for the lights to change.

The couple were around ten years younger than him, somewhere in their early thirties and even from this distance he could tell there was something different about them. The man had scraggly hair down to his shoulders, and a wispy beard. The woman beside him wore lots of beads around her neck and had a flower tucked behind her ear.

She went to the car in the lane next to him at the lights and tried to hand the driver a leaflet. The driver simply made a rude gesture and refused to wind his window down. The man approached Trevor’s car, leaflet in hand. 

Trever wound down his window and took the offered leaflet. The man gave him a warm smile.

‘Thank you, brother. Have yourself a good day.’

‘Cheers, mate, you too.’

As the lights changed to green, Trevor tossed the leaflet on his passenger seat and set off.

The day at work was even worse than he’d been fearing. Not only did he have lots of problems to deal with, but his management, as usual, twisted things and blamed him for the mix up in the warehouse. It seemed that the higher up you went in this company, the less competent the staff were. The managers were just clueless. And worse still, they sauntered around like they were hot-shot business people.  There were trainee workers who knew more than they did. And nothing was ever their fault, but always the poor clerk on the desk. It reminded Trevor of politicians being interviewed, all evasive and back-tracking and blaming everyone else. 

By five o’clock, Trevor had had all he could take for one day. His head was pounding and he felt sick. With trembling fingers, he switched his computer off and headed for the door. 

The rush-hour commute home was awful. Crawling, angry traffic, everyone blasting their horns at each other and cutting each other up. There seemed to be an incident on the motorway every single night. The radio station listed the massive number of incidents and the traffic jams. 

Trevor finally pulled up outside his house and switched his engine off with a sigh. An evening in front of the television with a few beers would hopefully sort his head out. He grabbed the leaflet the guy had given him that morning, and headed up his front path. As he shrugged out of his coat in the hallway, he read the leaflet.

Namaste With Us. There was a picture of a woman meditating, crossed legged, eyes closed. According to the leaflet, they were a group of like-minded people living together for the common good. They were seeking truth and honesty and beauty in the world. They believed in the power of the human spirit and the universe. For a donation of whatever the interested party could afford, the person could stay with them and try living their alternative lifestyle. There was no mobile phone number, no email address, just a landline they could call to discuss taking their journey further. Sounds interesting, Trevor thought, and left the leaflet on the hallway table next to his car keys.

The following morning, Trevor woke at the alarm. He felt nauseous at the thought of another day at the office. He tried not to think about work, not to think about anything actually, as he showered and dressed for work. He trudged downstairs to grab his usual quick breakfast of tea and toast. 

Having delayed leaving for the office for as long as he could, and wondering just how much more he could take, he downed the last of his tea, and headed down the hallway. He grabbed his keys, and noticed the leaflet. Namaste With Us. Chance would be a fine thing, Trevor said aloud. 

He turned to leave, then stopped. Why not? a voice in his head whispered. Why shouldn’t he give this random thing a try? Even if it came to nothing, it would get him away from the office for the day, at least. He took out his mobile phone and called the office. The receptionist, Janine, picked up. Trevor explained that he wasn’t feeling well, and wouldn’t be in work that day. Janine said she would tell Dale, the office manager, but she didn’t think he would be very happy with that. 

‘Tell him I’m not well and will be in when I’m feeling up to it.’ Trevor said. 

‘And when do you think-’ Janine started.

Trevor hung up the phone having had more than enough. Right then and there, he didn’t care if he didn’t go back to the office at all, even if they sacked him. He could find another job he hated and probably for more than the pittance they paid him to do it. The way he saw it, and the way he felt right then, he had nothing to lose. 

He dialled the landline number on the leaflet. 

‘Good morning, how are you today?’ said the male voice.

‘Morning, I erm, you gave me a leaflet yesterday morning. I don’t know if it was you, yourself, but it said to call to discuss.’

‘Yeah, man. That’s cool. Have you got a pen and I’ll give you the address?’

Trevor scribbled down the address on the back of an envelope.

‘And the leaflet mentioned a donation. How much would that be?’ Trevor asked.

‘Just whatever you can afford, whatever you think.’ 

‘And is that in cash?’

‘Cash is king, as they say. We’re not exactly big on online banking.’ The guy said.

Forty minutes later, Trevor pulled off the main road and down a mud track to what the guy on the phone had called the Haveli. This turned out to be a large run-down house that looked almost abandoned. It certainly did look like the hang-out of people wanting to live an alternative life-style. 

Still unsure quite what to expect, but knowing it had to be better than the dreadful office, he parked up. The garden was over-grown and wild. If that had been on his street, there would have been complaints from the neighbours. Here though, the wild and free grassland, seemed to be in keeping with the overall theme. 

He knocked on the door and waited. A long moment later, the door was opened by a young man in a Pink Floyd t-shirt. 

‘Hey.’ He said with a grin.

‘Morning, I called this morning about coming over. My name’s Trevor.’ 

‘Come on in.’ 

He was shown into the hallway of the house. 

‘River,’ the guy called out. ‘we’ve got a guest.’

The man who’d given him the leaflet came down the stairs. He wore a denim shirt, flared jeans and sandals. 

‘Hi, you gave me the leaflet, and I think we spoke on the phone.’ Trevor said.

‘Namaste, brother. Glad you could make it, man. They call me River.’

River shook his hand warmly. 

Trevor was led through to the kitchen and offered a green tea. As they sipped their tea, River explained what the group was all about. They lived a more primitive, basic life. 

‘While we have electricity and running water, we don’t watch television, no internet, no social media. No Wi-Fi code here, Trev. We read, meditate, practise Yoga and Tai Chi.’

Compared to the slog of a commute to a job he hated, this sounded like such a breath of fresh air. He was introduced to the nine other people that were currently staying at the Haveli. They all greeted him by saying Namaste, their hands joined in front of them as though they were praying. They were a mix of ages, some in their twenties, but there were also people with long grey hair and beards. They all had a kind of new-age hippy vibe. And they all seemed calm, happy and at peace. 

He saw the woman who had been handing out leaflets with River. 

‘I’m India.’ she said.

‘Are you and River in charge of the group?’ Trevor asked.

‘We are the Leaders but it’s hardly a dictatorship.’ She said. ‘I really am so glad you decided to come down here. I’m sure you’ll like what we have to offer.

River appeared by her side.

‘We do ask new members for a donation. It helps contribute to the running of the Haveli.’ He said.

‘Yes, of course.’ said Trevor.

He pulled out his wallet and handed over the cash.

‘There’s one hundred and twenty pounds. Is that okay?’ Trevor said. 

River thanked him and tucked the cash into his shirt pocket. 

‘The morning meditation is about to start in the garden, if you’d like to join us?’ India asked.

‘Just one thing, Trev.’ River said. ‘Can you take your tie off? It’s stressing me out.’ 

Trevor laughed and tugged his tie loose. Feeling better already, he tugged his shirt out from his trousers and undid his cuffs. 

‘There you go.’ India said. 

 

He joined the rest of the group out in the garden. They arranged themselves in a large circle, sittingon the long grass, cross-legged. River began by saying he hoped all his brothers and sisters were doing well this wonderful morning, and then told them to close their eyes. 

‘Just close your eyes, relax.’ India added, before River continued. 

As he listened to River’s words, Trevor felt himself grow calmer, more relaxed. He had never meditated before but he had never felt tranquillity like this. It was as though he was having an out of body experience or dabbling with mind-altering drugs or something. 

At some point later, he could hear River say, and slowly open your eyes. And there he was back in the garden with the other Haveli residents. River got to his feet, rubbing the grass from his hands and smiled at the group. 

As they were heading back to the house, River asked how he’d found that. Trevor couldn’t help but enthusing that he’d never felt anything like it. 

‘Your first time is rather special.’ River admitted. 

That afternoon, he joined the group for a Yoga session lead by a member of the group called Honey-Lilly. Again, like with the meditation, the session was astounding. It was exerting and yet spiritual and relaxing and motivating all at the same time. 

As they dined on their evening meal of vegetarian chilli and brown rice, sitting around the large wooden table, Trevor felt a comradery and a calmness he hadn’t felt before. These people referred to each other as brother and sister, and there really was a loving, familial feel to the place. He couldn’t believe this was happening. These were the kind of people he would have previously called tree-huggers and hippy-dippy types and yet here he was with them, and it felt fantastic. 

Under the guidance of River and India, the group shunned the trappings and trinkets of the modern, material world. There were no mobile phones, no tablet or laptop computers, no internet. In the evening, classical and jazz records were played and the members played chess or read books in the glow of the many lamps. 

Later that evening, he was shown where he would be sleeping by his room-mate, a guy in his forties called Dylan. The room consisted of two single beds and bedside cabinets and one chest of drawers. The space was sparse and basic, reminding Trevor of a documentary he’d seen about life in a convent. Maybe the nuns in the convent were seeking a similar kind of enlightenment that the members of the Haveli were after. 

The next morning, he was woken at seven o’clock by the ringing of bells. India was standing at the foot of the stairs ringing a hand-bell. Trevor was given a change of clothes, his smart work gear replaced by faded t-shirt and jeans. 

Over breakfast River presented him with a set of beads, sliding them onto his wrist. 

‘What are the beads for?’ Trevor asked.

‘They are to remind you to be mindful, of why we are here.’ River replied. 

Over the next few days Trevor settled in to life at the Haveli. He told work he was using up a few days holidays and would be in touch the following week. He knew he would have to keep one foot in the outside world for at least the time being, but he just couldn’t tear himself away from this new world he’d discovered. These people, this place, it was just all so wonderful, so beautiful. He hadn’t realised you could actually live like this. 

They lived a peaceful, mindful existence, where everyone worked and lived together. They survived on donations and contributions but there always seemed to be enough fruit and vegetables. They read books and meditated, practised Yoga and Tai Chi. The Leaders would take meditation sessions either sitting on the living room rug, or out in the long grass. Trevor had never felt so free, so relaxed. There was no television, no social media, not even a newspaper. There were no distractions. It was all about the communal life at Haveli. 

One night, on the way back from a midnight trip to the bathroom, Trevor lost his way down the creaky corridors of the old house. He turned a corner and went into what he thought was his bedroom. Instead of finding his room-mate snoring, and his own bed, he discovered he was in the bedroom of the Leaders, River and India. 

He stared for a moment in confusion at the scene in front of him.

‘What’s going on?’ He asked.

River whispered that he should come in and close the door behind him so they could explain. Trevor did as he was told, shutting the door quietly behind him. He stared at the room. It was like none of the other bedrooms in the house. On the wall facing the king-size bed was a huge television set, the logo of FilmBox, the movie streaming service displayed on screen. The more he looked around, the more he discovered. On the bedside cabinets were mobile phones, being charged. India sat up in bed, a tablet computer in her lap. River was even wearing a watch that connected to his mobile phone and was typing on a laptop computer. 

Trevor couldn’t believe what he was seeing. These two were supposed to be the leaders of this group, this alternative group that had shunned modern technology and were forging its own society built on working together and peace and harmony. And yet, it turned out, it was all built on a pack of lies. 

‘It’s not as bad as it looks, Trev.’ River said, climbing out of bed.

He softly crossed the room, in his jogging bottoms and t-shirt. 

‘You are lying to us all.’

India joined River, as they stood in front of him, the glow of the television set on their faces.

‘It’s not like that, Trev.’ India said. ‘As Leaders we need to let off steam, to unwind, to connect with the outside world, so we can continue to give our all. It’s actually for the good of the group.’ 

‘I don’t think so. And I don’t think the rest of the group will see it that way.’ Trevor said. ‘We’re living like monks and you’re up here watching TV and on Facebook. This is unbelievable.’ 

India placed a hand gently on his arm.

‘Just close your eyes, relax.’ She said, soothingly.

River started speaking in a low whisper, India continued to tell him to relax and listen to the words. Trevor felt his eye-lids growing heavy as their words washed over him. 

‘Good morning, Trev.’  River said. ‘How are you this morning?’

‘Wonderful,’ Trevor replied. ‘This place really is special.’

As he dined on his muesli he thought about the magical place he had found himself. 

These people, this place, it was just all so wonderful.

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom