Camels, Coconuts & An Elephant, Oh My!

Pushkar is a holy town in Eastern Rajasthan that centers around a lake, lined with ghats (flights of steps leading down to a river or lake) where Hindus make pilgrimage every year to make offerings to their gods and bathe in the holy waters. It is only three hours away from Jaipur where I am currently based & better yet this week is the start of India's biggest camel festival, held in November only once a year at the time of the Kartik Purnima full moon. It's supposed to be a spectacular affair, so for me there is no question about taking a trip there to experience it all.

I get the local bus from Jaipur to Pushkar. I am the only non-Indian on the bus & to say it is packed is the understatement of the century. It's hot and crowded, with the thick stench of BO hanging heavy in the air (possibly me). The driver keeps piling on more and more people, it seems as long as there is money being handed over, there is room on this already full bus. We are careening around steep bends at breakneck speed, there's an old woman being sick out the window beside me & the smell of vomit is wafting in front of me & merging with the other scents, creating a delightful cocktail of travel hell. I stick my head out the 'tin can of death' as I have christened it, for some cool relief, I swear to God, I'll never complain about Bus Eireann again. When we finally arrive in Pushkar, its dark, and I am literally dumped off at the side of the road and have absolutely no clue where I am. I gather my bags, make some quick inquiries from the helpful locals and get moving as fast as I can.

I make my way through a network of dimly lit winding back alleys like something from a Charles Dickens novel, where old women croak at me from doorways and I half expect Oliver Twist to come wandering out of the shadows and ask 'please sir, can I have more'. The main streets however are awash with activity and colour, smelling of a heady combination of roasting peanuts, rotting garbage, boiling spices and man wee. Cycle-rickshaws with tinkling bicycle bells meander through the narrow sandy streets in front of me, motorcycles stacked high with young Indians speed up on the narrow roads behind wandering pedestrians, beeping impatiently, while holy cows strut indifferently with the innate knowledge that they rule, blocking traffic & droping gifts of holy cow shite, as they go.

Holy cow struts through the streets of Pushkar

I wheel my bag past enclaves decorated with dancing Christmas lights, stacked high to the celing with twinlking saris, sparkly cushion covers & pashminas and scarves in every conceivable colour. My mind spins with the prospect of having to make a purchase decision in here, as persistent shopkeepers yell to me.....'Hello madam', 'Hi madam'....'Looking?'................'Looking is free madam'! .......'You want?'.'You want?'....'Where you go madam'?. I continue through the busy streets past more restaurants and shops with names like 'The Third Eye', 'Shivas Corner' and 'Papa Lala Silverwear'. I peer into enclaves where enormous black pots of curry boil and bubble over open flames in filthy looking dark kitchens stirred by men who have to stand on tip-toes to reach over them with large wooden sticks. It all looks very exciting & I'm really looking forward to exploring Pushkar the next day. I finally arrive at my hotel and predictably my room is gone. This is quite common and usually there is 'luckily' another room 'with a balcony' available at three or four times the price, which I refuse to pay. After some verbal sparring, eventually I am led through reception to a room that is clearly used by the family who run the hotel. By this point I'm so tired I don't care and it's not long before I am tucked up in bed under the glowing orange light of India's answer to the sacred heart of Jesus, a multiple limbed and elephant headed Ganesh, illuminated in the darkness by a single small orange light bulb. Outside wild dog packs are howling like wolves & killing each-other, inside a glowing elephant head is peering down at me, I can't help but chuckle to myself at just how surreal (not to mention eerie) it all is as I drift off to sleep, dreaming of camels, cows and smiling elephant headed Indian Gods.

My travel buddy Fiona is also in town this week for the camel fair and I arrange to meet her & her friends the next afternoon at their hotel. I make my way across town to their hotel, retracing the same streets I took the night before. I step over sleeping dogs stretched out dead to the world in the baking heat of the mid-day sun. Street carts are piled high with packaged rice and white beans for sale. Copper pots are laid out on dusty rugs on the ground, while clothing shops cater to western tourists with tacky looking T-shirts embellished with the monkey and elephant faces of Hindu Gods. I walk briskly, drinking in Pushkar life. Stalls of deep fried snacks dripping in oil, limbless beggars, leather bags, helium balloons, baby pink candy floss, pots of coloured stones and neat piles of coloured henna powder ready to decorate foreheads. Holy men in turbans with twig like legs hobble on wooden sticks, old women sweep the street with branch like brooms as small children scatter underfoot squealing loudly. High up in the hazy afternoon sky a yellow kite ducks and dives over rounded temple rooftops, tugged by an invisible string while someplace I hear an Indian woman singing a high pitched dramatic song, interrupted only by the honks and beeps from passing motorbikes and the tinkling bells of meandering bicycle rickshaws.  

Pushkar holy lake

As soon as I pass the lake, I am confronted by a fake Hindi priest who pushes a handful of pink, yellow and bright orange marigold petals into my hand. He informs me urgently that 'today is very very holy day in Pushkar', (surprise!). 'He is insistent ...blocking my path, 'please madam', ......'you must come now and throw your flowers into the lake'...........'Must I'? 'Only two minutes madam, you can find Om hotel this way too'. 'Today is very very holy day'....'It is'? It seems like just about every other day is a holy day in India with intrinsic rules and rituals that must be followed precisely. Although I know he is just out to earn a quick buck, I'm still interested in the ritual. Who am I to argue. Ok then if it's only going to take two minutes, sure why not......it's not every day you can use the excuse for being late....'Oh I'm sorry but I had to go and throw my flowers into the lake'.

He leads me down a large flight of steps at the ghat, where giant monkeys with red bottoms hang out in big groups. Avoiding spatterings of monkey shite and the occasional cow pat I follow him down a second flight of steps to the water’s edge. After removing our shoes, he leads me through a prayer that involves (bizzarly) holding a coconut and throwing my flowers and colored powders and rice into the holy lake and asking for blessings for my family. I feel like I am in an episode of Father Ted. I repeat after him....'good life, 'good mother', 'good father', 'good sister', 'good workings', 'good schoolings', 'good husbands', 'good childrens' and then I repeat a long, long list of Hindu God names. This of course quickly leads to the question of how much I want to donate to 'the church', which he feels equally reflects how blessed I want my family to be, Hmmmm! A dollar??? Should do the trick I think, pushing a fifty rupee note into his hand and quickly scurrying off, I watch his mustache droop as I go, Oops!. I make my way back up the steps of the ghat which are full of people who have made the holy pilgrimage to Pushkar from all over India. I stop for a few minutes to drink in the scene. Groups of young men strip and dunk into the water of the lake, pouring jugs of it's holiness over their heads. Women in saris dip themselves gingerly in the cool waters while mouthing prayers in Hindi. The steps of the ghat are alive with colour as dripping clothing and saris are dried in the midday sun. Discarded coloured flower petals bob on the waters surface as thick flocks of birds soar and swoop over the busy lake. It really is a feast for the senses & I say a silent prayer for my own intentions. I realise that I'm pretty lucky to be here as many Indian's are too poor to make the long pilgrimage here as much as they would love to. It is said that souls who bathe in these holy waters on earth will go straight into heaven. While I don't quite fancy taking the plunge into the grimy looking waters myself, I do however quickly stick my big toe in. As I make my way back up the steps and continue on my journey through the hectic streets of Pushkar town, whatever about the rest of me, I'm secure in the knowledge that at least my big toe is going all the way to heaven (-:

I'll write more about the camel fair itself (with pictures) in my next post.

Namaste From India

Arlene x