We took om an ambitious task, to reach Delhi from Chitkul in Himach Pradesh in one day. The drive took 20 hours: we left at 5AM and arrived in Delhi at 1:30AM the next day. Our plan was to to travel to pushkar in Rhajastan and our car and driver were scheduled for 6AM, so we stretched a little more with no sleep and pushed on to Pushkar, another 10 hours. Having napped in the car, we went for a walkaround and I got a shave a local barber. The shave included a facial massage, a ‘hair’ massage J and finally, bent over the barber’s chair, a back rub. The fatigue from the last 30 something hours dropped without a trace.
Pushkar is a small town surrounding a small naturally formed lake. Many Ghats (A broad flight
of steps leading down to the bank of a river or body of water) lead to the lake, which is one the holiest places fir Hindus. This ancient city is supposed to have over 1,000 temples (a temple can also be a small alcove in the street).
As the story goes, when Brahma wished to find an abode on earth ‘round 60,000 years ago, he threw down a lotus flower. One of the petals fell in Pushkar where a lake formed. This story requires all Brahmins to visit Pushkar and its main Brahma Temple.The hurried slightly proud walk and bothered looks of the Brahmins marching to the temple reminded me of our own ‘Haredim’ hurrying to their temple. Same same but different as they say in Asia.
of steps leading down to the bank of a river or body of water) lead to the lake, which is one the holiest places fir Hindus. This ancient city is supposed to have over 1,000 temples (a temple can also be a small alcove in the street).
As the story goes, when Brahma wished to find an abode on earth ‘round 60,000 years ago, he threw down a lotus flower. One of the petals fell in Pushkar where a lake formed. This story requires all Brahmins to visit Pushkar and its main Brahma Temple.The hurried slightly proud walk and bothered looks of the Brahmins marching to the temple reminded me of our own ‘Haredim’ hurrying to their temple. Same same but different as they say in Asia.
The place reeks of religious tourism. A main Bazaar road leads to the central Brahma temple along which hundreds of stall offer religious offerings like flowers, incense, sweets and more. As we strolled past one of the Ghats a teenager gave us flowers and offered to lead us to the lake. I didn’t like his swagger as he lead the way so we ditched him. As we arrived at the lake we were immediately escorted by two dubious looking types (Brahmins in plainclothes) who guided us through what we thought was proper etiquette at the lake. We sat sepaprately with our ‘guides’ and mine made me recite words that sounded hollow and before I could even finish throwing the flowers in the lake, he started asking for money, stating the foreigners always gave in ‘green’, i.,e dollars. He drilledthe word ‘green’ in my ear until I started looking at Liron who looked like she was having the same experience. We seemed to be in synch and as she gave a moderate amount to her guy, I sat up and told my guy that the money is for both of them. As we walked away we heard the vultures arguing about their cut. It is customary to receive a red and yellow wristband when visiting Pushkar lake and we both got the same thread from our guide. Later we learned that the bands differ for men and women. What a ripoff.
From the amount of signs in Hebrew in Pushkar you’d think the place is holy to Jews. About 20 something years ago, Israelis discovered Pushkar with its cheap lodgings, remote location and free atmosphere, perfect for Karachana. Hordes of Israelis poured in and took part in reshaping the place. Signs in Hebrew advertise the best tailor (4 of them), best falafel, burekas, shakshuka and postal packaging. I think only the religious stalls were free of them.
What all this partying has done was to anger local government and impose stricter laws on drug dealers. Rest assured, it’s all there, but ‘Private’ is the keyword here, as I was told that undercover policemen scout the main bazaar. Strangely a ‘special’ Lassi is still available and considered legal and some sign actually advertise this.
The monkeys are very different here than in Dharamsala in shape and character, Here they are more playful and unafraid. They raided our hotel swimming pool overturning chairs and using the grounds as their playground. As I was watching the spectacle, a bold one jumped on the 2nd storey balcony where I was standing, ran along and came down centimeters from me. Next to the room, I placed unfinished chai glasses on the floor for pickup and the monkey overturned the glass and started slurping the chai from the floor, eyeing me all the time.
Later, hotel attendants started trying to chase the unimpressed monkeys and even resorted to buckshot in the air, which helped only for a while. Savitri templeOne highlight of pushkar is a steep hill leading to one of the two brides of Brahma – .Compared to the masses of people converging on the main temple, very few seems to want to perform Bhakti (active religious devotion) by climbing this hill. The view from the top (as was the climb for me) was breath taking. The temple itself was modest and a welcome respite from the noisy and neon-lit restaurants and temples in town.
Sono’s Story
Liron, my travelling companion, headed back to Delhi to catch her flight home while I prepared to hook up with Nir and his 2 daughters in Jaipur. Leaving Pushkar early morning after a torrential night had me walking the 15 minute distance to the bus depot. A slippery walk turned to a screetching halt at the end of the Bazaar road, where a 200 meter long pool of murky water sepaprated me from the bus depot. A boy pointed out to me a man-driven Tela (2 wheeled cart) whose driver took me across, himself wading in the muck with the boy in tow. later we came to the depot where the boy Sono (as I later learned was his name) asked me for chappati butter. I agreed but when I offered he sit with me and eat a chappati-butter he switched tactics and asked for a kilo of butter (150 R) Figuring I had no more time to backtrack to the store I offered him some money. After some negotiations we settled for 70R and a Thali. As we ate and talked he explained that his father died and his mother lives outside the city in a tent with his smaller brother and that some days he spends nights on the streets. His task for the day was to bring home butter. I asked why the village people do not support each other and he said that because of difference in caste, the tent dwellers do not mix. If the police catch him begging he claimed his mother has to bail him out for 50,000 rupees so he runs fast.
Sono’s Story
Liron, my travelling companion, headed back to Delhi to catch her flight home while I prepared to hook up with Nir and his 2 daughters in Jaipur. Leaving Pushkar early morning after a torrential night had me walking the 15 minute distance to the bus depot. A slippery walk turned to a screetching halt at the end of the Bazaar road, where a 200 meter long pool of murky water sepaprated me from the bus depot. A boy pointed out to me a man-driven Tela (2 wheeled cart) whose driver took me across, himself wading in the muck with the boy in tow. later we came to the depot where the boy Sono (as I later learned was his name) asked me for chappati butter. I agreed but when I offered he sit with me and eat a chappati-butter he switched tactics and asked for a kilo of butter (150 R) Figuring I had no more time to backtrack to the store I offered him some money. After some negotiations we settled for 70R and a Thali. As we ate and talked he explained that his father died and his mother lives outside the city in a tent with his smaller brother and that some days he spends nights on the streets. His task for the day was to bring home butter. I asked why the village people do not support each other and he said that because of difference in caste, the tent dwellers do not mix. If the police catch him begging he claimed his mother has to bail him out for 50,000 rupees so he runs fast.
After having eaten I was still waiting for my bus, Sono took out something and offered it to me s a gift - a green plastic whistle. I admired this little boy's sense of reciprocity but refused a last ditch effort for more money, my phone number so he can call for money or my bag after I empty it. That is their way and they don't seem to come away angry or offended if their wish is not fulfilled. I still got my feet wet walking the additional 100m in pouring rain to the bus that took me to Jaipur.
In the bus Monsoon rain coming down in torrents, collecting in the grooves of the windows and then deftly seeping into my right sleeve. I arrived about 3 hours later in Jaipur, which turned into little Venice (not the quaintness, the water).
August 16, 2011
Sidenote: Beggars should not be confused with Babas - men who resigned earthly possessions and attachments and wander through India with nothing but their clothes. They seem to have a role in society as spiritual guides, sometimes with mystical powers. They have the power to bless and are an embodiment of the Indian phrase "sabkutch milega": anything is possible. Meaning their ability to trust in a power that will guide them and sustain them in their journeys. As even Babas are human, some of them may not be genuine or they may be real but with no real wisdom to confer. One such Baba (later in Jaipur) was invited by us to sit and have Chai, only to produce for our shopping pleasure a picture album of Krishna, Shiva and of himself in the last Kumbmhela. 50 rupees. We declined.
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