Rajasthan: Pushkar
Travelling in Rajasthan in February 2008
Jaipur >> Shekhawati >> Pushkar >> Jaisalmer >> Jodhpur
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I got down from the bus and hesitantly walked on Pushkar’s main street. Uneasiness showed on my face; I would have looked like someone who has made a mistake and lurking around cautiously, trying not to be seen. The big backpack I carried easily gave me away to the touts who would want to make friends and assist me to the best tourist services in town. Having had to tread past many of them with some difficulty in Jaipur only last week, I was being careful, trying to slip off as quietly as possible.
It turned out I did not have to bother. No one gave me a second look, let alone offering me ‘cheap rooms’. In fact walking for a few minutes scanning through hotels and guesthouses, I was alarmed to see no one approaching me, and wondered for a moment if they are all full.
The place I checked into that day was aptly named White House. Leave the namesake that is more plush well known; this one was freshly whitewashed, sparkling clean, and most important – inexpensive. The owner sort of knew how to speak to the backpacking public and keep them happy. Sort of, because he said the right things and often kept a conversation, but I could see it all did not come naturally. He built up a cheerful face and worked his ‘how are you doing today?’, ‘are you having a good time?’ and ‘do you like Pushkar?’ each time I passed past reception. I could see, over the years, he would have got better at.
I was anxious for my first sight of the lake when I took off from the guesthouse next morning. Walking through long line of shops and backpacker facilities that crowd the lanes circling the lake, I was greeted with prominent signs installed by the police and the priests of Pushkar, telling the visitors to ‘behave’ when they are here. The signs from police warn about petty crime, and tell people to stay away from drugs while the priests warn tourists to dress conservatively and not to take pictures near the lake.
Stepping into the periphery of the lake, I immediately draw parallels to Varanasi. There are ghats all along the shore – series of steps leading into the lake facilitating pilgrims to walk down for a holy dip. The dark waters of the lake appear no different from the sewer like waters of Ganges in Varanasi. But it is much less crowded and is largely free, but for a few people taking a dip in the water as instructed by their priests, or sitting on the lakeshore performing pooja. The lake is surrounded by temples, some of them just small enough to have a shrine and a few more with some worshiping space, but none very large and spacious. ‘Photography Prohibited,’ say signs splattered all over the walls surrounding the lake, which I am perfectly fine with, but another sign that tells me to remove footwear 30 feet before approaching the lake, keeps me from getting closer for some time.
What stands out on the ghats of Pushkar, unlike Varanasi, are pigeons that hangout in large numbers looking out for amiable people who keep them well fed with corn, wheat and rice. A flutter of pigeons greet me at the lake shore as soon as I walk in. They are in such strong numbers, they create momentary local currents of wind as they take off together. From my journal:
Pigeons are the dominant sight of the ghats, occasionally covering every inch of some of the ghats where they are frequently fed with corns. Sometimes they stand in long lines along the steps of the ghat, all of them facing the lake in such orderly fashion that they look like school boys assembled in an amphitheater, waiting for orders from an instructor. When people pass by, or when someone throws a handful of corn, they take off in such large numbers that the sudden sound caused by the flutter can startle someone unaware. Sitting a good twenty meters away from them, I can feel the wind from their wings as they fly away.
On a quiet hour on the ghats, I hear some sudden commotion as the pigeons suddenly take off at a distance. A dog has caught one of the unfortunate pigeons and a bunch of people are chasing the dog and trying to get the pigeon out from it. This is a holy place and the dog can’t have its way. But once it is gone, pigeons carry on with their business as usual but a few people continue talking about the incidence for some time.
Along the lake are a few vendors who sold corn by the kilo to people who want to feed the pigeons. Next morning, I bought a kilo, piled it next to the pigeons on the ghats and watched them go for it. They rushed in immediately, some flying and some running into the pile, the flying ones often landing over the ones running. I timed the attack as I watched them eat – it took less than a minute for the entire pile to disappear.
Continued at Pushkar – II