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Other entries in Pushkar

Holi festival in Pushkar

Pushka is a holy city built on the edge of a very sacred lake, and after we had checked in to a friendly clean family run guest house with a grassy lookout on the roof we made our way down to the lake edge for sunset and took in the mystical site. Signs every 10 meters around the lake warned that alcohol, drugs and eating meat were illegal, as was wearing shoes within 40 feet of the lake edge, and taking photos of the Gnats (holy pilgrims) washing by the lake.

We removed our shoes (not a very hygienic option considering the proliferation of cow dung and spittle on the steps) and were immediately approached by a holy man wanting to sell us hashish. (We learnt later from some Dutch girls that the Indian concept of hashish is actually a mix containing cow dung). Anyway sunset was magical, and the evening before leaving, we climbed a steep volcano shaped hill beside the city and watched the sun go down from the temple steps.

We spent an extra day in Pushka as our planned departure coincided with the annual Holi festival, in which celebrations include the throwing of neon coloured paint powder at anyone on the street. The stuff takes several days to get out of skin and hair and is impossible to get out of clothes (You can still see pink and blue furred cows and dogs weeks later) & its also a public holiday.

The morning of Holi, several new arrivals to the guest house turned up with rainbow coloured heads, bodies and backpacks, and a couple of the guys ventured out to join in the merriment, to return as unrecognisable purple/blue humanoids. One guy spent the next hour trying to clean paint out of his digital camera, cos just as he pulled it from the plastic bag for a shot, someone took the opportunity to dump him with a bucket of paint!

Apparently men are only supposed to target men, and would never contemplate soiling an Indian woman with paint, but western women are key targets as they provide the perfect opportunity for a grope-fest. The worst behaved however, are the rowdy Brits. One tourist dumped a bucket of paint on a well suited Indian businessman on his way to a meeting despite his demands to be left alone.

The merriment finished abruptly at 3pm and it was safe to venture out into the bold new pink, purple and blue world, to find a departure ticket. Pre-armed with the knowledge that no tourist deluxe buses departed from the Pushka bus stand, we made our way from tourist booth to tourist booth being blatantly lied to by all and sundry. Finally we found a travel agent who explained we could share a taxi to nearby Ajmer with another customer of his, where his agency would get us on the super deluxe bus to Jodhpur, and have an onwards train ticket to Jaismeer ready. (As we found out, he was the biggest and best liar of them all). In a moment of inspiration, Dave agreed to pay for the pricey bus seats (with commission), but only make a 100 rupee deposit toward the air con sleeper train ride with the balance payable on receipt of train tickets or deposit refunded (if the train class was fully booked).

The following morning we were picked up late, along with another couple, by a driver who obviously had no idea where he was supposed to take us, let alone any concept of train tickets. We finally reached a remote corner of Ajmer, 20 minutes after the bus was due to leave, and confronted the travel agent in the booth who got on the phone to his mate in Pushka. The only way we were going to get train tickets was by going to the station ourselves. The taxi man offered to take us but we didn't want to miss whatever bus turned up. On mention of the 100 rupee refund they suddenly no longer understood English!

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