Another Chai, Melega?
I slept rough on the night bus into Pushkar. The reclining seat was jammed upright, the road was ragged and the driver was liberal with the horn. The strange dream continued when we stopped at 1:00am for some tucker – deep fried bread posing as Samosa. Worse, for once the bus was ahead of schedule and dropped us in Ajmer, the next town at about 3:30am. Asa, Teresa and I haggled hard with the band of waiting rickshaws. A driver caved in to our price on to Pushkar, and just as we pulled away a bus passed through. Like who would’ve expected a bus running at this time? The rickshaw games began near the town – his guesthouse not ours, and a ‘passenger tax’, like haha. The kind of shit you can do without when you’re not quite with it.
Pushkar grew on me once I overlooked the bazaar of tourist shops on the main rd. The lake sits like a basin on the plains surrounded by hills. Pilgrims bathe and Sadhus wander around the holy lake with its whitewashed architecture and litter free ghats. One place where Hindus have put cleanliness next to godliness. It also attracts a collection of colourful charletans who entice you to take a flower for a Puja (blessing) with the intention to ask a ridiculous amount of money for such a simple practice. Snake charmers poked their cobras awake rather than coaxing them up. But soon the subtle charms of the Pushkar became visible.
Asa and I made a sunrise pigrimage up to a temple on the hill overlooking the lake town. We came for the sunrise, but Indian women in red saris climb the steps when the sun is higher and hotter for prayers. The open courtyard of our guesthouse was great for meeting people; jugglers, pois dancers and random intellectuals. Best of all are the 50 rupee (nz $1.50) all you can eat buffet meals around town – pancakes, toast, cereal, fruit, curd, porridge, coffee, the works – and thats just breakfast. At sunset everyone hangs out down on the lake, while indian musicians play and sing for a tip. In the evenings we sat on the side of the street with a chai and played backgammon or chess. In a spoilsport mood the police came through one evening with an earthmover and 4WD’s to clear the roadside, while the shopowners pushed everyone inside to avoid paying baksheesh.
After a few days of happily doing not a lot, and with the Swedes moving north, and Gareth and Will moving south I headed on to Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan, on route to the Taj Mahal in Agra. A bigger city, Jaipur didn’t have the vibe of the other Rajasthani towns. My cycle rickshaw took me inside the red-pink fort walls of the old city where I caught a local bus to Amber fort 15km away. No shortage of decorated elephants took tourists up the main lane. I found an amicable, cheap guide, and walked in up the middle of this two way ele thoroughfare with not much room for me. The fort was well worth a look and the guide bought alive a few elements I would’ve otherwise being unaware of – the natural ‘air condidtioning’ created by the way the windows are carved, the repeating designs that are reflected in doors, windows and also in the gardens floating on the lake, and the intricate marble relief carving of the Saffron flower, that when covered in certain ways is also a scorpian, lions tale or fish. The Mughal inspired coloured mosiac designs were up to the quality of that in the best Rajasthani palaces.
Jaipur was a one-day fly by. I was ready for Agra, where lies arguably the greatest monument ever built for love.
Untitled-project RSS