A charming oasis on the very edge of the Great Thar Desert, Pushkar is one of those places where you come for a day and end up spending a week.
I still remember my first impressions of the place – a small jewel in the navel of India, all ablaze with its colourful mix of pilgrims, hippies, merchants and holy men, its outdoor menagerie of cows, pigs, dogs and monkeys, and most of all its unique blend of romantic mysticism and hard-nosed business practice. I first arrived in 1985, just as the tourists began trickling in, and found it wonderfully unspoilt. The ancient buildings were all whitewashed and flaky, the lake was peaceful (apart from a few leaping carp), and the sleepy marketplace was dotted with just a few browsing backpackers.
Sightseeing is probably the last thing on your mind when you come to Pushkar. It's a tiny, sleepy town which instantly envelops visitors in a calm embrace of inertia. The little activity there is – shops, cafes and rooftop restaurants – centres on the single long street which tracks round the northern end of the lake, parallel to the bathing ghats. There’s a regular parade of travellers trooping up and down this street – trying on hippy clothing, buying silver bangles, doing puja (prayer) at the ghats, or organising camel treks.
And they all end up at the same place – the Sunset Café below the Tourist Bungalow – in time for sunset.
At sunset, Pushkar comes into its own. The dry heat is relieved by a cool breeze, the glare of the sun dies away, and the fading desert lights turn the lake a fiery blood-crimson. As the time approaches for darshan (worship), the hundreds of little temples by the lakeside come to life and the air is filled with the clanging of bells, the beating of drums and the hypnotic drone of prayer.
For many westerners, this will be the nearest they’ll ever get to a ‘mystical’ experience of India...
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