Pushy Pushkar Priests and Stoned Dreadlocks

Pushkar is an anomaly. On the one hand, it’s a den of hippie tourism and all kinds of cheaply-made hippie crap for sale in the bazaars. Throngs of smug dreadlocks roam the streets like they own the place, stocking up on their hippie gear and getting stoned on bhang lassis.*

On the other hand, it’s a major pilgrimage destination for Hindus, where they bathe in the holy waters and visit one of the only Brahmin temples in the world. It all seemed faux-spiritual to us. They were pumping chant music (tape or CD player?) from a loud-speaker over the ghats. Fake priests lurk at the entrances to the ghats, offering you a flower. If you accept, they demand a hundred rupees per family member so you can offer them “blessings” (is it such a blessing to your family that you’re a sucker?). A colored string around the wrist signifies a so-called “Pushkar Passport”, which means that you’ve already gone through this absurd process. Mr. Commission from Jodhpur, bless his crooked heart, gave us string in advance in order to avoid these pushy “priests”. It fooled almost everyone, although one or two were sober enough to notice that it wasn’t from Pushkar, and that we got it from a hotel. Nonetheless, we politely declined the flowers despite their accusations of disrespect. Meanwhile, they’re extorting money from dumb tourists, and there are donation boxes all over town! Disrespect, indeed.

There was also some kind of strange scam going on with the children. Two different boys came up to us at two different times asking us to buy them chapati butter… an odd request. They wouldn’t take money, and they insisted on going to particular market stalls for it. They also wouldn’t let us buy them a meal. When we allowed the second boy to take us to a stall, they asked 200 rupees for the butter! We refused. 200 rupees proved that this was a scam. Clearly, the kid either gets a commission and the butter, or he gives the butter back to whatever family member is selling it. It’s a horrible practice, but it’s also very sad to involve children in it.

The one reason to go to Pushkar is to stay at the Seventh Heaven Hotel. Unfortunately, for this reason it was booked, so we could only eat dinner there. It was aptly named, elevated above the grimy streets and the rampaging bulls (yes, we were almost gored by 2 that were running full speed through the streets!). It really is a haven. All muted red silk, cushions, and swinging lights. We watched the sun set over the temples and buildings, and suddenly Pushkar was beautiful. We had some fascinating conversation with other travelers (all far more experienced than us), and spent an evening soaking up the atmosphere.

Unfortunately, our own hotel was a disaster. We had been staying in nice places everywhere in India thus far (due to very nice prices), but in Pushkar there just aren’t many options. This one was relatively clean (bed sheets were booger-free), but toilets were outside and of the traumatizing squat variety (for those that haven’t experienced them, it’s just a hole in the floor with a bucket and spigot). Also, it was situated right on the ghats and shared a wall with a tiny and very creepy temple to Shiva. Just a few steps down was an evil-looking Ganesh with a severed elephant trunk, painted a lurid red. All through the night, stray dogs gathered on the ghats beneath our window. They were rhythmically yelping like they were possessed! Or birthing! Then they would suddenly erupt into fighting, growling, tearing at each other. Then the yelping and whining again. Meanwhile, I kept picturing that dark temple on the other side of the wall, with those bulging white eyes staring from the shadows. I actually had moments of panic and sleep paralysis. Maybe insomnia makes you a little crazy and paranoid, but it was a dark presence.

Finally, the dogs quieted down and I was able to sleep for a couple of hours. But at 5 AM, in the dark of early morning, they suddenly started blasting that trance music from the loudspeakers again, and madly clanging the temple bells! The noise was filling the room, and Matt and I had to just lie there and pray for it to end.

We were glad to leave Pushkar. It was an experience in its own right, but not one that we need to repeat… unless we can book a room in Seventh Heaven!

*You've probably had a mango lassi at an Indian restaurant. I'll leave it to you to figure out what a bhang lassi might be. And no, I didn't have one.