jenny b

I’ve been longing to return to Pushkar since my dizzingly wonderful visit in October, intrigued to see the mystical lakeside haven outside the chaos of the Camel Fair. The stars aligned and a recent work-related trip had me less than an hour away with a few days to spare.

To my surprise, I did not find the sleepy little hamlet of my dreams but rather a still bustling, albeit with thousands of less visitors, epicenter of tourism and religious devoteeism. Minus a significant reduction in people, it was not much different than my experience in October. This place is quite clearly a well-established stop along the tourist route. Certainly a bit quieter, streets and temples were still brimming with tourists, and a mix of questionable Hindu converts and sincerely ardent pilgrims.

The distinctively complex vibe of Pushkar leaves me feeling both joyfully energized and emotionally drained. It really is a lovely place, abound with equally lovely people. Hundreds of temples scattered throughout friendly streets, encircling a (now dry) mythical lake and surrounded by sacred mountains. It’s a must-go pilgrimage site for Hindus, with a legendary birth story of epic proportions. The town is littered with polite notices to tourists about how best to respectfully fit in: conservative dress, no eggs or meat, no booze, and certainly no kissing. But like all things in India – that’s just one side of the prism.

Magnetic Pushkar is as much about sacred rituals and religious purity as it is a hip tourist scene laced with a sub-surface sexual tension. There’s the fervent imbibing of intoxicating, a-hem, godly bhang lassis (yogurt drinks made with hash) and joints by the tourists and holy men alike. Young and handsome Don Juans are clearly quite accustomed to the acceptance of their smooth advances. And there’s no end to the persistent shop-front touting of any number and variety of all quite lovely but somewhat tired tourist-friendly Indian wares.

All that being said, I really like the place. In small and quietly personal doses. I chose to splurge (a whole ten bucks a night!) on what I determined to be the nicest mid-range lodging in town – Inn Seventh Heaven. Indeed. I may have blown my budget on those two nights but the comfort and refuge of this beautiful, affable place was well worth it. I only wished Brian were there to lounge in the laps of luxury with me.

Another impetus for revisiting Pushkar was a desire to see the wonderful Bhopa musicians I met on my first visit. (If you haven’t already, you can see the YouTube video I recorded of them playing their traditional tribal tunes here).

A caste of musicians from a line of bards, the Bhopas were once venerated by the Maharajas and common villagers alike for their enchanting songs and musical praise depicting revered epics of Rajasthan. Their wandering performances in both royal courts and village squares served to entertain while preserving the region’s history and heritage.

They accompany their lyrical prose with the sounds of one of the world’s oldest instruments, the Ravanahatha. Most Bhopas I’ve met make this simple instrument themselves: a coconut bowl base covered with goat’s skin is attached to a bamboo dandi (neck). One large string of steel is accompanied by a slim set of horsehair strings. And small, silver bells bring magical life to the long, horsehair bow.

With Independence came the end of Rajput royalty, and sadly the status of the Bhopas along with it. A people who were once accepted everywhere they wandered have slid to one of the lowest rungs on the caste and wealth ladder. For a long lineage of artists, this new societal position has forced most to depend on tourists to support their tradition and heritage, and more urgently their daily needs.

I find the Bhopa’s personalities to equal their talent. They are a jovial, warm, and hospitable bunch who are eager to make friends and perform for anyone who’ll listen. Their kindness and sincere love of their tradition [unfortunately?] gets easily tangled with their immediate monetary needs. Another multifaceted Indian paradigm that leaves my emotional center out of whack.

Despite the inner conflicts I’ve suffered over this unique dynamic, I thoroughly enjoy the company of these brilliant people. It was a thrill to run into friends made in October, just at the right time and place, of course. I had the pleasure of befriending two new women I didn’t meet last time. The youngest and I had a lovely little earring exchange that left her with a new pair of silver hoops she dearly loved and me with a great photo of her and her cousin. It was an easily passed afternoon, full of chai, songs, and laughter. My wallet may have been left a little lighter, but my spirit was certainly brighter.

It was a wonderful retreat, but I was not sad to leave Pushkar for the second time. It’s a place that really gets you – from every angle and emotional thread. I love to hate it. And I’ll definitely be back.