Where Brahma Dropped a Lotus Flower

JULY 2, 2017 - PUSHKAR

In the touristy town of Pushkar, wouldn’t you know it, I met up with a bunch of tourists and touristed around with them. Pushkar is a very spiritual city (though has many, many fewer ghats than Varanasi), and is situated around a lake that is said to have appeared when Brahma dropped a lotus flower.

We’ve debated whether the lake could possibly be natural -- there is no stream feeding it, but it does not shrink, and buildings surround it on all sides. In some ways it seems like a giant swimming pool. Locals walk down to the lake to pray, or bathe, or wash their clothes. A common scam is being handed flowers and being led to offer prayers...then comes the ask for the (requisite?) donation.

Outside of the lake and a handful of larger temples, Pushkar’s main attraction is its market. It is block after block of little shops selling silver (or, in some cases, “silver”), hippie dippie clothing, occasionally Indian clothing, shoes, journals, you name it. Now that I’m not visiting big jewelers or Varanasi’s biggest silk salesman, I can haggle once again. My skills are a bit rusty, but I think I’ll get back into the swing of things soon.

Many of my new travel companions are photographers of varying degrees of professionalism. The common thread is that if they see someone they are not shy about asking them for a photo. Occasionally people ask for money, but more often than not, people just like having their photos taken. Since we’re traveling as a group, it can quickly become a show. One person will ask for a photo, and then three other photographers started snapping pictures once one person gets permission. It felt a little like being paparazzi and I could see how that would be overwhelming, so, sadly, I do not have my amateur versions of these photos.

My favorite instance, however, happened over breakfast. We were waiting for our food when three men with elaborate facial hair, dressed in all white, with bright orange turbans walked by. One person asked them for a photo, and the men were happy to oblige. They stepped up on the curb and stood in a line against a dirty white-washed backdrop of an un-opened storefront. The photographer was unhappy with one man’s mustache, so the man eagerly shaped his facial hair to look more photogenic. The men were almost giddy, and stood for pictures for several minutes. Afterwards, they came over and gave the photographer their addresses -- they wanted copies of the photos.

The oddest part of Pushkar was finding the bathroom in restaurants. We ate dinner at a rooftop cafe. The dining experience was set up for tourists, but they were not prepared for anyone to use the bathroom. That bathroom itself was a squat toilet in a light-less room barely big enough to squat in. But that wasn’t the odd part. To get to the bathroom you had to walk around the back of the restaurant….and into what is clearly the family home: a single, dark, dirty room with a bed, a set of shelves, and a table. On the far wall was the bathroom and the shower room. Note to self: visit the bathroom at my hostel before I got out to eat.