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Published: January 19th 2006
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Moustachio
The essence of Pushkar The Pushkar camel fair has unwittingly become the ‘face of India’ to the Western world. How do I know that? Any stock photo site when searched for ‘India’ will throw up colorful images of Rajasthan - camels featured quite prominently among them. Turbaned camel herders, comical camels silhouetted against the sunset, the proverbial Rajasthani dancer wearing a brass nathni …I definitely owed my camera a trip to Pushkar.
Moreover, it was just days away from the famed camel fair. It was a pity we couldn’t make it between the 12-15th (the actual days of the fair); the call of our mundane corporate lives proved much too strong ;-)
We left the General’s bungalow in Jaipur after a ‘propah’ English breakfast, stocked up on film rolls, and took a bus to Ajmer. The journey took three whole hours, and we had to be back in Jaipur by night-time - but half a day of shooting at Pushkar was too big a draw. In retrospect, I think it was very ambitious to think that we could imbibe Pushkar in a few hours. I literally had to be dragged into the bus - protesting maniacally that I was missing the sunset,
Dandia sticks
Prepaing for the big dance mind you.
Ajmer to Pushkar is a 15-30 min bus journey, and you have to be prepared to be a sardine for that duration. Any movement on your part tips the balance, and angry Rajasthani women will direct intelligible curses at you…
The Pushkar bus stand looks like any small-town depot - there’s the sweaty bhajji waala, radio happily playing ‘kajra-re’ to the world-at-large, and the goat herds (with goats in tow) waiting patiently to get on the bus.
Meandering through the narrow lanes of Pushkar, we nodded to several foreigners on the way. Somehow, their presence made us look at the dirty by lanes in a whole new light - the filth and buzzing flies suddenly seeming larger than life. I was embarrassed to learn however, that I was probably the only one who was bothered by it. They seemed perfectly at ease, even tapping the random bull on its horns now and then.
Quaint shops sell silver jewelry, pajama’s, crochets bikinis - clearly targeted at the towns’ floating Western population - we even passed a shop called ‘Salvador Deli’ - a hopeful artist, who was forced to switch to the culinary trade.
The road leading to the camel trading ground is lined on one side with colorful shops selling livestock accessories (that’s the best way I can describe it!) and trinkets. The makeshift shops display their ware prominently - the array of camel and cattle bells dangling on florescent threads fringe the shop’s entrance. Ad you run your hands over those, the shopkeeper will stick his head from other the fringe and ask what you want; his hands occupied fitting brass bells on blood-red rope.
With one of the largest participations of all festivals in Rajasthan, Pushkar is also very foreign-tourist savvy. It is pointless bargaining with shopkeepers, but you can still try your luck.
I bought a pair of dandia sticks, a camel bell and a chillum - clearly to say: ‘I was at Pushkar’.
The websites will tell you that Pushkar is huge, a colorful cattle fair and that bazaars, music and sports highlight the event. So much has been written about it, you almost know what to expect.
But what no website or article can describe to you are the scents, sounds and essence of an extraordinary Indian festival. The coarse sand beneath your feet pulls you into the ground, as though urging you to sink into the experience, the hearty laugh of the camel herder as he turns the corners of his moustache, the steady twang of a strange stringed instrument engulfs you, the smell of boiling tea and the murmur of tourists as they bargain for colorful wares sets the festive ambience.
The landscape is dotted with florescent turbans and camel mounds. The smell of fresh dung is inescapable, but strangely doesn’t bother you. A young trader will suddenly appear in front of your camera and grin from ear-to-ear, a willing model. Post the shoot, he will demand Rs 20 from you, and you happily give it to him…
Needless to say, I wasn’t the only photographer - in fact, my ancient SLR was momentarily cowed by the mighty digital cameras present there. Not for long though - he proved to be the steadfast, worthy companion that he was, allowing me to frame Pushkar just the way I wanted…
As the evening came, I prepared to be packed into the rickety bus once more - my eye fixed on the horizon where the sun was setting. All those great pictures, I kept telling myself, all those great pictures…
Through the dusty glass I saw a camel lazily rise from its slumber, turn its bored head towards me and saunter off into the landscape…I could have sworn it had a twinkle in its eye…
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