We have attended several performances of Indian classical music and dance in Pushkar and they have been mostly very enjoyable. These performances have also given us an interesting opportunity to observe the behaviour of the audience (a mixture of local people and foreign tourists), which is somewhat different from that to which we accustomed at similar performances in Europe. There is normally an unwritten etiquette about audience behaviour. In Europe, for example, it is customary that mobile phones are switched off. Here the unwritten code - applying to Indians only - appears to be that [View Full Entry]

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Walking in the labyrinth of narrow streets in the quaint old town of Pushkar could in theory be a fascinating experience, given the nice old buildings, temples, shops, the friendly and colorfully dressed local people. However there are a few things in the streets that make walking there a bit frustrating and even hazardous. For a start there are the persistent touts, really annoying shopkeepers, con-artists, scammers, fake gurus, pilgrims, armless beggars, legless beggars, beggar women with scruffy kids and skeletal babies, beggars with every kind of exotic skin disease, little kids who want t [View Full Entry]

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When we arrived in Pushkar ten days ago we were disappointed to find that the world-famous holy lake, which has been the centrepiece of the Pushkar Festival for decades, maybe centuries, maybe millenia, was suddenly not there. This was particularly annoying because the lake is lovingly described in the latest Lonely Planet Guide and furthermore we had paid premium rate for a hotel with a lake view. In place of the lake was a flat expanse of brown dust, about 1 km square, inhabited by a few bulldozers, stray dogs, stray cows, and the occasional woman taking a shortcut with a [View Full Entry]

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I had expected to see lots of street processions in Pushkar during the festival, but it was a while before I saw the first one. I was alone in the hotel room because Tracey had gone off early in the morning to photograph camels, old men in big turbans, scowling beggars, and suchlike. My laziness was rewarded by the appearance of this procession right outside the hotel, which overlooks the main bazaar street. First, before anything was visible, came the noise. A frightful ear-splitting but vaguely musical din, even louder than the normal bazaar din, which steadily and unbelievably increased i [View Full Entry]

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