India day 13 – Ajmer to Pushkar, Rajasthan

Pushkar is 30 minutes drive from < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /?>
Ajmer, but the hotel wants 500 rupees to arrange a taxi to take us there.  We already know that the going rate is 250 rupees since that’s what we were quoted at the station when we arrived in Ajmer yesterday.  It’s also the price quoted on the website of the hotel in Pushkar where we will be staying.  We’ll try our luck at the station taxi rank.  < ?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /?>

First though we intend to get some breakfast and visit the Dargar Masjid.   We have breakfast in the Madeena Hotel  opposite the station.  Another Lonely Planet recommendation which turns out to be nothing as grand as a hotel, but a basic cafe popular with locals and charging local prices and specialising in a very thin, cooked –to-order roti.   It’s dirt cheap, dirt being the important word;  cleanliness not being a high priority and there are flies everywhere.  The washing up is done on the floor in a filthy alcove that can’t have been cleaned for many a year.  But, it’s recommended in Lonely Planet so it can’t be all bad – assuming of course they have ever sent someone to visit it.   The kitchen is open plan so at least we can see watch our meal being prepared and what we get is quite good and we survive the experience.

We get a pedal rickshaw to the Dargar rather than walk and it’s a good decision.  The mosque is situated in the midst of the old city and involves negotiating a maze of narrow twisting alleys and bazaars.  There is no way we would have found our way on foot, even with a map.  The alleys are heaving with people and amongst them a boy is herding a group of donkeys laden with bricks.  Some yards from the Mosque we have to dismount and walk the rest of the way as the alley becomes too narrow even for the pedal rickshaw.  Our rickshaw wallah takes it upon himself to act as our guide  and accompanies us round the mosque.  He speaks hardly any English but we get the general gist of the etiquette – where to leave our shoes, no cameras allowed and so on.  As we enter the mosque we become the subject of some excited discussion in Hindi which we can’t understand but which seems to be about the rickshaw wallah and who is going to guide us round.  The upshot of which is that we acquire another self-appointed companion with a little more English;  so we now have two people accompanying us.  

The Dargar Masjid is one of the most important pilgrimage sites in India and the number of worshippers in the outer courtyard is overwhelming.  It has the feel of a bazaar buzzing with activity and colour.   There are dozens of stalls selling trays of rose petals, incense, religious trinkets, food, offerings and such like.  People are milling around, sitting or lying on the floor chatting, playing music or just passing the time.  The scene is one of vivid fluttering saris, red petals strewn on the floor and air redolent with their sweet scent.   It’s like stepping into another world, a cleaner world of cool marble and fascinating sights and sounds. 

The Dargah is the site of the tomb of the sufi saint Khwaja Muin-ud-din-Chishti  and Muslims come here to pay their respects and to shower rose petals on the tomb.  The tiny, highy decorated mausoleum is hung with a deep blue and gold canopy and what space there is around the tomb itself is crammed to bursting with people shuffling round, pushing and shoving as they squeeze their way in bearing wicker trays of petals above their heads.  We let the crowd bear us along until we emerge through the exit on the other side of the tomb having been blessed by an imam on the way.  In another part of the mosque are two vast cauldrons, known as degs, for offering for the poor.

Built by Shah Jahan,  the open-sided, white marble prayer  hall faces  an inner courtyard and has an ornately decorated alcove pointing to Mecca.  It is a haven of peace from the hubbub in the rest of the mosque.

The Dargah has nine entrances and our guides lead us out still barefoot through another of these and into the  heaving bazaar to see the ruins of Adhai –din-ka-Jhonpra,  that was reputedly built  in two-and-half days in 1153.  Originally built as a Sanskrit college using the remains of Hindu and Jain temples,  it was later converted into a mosque by the addition of a seven arched facade carved with Arabic script.  It’s a rather grand structure with its carved pillars and towering arches.  Tossing a coin into a nook in the alcove inside the mosque is said to bring good luck, but seems more like a money making scheme as two boys change notes for coins and then collect all the coins that fall to the floor.

After collecting our shoes and our camera, the latter left  with a local shopkeeper outside the Dargar, our guides take us to view a gigantic ‘well’ which turns out to be a cavernous  cistern in the centre of the old town where monsoon rain water is collected.  As we walk back through the bazaar with its myriad stalls selling everything from glittering bangles to Indian sweets, we gather a train of young children and mothers with babies all wanting a few rupees and as we hand out a coins more children appear, constantly prodding and tapping our arms, tugging our clothes and repetitively pleading for money.  This is behaviour reserved solely for tourists;  Indians are rarely bothered in this way and if they are they give short shrift. 

We pay our self-appoint guide and take the rickshaw back to the railway station, stopping on the way to get a flat tyre pumped up.  We offer the rickshaw wallah 100 rupees – considerably more than the original fare, but he cheekily demands double.    He’s trying his luck and when we give him 150 he goes away with a big grin on his face.   At the station we pick up a taxi to Pushkar for 200 rupees and after picking up our luggage from the hotel we leave Ajmer and head for the hills.  Arriving in Pushkar there is a 15 rp entry tax for car and passengers. 

Pushkar is a small town of some 40,000;  more of a village than a town really and easily manageable on foot.  There is almost a complete absence of traffic, only the occasional moped, handcart or pedal rickshaw;  but mostly it’s only cows and people that make their way along the narrow streets.  The relative peace and quiet is a welcome relief from the normal chaos of Indian towns and cities.  Brahma was born in Pushkar and it is a holy place where pilgrims come to worship at one of the many temples (of which there are 1,000 apparently) and to bathe in Pushkar Lake.  It is also where Ghandhi’s  ashes are scattered.  The focal point is the lake in the centre of town with its 52 ghats – the steps which lead down to the lake for bathing.  Inevitably it’s heavily geared to tourists, although not unpleasantly so;  there are 400 hotels inconspicuously tucked away in the old buildings  and the bazaars that line the streets behind the ghats are a shopper’s paradise, selling local textiles, clothes, shoes, jewellery and other handicrafts.  It’s relatively clean too, and people seem to make an effort to sweep the dusty streets.  Much of the streets are unpaved or partly paved and it’s necessary to pick you way through squelchy mud when it rains.

The hotel turns out to be a real find and aptly named ‘Inn Seventh Heaven’.   It is a delightfully restored haveli, or traditional old house, with a central courtyard complete with fountain overlooked by  two galleries which give access to the rooms on the upper floors.  Marble floors, original doors,  (unglazed) windows and lots of other original features all add to its charm.  Our room opens off the first floor gallery and overlooks the dirt street at the front.  It’s traditionally furnished and has a huge king-size bed.  This is one that Lonely Planet got spot on.   There is a restaurant in the courtyard as well as a shop selling good quality, ethically produced clothes, bags, pashminas, bedspreads and cushion covers.  I could be tempted!

The weather seems much cooler here, which is a relief from the heat of the bigger cities.  There’s a little rain in the afternoon so we don’t venture out until around 4pm.  The streets may not have much traffic but there are plenty of cows wandering everywhere and children trailing westerners begging for food.  Sad to say, we’ve quickly become hardened to the beggars who are an almost continual presence and often continue to follow us around even after we’ve given them money.  We walk down onto the ghats to look at the lake only to discover that it is almost empty and well below the level of the steps.  Normally the monsoon rains would have filled the lake by this time of year, but because the rains are late the bed of the lake is exposed and the whole area looks rather forlorn.  It’s made even less attractive by the partial dredging of bottom of the lake which has left it looking a bit like a mud quarry.  All of which means the view from the ghats is rather disappointing.  There are cows wandering on the ghats and are likely to gently head butt you if you don’t get out of their way, as Andy discovers whilst stood with an Indian who has approached us for a chat. 

Being a holy place there are rules about acceptable dress which includes no exposed legs, shoulders or cleavage – although it’s OK to bear your midriff if you wear a sari.  Some Westerners don’t seem  to bother, either unaware and uncaring and the shops, rather confusingly, sell revealing clothes.   Much to Andy’s chagrin Pushkar is meat, egg, fish and alcohol free.  So for the duration of our stay Andy, who as anyone who knows him will be aware doesn’t dislikes vegetables with a passion ,  is on  a vegetarian diet.  Imagine that!