As soon as camels start to leave Pushkar pilgrims start to converge. On a full-moon night at the end of October or beginning of November the water in the lake is über-holly and one bath can wash off lifetime of bad karma.
More and more people come every day prior to the full moon. And at the right moment (this year 13th November at 4am) hundred thousand people stand on the ghats wanting to take a bath. And quite often they bathe naked. At the beach they would rather die than to strip into swimming suit. Next day the streets of Pushkar are full of people flowing like a river. When you jump into a stream, you never know where they will take you.
(During the festival photography is strictly prohibited at t he ghats. And the priests are very vigilant. These pictures are NOT from the manic mass bathing.)
Together with pilgrims come armies of beggars. Perhaps from all over India. Which means there is quite a competition and just begging is not enough. So there is a performer who can't walk crawling on the ground on his back screaming „Aaargh! Aaargh!“ In few minutes he collects enough food for a whole day. There is a old witch in wrapped in black cloth, sitting on a cart being pulled by a little dirty girl around town. An armless man optimistically jumps at tourists „Ten rupee! Good picture!“ Half naked old man wandering the streets with a stick in his hand mumbling „Ram ram. Ram ram.“ (Long live Rama) is the most normal of the bunch.
Fair has arrived
What kind of festival it would be without Ferris' wheels and the like. Those materialised overnight at the edge of town. Just next to the dunes where camels were camping. There is a little human propelled merry-go-round for small kids. Three huge Ferris' wheels powered by diesel engines move so fast they are more like centrifuges. Kolkata Museum has two headed fish and must be real human-octopuss (rubber ;) in formaldehyde. At the shooting range mothers assist children but do not shoot themselves. Indians – not just children – do not know how to hold a rifle. They shoot from the hip and such. With dismal results.
Young girls walk the rope in the circus, touts in front shout at the passers by trying to get them in. And when you get close enough, they whisper „If you like any, you can take her to hotel. No problem. Two hundred ruppes only.“ And there are snake women and jugglers and gypsy girls from Jaisalmer who want to be photographed for money and make henna paintings. Magicians are so bad and their tricks so primitive it is amusing. Loafers with personal scales loaf and let you use the scale for few rupees. Women weight themselves, taking whole process very seriously. Their children observe the procedure in awe, speechless. There are candy floss and sugar cane and stuffed bunny rabbits vendors, flute and walking stick stalls, tea cookers, samosa friers. Nokia has a stall here (mobile phones, not goloshes), so has John Deere and Indian Railways present themselves with a model railway. Green washing powder dances in the streets shaking hands with everybody. And some mysterious rides are never open and only blink and beep.
Bunny rabbit is ten rupees.Not Holding!
For ten rupees you can go and see few madmen who risk their lives for audience' pleasure. In a tent between Ferris' wheels and circus they drive cars and motorbikes on the vertical walls of a circular arena. Two cars and two motorbikes at the same time. Few inches from the top edge, at arms lenght from the onlookers. They whizz by seemingly denying gravity force and confirming the centrifugal one. The car driver blocks the steering wheel and accelerator and climbs out of a window waving at the audience and collecting backsheesh. The whole affair doesn't seem too safe. Not even for people in audience. I would say it is actually a lot more dangerous than all the other rides combined. Even here there were groups of Rajastani grandmas. Calmly watching the spectacle. Their eyes were saying „So what, I see this kind of madness on the roads every day.“
The biggest attraction were not the Ferris' wheels, huge swings or madmen on bikes. Every evening when everything got lit up the hundred years old shepherds came to have a look at the mayhem. They stood and watched it awe for hours.
