Day 97: Brahma Temple

We wanted to relax a bit more in Pushkar (away from all of the rickshaws and traffic mostly) so we stayed one more day. I simply had to eat another ‘Green Goddess Salad’ from Honey & Spice (new favorite meal on the road – I cannot tell you how much I miss salads and milk. Just know that I do. a lot.) and we hadn’t stopped into the Brahma Temple yet… one of THE things to do in Pushkar. So, those two things became our primary things to do.

We hung out on our rooftop for awhile before making our way to the Brahma Temple. We arrived to utter chaos. A huge mass of pilgrims were waiting outside of the gates to get in. Not necessarily in line (has there ever been a real line in India?) and most holding flowers or coconuts or other offerings of sorts. We weren’t sure why the gate was closed, nor were we sure why there was such a crowd… But we waited, and like everyone else, we were pushed forward by the masses onto the steps leading up to the Brahma Temple, past the lockers where we were forced to part with our cameras and shoes, and then through the metal detector before going up the steps and into the Brahma temple itself.

Chaos ensued. Everyone was rushing towards the temple shrine atop a few more steps. Women were shoved forward (by other women and men alike), children were hoisted onto shoulders so they could see, and if you didn’t know you were in a holy place, you would have speculated that a Bollywood actor had just arrived to Pushkar or a cricket tournament match was giving away free tickets or… whatever else would make the people of India go INSANE!

Andrew and I sat down off to the side watching people slip off the edges (literally) of the shrine platform. Some passersby requested camera phone pictures with us before going up to the shrine. (Seriously, I still don’t get all of the attention!) And then when the masses dispersed- a little- we decided to see what the fuss was about, and went up to the shrine ourselves. When we turned in our shoes and cameras, we were handed a folded up piece of newspaper holding some flowers, but no direction as to what to do with the flowers…

We were pushed into the crowd yet again, and an older man, nearly cheek to cheek with me, asked where I was from. I responded, and then he told me he was in Pushkar with his students from out of town (I don’t remember the town they were from specifically). I waved hello to the group of girls in front of him, said hello, and that it was nice to meet all of them. They all smiled and wagged their heads back at me. The teacher thanked me. I responded that it was no problem, surprised that he thought he had to thank me at all! For what? Being nice? Carrying on a conversation in the middle of a holy site in Hinduism? We were pushed forward and I dropped my flowers into different caged areas of the temple. I think I went the wrong way because a whistle was blowing, and I was being immediately ushered towards one of the designated areas of exit. I have no idea what the shrine even looks like because I was concentrating so hard on where to put my flowers and not stepping on any toes…

The friendly teacher ushered us through some other areas, and we climbed up to see the temple from the front gate wall, surprising all of the school children when they looked up to see me above them. We went out, gathered our belongings and walked back through the town we’d been going back and forth through the past three days…

And then we got ripped off by a seamstress. seamster?

What’s interesting about living or traveling abroad for an extended period of time are the menial tasks you find yourself needing to do. Errands at home can often turn into adventures abroad. Today’s errand/adventure came in the form of getting Andrew’s shorts mended. Without thinking he dropped them off to this guy, (we’d been walking past him for three days, saying hello, making small talk, being friendly) not bothering to ask how much the stitching would cost him. Big mistake. When we returned to pick up the shorts, Andrew asked how much it would be- thinking 100 Rs maaaybe 200 Rs max. Homeboy asked for $10.00. Without batting an eye. I narrowed my eyes, Andrew laughed and told him he was in India and didn’t have any American dollars. Then the stitcher was quiet for awhile, not giving Andrew any clues on how much he should pay. Keep in mind I can buy a pair of pants for 100-150 Rs. A whole pair of pants.

Finally, he told Andrew it would be 350 Rs. I balked. Andrew sighed, I think a little bit annoyed for not having asked up front how much it would cost, but didn’t dispute his price. He asked if we were happy. I shrugged and said it was up to Andrew, although my eyes did not say “happy.” The stitcher knew what he did. He gave Andrew a scrap of fabric “for his head” to try to make up for it…

We walked away with another lesson learned. No matter how nice someone seems in India, always (ALWAYS) agree on a price before you leave them with your shorts.

Day 96: Temples in Pushkar

We lazily made our way to just a couple of the five hundred temples in and around Pushkar. I think we were both so happy to be in a calmer city than all of the others we’ve visited in India that we reveled in being able to stroll through streets dodging cows and a handful of motorbikes instead of countless rickshaws and throngs of people. We hung out on the rooftop of our guesthouse. We walked around. We ate really good food. We even had a drink at the only bar in town. It was delightful. A much needed break from the madness…

Temples and shops. And children begging for money or chapati (Indian bread). And more temples. And more shops. This is Pushkar.

After picking up a few things, we went back to our room to do a little bit of work. I put on a little bit of makeup on to model a necklace I picked up for Zengerine. I kinda forgot what wearing makeup was like. Just a little bit of eyeliner and lipstick and I thought I looked like a ho! I wiped half of it off and walked out, handing my camera to Andrew.

“What did you do?” He asked in shock when he looked up. (Apparently I wasn’t the only one amused by the make up after three months without.)

We kept our balcony door open while we hung out in our room. Big mistake. We realized after an hour that an uncountable amount of mosquitoes were buzzing around the room. We left for dinner in hopes that they would somehow disperse. They didn’t. Armed with our flip flops, we hunted every last one of them down before we called it a night.

Day 95: Pushkar!

Brahma, the Creator is one of the three most important Hindu gods. But his following isn’t nearly as strong as the following that Vishnu, the Preserver, and Shiva, the Destroyer have. Many believe it’s because of the story behind Brahma’s yagna (a sacrificial ritual that is supposed to take place at a specific time dictated by the stars). The story goes that Brahma was supposed to marry Savitri (or have a wife in time for the yagna?) at this particularly auspicious moment, but she was late. In desperate need of a wife to perform the ritual, the gods purified an unmarried shepherdess, Gayitri, from the untouchable caste, so she could be married to Brahma. After they were wed, Savitri showed up and was not happy Brahma married someone else. She put a curse on him, from then on, he would only be worshipped in Pushkar. Furthermore, the untouchable caste would only be liberated if their ashes were scattered on Pushkar Lake.

Pushkar is one of the five holiest places that Hindus pilgrim to. Foreigners and Hindus alike are encouraged by the locals (not only the Brahmin priests) to make Pushkar Puja (a religious ritual).

The guidebooks agree that making a puja and a donation at Pushkar Lake is pretty much unavoidable. Sure enough, not even ten minutes into our first walk through town to get our bearings, a man began talking to us about going to the lake and making puja. One we arrived at one of the ghats, a Brahmin priest took over, and we were ushered in. Of course, we had to slip off our shoes and then walk down the steps covered in pigeon droppings barefoot before we sat next to the lake, me with one priest, and Andrew with another.

The priest had a metal tray with tikka powder, rice, a coconut, and a string for the ceremony he performed with me. I repeated a lot in Hindi, and then repeated several prayers for not only myself, but also for my ‘husband,’ and for all of my family. I washed my hands in the water and touched it to my ears, my eyes, and my heart. The tikka powder was put onto my forehead. The coconut was thrown into the lake. Water was thrown behind my back. Money was asked for.

“Some people give thousands of rupees for their karma. It is for all of your life. You will only do this blessing one time. How much will you give?” The books warn of this as well. Indian pilgrims give between 21 and 51 rupees. (Why it’s an odd amount, I’m not sure) It suggested a foreign tourist can give at most 101 rupees. I tried my best to avoid saying exactly how much.

“Oh, my husband has all of our money…” I said.

“You can give 5,000 rupees?” The priest asked. I restrained from rolling my eyes at his cheap trick.

“50 rupees.” I replied, but ended up giving 100, because who asks for change when your karma is involved, right?

We turned around to see others were watching, walked back through the pigeon droppings, to get our shoes and continue our walk through the city, a bit quieter with the ‘Pushkar passport’ (the red string from the puja) as the locals call it, wrapped around our wrists.

Without a doubt, Pushkar is the quietest town we’ve been to so far, and perhaps the smallest (coming it around 15,000 people). Aside from shopkeepers calling out for you to “look for free,” it was lovely to be able to stroll through without the in-your-face rickshaw drivers of Delhi and Jaipur that had been our last few days.

I was also delighted with the barbers in town. I think I have a thing for foreign barber shops, but how could you not when one looks like these do?

On our way back to our guesthouse, some children were playing in the street. If children aren’t asking for a school pen, or ten rupees, they are asking for “One photo?” These little ones were too cute to refuse. In case you’re wondering what’s up with all of the heavy eyeliner on the little ones, I asked. It’s to protect them from the evil eye.