From Pushkar With Love...

From Pushkar With Love

Wow. This is the feeling I've been searching for in India. This is the India I’ve been wanting to experience. The concentration of faith, belief in God, in the human race and in the Universe explains why one can be so overwhelmed by the energy that reverberates every through every nook and cranny of India. It also explains why there is no other country in this world like India. This energy can be felt in every ghat, street alley, riverside community, mountain dwelling, city suburb, village, town, city space, every dirt track, practically everywhere that there are people to be found. The energy resonates from the hearts and souls of India's 1.2 billion people. The collective power of universal oneness! Energy levels are greater in some places than in others. It’s something that comes to mind when you happen to be walking down a street and it just hits you, stopping you in your tracks. It feel as if some magical puff of smoke has transformed the signal of your senses as you absorb these now suddenly different variables of the external environment. One such place is Pushkar, Rajasthan.

I'd been travelling since 6am and finally arrived in Pushkar late afternoon. Yet the journey was not quite over as the comical scenario trying to get off the actual bus proved more than just a little trying. People are pushing to get on the bus like a herd of elephants. Only one tiny set of doors on the bus are open. The people on the bus trying to get off are trapped as the swarm attempting to get on are blocking the doors! It’s a slightly aggressive push-shove situation and I plead with the driver to allow me to get out from his side but he's not having any of it. My rucksack is huge and I have to use considerable force and literally fight to get out of there. It shows that despite the mellow, peaceful, vibe of this place, there is nothing to tame Indians when it comes to bagging your place on public transport!

The Krishna Guesthouse was a short walk away, near to the Vishnu Mandir. There are bhajans blaring from the loudspeakers of the temple. You could very easily slip in a nice little drum n bass mix, or even better, a psytrance bassline. In fact I can hear the distant sound of drums as I write this text. It's almost midnight, and despite the fact all action on the streets dies down by about 9pm, one of the restaurants in town is having their Friday night rave with bhajans, dancing and chants. It sounds like the distant vibrations emanating from a psytrance festival.

I'm here in Pushkar with Isabelle, a French rasta girl I met on the plane from London to Delhi. By the time I'd arrived, she'd linked up with a few other Frenchies, three very witty, good-humoured guys that are totally integrated into Indian life, taking it in their stride. They've been coming to India for 15 years and speak pretty good Hindi. One of them, a blonde rasta, with a lovely interactive aura, has been studying Sanskrit in Bodhgaya. We smoked some nice hash from Parvati Valley, which is up in the state of Himachal Pradesh, a place I plan on visiting in a few months time. It feels really good to connect with people who are so in love with India and so clued up about its various parts.

To enter India is like entering the cosmic universe. The doors have been opened and suddenly you realise you are there. Boom! Boom Boley Naath! The latter is in reference to Shiva, the god of creation and destruction, whose name is pronounced before inhaling the holy smoke of the chillum. Puff and you are there! Praise the Gods, praise the Universe created by them, praise the positive energy they shower upon us and the good vibrations that this creates between each and every one of us!

One thing that I must mention though, without putting a downer on all this positivity, is the registration process in this particular hostel. Perhaps it's as a result of the Mumbai bombings, but when I went to register, I discovered it was not just my name and passport number that they wanted. They also wanted my visa number, visa start and expiry dates, the place in India that I had arrived from and the one that I am going to next, duration I expect to stay in the country, date I arrived into the country, the airport I flew from and to, my date of birth and my UK address.

There's no denying the beauty of the hostel we are in with its grassy courtyard, maze of stairs that take you up to its many roof terraces, its Rajput architecture that will lead you up to its highest points from where you can just sit and watch the sunset or sunrise, it's basic yet fabulous, clean rooms with ensuite bathrooms and hot showers, etc. Despite all this, I can't get my head around the registration process and can't help but question the guy at reception. He refuses to give me any information, but I'm curious so I badger him and we're going around in circles. Me: “Why do you need to know where I'm going next?” Him: “Because I have to know.” Me: “But for what reason are you collecting so much information and why do you have to know? Who is this information for?” Him: “Because it's my job and like I told you, I have to know”. I admit I badgered him and yes, he does flip, threatening to report me to the police before describing a scenario where I'd be arrested, locked up and deported. Another guy confirms that the information is being logged for the CID, police, various other authorities and who knows who else. It shook me up a little but the restaurant we all went to a little while later chilled me out. I realize after that every hostel is like this and they have to follow the law. Guess you can’t argue about everything.

The place was like a temple. There was a shrine to Sai Baba in the middle of the courtyard, plants, flowers and trees framing it. We're sitting around its edges on huge cushions smoking chillums around the table. Pushkar is not exactly the gastronomical capital of India so dinner was not so impressive, very bland in fact as I can guess they presume foreigners to have low levels of spice tolerance. A Nepalese kid takes our orders. He speaks no Hindi and no English, and walks away without finishing the order on several occasions, but we have a laugh with him about it all the same. Another waiter joins us for a chillum, forgets the chai I had ordered and sits down with his own cup! He tells us to switch off the lights before we leave. Bliss! On the way home, a little kid tries to peddle us charas, hashish and bhang lassie and mocks us with this non-stop and freaky high-pitched cackle when we refuse his offer.

Pushka is magic. It touched my heart. And to enjoy it with the people that I have met here today, has made it all the more magical. Still have another two nights here, so I hope to bring back some more news on this incredible place at some point soon….. You must forgive the terribe gramatical errors in this text, but I a sure you will undestand that I don't want to use up too much time doing all that because I really don’t want to waste another second absorbing the richness of this place… Time for a little shopping methinks!