Pushkar

It is not possible to sleep on a train when you have to get off at 3.30 in the morning and my train arrived at Ajmer at 3.36am. Retiring rooms were not available so I went to the first class ladies waiting room, stashed my luggage in a corner out of sight from the door, climbed into my sleeping bag and lay down on the floor and went instantly to sleep. At 5.30 I was rudely awakened by a railway official who was clearing out the waiting rooms. As I began to emerge from the station I was beseiged by crowds of touts. I ran back into the station and sat down on the floor amongst all the sleeping bodies (who for some reason the railway official was not clearing out). I sat there for a bit then thought this is silly. I'll have to just brave the touts (in the dark). So I marched out, batting them away like mosquitoes, leaving them shrieking with laughter, and made my way to the main road where a crowd of men looked like they were waiting for a bus. They directed me to the other side of the road and I got a rikshaw to the bus station.

It was very cold. In the bus station groups of men were huddled round little fires burning rubbish (including plastic that glowed eerily in the dark), shawls wrapped tightly about them, faces covered with scarves and wooly hats on their heads. I dug out my winter coat and put that on. The bus reached Pushkar before dawn, where I had to contend with another swarm of touts. I managed to shake them off and walked into town.

I have a very small, very cheap room in an old lodging house built round a central courtyard, with twisting staircases leading up to the roof restaurant that overlooks the lake, where women are washing clothes, throwing flower petals into the water and washing themselves in the holy water.

The lake in Pushkar is small, with wide steps leading down to the water. Behind the steps there are several temples, their white domes rising up in the sky. Palm trees and broad leaved trees surround the temples. Pushkar is in a small valley, surrounded by steep, soft brown, dry hills, speckled with scrubby bushes and small trees. It is a pilgrimage town, visited by a constant stream of Indian pilgrims, who visit the temples, walking round them and performing ceremonies, then dipping their hands in the lake while they say prayers to their favourite god. I got caught by a Brahmin priest, who wanted me to shower him with twenty pound notes. "You don't have to give me rupees" he said "foreign money will do". Needless to say I was not a willing customer.

For some reason Pushkar attracts a huge crowd of hippies, with baggy trowsers and dreadlocks. Maybe it's the cheap accommodation.