Day 101 - Holy Cow!

Indian mountain roads, like mountain roads everywhere, are narrow and windy. Indian drivers, however, unlike drivers I have encountered elswhere, do not seem to take this into account. In an earlier post, I mentioned that in theory, traffic moves on the left, but in reality, it moves wherever it's most convenient. Same holds true no matter what the road, no matter what the size of the vehicle. Big semi trailors, cars, motorbikes, and busses all jostle for position around hairpin turns, up and down the hills, and on blind curves. I counted no fewer than 4 overturned or wrecked vehicles on the sides of the road over a 100 kilometre distance. Riding in the front seat is like being a front-row spectator to an hours-long game of chicken. I feel marginally safer in our low- center- of- gravity, seatbelt-having car than I would feel in a bus, but only marginally. From here on out, it's going to be travel by rail whenever possible!

Oddly, there were no emergency vehicles at any of the crash sites. And that got me to thinking. Indian cities (and a lot of India in general) is very noisy. A large component of the noise is traffic - motors horns, shouts, etc. However, I have noticed a complete absence of sirens. A main component of traffic noise in big city or road in the US is the sound of sirens - police, ambulance, firetruck, etc. In India, that particular note is conspicuously absent - the closest I have heard have been a few car alarms. Are horns so widely used that a siren would only serve to confuse? Furthermore, I have only seen a few run-down ambulances, a few police cars, and no firetrucks at all. I am curious what happens in an emergency, and where (surely there must be some?) the emergency vehicles are stored.

We broke our journey at an 11th century, partially ruined temple just outside of Udaipur. We were the only ones there aside from an old man sweeping the steps. Several of the places we have visited have been actively religious. Religion here is often a boistroius affair with much fanfare. There is no doubt of the depth of the faith involved, or the sacredness of the sites. However, this place felt holy in a differnt way. It was one of the only places we visited that felt sacred in the manner of silent cathedrals. I can't quite put my finger on it - it something like a watchful stillness, or a pregnant pause that continues for centuries.

Several hours, and many stomps on my imaginary brakes later, we arrived today in Pushkar. The city is famous for its camel melee in November, but for the rest of the year, it is one of the holiest cities in India. Legend has it that the city was formed around lakes which sprang up when Brahma dropped his lotus flower. It is a relatively small city - only a few hundred thousand- and full of temples and shrines.

The lake itself is surrounded by Ghats, and these in turn, are surrounded by 'holy' touts. These touts press marigolds into your palm and lead you down to the water to make an offering and perform a little ceremony by the lake. In return for the blessing, you are expected to make a 'donation' to the temple upkeep and charity work. I doubt much of said donation actually makes it to charity, but once you have been blessed (marked with vermillion on the forhead and a red string around the wrist), the touts generally leave you alone. The practice is so common, and the touts so aggressive that almost everyone ends up participating, and the red string is known as "The Pushkar Passport".

Agressive touts aside, I really like this city. The streets are narrow and winding, only some are paved, and nearly all are lined with interesting market stalls. In betweent the stalls, around nearly every corner is another temple, and every temple has its own set of daily rituals. These rituals oftenm involve elaborate ceremonies of parading the idol downt he street in a marigoild-decked palinquin, with a band and banner in front, and women tossing rose petals behind.

Consequently, the streets have an almost constant air of festival. In between the waves of chanting and singing, the stall-owners hawk their wares, and a steady flow of people and animals (cows monkeys and goats, mostly) move up and down the alleyways. The cows here are particularly friendly, as children often hand-feed them leftover chapati or fruit scraps.

Among the more interesting buildings is the Brahma Temple. Brahma had a falling out with his wife, and as a consequence, she ordered that only in Pushkar could there be built Brahma temples. As a result, you will find Shiva and Vishnu temples all over India, but the only Brahma temple in the whole country is right here. Furthermore, there are two temples to his wives - the first wife has her temple perched high on a mountain above the town, the second is at the edge of the desert on the other side.

I toyed with the idea of spending tomorrow hiking up to the wife's temple, but my bum is still a little sore from steps up to Ranakpur's Shiva Temple. I think instead I will spend the morning puttering around the market stalls, perhaps further honing my haggling skills.