AFTER ENDURING A FOUR HOUR BOTTOM BEATING BUS JOURNEY FROM JAIPUR THROUGH WINDING ROADS INTO MOUNTAINS, WE ARRIVE AT A SMALL VILLAGE CALLED PUSHKAR. THE BUS CAME TO A HALT AT WHAT APPEARED TO BE THE DESERT. NOTHING BUT TENTS, THE ODD CAMEL AND A CHAI MAN WITH BRASS AND CERAMIC POTS. WE THOUGHT IT WAS A PIT STOP BUT NO, HERE WE ARE. INTO THE DESERT.
THIS MAN CARRIES A TIN COLLECTING RUPEES AND STANDS REGAL AND PROUD.
POETRY.
BOSS MAN.
PUSHKAR INSTANTLY BECOMES ONE OF MY FAVORITE PLACES IN INDIA. THIS PLACE IS THE MAGIC DESERT. ARAMBOL INCARNATED IN DESERT. THE LAKE OF PUSHKAR IS SURROUNDED BY 52 BATHING GHATS WHERE PILGRIMS BATHE IN THE SACRED WATERS. INFUSED WITH BOHEMIAN TRAVELERS AND GENTLE LOCALS, THE LAID BACK EASE OF LIFE HAS A SOFTNESS THAT COMES FROM LIVING IN A HINDU PILGRIMAGE. THE STORY GOES BRAHMA DROPPED A LOTUS FLOWER ON THE EARTH AND PUSHKAR FLOATED TO THE SURFACE. THIS IS EXACTLY THE WAY THIS CITY FEELS. AN ORNAMENTAL VISION IN FULL BLOOM.
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