Pushkar

Pushkar

Arrived in Pushkar, Tuesday afternoon around 4 o’ clock. Pushkar is beautiful, with a lake surrounded by rugged hills on all sides. The lake, very much receded suggests little rain though the surrounding areas look lush and green.

Here is one of the very few places to find a temple to Brahma in India, and is said to be the place Brahma dropped flower petals that caused the appearance of three lakes. There are many different stories as to why Brahma is not worshipped.

One is that Brahma wanted to perform a yajna (fire sacrifice) at Pushkar but needed his wife with him to do so. Since she, Savitri was late, he married Gayatri, the priests daughter instead. But Brahma had not asked Savitri’s permission to do this so she cursed him so he would only to be worshipped at Pushkar. Along with Brahma’s temple (and about 400 other temples) there are two hills, one large and one small with temples to Savitri and Gayatri respectively.

Route to Savitri Temple

Pushkar ghats & Gayatri temple

Three little incidents, along with the story of the Maharaja of Jaipur’s trip to England (see previous post), set me thinking about sacred territory and how the word ‘sacred’ with a single vowel shift changes to ‘scared’ and how fear can indeed shape territorial responses even in the realm of sacred territory or space.

I decided first to pay my respects to Pushkar lake but on approaching Badri ghat, where steps lead down to the water – or mud in this case – two crows did a Hitchcock (see film: Birds) and swooped down on my head twice. It was more of a push than a peck and I was glad to have my hair protectively piled high on my head. There must have been a nest nearby and the little dears were just being protective. I took my shoes off just in case religious etiquette might have been their problem, and since these were my first moments in sacred Pushkar, I was eager not to offend. Fear of offence is very real in sacred India.

Poised for strike two

Then as I sat out by the isolated lake edge, a chorus of dog barks started up. Not aggressive barks, more like: “Who are you and what are you doing on our turf?’ I did my best to pursue my contemplative moment until five of them came over for a sniff. That must have gone well as within seconds they were all over me benedicting me with the blessed mud of Pushkar lake and affectionately chewing my scarf and shirt to pieces. I gave up, and returned to the street looking like something from the swamp. Buying a new shirt and leaving the digested one behind, I thought how over-intrusive attention, in sacred spaces the world over can over-whelm reflective moments in our surroundings. Over zealous preachers; pushy priests with commercial interests; overly friendly advances or speaking for myself,

Badri Ghat

bombarding some poor unsuspecting sadhu with too many questions.

The third incident was at the Raghunath temple where I was promptly given my marching orders because I was a foreigner, irrespective of life-style or practice. A sign at the gate pronounced ‘ NO FOREIGNERS ALLOWED ‘. The guard was apologetic and kindly added that he did not think it was a good idea and was sorry I could not go in. I appreciated his sympathy and am glad this is the exception rather than the rule here.

I thought again of the Maharaja of Jaipur’s Ganges Urn story. Both incidents demonstrate an underpinning exclusive or elitist approach that withholds access to the sacred out of fear of contamination or pollution. Unlike the Maharaja of Jaipur, not even a bottle of Ganges water could counter-act contaminating influence in my case. Perhaps I should have tried rupees!

Protective, intrusive and exclusive approaches may be part of the multi-layered and complex interweaving of many strands in issues concerning the sacred, but it is my experience here that it cannot be limited by or to them.

Tonight at midnight I leave for Udaipur and from there to Nathdwar and Dwarka. That’s the plan. Let’s see what happens.