My Never-Ending Search for Soul in Pushkar
Literally sandwiched between two obese, chatty and voluptuous Rajasthani women, I waited with bated breath for the local jeep to reach Pushkar. My jeep was crammed with locals, clad in their colourful turbans, striking moustaches and peculiar smell. In spite of not conversing with my travel mates, I could feel the hospitable vibes oozing through them.
Each one of them felt like a story to me: Filled with vocabulary, knowledge, opinions and above all, innocence. We were travelling from Ajmer Sharif to Pushkar, which takes less than an hour.
For me, this Pushkar travel was interesting. In spite of the pushing and elbowing that it entailed. Driving through the high-terrains, overlooking the dry, deserted valleys with monkeys hopping around—everything was magnetic. I took a deep sigh, Pushkar’s wind was warm yet cool. My skin adjusted to it, naturally.
After getting down, I walked for a few minutes. I slowly absorbed the colours, smells and sounds of this little town in Ajmer district in Rajasthan. With few camels wandering in a helter-skelter manner, the old photographs of Pushkar fair bombarded my memory. It felt like touching those embossed postcards, or in fact, entering into their vintage portrayals.
In spite of being a Hindu pilgrimage destination, Pushkar was quite different from its contemporary sacred hotspots like Varanasi, Haridwar or Rishikesh. To start with, it was peaceful. Experiencing this kind of peace is rare. Perhaps, you could see the crowd, the chaos, bustling markets—but not feel it. It did not penetrate. Into you. Or inside of you.
Spotting the only huge red Brahma Temple in Pushkar was quite easy. Impossible to be missed! One of the rare temples dedicated to Hindu Lord Brahma, this temple dates back to 14th century. Built of stone slabs and marble, its distinct red pinnacle adds charm to Pushkar’s skyline. Its motif of Hamsa bird redefines the skyline of Pushkar. Strikingly.
I took the first step, then the other. Climbing the marble stairs leading to the entrance highway, eventually connecting to the large courtyard or Mandapa, I could feel a little bit of restlessness. For me, it’s not a new feeling. Temples have often ignited a sense of imbalance in my soul. Silently I followed the pilgrims, prayed and kept observing, everything around me.
Something was calling me. What exactly, I did not know. Anyway, asking the locals, I reached the vicinity of the Pushkar Lake.
And I halted for a second. It was exactly like I had imagined it. The little town of Pushkar which evolved around the sacred Pushkar Lake in Rajasthan stood strong. And scintillating! With hoards of pigeons rhythmically fluttering their wings, cows lazily reclining towards the ghats and pilgrims taking a holy dip in the sacred water of the lake—everything fell into its place.
A humble priest, still in his early 30s, approached me for performing a ritual for my family. After all, for Hindus, conducting even a small prayer ceremony at Pushkar has phenomenon importance.
He kept enquiring about my family. I answered whatever I remembered. It felt like going back to your roots, in a rare organic manner. He asked me about my grand-father, someone whom I don’t really remember much. He passed away soon after his retirement, leaving a void which perhaps everyone felt except me. Importing the memories of my childhood during his death, I can still remember how I sat in one corner, just reading a book.
But suddenly I felt a certain unknown catharsis taking place, developing lump in my throat. The mere idea of praying for a deceased soul, gave me goose bumps. The spiritual mysticism of this entire episode was too difficult to reveal. I felt empowered, to a certain extent. My mind was completely blank—it was a condition which even the frequent meditative trials never conferred. It made me wonder does law of attraction really work? It made me Investigate and I found the Secrets Of Self Development.
After the ritual finished, I sat there for hours. Watching little fishes swimming in the lake, playing with cold water and just observing the zeal in the pilgrims was also entertaining. Time flew by and I kept nourishing the little strands of my rendezvous with Pushkar.
As the dusk approached, I hurried towards the bus-station. It was an abstract journey. Perhaps a travelogue which teaches you different facets, as you keep visiting or remembering about it.
Just like untold pages of history, lost in the embrace of space and time, this journey of mine lacked a pronounced beginning or end. It still continues as I write about it. Perhaps, in some other space and time, I might be still sitting there at the ghats, looking at the lake.
After all, with religious destinations like these, you always leave a part of your soul behind.
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