Searchings of a Kiwi lass

First day in Pushkar after a slightly hellish but amusing night bus journey... sadhu's lighting up chillums in the middle of the bus, in the middle of the night, passengers bringing whisky for the driver among other things and the absolute worst toilet in the world outside in the midnight dhaba (food stall) we stopped at around 1 a.m. Just two bricks to stand on above a dirt floor! Which leads me into a discussion with some other people on the bus about our worst toilet experiences, we laugh hysterically cause we'd cry otherwise... This is India. Safe in my little sleeper compartment later on I am awoken by Maya, an Israeli woman, giving an old lady what for as the bent-over being insisted on stroking and prodding Maya's legs before beginning to sing incoherent bhajan's, much to everybody's chagrin. Just to let you know, the whiskey never got consumed as far as I know - Maya saw to that - gotta admire the balls of these Israeli lasses. I would like to think I would be so outspoken if my privacy was being invaded...

So now I am back here again, to my old paradise... I have to say though that I have felt confused and a bit scattered since being here. Perhaps it's the lack of sleep and this cough that has been creeping into ma chest, but I'm seeing the energy here in new ways...

I been seduced by this beauty before. Travellers sitting pretty in all the latest, covered head to toe in trinkets... straggly bohemian Jesus-lookalikes epitomising the image of 'shanti shanti'... bearded bedraggled begging men all grey and rusty and scruffy and expectant, their baksheesh cans ever present by their side... Rajasthani gypsies so mesmerising in all their coloured cloth and jangling bells, their eyes so hawk-like to spot all the new tourist girls in town... One I remember well, Pani (Hindi word for water also) greets me like a long lost friend - I like her a lot actually, she still has a photo of us from two years ago which she carries round in a shoulder bag with all her other faded memories.. she makes me promise not to let any other gypsy woman henna my hands and feet as I am 'hers', but I am happy for this and she looks well actually, with the new baby of a friend all covered in desert dust beside her and grabbing my fingers as I say goodbye...

Maybe we oughta strip all of this colour away eh? That's what I've been feeling, so surrounded by external beauty that it takes me a while to remember to look inside. So many tourist entrepeneurs stake the streets here... Sasson, head of the Chai mafia, see's that no other chai stall can be open past 11 p.m but his... he gives me a smile but I am just no longer the right clientele for him... I don't smoke, tobacco or grass, I don't even drink chai any more! Although perhaps my throat could do with some ginger-lemon lovin'...

Tomorrow, tomorrow, Pushkar, I hope to rediscover your magic. For it is there I know, beneath the veneer of multi coloured cloth, behind the sunglasses of all the holy 'priests' who line the Lotus Lake waiting for business... I know it is here, I've found it before. Tomorrow I visit with Verma-ji, my old yoga / Reiki teacher... I drink much pomegranate juice... I visit with my Indian 'family' and meet North's new baby daughter... Sitting with Chanu (brother of North, both who are good Pushkar friends to me) just now, he tells me his first born son recently died at two and a half months and I ache for him, marvelling at the same time the rugged acceptance of life and death here.

Goodnight, goodnight, holy lotus lake... I am off to find me some good kana (food) and let this tired body sleep...
Namaste

So here I AM, setting this blog-thing up to perhaps encourage me to write more, to write, to write, to describe my pictures and give word to my visions. Being here is such a sensory overload, even third time around, that I don't wanna just let it all fade. I wanna aim instead to pen it all, somehow to convey the aroma of incense that seems to have seeped into every crevasse of this country - I sure as hell haven't burnt any yet but my room smells pretty sweet nonetheless - to try to give life to the myriad of bodies that pass me by every hour. The bored shopkeepers waiting for business, calling calling after me the same old openers 'excuuuuuse me madam' 'hello Germany!' (perhaps it's the blonde hair that mistakes them here) ' nice shawl madame!' 'I see you are smiling today!'

Yes, it is indeed good to be back... I feel so at home, just wish I had more Hindi to bring me that step closer. It's off to the bookshop I feel, to begin my language studies once more. I will look for formal lessons once I am settled in a place for more than a couple of days (Pushkar looks set to be the first of many) but until then perhaps I will chance a bit of learning on my own.

Om Shanti
xxoo