From 2,500 feet above the ground, Pushkar is a pretty sight. Not that it's any less picturesque from ground zero
From 2,500 feet above the ground, Pushkar is a pretty sight. Not that it's any less picturesque from ground zero
From 2,500 feet above the ground, Pushkar is a pretty sight. Not that it's any less picturesque from ground zero
A Littile town tucked away in the corner of a large desert. I am almost always excited at the prospect of exploring the nuances of a non-touristy place. 
(The first international hot air ballooning festival in Pushkar was organized
by Sky Waltz in association with the Government of Rajasthan)
And Pushkar had always been a must-visit-someday-to-mix-with-the-white trash kind of a holiday plan for me. The opportunity came in the form of the Pushkar Mela and the first international hot air ballooning event that was being organised there. So sure enough, we landed in Pushkar.
Vertical limits
While the ground reverberated with folk songs, cattle dressed up to make for interesting postcard options and a jolly mix of urban, rural and global junta, the skyline of Pushkar was dotted with
different hues of coloured balloons.
We had never cared to imagine ourselves 2,500 feet above the ground, in the sky, or maybe between both. But finally, when we got into one of those big brown baskets that took us up in the air in no time, touching the sky became a reality.
As we jumped into the basket after climbing a make-shift ladder and the pilot huddled us in, we almost got crushed under the giant frame of a rather expansive white woman. Besides us, the basket had four whites and two expats; all looked at each other with wide-eyed wonder.u00a0
As our yellow-green-red balloon took off with a big fire at the top, we waved at the innocent locals who had gathered in the large ground to see the unusual practice of people inside baskets on fire going up in the air to the heavens above. Must have been quite a spiritual sight!u00a0u00a0u00a0
Before taking off, our pilot, who seemed to be an expert on the task of lifting people off their feet, told us to remain calm and hold on to our expensive cameras with caution. The pilot, a white again, cheerful and confident, was a cutesy guy who introduced himself as Sam. I was almost the basket's height, so I tried hard to click a few pictures of the landscape below us.
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In the air, out of bounds
As the 15 multi-coloured balloons rose up in line, the pale blue sky looked vibrant.u00a0 It was early morning and dark, cold winds were hitting us in the face when we had begun the balloon ride. Now it was almost an hour and the balloons were touching the clouds as the sun rose over us. It could not be a better sight, we bet.
Our basket mates, like us, had no idea as to where we would land. Sam announced we were about to land in one of the vegetation fields. We were still a few notches up, when we played spoilsport and threw up. The sophisticated, expansive white woman, though concerned, was scared of the puke falling
on her. She moved away and gave us a frightful look.
We managed a smile. Finally, the sky ride came to an end. We had landed on a small field and the basket landed in the middle of it. Like a spacecraft from another planet. A couple of huts, a humble black cow tied to a corner made for a pretty sight. The locals came to see the basket from the sky and the balloon crew. They looked at us in awe, smiling and shaking hands, as we made our way to our tents.u00a0u00a0u00a0u00a0u00a0
Be kind, rewind
What could one expect after a long journey in a second class compartment of a train, some good food and sleep? Well, more sleep. We had arrived at Pushkar in the wee hours and a balloon ride was furthest from our minds.u00a0
The extreme temperature of the desert made it painful to catch a wink in the stark white tent with the cruel sun roasting us. On the positive side, we got to stay in a regal camp, which housed 300 tents with a majority of foreigners in them. The tent was rather spacious with an unexpectedly lavish bathroom. It had a small table between two beds, two chairs and two humble lamps. We liked our nice, cosy accommodation except for the fact that it got too hot in the day and equally cold in the night.
That man from the desert
A tall, stout driver doubled as our guide. He belonged to the desert. His traditional moustache and knowledge of every inch of the place let us know he likes it here. Camels and their colourful attire are the first and the best local attractions you would come across. The mela was chaotic and bright with sounds that can do two things to you. One it can make you deaf if you are not used to it, second it can make you forget yourself for a while. Well, it did the latter to us and we enjoyed the feeling. We took a few rides on the giant wheel and the disco circus.
There was this customary maut ka kuan as well, where a man who had painted his face as a clown did awesome advertising of the game, making sounds of a running motorcycle with his mouth and attracting people to buy Rs 20 tickets to watch the show. Iron dishes,
small trinkets, camel clothing and accessories, multicoloured umbrellas, rich turbans, multi-coloured
chappals, lively bangles and the decorated Rajasthani dolls were all that the place offers you, apart from the warmth and simplicity of its people.
And you might get lost in the huge fair, and it would be difficult to trace your companions as the phone network can betray you anytime leaving you on your own. We got lost and we have to confess, we were both scared and excited, but got rescued eventually and lived to tell the tale.
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