According to legend, the sacred Lake Pushkar sprang up in the spot where Brahma dropped a lotus flower.  Although there are roughly six million Hindu gods, the main three are Brahma (the creator), Vishnu (the preserver) and Shiva (the destroyer). Pushkar is the site of one of the few Brahma temples in India and thousands of pilgrims flock here daily to perform holy pujas.  The reason there are so few temples is quite mundane.

As legend goes,Brahma wanted to perform a  holy sacrifice, but his wife, Saraswati, also a God, was  very late. In his impatience, Brahma married a milkmaid, Gayatri. When Saraswati arrived, she was angered by his unfaithfulness, and  spit out a curse confining Brahma worship to Pushkar.

Meat, alcohol and outward displays of affection are prohibited, which created a challenge in the planning of G’s B’day celebrations.  Not even eggs are allowed.  While seated on a roof top terrace yesterday I saw a beautiful hotel, looking like a Maharajah’s palace, perched high on the hill,  and thought this would be the perfect spot for a birthday dinner. I inquire about the name, and determine that’s where we will go.

At seven o’clock in the evening we ask a rickshaw driver to take us to the Gulab Niwas hotel.  The road is dark, dusty and isolated, and a feeling of dread and foreboding is beginning to grow inside my brain.  After ten minutes of bumping up and down on this road,G and I look  at each other , the same fearful thought running through our minds. “Where in the hell are we going? Is he taking us someplace to rob us?!” G takes out his Swiss army knife and keeps it on his lap, just in case. What he would actually do with it if something came up, I don’t know. A few minutes later we see a small sign “GULAB NIWAS HOTEL” 1 km.

We alight the rickshaw, the two of us giddy with the thought of what we were about to experience(so we thought), and arrange with the driver to pick us up in two hours. As we walk toward the beautiful Rajasthani style lobby, the power suddenly goes out.  Everything is pitch black, no backup generator to illuminate the path, and our mood quickly changes although we are assured that the power will come on “soon,soon”. Up the staircase we go to the open air rooftop terrace, carefully counting each step and trying not to trip in the darkness.  We had forgotten to bring our flashlights.  We content ourselves with G’s favorite Malai Kofta and Dum Aloo.  Intermittent lapses of power, now on, now off.  Same thing with the provided candle.  It was all  a very romantic, magical view.

As often is the case in India, the journey was more interesting than the destination.

Namaste