travel > Travel Story > Asia > India > Bhanged Up In Pushkar

Bhanged Up In Pushkar

TIME : 2016/2/27 14:51:53


Sitting solitary next to the holy lake at Pushkar as the sun was setting I clasped a camera film pot containing nothing other than the steaming green faeces of my travelling compadre who was at that time lying semi-conscious in our room in his skidmarked towel.

I was supposed to get the stools analysed so that we could find out just why old Stu’s shite was green but as the sun set I began to feel a great temptation pulling me towards a cafe where I had been told great Bhang Lassi’s were created. I had heard much about these drinks but in my three months had yet to sample one, and now, foolishly, I felt the time was right.

Pulling on my mental superman outfit I strolled up to the owner and ordered the delicacy as the sun faded giving the town a beautiful pink glow. The glass chinked on the table and I paused from my banal thoughts to analyse this most Indian of creations. Lassi’s….mmmmmm. This one tasted like a plain Lassi, only there was a slight element of graininess which was
not at all unpleasant. “Down the hatch Imam old boy”, I said to myself.

“Wahay….(my British pub mentality kicked in), tasty, I think I’ll shall treat myself to another please my good man”. The owner grinned a wicked grin, semi-blinding me with the sparkle in his eye and the whiteness of his teeth. Another Lassi was duly brought and promptly downed. Having paid the man I decided it was time for a stroll, see what all these hippies were on about.

After five minutes of normal strolling around the lakeside, watching darkness descend and that most beloved Indian strip lighting changing the day to night, I began to notice the chequered floor beneath me becoming monstrously blurry. Indeed, chequered floor. What psychadelia..so Indian.

The blur got even wilder once I left the street and headed into the town. Faces became a touch too real and powerful. No longer were the Indians a source of joy and humour. The lights glared deeply into my head and the street seemed to narrow and propel me towards the hotel.

“Fuck..I think I’m Fucked”, seemed to be the only words in my mind, as I stumbled through the streets, victim to my own greed. The hotel was about a mile out of town, along a quiet country road. As I reached the beginning of this road, the sky rumbled ominously, the monsoon rains desiring to re-fill the holy lake. Women in bright pink sari’s called in their children, away from the inevitable storm.

I continued my edgy wander.

Relieved to have reached the hotel, My mind turned to horror as I remembered what awaited me; My ill amigo.I had forgotten his stool pot!

There I was, getting mullered and I had left my friends crap next to the lake. “Well, I guess some lucky 15 year old Brahmin priest will open that tomorrow” I thought. As I entered the hotel, the heavens opened at last and pissed all over Pushkar. All I could hear was my heart racing with anxiety and the warped shouts of the Israeli’s down the hallway as they no doubt passed around their 30th chillum of the day. Groaning I headed for the hotel room.

Reaching for the door knob I was suddenly plunged into blackness as thunder ripped through the sky and power was cut off from the hotel. I was in a state where conversation would surely ease me from my stonedness, back into the world of the modern. I was lost in the land of the ancients. “Stu mate…Stu mate, I’m back…tee hee”. I was greeted with a grunt and then silence.

Blackness, thunderstorms, loneliness…what could be salvation? Yes, my walkman. Pressing the buttons with resolve and relief I was greeted with none other than silence. The bastard batteries had run out. “Man, how am I ever going to pass out?”, thought I. Lying on the bed that grim evening, thoughts raced around too fast to ever form structure, indeed, only a strong notion of spin out reigned. I focused on breathing. Not a good plan. As I focused on my breathing, I began to feel the sensations in my body, my breathing was too fast, my heart was going to green it on me.

Panic…..

Nothing left to do but reach for the packet of Diazepam next to the bed. Three pills later and a general slowing down of things my day was done as I unhappily drifted into an unconscious oblivion……


The author can be contacted at [email protected].