By 10am Pappu has taken us down some obscure side street and points us in the general direction of the lake. En route we meet a very happy young man. He gives us flowers and wishes us a pleasant time at the lake. How lovely! How wrong. The flowers are there as a marker. No sooner do we go through to the Ghats than we are mobbed. There must be eight or nine hustlers at our throats, all keen to see their Brahmin bless us. Somehow, through all the confusion we are assigned a holy man each and go down to the lake. I ignore the manhandling and make a determined effort to ‘tune in’ to the spirituality of the Pushcar holy lake.

Holyman

Throughout the blessing which is in Sanskrit, my holy man keeps reverting back to the money tongue, English. He skilfully weaves demands for rupees into the prayers. And to be honest, he’s not half bad. I end up dropping 120 to his holiness, more than I had intended to. On we go with the anointing and the demand for dosh continues. To be honest, I’m now beginning to get annoyed. 'Listen man, you’re only getting 120. This could well be the one and only time that I ever do this, please don'truin it for me.'

The ceremony ends, somewhat tarnished but I still enjoy it. I am given a small cotton braid to put on my wrist. This, I am told will make my life happier. If you were really cynical, you might also think that it would tell the people working the streets that this person's already been done - I mean blessed. As a final word the Brahmin tells me to make a wish…

Indian Ghats

Meanwhile, Brian comes away from his experience looking disgusted. He was well and truly cleaned out and has no immediate money left. Back at the hotel, we make our way to the pool. Our Jewish friends are out in force. They are providing the tunes once more. However, the Acid Techno of yesterday has been replaced with Pink Floyd's 'Wish You Were Here.'

I end up talking to one of the girls again. This time she tells me her name, Monica Levinsky. After swimming a while, we agree to meet for a walk after dinner. We head off behind the hotel, through some ploughed fields. The whole landscape has changed in no time at all. Just beyond the fields is a scary wilderness. Overgrown temples and miles of almost impenetrable thicket. On the way back we bump into her best friend - Esther. They invite me up to their hotel room and offer me tea. We share tales of our travel experiences and families. I decline their offer of locally produced 'tobacco' and stick with my trusty Bidi's.

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