Clare man Ciaran O’Connell has left Ireland behind to embark on a once-in-a-lifetime trip backpacking around the world. Internet access permitting, Ciaran will be corresponding with us as he enjoys his travels. This week he gets on TV as an effigy burns and enjoys some bespoke tailoring.
Dear JOE,
Namaste my friend, Hindu for hello. Greetings from India. I’ve been here for two weeks now and I just wanted to update you about some of my experiences so far.
It’s hard to believe another week has passed. This week we continued our trip west of Jaipur visiting Pushkar, Jodhpur(the blue city) en route to Mumbai. Again so many stories but I just wanted touch base to fill you in on some of my goings on.
Our first port of call was Pushkar, one of the oldest and holiest towns in India. As Pushkar is extremely religious, all meat, alcohol and even kissing are banned within the city limits, but to our surprise our hotel manger was only delighted to produced a few bottles of the local beer to the chant “ah come on yer Irishâ€.
We had to live up to our national image and sample a few. It was over these few drinks we met two Swiss ladies who were also staying at this hotel/hostel, and we all agreed to climb the holy hill (which we viewed from the rooftop/ kitchen/ restaurant), in order to watch the sunrise come up over the city the next morning.
Having the alarm clock go off at 5am hurt, but it was really worth doing. The view and the ambience created by the crowd of people making the one hour climb every morning rewarded our effort and we got to see the city turn a hint of orange as the sun peeked its head over the surrounding snake mountains.
Just as I think my excitement is over for the day, I get a call from my friend Jonny who in the end hadn’t climbed the holy hill. He’d been passing the time strolling around the town when it had all gone crazy. It was hard to make out what he was saying but it sounded like he was currently at the head of a parade beside a painted elephant without a clue as to where the parade was heading or what the parade was for.
Madness
I put down the phone and headed off in search of this madness and jaysus was i surprised, from a distance I could hear the music and shouting getting louder and louder. As I entered the main street it seemed like there were four or five parades going on at the same time, each of them trying to head in a different direction and between them creating a mass of people of all classes and races, surrounding a number of floats.
People were singing, dancing and throwing dozens of orange flowers of a type that I’d seen both at a number of the temples and being handed out freely every morning to the locals. Amid the chaos there was no sign of Jonny or the elephant.
Next thing I knew I was being taken by the hand and brought to the head of one of these parades to join a few more white people and an array of colourful locals. I was covered with more of these flowers and told to smile and enjoy the celebration.
But for what? Still no clue. Meanwhile Jonny was with an elephant somewhere and nowhere to be seen. You’d think it would be hard not to spot an elephant in the middle of a town, but as the craziness continued it became more and more clear that if it’s possible for an elephant to disappear, this is where it could happen.
Each of the parades were lead to a field that reminded me of bonfire night at home. I was fortunate to be part of the parade heading towards the main celebration. To my amazement we turned in to the local stadium (a camel race track, I think) which was full.
It was like Semple Stadium when Tipp returned to Thurles this year, the only difference being that all the stands were full of women, together forming a sea of bright, muliti-coloured shawls and veils. The men and children were all gathered on the pitch, pushing and shoving to get a vantage point of the stage where a 20ft tall papier maché man was held down by ropes, in the centre of the pitch.
Health and safety is non-existent here in India, and no more so than when it comes to the setting off of fireworks and amid the crowded stadium, fireworks were being set off all the time. With fireworks crackling and burning just over our heads the crowd started to circle the paper man.
A man made his way down to light the base of the giant figure, and as he did the whole crowd pushed to get a closer look. They rapidly pushed back when petrol was splashed on it to help it catch fire and it dawned on them that there were fireworks dotted all the way up inside the paper man!
As the man burnt, children attempted to grab bits of ashen paper as they descended onto the crowd. Before long the man was no more and the stadium rapidly emptied.
I still hadn’t a clue as to what had just gone on, but as I went through the main gates, I was stopped by a reporter looking for me to do and interview on what I’d just seen.
So following a nod of conformation for a local cop, the guys set up three different camcorders and I had three different microphones directed my way. Before the director could ask me any questions I decided to ask him a few questions of my own and found out that this was a big festival of good verses bad where the paper man depicts the badness within everyone and the man setting fire to the paper man was the good guy who was fighting to rid the community of evil.
This got me thinking that although we are all from different backgrounds, religions and cultures that we are really all very similar as around the same time of year in somewhat the same ritual we in Ireland burn bonfires to get rid of the bad spirits and in England they burn Guy Faulks. Anyway, somewhere on Rajestani TV there’s now footage of an Irish guy BS-ing his way through a news interview.
Eventually I did find Jonny and I got to see the elephant. He had witnessed something similar in a different part of town. We spent one more day in Pushkar before making a seven-hour train journey to the blue city of Jodhpur.
Crazytown
Jodhpur is a crazy little town of really small streets and crazy drivers. Camels are a popular alternative form of transport and I even saw a elephant been strolled down the main road as cars whizzed by. All over India cows are allowed to roam free, but it seemed more so here. It’s really not unusual to see a cow sitting in the middle of the main street and everyone motoring around them.
Jodhpur is where Jonny and I got tailored shirts fitted and made for us within 20 hours and for less than €10. Not bad. We also bought some spices and teas from a market stall which turned out to be popular with Irish customers. The owner even showed us a package he’d got wrapped up and ready to be sent to County Wicklow!
That’s about all this time but in my next letter I hope to report from a Bollywood set in Mumbai and from the parties of Goa. I’ll keep you posted.
See you after, kid.
Ciaran
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