Research is critical!
Before I continue the post, I'd like to remind everyone that you must research before you leave for a trip. We were lucky to visit Pushkar during the correct months of the mela but arrived on the fair's last day. Why did we arrive on the final day? I'd invite you to guess, but you already know the answer. We did not check the dates and relied on the fuzzy knowledge of a few friends. It is not as though the internet did not exist in those days: we were lazy and focused on a good time.
However, we only paid just over one hundred US dollars for that substandard tented accommodation. Over half a million people visit Pushkar during the annual mela. If we turned up in the middle of the festival, the hoteliers may have charged us two hundred dollars. Small mercies.
At the Mela.
A few local people gushed about the annual fair. Villagers come to trade camels, run races, trade in goods, and judge which camel is the most beautiful. An annual camel fair occurs in Bikaner (north-west Rajasthan), and artisans cut the camels' hair to create intricate designs. A Japanese woman visits Bikaner every year to take part. A few years back, she won second prize.
We wandered around the grounds after drinking chai and eating some deep-fried stuff. I don't remember what we ate, but it was tasty and unhealthy. I noticed a few camels in their bright costumes (the only description that comes to mind), the designs on the backs of a few camels, and saw a few villagers leading their camels away.
Sunset. Camels. Photographers. A Placid Villager.
Soon enough, the sight of the many villagers squatting, drinking chai, and gossiping palled, and I wandered off to explore the remaining sights as the sun dipped over the horizon. Then, on the horizon, I witnessed some timeless magic: camels silhouetted against the setting sun. A few photographers crowded a villager while he squatted on the dune, smoking his chillum. No doubt he charged them money for the pleasure, which is why he smoked and chewed the cud.
Once, I railed against villagers who charged photographers for the pleasure of photographing them. I considered them to be greedy, materialistic little scoundrels. Since those days, I have gained a better sense of social justice: many photographers aim to sell these images to magazines or publish them in personal projects. The photographers will earn more money than the villagers for these "authentic" images of "rural, traditional India," so it is fair if the rustic folk earn some cash.
Once, the rural folk didn't know better. Now, most villagers own mobile phones. I can imagine a few of them rolling over in indignation when their family members showed them their photos on Instagram. Now, they curl their mustaches and pat their wallets.
Money makes the world go round. How many of you have listened to Pink Floyd's song "Money"? If some of you don't remember the song, watch the video!