Pinks and blues exploded in the sky above Pushkar Sarovar, staining the world below, before the sun retreated over blue rooftops. A local father and his daughter had been playing music since the moment I arrived. They strategically began to move around to curious bystanders until at one point they were sitting directly in front of me. I sat there drinking a Mango Lassi, enthralled by their sound. I thanked them for this moment and asked if they wouldn’t mind being photographed.
I watched on as they continued to play through the last of the suns light.
As luck would claim it, I ended up running into the two musicians on my last day in Pushkar. They were heading back home for lunch and asked me if I wanted to join them and their extended family. I was taken back by their friendly proposal but felt I would be intruding, but before I could protest I was already on my way there.
In temperatures well above 40 degrees we left town and headed towards a small cluster of tents pitched in the middle of vegetated sand dunes, that annually, host the Pushkar Camel Fair in October.
As I sat there watching on as the father prepared a curry of green beans, tomato, potato and an alarming amount of chilli, the children began to run around, staring at me, pushing eachother, pulling faces at me and screaming with laughter. They ran wild with an excitement and curiosity I felt I hadn’t witnessed before. It was at that moment, alone, far from any place I could call home, far from any place I was known, my time in Pushkar crystallised as one of those moments I knew, would remain with me forever.