Tour de Camel Fair in Pushkar, Rajasthan (India) - by Kaushik Saha

I visited Pushkar in November 2010, during the Camel Fair. It was an overwhelming sight–thousands of camels and their herders, lakhs of pilgrims from every corner of the country, village folk dressed in their colourful best, and hundreds of make-shift shops stuffed with everything under the sun–from toys and shoes to swords and daggers straight out of a Hollywood movie. After spending one evening shooting the scenes at the fair, I headed out to town the next day. The ancient alleys buzzed with people from all over the world – tourists and hippies, backpackers and devout pilgrims. Barber shops sported signboards in Hebrew, cafes promised chapatis and ‘real’ Italian coffee, while the temples drew in the faithful by the hundreds. Above, hot air balloons dotted the sky, offering a bird’s-eye view of the spectacle below. As I wandered through the streets, I chanced upon a small temple in one of the innumerable alleys. Inside, across a courtyard, was a shrine to Kabir. The priest invited me in and I sat down for a chat. A roughly hewn, black stone image of the seer sat against a wall, surveying the human carnival. I stayed a while soaking in the peace and quiet of the shrine, then picked up my camera and walked out into the streets, promising to come back next time I visited Pushkar.

I visited Pushkar in November 2010, during the Camel Fair. It was an overwhelming sight–thousands of camels and their herders, lakhs of pilgrims from every corner of the country, village folk dressed in their colourful best, and hundreds of make-shift shops stuffed with everything under the sun–from toys and shoes to swords and daggers straight out of a Hollywood movie.

I visited Pushkar in November 2010, during the Camel Fair. It was an overwhelming sight–thousands of camels and their herders, lakhs of pilgrims from every corner of the country, village folk dressed in their colourful best, and hundreds of make-shift shops stuffed with everything under the sun–from toys and shoes to swords and daggers straight out of a Hollywood movie. After spending one evening shooting the scenes at the fair, I headed out to town the next day. The ancient alleys buzzed with people from all over the world – tourists and hippies, backpackers and devout pilgrims. Barber shops sported signboards in Hebrew, cafes promised chapatis and ‘real’ Italian coffee, while the temples drew in the faithful by the hundreds. Above, hot air balloons dotted the sky, offering a bird’s-eye view of the spectacle below. As I wandered through the streets, I chanced upon a small temple in one of the innumerable alleys. Inside, across a courtyard, was a shrine to Kabir. The priest invited me in and I sat down for a chat. A roughly hewn, black stone image of the seer sat against a wall, surveying the human carnival. I stayed a while soaking in the peace and quiet of the shrine, then picked up my camera and walked out into the streets, promising to come back next time I visited Pushkar.
I visited Pushkar in November 2010, during the Camel Fair. It was an overwhelming sight–thousands of camels and their herders, lakhs of pilgrims from every corner of the country, village folk dressed in their colourful best, and hundreds of make-shift shops stuffed with everything under the sun–from toys and shoes to swords and daggers straight out of a Hollywood movie. After spending one evening shooting the scenes at the fair, I headed out to town the next day. The ancient alleys buzzed with people from all over the world – tourists and hippies, backpackers and devout pilgrims. Barber shops sported signboards in Hebrew, cafes promised chapatis and ‘real’ Italian coffee, while the temples drew in the faithful by the hundreds. Above, hot air balloons dotted the sky, offering a bird’s-eye view of the spectacle below. As I wandered through the streets, I chanced upon a small temple in one of the innumerable alleys. Inside, across a courtyard, was a shrine to Kabir. The priest invited me in and I sat down for a chat. A roughly hewn, black stone image of the seer sat against a wall, surveying the human carnival. I stayed a while soaking in the peace and quiet of the shrine, then picked up my camera and walked out into the streets, promising to come back next time I visited Pushkar.


After spending one evening shooting the scenes at the fair, I headed out to town the next day. The ancient alleys buzzed with people from all over the world – tourists and hippies, backpackers and devout pilgrims. Barber shops sported signboards in Hebrew, cafes promised chapatis and ‘real’ Italian coffee, while the temples drew in the faithful by the hundreds. Above, hot air balloons dotted the sky, offering a bird’s-eye view of the spectacle below.
I visited Pushkar in November 2010, during the Camel Fair. It was an overwhelming sight–thousands of camels and their herders, lakhs of pilgrims from every corner of the country, village folk dressed in their colourful best, and hundreds of make-shift shops stuffed with everything under the sun–from toys and shoes to swords and daggers straight out of a Hollywood movie. After spending one evening shooting the scenes at the fair, I headed out to town the next day. The ancient alleys buzzed with people from all over the world – tourists and hippies, backpackers and devout pilgrims. Barber shops sported signboards in Hebrew, cafes promised chapatis and ‘real’ Italian coffee, while the temples drew in the faithful by the hundreds. Above, hot air balloons dotted the sky, offering a bird’s-eye view of the spectacle below. As I wandered through the streets, I chanced upon a small temple in one of the innumerable alleys. Inside, across a courtyard, was a shrine to Kabir. The priest invited me in and I sat down for a chat. A roughly hewn, black stone image of the seer sat against a wall, surveying the human carnival. I stayed a while soaking in the peace and quiet of the shrine, then picked up my camera and walked out into the streets, promising to come back next time I visited Pushkar.
I visited Pushkar in November 2010, during the Camel Fair. It was an overwhelming sight–thousands of camels and their herders, lakhs of pilgrims from every corner of the country, village folk dressed in their colourful best, and hundreds of make-shift shops stuffed with everything under the sun–from toys and shoes to swords and daggers straight out of a Hollywood movie. After spending one evening shooting the scenes at the fair, I headed out to town the next day. The ancient alleys buzzed with people from all over the world – tourists and hippies, backpackers and devout pilgrims. Barber shops sported signboards in Hebrew, cafes promised chapatis and ‘real’ Italian coffee, while the temples drew in the faithful by the hundreds. Above, hot air balloons dotted the sky, offering a bird’s-eye view of the spectacle below. As I wandered through the streets, I chanced upon a small temple in one of the innumerable alleys. Inside, across a courtyard, was a shrine to Kabir. The priest invited me in and I sat down for a chat. A roughly hewn, black stone image of the seer sat against a wall, surveying the human carnival. I stayed a while soaking in the peace and quiet of the shrine, then picked up my camera and walked out into the streets, promising to come back next time I visited Pushkar.
I visited Pushkar in November 2010, during the Camel Fair. It was an overwhelming sight–thousands of camels and their herders, lakhs of pilgrims from every corner of the country, village folk dressed in their colourful best, and hundreds of make-shift shops stuffed with everything under the sun–from toys and shoes to swords and daggers straight out of a Hollywood movie. After spending one evening shooting the scenes at the fair, I headed out to town the next day. The ancient alleys buzzed with people from all over the world – tourists and hippies, backpackers and devout pilgrims. Barber shops sported signboards in Hebrew, cafes promised chapatis and ‘real’ Italian coffee, while the temples drew in the faithful by the hundreds. Above, hot air balloons dotted the sky, offering a bird’s-eye view of the spectacle below. As I wandered through the streets, I chanced upon a small temple in one of the innumerable alleys. Inside, across a courtyard, was a shrine to Kabir. The priest invited me in and I sat down for a chat. A roughly hewn, black stone image of the seer sat against a wall, surveying the human carnival. I stayed a while soaking in the peace and quiet of the shrine, then picked up my camera and walked out into the streets, promising to come back next time I visited Pushkar.
I visited Pushkar in November 2010, during the Camel Fair. It was an overwhelming sight–thousands of camels and their herders, lakhs of pilgrims from every corner of the country, village folk dressed in their colourful best, and hundreds of make-shift shops stuffed with everything under the sun–from toys and shoes to swords and daggers straight out of a Hollywood movie. After spending one evening shooting the scenes at the fair, I headed out to town the next day. The ancient alleys buzzed with people from all over the world – tourists and hippies, backpackers and devout pilgrims. Barber shops sported signboards in Hebrew, cafes promised chapatis and ‘real’ Italian coffee, while the temples drew in the faithful by the hundreds. Above, hot air balloons dotted the sky, offering a bird’s-eye view of the spectacle below. As I wandered through the streets, I chanced upon a small temple in one of the innumerable alleys. Inside, across a courtyard, was a shrine to Kabir. The priest invited me in and I sat down for a chat. A roughly hewn, black stone image of the seer sat against a wall, surveying the human carnival. I stayed a while soaking in the peace and quiet of the shrine, then picked up my camera and walked out into the streets, promising to come back next time I visited Pushkar.
I visited Pushkar in November 2010, during the Camel Fair. It was an overwhelming sight–thousands of camels and their herders, lakhs of pilgrims from every corner of the country, village folk dressed in their colourful best, and hundreds of make-shift shops stuffed with everything under the sun–from toys and shoes to swords and daggers straight out of a Hollywood movie. After spending one evening shooting the scenes at the fair, I headed out to town the next day. The ancient alleys buzzed with people from all over the world – tourists and hippies, backpackers and devout pilgrims. Barber shops sported signboards in Hebrew, cafes promised chapatis and ‘real’ Italian coffee, while the temples drew in the faithful by the hundreds. Above, hot air balloons dotted the sky, offering a bird’s-eye view of the spectacle below. As I wandered through the streets, I chanced upon a small temple in one of the innumerable alleys. Inside, across a courtyard, was a shrine to Kabir. The priest invited me in and I sat down for a chat. A roughly hewn, black stone image of the seer sat against a wall, surveying the human carnival. I stayed a while soaking in the peace and quiet of the shrine, then picked up my camera and walked out into the streets, promising to come back next time I visited Pushkar.

I visited Pushkar in November 2010, during the Camel Fair. It was an overwhelming sight–thousands of camels and their herders, lakhs of pilgrims from every corner of the country, village folk dressed in their colourful best, and hundreds of make-shift shops stuffed with everything under the sun–from toys and shoes to swords and daggers straight out of a Hollywood movie. After spending one evening shooting the scenes at the fair, I headed out to town the next day. The ancient alleys buzzed with people from all over the world – tourists and hippies, backpackers and devout pilgrims. Barber shops sported signboards in Hebrew, cafes promised chapatis and ‘real’ Italian coffee, while the temples drew in the faithful by the hundreds. Above, hot air balloons dotted the sky, offering a bird’s-eye view of the spectacle below. As I wandered through the streets, I chanced upon a small temple in one of the innumerable alleys. Inside, across a courtyard, was a shrine to Kabir. The priest invited me in and I sat down for a chat. A roughly hewn, black stone image of the seer sat against a wall, surveying the human carnival. I stayed a while soaking in the peace and quiet of the shrine, then picked up my camera and walked out into the streets, promising to come back next time I visited Pushkar.
I visited Pushkar in November 2010, during the Camel Fair. It was an overwhelming sight–thousands of camels and their herders, lakhs of pilgrims from every corner of the country, village folk dressed in their colourful best, and hundreds of make-shift shops stuffed with everything under the sun–from toys and shoes to swords and daggers straight out of a Hollywood movie. After spending one evening shooting the scenes at the fair, I headed out to town the next day. The ancient alleys buzzed with people from all over the world – tourists and hippies, backpackers and devout pilgrims. Barber shops sported signboards in Hebrew, cafes promised chapatis and ‘real’ Italian coffee, while the temples drew in the faithful by the hundreds. Above, hot air balloons dotted the sky, offering a bird’s-eye view of the spectacle below. As I wandered through the streets, I chanced upon a small temple in one of the innumerable alleys. Inside, across a courtyard, was a shrine to Kabir. The priest invited me in and I sat down for a chat. A roughly hewn, black stone image of the seer sat against a wall, surveying the human carnival. I stayed a while soaking in the peace and quiet of the shrine, then picked up my camera and walked out into the streets, promising to come back next time I visited Pushkar.
I visited Pushkar in November 2010, during the Camel Fair. It was an overwhelming sight–thousands of camels and their herders, lakhs of pilgrims from every corner of the country, village folk dressed in their colourful best, and hundreds of make-shift shops stuffed with everything under the sun–from toys and shoes to swords and daggers straight out of a Hollywood movie. After spending one evening shooting the scenes at the fair, I headed out to town the next day. The ancient alleys buzzed with people from all over the world – tourists and hippies, backpackers and devout pilgrims. Barber shops sported signboards in Hebrew, cafes promised chapatis and ‘real’ Italian coffee, while the temples drew in the faithful by the hundreds. Above, hot air balloons dotted the sky, offering a bird’s-eye view of the spectacle below. As I wandered through the streets, I chanced upon a small temple in one of the innumerable alleys. Inside, across a courtyard, was a shrine to Kabir. The priest invited me in and I sat down for a chat. A roughly hewn, black stone image of the seer sat against a wall, surveying the human carnival. I stayed a while soaking in the peace and quiet of the shrine, then picked up my camera and walked out into the streets, promising to come back next time I visited Pushkar.
I visited Pushkar in November 2010, during the Camel Fair. It was an overwhelming sight–thousands of camels and their herders, lakhs of pilgrims from every corner of the country, village folk dressed in their colourful best, and hundreds of make-shift shops stuffed with everything under the sun–from toys and shoes to swords and daggers straight out of a Hollywood movie. After spending one evening shooting the scenes at the fair, I headed out to town the next day. The ancient alleys buzzed with people from all over the world – tourists and hippies, backpackers and devout pilgrims. Barber shops sported signboards in Hebrew, cafes promised chapatis and ‘real’ Italian coffee, while the temples drew in the faithful by the hundreds. Above, hot air balloons dotted the sky, offering a bird’s-eye view of the spectacle below. As I wandered through the streets, I chanced upon a small temple in one of the innumerable alleys. Inside, across a courtyard, was a shrine to Kabir. The priest invited me in and I sat down for a chat. A roughly hewn, black stone image of the seer sat against a wall, surveying the human carnival. I stayed a while soaking in the peace and quiet of the shrine, then picked up my camera and walked out into the streets, promising to come back next time I visited Pushkar.
I visited Pushkar in November 2010, during the Camel Fair. It was an overwhelming sight–thousands of camels and their herders, lakhs of pilgrims from every corner of the country, village folk dressed in their colourful best, and hundreds of make-shift shops stuffed with everything under the sun–from toys and shoes to swords and daggers straight out of a Hollywood movie. After spending one evening shooting the scenes at the fair, I headed out to town the next day. The ancient alleys buzzed with people from all over the world – tourists and hippies, backpackers and devout pilgrims. Barber shops sported signboards in Hebrew, cafes promised chapatis and ‘real’ Italian coffee, while the temples drew in the faithful by the hundreds. Above, hot air balloons dotted the sky, offering a bird’s-eye view of the spectacle below. As I wandered through the streets, I chanced upon a small temple in one of the innumerable alleys. Inside, across a courtyard, was a shrine to Kabir. The priest invited me in and I sat down for a chat. A roughly hewn, black stone image of the seer sat against a wall, surveying the human carnival. I stayed a while soaking in the peace and quiet of the shrine, then picked up my camera and walked out into the streets, promising to come back next time I visited Pushkar.
I visited Pushkar in November 2010, during the Camel Fair. It was an overwhelming sight–thousands of camels and their herders, lakhs of pilgrims from every corner of the country, village folk dressed in their colourful best, and hundreds of make-shift shops stuffed with everything under the sun–from toys and shoes to swords and daggers straight out of a Hollywood movie. After spending one evening shooting the scenes at the fair, I headed out to town the next day. The ancient alleys buzzed with people from all over the world – tourists and hippies, backpackers and devout pilgrims. Barber shops sported signboards in Hebrew, cafes promised chapatis and ‘real’ Italian coffee, while the temples drew in the faithful by the hundreds. Above, hot air balloons dotted the sky, offering a bird’s-eye view of the spectacle below. As I wandered through the streets, I chanced upon a small temple in one of the innumerable alleys. Inside, across a courtyard, was a shrine to Kabir. The priest invited me in and I sat down for a chat. A roughly hewn, black stone image of the seer sat against a wall, surveying the human carnival. I stayed a while soaking in the peace and quiet of the shrine, then picked up my camera and walked out into the streets, promising to come back next time I visited Pushkar.
I visited Pushkar in November 2010, during the Camel Fair. It was an overwhelming sight–thousands of camels and their herders, lakhs of pilgrims from every corner of the country, village folk dressed in their colourful best, and hundreds of make-shift shops stuffed with everything under the sun–from toys and shoes to swords and daggers straight out of a Hollywood movie. After spending one evening shooting the scenes at the fair, I headed out to town the next day. The ancient alleys buzzed with people from all over the world – tourists and hippies, backpackers and devout pilgrims. Barber shops sported signboards in Hebrew, cafes promised chapatis and ‘real’ Italian coffee, while the temples drew in the faithful by the hundreds. Above, hot air balloons dotted the sky, offering a bird’s-eye view of the spectacle below. As I wandered through the streets, I chanced upon a small temple in one of the innumerable alleys. Inside, across a courtyard, was a shrine to Kabir. The priest invited me in and I sat down for a chat. A roughly hewn, black stone image of the seer sat against a wall, surveying the human carnival. I stayed a while soaking in the peace and quiet of the shrine, then picked up my camera and walked out into the streets, promising to come back next time I visited Pushkar.

As I wandered through the streets, I chanced upon a small temple in one of the innumerable alleys. Inside, across a courtyard, was a shrine to Kabir. The priest invited me in and I sat down for a chat. A roughly hewn, black stone image of the seer sat against a wall, surveying the human carnival. I stayed a while soaking in the peace and quiet of the shrine, then picked up my camera and walked out into the streets, promising to come back next time I visited Pushkar.
If you liked this post and found it helpful, I would request you to follow these things when traveling -

- Manage your waste well and don’t litter
- Use dustbins. Tell us if you went to a place and found it hard to locate a dustbin.
- Avoid bottle waters in hills. Usually you get clean water in hills and water bottles create lot of mess in our ecosystem.
- Say big no to plastic and avoid those unhealthy snacks packed in plastic bags. Rather buy fruits.

- Don't play loud blaring music in forests of jungle camps. You are a guest in that ecosystem and disturbing the locals (humans and animals) is not polite 

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