Making Pushkar Paradise

Chapter 2 addresses the most explicitly material aspect of making Pushkar paradise. The chapter explores the environmental degradation that has befallen the town’s holy lake, and then focuses on efforts by local Hindus to clean it. In the chapter, the author contends that the broad goal of making Pushkar paradise and, more specifically, the task of cleaning the lake, involve a robust process of ritualization. Here, cleaning becomes not only cast within the vocabulary of karma and Hindu duty (dharma) but is in fact yoked to other religious activities, too, like circumambulation and feeding animals. Thinking alongside the work of Catherine Bell, the author aims to show how environmentalism becomes ritualized and, in turn, renders a place sacred.

Peace But No Quiet

The fifth chapter begins with an observation: Pushkar, people say, is a place of peace, of “shanti.” But those who have been to Pushkar know that it is not a quiet place. Far from attempting to silence Pushkar’s rich soundscape, locals instead find peace by adding yet more sound to the atmosphere. They do this with songs and sacred words set on speakers and intended to spread shanti throughout the town. Importantly, the power of religious recitation derives not principally from the spiritual messages therein, but rather from the “good vibrations” created by sound itself. But what are these “vibrations”? And why do so many locals refer to them as “vibrations” or “vibes” when Hindi and Sanskrit equivalents abound? In the end, I will argue that Pushkar’s “vibrations” come as much from ancient Sanskrit material as they do from 19th-century American and European metaphysics.

Savitri’s Curse

Chapter 3 focuses on Pushkar’s new generation of tour guides. Departing from the caste-based and hereditary position of brahman priest, these young men see in guiding a “new form of the priesthood.” They are the mediators of knowledge about Brahma and Pushkar and, when guiding foreigners, about the wider world of Hinduism. In this capacity, they are cultural translators and comparative religionists of the highest order. But their jobs are not perfect. Limited opportunities and fierce competition for clients have created friction with foreign tourists. Those who do not want to do this work find it hard to get a steady job outside of Pushkar’s industries of tourism and pilgrimage. Bounded to both Brahma and Pushkar, brahmans believe themselves cursed, sometimes metaphorically and literally, to a life on the lake.

Others and Brothers

Chapter 1 explores the local language and rhetoric surrounding the idea of sanatana dharma, which roughly translates as “the eternal religion.” Despite the term’s complex pedigree, it more often than not conveys an appeal toward universalism. The author considers it a technique of “brothering,” a concept which indicates that through seeing similarity and downplaying difference, an “other” can become a brother. Tourism serves as a major catalyst in the creation of this discourse, a dynamic epitomized by the repertoire of sayings and phrases promoting Hindu universalism. At the same time, given its place in Pushkar’s tourism economy and its nationalist history, the promise of brotherly love can seem at times tenuous. Here, the author discusses how issues of moneyed interest and virulent nationalism shape, and are negotiated within, discourses of the “eternal religion” while simultaneously giving serious consideration to the prospect of brothering.

Camel Fair Kaleidoscopic

Chapter 4 explores the annual camel fair, and especially its discourse on color. From both the written and ethnographic record, the camel fair emerges as an event where color, more than anything else, permeates the town. This is the color of Rajasthani dress, the color of a crowd, the colors of celebrated diversity. But what is the value of color? In answering this question, the author focuses on two entangled discourses of color: one from tourist pamphlets emphasizing the exotic, the other from local perspectives on international diversity and religious sharing. These two sources invite an exploration of what an economy of color might look like. Finally, alongside the language of color the chapter encounters the centrality of photography. As a type of spectacle, the fair provides a unique opportunity for photography in which tourists photograph locals, and locals photograph tourists.

Introduction

The book’s introduction lays the groundwork for what the book hopes to accomplish. It does this with an introduction of Pushkar—its history, current religious landscape, and the people who call it “home.” This book explores the massive enterprise of building heaven on earth, and how the articulation of sacred space necessarily works alongside economic changes brought on by tourism and globalization. Through an analysis of pilgrimage, tourism, globalization, and the construction of sacred space, the author rehearses some of the book’s most fundamental arguments. Through a description of methodology, the author situates himself within the fieldsite. Finally, there is a summary of each chapter, laying out how the book proceeds.

Epilogue

The author begins the epilogue with a fieldnote, the narrating of which highlights a centrally important point: ethnographers create their own archive during their fieldwork, taking note of those things they deem to be noteworthy. This means, then, that this book does not seek to represent all there is to know about Pushkar, but rather reflects one author’s perspective. The author invites future scholarship in the field both to explore Pushkar further, and to draw comparisons between Pushkar—as represented in Guest iS God—and other pilgrimage places. Finally, the epilogue concludes with a question for the future of Pushkar: what will happen when the young priests and tour guides become adults and have kids of their own? Will they continue on, laboring in the tourism industry? And if so, what will Pushkar look like for future generations?