Salaam!

We also had another religious experience yesterday. Ajmer is 14 kms away from Pushkar, it is an incredibly important pilgrimage site for Muslims of South Asia - second to that of Mecca (apparently 7 pilgrimages to Ajmer equal 1 pilgrimage to Mecca). There is a tomb here, it is the Dargah Sharif-tomb of the Sufi saint Khwaja Moinuddin Chisti. He was a key figure in bringing Islam to India, there had been other attempts previously but it was his devotion and dedication without wealth, power or force that became successful in inspiring the people. He performed miracles etc. - you get the picture.

Us being either dumb or crazy - we decided to go and visit the tomb, not having bared it in mind that there would be Friday prayers (doh!). Outside of the tomb and the adjacent mosque the narrow streets were a bustle of activity. Navigating the bike through the crowds was a bit of a task, but no one was killed :-) There were numerous small shops (some no larger than small narrow cupboards) selling Islamic caps, headscarves, prayer beads, satin cloth imprinted with verses of the Koran, key rings, pens, many different kinds of mementos. There were places selling chapatis and rotis, dahl and chai from dark and dingy open kitchens. The "poor", "infirm" and "disabled" literally littered the streets in the hope of the goodwill of the devout providing them with their next meal. There were women in old and dirty saris, themselves very old or carrying a child either inside or in their arms. There were disfigured and lame people, mostly pulling themselves along the ground, their limbs twisted (or missing) around their bodies like contortionists although you knew that this was no party trick. I saw people with open sores, flies buzzing around their dirty bandages (should they be lucky enough to have some), I half expect that some of these were lepers, judging by how vast and terrible their ailments were. The blind also stood in the middle of the path of the followers with the hope of being seen. I bought some meal tickets worth 10 rupees each, these can be given to the needy instead of money. K and I made our way through the masses, our shoes and socks were wrapped in string and went into safe keeping whilst we entered the important site.

After the entrance gate there were situated either side two giant cauldrons, one donated by Akbar and the other by his son, Jehangir. These are for donations to feed the hungry and usually provided by the generosity of pilgrims throwing rice or money into the giant cooking pots. Occasionally some rich person will come along and pay to fill the entire cauldron (these are HUGE, the size of a decent hot tub!) with a rice porridge to feed the hungry. The cauldrons are mounted high, there are steps leading up to them and underneath each is a large space for a huge fire. Everyday, in the morning and in the evening, they have smaller (but not small!) cauldrons which are used to cook porridge for the needy.

All around us in the various courtyards there were the devout settling themselves for the Friday prayers. All faced Mecca. Men and women were separated, the men were at the front adjacent to the tomb the women sat right at the back. There were literally thousands of people here and more arriving, eventually space became very tight. The hordes of men seated cross legged wore caps and their clothes created a sea of white. The women seated at the back in a narrower strip provided colour with their saris although there was still an occasional black burka to be seen. There were also a number of stalls here selling flowers, candies and strings that were to be presented in the tomb. K and I wandered around a little, unsure of where we could walk or how we should present ourselves, we were wise enough to cover our heads though.

We watched what people were doing, where the women were walking and based our decisions on this. We sat for a while, insuring that our legs were crossed beneath us, and watched people who were already reciting the Koran either with the help of the printed word or from their memory. There were groups of people who had not yet taken up their positions, some were eating food as though they were having a picnic. Children ran around, some toddlers were not dressed below their waist (as is typical in India, before they are potty trained). There was a bustle of activity everywhere and a feeling of exciting anticipation. Finally as the call to prayer came we were shuffled to the back with other women, we stationed ourselves next to a stall and watched the proceedings. There was the initial call and then silence. Again, another call followed by the sound of two gunshots, thereafter the rise and fall of the sound of prayer over the loud speakers which continued for the next 45 minutes. We watched as the men in front of us made synchronised movements, repeatedly, as is required. It was amazing to see the white wave standing, then kneeling, prostrating then kneeling again all in unison. Many listened, some moved their lips in time with the words. I looked at the women behind me, there was less movement but certainly no less enthusiasm.

Besides us a women with small children sat, they tried to climb a stool and were told to get down by someone who looked official. Then one of the children, a very small toddler wet himself, with no nappy this went all over the floor. She changed his clothes then went and got some water in a pot and washed the area, scooping the excess water away with her hands. I was surprised to see that there was still some people walking around, others were talking but mostly people had their concentration in prayer. It was amazing at one point to watch the men kneeling, slowly turn their heads in a very specific set of movements first to the right and then to the left.

I overheard someone nearby speaking in English, he was a Hindu, I could tell by the red marking across his forehead, this is also a holy site for Hindus who respect saints from many different religions. I asked him where we could go and what we should do. He said that we could go into the mausoleum although he was not sure how far women could go and he then told me that we should do whatever is in our hearts, we should give flowers or money, do nothing or tie string. As a result of this I went to buy a strand of red and yellow string to tie to the Jali screens of the tomb in the hope that the saint will intervene on their behalf, or on behalf of whomever the string has been tied for, or even to grant their wish. I was given 10 pieces in one bundle - that is a lot of wishes! When the call to prayer finished, we joined the masses in a walk towards the tomb...

We again followed the women who walked around the back of the courtyard and then up to the queue to get through the front entrance to the tomb. A young woman dressed in a black sari asked me where I was from in very clear English. I answered and then took the opportunity to ask her for some advice. She told me that I could tie the string to the screen in the tomb or I could give it to the Imam, she told me to watch myself in the crowd hustling to get into the tomb and that I should certainly keep an eye on my pockets and belongings. I thanked her and she then disappeared in the crowds with her companions. I shared this knowledge with K and we joined the squash. It was insane!!!!

Men and women were just as pushy, I can compare it to being at the front of a music gig when people push forward from the back of the crowd, you could feel the pressure around your body and had no choice but to move with the sway. There were people touching the top of the entrance, fanatically praying, some kissed the silver doors. A man tried to touch my breast, I used my elbow to forcefully push his arm against his body and gave him a scornful look to demonstrate that I was not so dumb to not notice. He smiled and I scowled, that was the last of it. We were mushed forward in the increasing body heat. Once inside, to our disappointment we were ushered straight out of a side door by an official. Not to be defeated we joined another squash but this time through the side entrance, there were also more women here. K got to the doorway, somebody pushed a huge basket - too wide to fit through the doorway! - containing flowers across the top of her head and tried to barge their way through but she was as solid as a rock and was not losing her position. She was shoved in. Almost immediately I followed. Somebody tried to send us out again but K stood her ground and again I followed. She got to the Jali screens and started tying the threads (some for her family and one for twowheelswhirled). I was a little panicked, there was no room, I could not see K and did not know where to go. I feared I would get pushed out again. I could see people waving fans from the centre, these were Imams but I could not see any space for me, everybody was taller than me and in this crowded space it was hard work. I focused and tried not to push too much but flowed my way passed the people fanatically praying at the sides and those awaiting their blessing around the Jali screens of the tombs. I saw K and squashed in next to her, our heads were bowed but we had found a little enclave amongst the shape of the bodies. She had almost finished but I could not reach, the Imam was telling her to go, she replied that she had a right to tie the threads - she is such a good lass (pushy!). She made space for me when she was done and we swapped positions. By now though people were really pushing. Hurriedly and scrappily I tied the strings not having time to focus on what I wanted to achieve, I had to contend with the thoughts of those who are in my heart.

Strings tied we now wanted to leave quickly. An Imam waved a black feathered fan over our heads and blessed us and then demanded rupees. We parted with 10 rupees each (no small change left) and tried to quickly get around the perimeter so that we may exit. Another Imam tried to get K but she stated that she had already been blessed and got away. I on the other hand following close behind and the Imam grabbed my head - I was not so lucky in my escape. Standing behind the Jali screen he pulled me towards him. I tried to pull back but his grip was too strong. There were many men in front of me but he shouted at them and they parted so that the Imam could pull me to his chest. He held me there and chanted and prayed. He then let me go, dusted my head with the feather and demanded money. I had no more money to give, I said so, I informed him that everybody else had taken my money and that I had already contributed with the other Imam. He demanded again. Another Imam close by gestured kindly that he should let me go. I got away quickly and found K waiting for me. After all that...we didn't even get to see the tomb - there were too many people and too many Imams behind the screen. Oh well, we're not going back in there :-)

Did I get anything out of this experience? Yes, I did. Again I was disappointed by the importance of money and the pushiness of people, perhaps it is a cultural difference, but I am not so sure. When I was a child I gave money at the services in St Augustine's church but there was no obligation, I remember seeing people giving just coppers if that is all that they had. Nobody had a problem with that, no priest stood over and watched the amount that the laity had to offer. I am however content that with K's help and our determination we achieved our goal. It makes me happy to think that I tied my strings to the Jali in the holy tomb, I cannot imagine that I will ever go to Mecca.

Last night I had an amazing dream, perhaps I did gain something spiritual from our experiences yesterday....
:-) :-)

Thanks for reading...