How many people do you suppose have borrowed those words over the years? After the first ten miles of riding in pouring rain I stopped for shelter long enough to find the song on my ipod just to see if there was some sort of silver lining contained within. There’s not. Or at least I failed to find it as we rode for seemingly hours in the rain.
We were headed for Ajmer, the gateway city to Pushkar and a Muslim pilgrimage destination. We didn’t make it though, opting instead to stop in busy Kishangarh and find a dry place to stay. The skies actually cleared somewhat as we made our way into the city, but mud and muck ruled the roads in this crazy and congested place.
Don’t know much about Kishangarh, but it was host to a lot of festive wedding celebrations. Indian weddings are multi-day affairs replete with fancy costumes and boisterous music and dancing.
The first photos in this gallery are of some flowers that we’ve been seeing along the side of the road for about the last 200 miles. The balance are of a groom on horseback in an alley in Kishangarh. Note that if I managed to get a photo of an Indian French Horn performer who seemingly shares my enthusiasm for weddings.
