There's a lot of pot in India, and a lot of tourists who make its consumption a priority. It's an odd situation, for while some groups (like wandering sadhus and some farmers) are allowed to freely light up a chillum, marijuana use is otherwise very strictly proscribed, both highly illegal and socially discouraged. So an awkward balance is struck, with the freely growing weed and rich tourists on one side and a strict penal code and unsympathetic embassies on the other.
Pushkar is a holy city for Hindus, but it's also a major stop on the hippy circuit. Banana-nutella pancakes, Enfields, and homespun are as common as Siva lingams and sannyasins. And there isn't a tourist restaurant in town (most of which sport a 'No Indians Allowed' sign in Hindi-- a nice contrast to the radical egalitarianism of the idealists sipping chai inside) that doesn't offer 'special' cookies or lassis.
I've never been one to condemn having a good time, but I'm happy to avoid this side of tourism in India. This country's class-based and image-obsessed culture is extremely sensitive to details of behavior, hygiene, and dress that the 'smile and a handshake' West prefers to write off to individuality. By keeping my hair short, my face clean, my pants pressed, and my shirt collared, I can make a real difference in the way I am perceived and treated. In a place like Pushkar, where the locals are all too used to the interests (and weaknesses) of westerners, that goes a long way towards an enjoyable and hassle-free visit that includes genuine interactions with Indians.
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