Desert Trance

Tucked away in the folds of the unforgiving Thar desert, the Kalbelia dancers of Pushkar have held on to a single belief passed down through generations: to dance is to perform a transformative, even miraculous act.  

- ARMAN KHAN

A FRESHLY MOULDED clay pot dries and settles into shape under the beating sun, partially shaded by a khejri tree. Wooden cots in vivid reds and blues invite us for a siesta as their metal legs bore into the desert floor. We are hours away from the capital of Rajasthan, in the holy town of Pushkar, awaiting the arrival of Rekha Kalbelia like one would a rock star at a concert. Not too far away, a rhythmic bass pounds steadily. Could it be one of those secret rave parties in the desert? A wedding ceremony perhaps?

“Greetings,” says Rekha, breaking our reverie as she steps out of her mud house. “I am the first of the many Kalbelia dancers you will meet in our beautiful village today.”

She doesn’t have to declare it. The 25-year-old is the leader of the Kalbelia dancers of Pushkar. Traditionally devotees of Lord Shiva, the dancers are women from the eponymous tribe who mimic the movement of a serpent—the trusted companion of the hip god. This was a natural progression from their métiers as snake charmers and extractors of snake poison, outlawed by the Wildlife Protection Act of 1972. There are no snakes in Pushkar, at least none visible. We do, however, come across a snake charmer, who, despite the oppressive heat, radiates a cool nonchalance, his ears and neck bedecked in gold-plated brass jewellery. Then, the music begins.