After Agra and its breathtaking Taj Mahal, we headed to Rajasthan, and spent a couple of days in Pushkar, in the Ajmer district. Pushkar is one of the five sacred pilgrimage sites for devout Hindus and one of the oldest cities of India.

We were wandering at sunset on the shore of Pushkar Lake when we made a mesmerizing encounter – admist the perfume of jasmine and rose flowers – and the smell of cow’s shit, let’s be honest, it’s India afterall – two gypsy women dressed in their in their colourful attire were dancing in the fading light, flying to the rhythm of the Gypsy percussion.

The gypsies are the lowest level in the Hindu caste system, they have no choice but to live without permanent homes, often sleeping beneath the stars and are seen as squatters and hustlers by some Indians. Once hired to entertain kings and maharajahs, the Gypsy women are skilled dancers. Today, they subsist as semi-nomadic street performers, reduced to struggling to preserve their culture, traveling from fairs to festivals, hoping to be paid to perform or offering henna tattoos to tourists.

Whatever the difficulties of live might be, these women keep dancing, adorned in their numerous bracelets and anklets, their head hold high and smiling with pride.

They are the princesses of Pushkar. They are the queens of the desert.