at the 'Sangam'

‘Someone there?’ I knocked at the door, hoping against hope that someone opens it. It was 2 am in the night and I knew I would have to sleep on the bench of the now deserted Allahabad railway station if the house keeper refused to let me in. After few minutes a short skinny & sleepy soul emerged from behind the doors. ‘My train got delayed. I have my exam tomorrow. I need a room just for a day. Please. I’ll leave tomorrow’, I blurted out.

He looked up at me like a patronizing father and I found myself shifting to stand straight with heads down acknowledging that it is not safe for girls to be out at this time of night. He then turned back, waving with his hands to signal, ‘Come in’. I eased a bit. ‘Phew!’ It was nothing less than an exam.

Next day, my actual exam got over at 5 in the evening. And then, I was free. I felt like celebrating this freedom. So what if I was alone? I’m a woman of 21^st century! I immediately I hailed an auto for the ‘Sangam’, confluence of Ganga Yamuna and the mythical & mysterious Saraswati.  

In around twenty, the auto reached near the river bank. After some bitter haggling for the fare, I managed to save ten rupees and patted myself secretly for it. I’m not sure, but I think he signaled to someone sitting at the river bank coz no sooner than I had taken a few steps towards the banks, a boatman approached me ‘Sir, want to visit the sangam?’ I nodded & began to follow him towards his boat. Not many people were there. The few I saw were returning back. I felt a bit odd. Is it the wrong time to be here? Even the sun is about to set. Am I entering the rivers at the wrong time?

Not wanting to show my nervousness, I began a casual chat with the boat men. ‘How long will it take to complete the trip?’ ‘Little more than an hour. Come get in.’ He waved. I swallowed the lump in my throat and jumped in.

As the boat left the Ghats, another set of thoughts or rather sights occupied me. Some pleasant ones! Ignoring the fact that there wasn’t any other boat in the river except ours I watched the sun go down. The sky, until now a mélange of honey and mustard turned to silvery blue with few bright stars. All of which, the river mirrored inexplicably. The sounds of the huge temple bells drifted by the damp wind reached my ears intermittently.

I closed my eyes for some time turning away from the boatmen to soak in the serenity. But the moment I opened them I realized my blunder. He had oared me to what seemed to be a floating altar in the middle of the river. Few more boats were anchored around it with pundits sitting in them in their characteristic saffron gowns and turbans.

‘Where have you taken me?’ I choked out of fear as I tried to speak out shifting few inches back in the boat. He definitely knew those people before. They exchanged ugly smirks and sneers, deciding whose turn it was next. Even the chilly December winds could not control the sweat that had begun to appear on my forehead. Despite trembling like a rock cutter, I tried to keep my brain working ‘What could be their plan? What do they want to do to me? Am I in the middle of some black magic or worse, am I their ... gosh no?’

I looked around for help only to blame myself further. Being full moon, the waves were now getting bigger. The boatman was constantly trying to keep the boat up on the water. I was scared to death. ‘Why on earth did I decide to take a boat ride after sunset? Even in my wildest dreams I had never imagined myself in such a situation. They will definitely sacrifice me at this confluence and no one will ever get to know what happened. What a glorious finish to this inglorious life!’ 

My tirade against myself subsided when the boatmen finally whispered in my ears. ‘Madamji, this is the sangam, you must pray here. It is a very sacred place on earth. These pundits will pray for you, your family and your ancestors. All your wishes will be fulfilled’  

I wanted to tell him that I only wish to get away from here right now. But I did what he told me hoping it would save my life. As soon as I nodded in a yes, the pundits flung in to action with incense sticks, flowers, vermilion and even ash. All of them chanted in something in a language that was not even Sanskrit. They gave me a garland to wear, put a vermilion paste on the forehead and sprinkled lots of things on me. It must have lasted for around twenty minutes, but every cell in my body prayed that day to give me another chance with life.

‘Madamji, you donate Rs. 5000/- here, we will continue to pray for your ancestors everyday for a year.’ ‘But I have only Rs.2000/-’. Oki then you can give us that. We will try to manage.’ Anchored in the middle of the river at night with some seven strangers, I quietly emptied y wallet and waited to see what else was in store. Finally the boatman declared with a tinge of sarcasm, ‘Ok friends, this much is enough. I think our madam is feeling hungry.  Let us finish this. It’s getting late.’

‘Oh my GOD what did he say just now? ’That means they were not sacrificing me. This 21^st century woman could now go back home.’  Till today I cannot express those feelings in words. So much for those two thousand rupees. We began to sail back in silence. I was earnestly looking towards the banks, eager to get off the boat. But what lied before me was something I couldn’t have thought of at that moment. That the darkness had set in, only added to the mystique.

People were slowly gathering near the banks for the evening ‘aarti’. As a ritual, people began t float ‘diyas’ placed in cup made out of dry leaves. In about thirty minutes I was witness to a dazzling display of faith. Over a thousand little lights were now floating in water. Each one floated to fulfill a wish. I too floated a virtual ‘diya’ of mine to offer thanks to the God to bring me back safely.