November 8, 2009
Allahabad is the city of Sangam – the meeting, mingling, or confluence - of three significant Indian rivers: the Ganga, Jamuna and the mythical and hidden Saraswati; a spot so sacred because it is here that a drop of the eternal nectar carried by the gods at the beginning of time fell into the river and Hindus believe that a dip in the waters of the Sangam can wash away all one's sins and purify the soul.
It is the city where much of the history of India’s independence was planned and written. It is the home of Anand Bhavan, Nehru’s ancestral home where the Indian National Congress was born and developed, where the leaders of India’s freedom movement congregated and charted the course toward independence, where the room in which Mahatma Gandhi stayed whenever he visited Allahabad has been preserved as is with his bed, desk and pen.
Allahabad is where the Kumbh Mela (started centuries ago by Harsh Vardhana as a meeting of learned minds) is held at this meeting point of the three great rivers. Each year is held the Kumbh Mela, every six years the Ardh Kumbh Mela, every twelve years the Purna Kumbh Mela, and the Maha Kumbh Mela which is held only once every 144 years. The last one was held in 2001 where 60 million people visited Sangam – the largest gathering of people in the world ever.
The city is a mix of some of the most amazingly grandiose churches, intricately designed and colorful temples to Hindu gods and goddesses, and the most beautiful colonial architecture as seen in the old buildings of the High Court, the city offices, the universities, some schools and private bungalows.
Allahabad has its own nuanced culture – that of extreme politeness, graciousness, hospitality, welcoming, taking care of, putting the other before the self, putting relationships before the product, taking the time to recognize the human in the other before the ego in the self. I went to Allahabad University to visit the Education Department for some information and brochures. The campus of this very old university appeared dilapidated, worn out, even falling apart in some places. The Department of Education was a small single-storied run-down building with a broken metal signboard outside. Asking for the office I was shown a room and inside it were a couple of gentlemen conversing around a desk. The one behind the desk looked up and asked me to come in. Apparently he was none other than the head of the Education Department. After I introduced myself he welcomed me and said that I was a real Atithi (guest). He explained to everyone present in the office that those who visit unexpectedly and unannounced are Atithi in the true sense and were to be welcomed and honored. Funny how the concept of Atithi has come up twice in two very different contexts but within the same week – once in a seafood restaurant in the very Catholic environment of Goa, and now in a room deep within an academic institution in the Hindu holy city of Allahabad.