Triveni Sangam - through my glasses.

First things first, the person I am dating would have been named Krishnaveni if not for the present nomenclature she bears and as for the rest half, it contains crumbs of mine, quite neat, huh? I thought so too, oh you didn't? Boy(Girl/anyone in between) do I care! Now that we have that out in the open let's come to the real deal, the place named Triveni Sangam in a city called Allahabad (also named Prayagraj.) Don't ask me why 2 names, I have a monologue prepared but by the time I am done the place might have been renamed to something else. Well, I was making a quick stop through the city and since I had some time, I thought to myself - "let's meet the three sisters." Spoiler alert, as they say - "two's company, three's crowd," thought so the third sister as well and so she decided, "I am outta here!" I applaud her because you know what? it is just not three we are talking about here, there are swarms and flocks and colonies of warm-blooded creatures and is too much of a hullabaloo for three gals to just chill and hang out in this place. I can relate with the third, by the way she is named Saraswati in case you were wondering. Apparently, even if she comes to say a hello with the two - Ganga and Yamuna, does that very rarely and only meets in a secret location down below where only schools (of fishes) meet, far less ruinous than the crowds yelling above. I totally get her, too many omnivores breathing into each other's spaces and too many thoughts travelling through their minds - and that is too overwhelming to be surrounded by. So that fateful morning, I had woken up and I had rehearsed and re-read my thoughts and was ready to have well composed lines of greetings (well a few words) because it is unnerving to meet them, you know? They are graceful and more than celebrities in our subcontinent so I was obviously nervous. Well I put my best dress on (well average, whom am I kidding?) Then booked a ride and off I went through the hustle and bustle of the city to what I was expecting to be a peaceful meeting, well it was kind of serene in the beginning because I was dropped off in an abandoned location because the ride provider thought he knew the city better, which obviously he should have, but he didn't. So he left me on the side of the river bank adjacent to some deserted "boat-club" where there were 2-3 boats leaving for the Sangam, but these boatmen turned out to be too suspicious that a "solo woman" would want to see the Sangam all by herself, I guess he forgot that the place he was headed was a meeting place for three ladies all by themselves as well, far away in a once deserted place away from the men and the "support" that only apparently they can provide. I guess these ladies also should be scared every day. Well in today's context they should, because when I did get to see them, which was another few minutes of struggling to find a ride back in a network-drained location, finally to Allahabad Fort (my original plan,) I could only see them tortured and violated by humans of all forms with their filth and torturous row. Anyway after I did make it to the Fort premises, there were what seemed to be human figures equivalent to the number residing in an average-sized country. Such numbers were inconceivable. I adjusted my glasses, clasped to my backpack which I now shifted from the back to my front, thus pregnant with my belongings, I waddled and manouevred through the empty spaces. Shops were lined up and one could hardly see the goods being displayed in any, it was the "Magh Mela" apparently. I decided that meeting the trio was an impossibility and I would have to accept and be content just by visiting the Allahabad Fort. And to my disillusionment, even that had been converted to a religious confine, an improbable disposition, and yet somehow it did exist in this context. "Oh well," I thought to myself, I would then just try to trudge towards the water-front, at least get a glimpse of Yamuna, the one sister closest to this side of the bank. I could almost imagine her struggling to breathe through all the scum that is discarded so callously by the self-proclaimed, most-evolved-of-the-lot, almost rushing to meet her sister, to express her despair and be nostalgic about the tranquil yore and talk about missing their third, more introvert arm. Thus pregnant with my thoughts and of course my belongings I inched my way through the crowd to find rows of tents, all living arrangements made by the decision makers of the state, to situate humans more closer to the shore, since the filth of travelling humans was not enough. At this point, I was beyond dejected. This particular place looked rather empty and amidst the dust I saw patterns of human figurines coalesce around the shore, not faraway. As I neared it, I decided to give the plan of visiting the three/two sisters one last try. I could have taken a solo ride to the location as the clock was ticking and my train ride back was due in a few hours, but I decided to tag along with a random group of newly-weds and their mother - reason one - maybe because there were too many people and it was a huge place and given the context there could be a possibility I would vanish without a trace and no one would know (too many thoughts given my experience since the first time I landed on the previous shore) and reason two - why not experience this with random strangers. Well I went along with them, hardly conversing during the onward journey since I am not a huge talker, you see. Now reaching there was one of the most scarring and jarring visualizations I have ever had in my life, and it was not just how quickly every beautiful thing in this world could be buried in our muck, but also how comfortable Indians were with their nudity when you just change the context to religion. There were scantily clad people everywhere trying to get their turn for the holy dip, conclusively it is extra-holy if your fellow humans leave behind more than their reflection in the water, for example some spit - better if it is paan-coloured, some form of excretion, dried cells, oh how did I forget the "holy offerings" like the coconuts, flowers, you name it, and you have its trace in the holy water. I guess anything loses its meaning when used too often and here it is the word "holy" and the water is literally used too often, more appropriately -always. Beyond that there were also scenes of people getting looted in the name of religion and "prayers" being offered to the holy Ganges while I noticed several smirks and wicked smiles being passed between the boatmen and the "priest." I say "priest" because the second we had arrived, I had noticed him collecting fees for docking and the next second he had form-shifted to being a priest. So coming back to the scars which has still not healed ever since, are the scantily clothed men and by the way if any underwear company is using this write-up for survey listen up! - to cater to Indian consumers only focus on dark and dull coloured boxer-briefs. Poor straight Indian women, I am almost sad. Well I couldn't focus on empathy too much, because I was beyond disgusted at the scenes of men oh so many men! All dressed down, beyond the capacity of my poor lesbian eyes and my poor lesbian glasses. So for the rest 30-40 mins, as I waited for the rest of my fellow boat-travellers' holy dip, I just looked down at the wooden boat, and cursed myself for not taking the solo boat ride and landing in this extraordinarily nauseating, appalling, repulsive, loathsome, downright godawful sights of the other gender with no escape, stranded in the middle of a confluence and a missing third whose reason for bailing, I so understand now. Well as I tried focussing on colours of the boat, I kept count of every passing second and finally it was time to leave, but not before the discussion I had with the mother of these newly-weds - who, even though a stranger, had to provide her input and be justified by my explanation for avoiding the most coveted dip, also avoiding even the slightest touch of this water. Well she wasn't pleased with my behaviour and you know how important it is for everyone in this country to mind other's business and demand it as almost a birthright. But I stood my ground and made no attempts at a convincing explanation. I continued the way back ensnared to the same company, by the way the only good thing which I did see in the ride was the flock of migratory birds having a mid-day bath, and most certainly counting down to their days of homecoming. As I reached the shore, I jumped off the boat, scurried my way through the crowd, took a rickshaw ride back to my drop location and sighed a huge breath of relief, then proceeded to process all the images deeply embedded in my memory and kept making several failed attempts at deleting those during the train ride back and the course of the following weeks. Now and then the trio appear in my noonday dreams seeking a positive response to a possible reunion in the future, I whisper maybe, cannot scream in my dream, can I? I have discovered they can't hear if not spoken to loudly, because after every few days they seek the same answer. Is the result of all the boisterous air they are surrounded by every second, I wonder.