<p id="thickbox_headline">When I was posted at an Air force station in Uttar Pradesh, one ‘long weekend’, I took a night train to Allahabad to visit the sacred Triveni Sangam, the confluence of the Ganga and the Jamuna and also the invisible Saraswathi.</p>.<p>As the train screeched to a halt at Allahabad Junction the next morning, carrying my small suitcase I moved cheerfully to a refreshment stall at the station and washed down a loaf of bread with two piping hot cuppas. </p>.<p>Hardly had I exited the station when a fleet of cycle rickshaws encircled me. Soon hiring one of them I got at the spot within barely fifteen minutes. I ambled to the embankment, took a ticket for a boat ride across the Sangam and was waiting with the other visitors for the arrival of a boat.</p>.<p>When a boat touched the embankment I trotted the gangplank along with others and boarded it. Given the sparse crowd of passengers on board, the vessel began sailing almost immediately. Choosing a place at the edge of the boat I removed my shoes and socks and placed my suitcase beside me and kept dipping my bare feet in the cold, crystal clear water, utterly unaware of the treacherous condition below.</p>.<p>Noticing me the ferryman warned, “Panee mey janwar hai, paer andhar rakhna (There is animal in the water; keep your feet inside the boat).” Horrified, I straightened, raised my feet and hurried to the centre of the boat with my footwear and suitcase.</p>.<p>As the rower was ferrying over the central region of the confluence something that looked like a big wooden log came floating towards our boat. As it drew closer it was clear that it was a crocodile. </p>.<p>All of us had goosebumps as we watched the crocodile moving close to our vessel, its cavernous mouth wide agape. Bristling with fear though, I brought out my Rolleicord camera and clicked photos of the terrifying beast. When for a moment the crocodile raised its snout above the water level, a fear of getting caught in the jaws of death arose.</p>.<p>The man at the steering shouted to me, “Bitejawo, wo bahooth katharnak janwar hai” (That is a very perilous animal; sit down).</p>.<p>A few decades later, I visited the same spot with my wife and son in tow. Alas! I could not believe my eyes as all that came in my sight was nothing more than a vast sandy depression with not a trace of water anywhere.</p>.<p>The two major rivers of the confluence were all but brooks. We stood on the banks, longing to see the spot in its pristine state. </p>
<p id="thickbox_headline">When I was posted at an Air force station in Uttar Pradesh, one ‘long weekend’, I took a night train to Allahabad to visit the sacred Triveni Sangam, the confluence of the Ganga and the Jamuna and also the invisible Saraswathi.</p>.<p>As the train screeched to a halt at Allahabad Junction the next morning, carrying my small suitcase I moved cheerfully to a refreshment stall at the station and washed down a loaf of bread with two piping hot cuppas. </p>.<p>Hardly had I exited the station when a fleet of cycle rickshaws encircled me. Soon hiring one of them I got at the spot within barely fifteen minutes. I ambled to the embankment, took a ticket for a boat ride across the Sangam and was waiting with the other visitors for the arrival of a boat.</p>.<p>When a boat touched the embankment I trotted the gangplank along with others and boarded it. Given the sparse crowd of passengers on board, the vessel began sailing almost immediately. Choosing a place at the edge of the boat I removed my shoes and socks and placed my suitcase beside me and kept dipping my bare feet in the cold, crystal clear water, utterly unaware of the treacherous condition below.</p>.<p>Noticing me the ferryman warned, “Panee mey janwar hai, paer andhar rakhna (There is animal in the water; keep your feet inside the boat).” Horrified, I straightened, raised my feet and hurried to the centre of the boat with my footwear and suitcase.</p>.<p>As the rower was ferrying over the central region of the confluence something that looked like a big wooden log came floating towards our boat. As it drew closer it was clear that it was a crocodile. </p>.<p>All of us had goosebumps as we watched the crocodile moving close to our vessel, its cavernous mouth wide agape. Bristling with fear though, I brought out my Rolleicord camera and clicked photos of the terrifying beast. When for a moment the crocodile raised its snout above the water level, a fear of getting caught in the jaws of death arose.</p>.<p>The man at the steering shouted to me, “Bitejawo, wo bahooth katharnak janwar hai” (That is a very perilous animal; sit down).</p>.<p>A few decades later, I visited the same spot with my wife and son in tow. Alas! I could not believe my eyes as all that came in my sight was nothing more than a vast sandy depression with not a trace of water anywhere.</p>.<p>The two major rivers of the confluence were all but brooks. We stood on the banks, longing to see the spot in its pristine state. </p>