Allahabad the journey to you.

I hail from the hills of a quaint town known as Kohima. There, the air is as pure as it comes, and the water possesses a crystal clarity. Vast, lush forests and valleys are draped in a blanket of vibrant green grass. Rain is a daily visitor, bestowing its blessings upon the sloping rooftops of every house. Yet, amidst this apparent abundance, the most ironic aspect is the scarcity of water—a paradox that defines the place. It's a locale filled with its own mysteries and folktales; stories best shared on another day.

Leaving my hometown for college was a bittersweet endeavor, marked by both excitement and nostalgia. It represented my departure from the familiar, the cocoon of home, and the beginning of a journey to discover myself, to learn, and to explore the world through my unique lens.

I used to be somewhat stereotypical in my outlook, and perhaps I still carry traces of it. However, I've made conscious efforts to shed those preconceived notions. The mere mention of "Allahabad" ignited a fire of excitement within me. Having never set foot there before, I assumed it to be a bustling, developed city—an urban wonder emerging from the pages of my imagination of cities. Coming from the serene hills, I was yearning to witness the marvels of human creation, the concrete jungle that beckoned.

My mother, an avid explorer and seasoned traveler, is well-acquainted with the landscapes and cities of India. Her extensive journeys have taken her to numerous urban centers across the country. Giving her wealth of travel experiences, her expectations were understandably high as we embarked on this new adventure in Allahabad. My mother was my steadfast companion on this journey into foreign lands. We opted for a train ride, our chosen vessel was the "Brahmaputra Mail," since it was the only available means of transport due to the rush of travelers. A train of a somewhat more rustic disposition. It promised a journey of almost two and a half days to reach our destination. The train ride was undoubtedly tiring, yet the thrill of the new place ahead buoyed my spirits.

Upon our arrival at the station, the city had already surrendered to the late hour, cloaked in darkness. We made our way to the hotel, but the night offered no glimpse of the city's character. It became evident that the excitement was not exclusive to me; my mother, too, was brimming with enthusiasm to explore this new terrain. She roused me from slumber at the early hour of 5:30, urging me to prepare for the day ahead.

Stepping out of the hotel gates at six in the morning, we were greeted by an unexpected sight—a giant buffalo had left its calling card on the street. The city was still in the throes of slumber, but the same couldn't be said for the livestock. They strolled with an air of authority, as if the streets were custom-made for them. It was a peculiar sight that held our fascination. People were chewing on small pieces of tree bark, casually spitting anywhere they pleased, clad in simple white vests and garments that were modestly folded to cover their lower halves. Our stroll resembled a visit to a mini zoo, with cows, pigs, buffaloes, goats, chickens, crows, pigeons—all part of the early morning urban tapestry.

Continuing our exploratory walk, we sought out a place for breakfast, only to discover that most shops wouldn't open until 10:30. Dejected, we retraced our steps back to the hotel room. My mother couldn't conceal her disappointment, and we engaged in a candid discussion about our initial impressions of this city that had already surprised us in more ways than one.

The second time we ventured out of the hotel, it was noon, and the contrast was nothing short of startling. Emerging from the serenity of our air-conditioned room, we were met with an abrupt jolt of reality. The air hung heavy, laden with humidity, and scorching heat enveloped us like a relentless punch to the face. It felt as though we were trapped inside a pressure cooker, awaiting the moment when the steam would finally escape. Personally, I was melting, my cotton clothes clinging to me, drenched in sweat. The intensity of this heat was unlike anything I had ever experienced in my life. It was an entirely new sensation, and the thermometer confirmed it – a blistering 44 degrees Celsius.

After completing my admissions and purchasing all the necessities, my mother made the decision to depart as soon as possible. She left on the very same day, as neither the city nor the weather had managed to capture her heart. It might sound harsh, but surprisingly, I didn't harbor an ounce of regret. I had my grievances, especially regarding the relentless heat, and I vocalized them frequently. However, there wasn't a single part of me that wished I hadn't come.

I may have harbored some discomfort due to the weather, but at the same time, I was strangely fond of this place. It was an odd blend of emotions. Yes, the heat was intense, and I did my fair share of complaining. Yet, I looked forward to the prospect of spending more years in this city, to growing and adapting to its ways. The challenges, surprises, and opportunities that Allahabad held in store for me were thrilling, and I was eager to embrace them wholeheartedly.