It’s only about 3 and a half hours to drive from Lucknow to Allahabad, still in the company of Sapan and Mr Ashish, and other than a tricky bit of negotiating the level crossing a little before the town of Kunda, all went well. On arrival in this amazing city, we checked into our hotel, the Kanha Shyam. Our travel agents had advised us that hotels in Allahabad were on the sparse and spartan side, and that the Kanha Shyam was the best they could offer. We had a Chamber Room – it was on the top floor and bizarrely had a door that opened out onto the hotel roof – not a roof terrace, but the actual roof itself. It didn’t feel entirely secure, but I’m sure we weren’t in any danger, and it did offer rather spectacular views of the city! The hotel itself had a very enjoyable and atmospheric bar – the Celebrity Bar – which was monopolised by a rather rotund and garrulous gentleman who smelled of whisky and treated everyone in the bar as his long-lost friend. For dinner, we originally tried the Jannat restaurant but it felt uncomfortable being the only diners and having about twenty surly looking waiters hovering around you. We felt much more at home in the Patio lobby café, and whilst there wasn’t a huge selection of meals on offer, they were very good quality.

Our exploration of the city began at the university. Established in 1887, it is the fourth oldest in India and has a very good reputation. Only a small area is open to the public, but we had a good walk around and met a number of the students who were all fascinated to talk to us, including several older men – I don’t think they get many western tourists in Allahabad. There’s something rather Italianate about the architecture, with its warm colours and elegant arches – the clock tower is more campanile than casbah. Outside the university gates, you are definitely in familiar Indian territory: areas of waste land by the side of the road used for dumping rubbish and, amongst the mess, playing cricket.

But the main emphasis of Allahabad is on the river. You’re merrily driving along typical Indian inner-city roads when suddenly the vista opens and your car is leading you down to the water’s edge. The city is sited on the confluence of two holy rivers, the Ganga and the Yamuna (and a third, invisible, river, the Saraswati, for good measure.) It’s a focal point both for people from the local area and from all over India, to come and get washed in the river to cleanse their sins. It was relatively quiet on the day we were there – a November Monday – so I think on a busy day it would be somewhat hectic!

Sapan led us on a walk out off the road and on to the sand, although plenty of people just drove their cars across the sand and park as close to the water as possible. Various family units had set up camp, with windbreaks and places to sit, as well as several stalls selling the usual offerings you would make to a God – garlands, and such like – as well as food and drink for the pilgrims. A word of warning: a lady came forward waving a garland at Mrs Chrisparkle, who nodded in approval – by which she meant, yes, that’s a pretty garland – but the lady assumed it meant she was going to buy it. When Mrs C subsequently declined it, the lady got pretty narked. We walked on in a hurry, no harm done, although Sapan cut himself a little chuckle at her schoolgirl error.

Following the water’s edge, we walked for about a quarter of an hour, observing the people and thinking how extremely rickety the boats looked. Eventually Sapan spoke to one of the boatmen and a deal was struck. We clambered on board and my weight made the whole thing seem alarmingly sensitive to movement and avoirdupois. The boatman insisted I sat in one particular position, to keep the balance, and then Sapan and Mrs C had to fill in the spaces around me. Once we were settled, off we went, out into the flowing current of the Yamuna, to its junction with the Ganges.

It wasn’t exactly a serene journey – it was too exciting to be serene. There were so many boats, many of them packed to the rafters with pilgrims, nipping about in all different directions, that you had to keep your wits about you in case of an accidental collision. But our man was very experienced, and we were perfectly safe as he rowed us laboriously to the holiest part of the water’s edge. He got close enough to the shore for us not to get too wet as we disembarked. Obviously Sapan had paid him enough to secure the round trip, so he waited whilst we wandered over to all the people washing in the Ganges.

This was a truly humbling experience. We were the only western tourists there – most tourists only go to Varanasi, as indeed we would the next day. So our presence was quickly noted by everyone, but we felt so welcome and completely at ease as we met and shook hands with so many people, took their photos, posed for photos with them, and just enjoyed each others’ company. It was noticeable that they were nearly all big family groups on a day out: grandparents, parents, children, babies, everyone mucking in together to access the healing waters of the Ganges. There were stretches there where the water was very shallow, so men and boys would walk out quite a long way and form little clusters of people at sea, so that they resembled little islands off the coast. With their colourful clothes, the flags on the boats stretching high into the sky and the myriad of people everywhere, this was a moving and extraordinary sight that I think will stay with me forever.

Our rower had waited patiently and took us back the same way near to where we had parked the car. We had completely lost track of time and when we did get back I was very surprised to see that sunlight was fading fast. We had a brief walk around the parts of Allahabad Fort that you can get into – it was built by Akbar in 1583 and is mainly notable for a pillar that we didn’t see. Back in the city we took a quick trip to All Saints’ Cathedral, built in 1877 for the British population at the time; allegedly it’s the oldest Christian church in Asia. It’s a grand, serious old building; sadly not open when we were there, but we did have the pleasure of meeting the vicar, who had taught our guide Sapan when he was a boy. He was an avuncular old chap, one of those elderly Indian men who love everything about England. Although we couldn’t go in, he did show us his enormous key ring for the church – he had just finished locking up – and it weighed a ton. He was clearly stronger than he looked.

And that was our brief trip to Allahabad. Not many sights, but that time spent on the Ganges was absolutely magic and was probably the highlight of the entire holiday. Back at the Kanha Shyam, we were just left to have a lively evening at the Celebrity bar, trying to hide from the garrulous and drunk old gentleman. We largely succeeded, although he did say something about going to his place for breakfast in the morning. I’m sure his wife wasn’t too disappointed when we didn’t turn up.