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A brief history of Kangra

Rajiv Chopra — Thu, 03 Sep 2026 17:02:34 GMT

Kangra’s history goes deep into the past.

Kangra’s history stretches back far into the past. Some say the region’s history stretches back 3,500 years and, if so, then we enter the world of prehistory where myth blends with historical memory.

The rulers of Kangra belong to the Katoch dynasty, one of the world’s longest dynasties, it seems. The Katoch dynasty, from the Kshatriya Chandravanshi (lunar) caste, ruled the ancient Trigarta Kingdom and participated in the famous war at Kurukshetra, as mentioned in the epic, the Mahabharata. People assume the term ‘Trigarta’ refers to three rivers – Sutlej, Beas, and Ravi.

Those of you who read my two posts on Ferozepore may remember the Sutlej River, and how it was the boundary between the Sikh and English territories before the outbreak of the Anglo-Sikh Wars. Those who wish to read them again can find the links here and here. Click away and read!

The Beas River also flows through Manali, which I will write about much later. There is much writing yet to do! As per legend, or myth, Maharaja Susharma Chandra, who fought on behalf of the Kaurava army, built the fort after the famous 18-day war in Kurukshetra. The old Maharaja picked the losing side and used the term ‘losing side’ in the modern context of war. The honorable old Maharaja evidently escaped to tell the tale and to build his fort.

One legend, or story, says the fort's original name was ‘KanGarh,’ from the two words ‘kan’ for ear and ‘Garh’ for fort. The legend also says that Shiva killed a massive demon called ‘Jalandhara,’ who was so massive that the head of his corpse lies buried deep in Kangra, with his ear under the Kangra Fort, and his feet now in Multan.

Kangra’s more recent history.

I’ve seen the fort but could not take a tour inside. Maybe I will rectify that omission. My friend and I had visited Kangra several years back, and it rained on the last two days. We originally planned to visit the fort on our return journey, but we left McLeod Ganj late. My travel companion was snoring until late in the morning, and then I wanted breakfast. By the time we left McLeod Ganj, the rain had started coming down hard and, for some reason, I hadn't brought umbrellas in the car. We stood on the highway, and I photographed the fort through the rain, using my Nikon D200. That was probably the last time I used my Nikon D200 as the primary camera on a trip.
The photograph you see at the top of this post is a crappy picture I made of the Kangra Fort.

Now, whether Maharaja Susharma Chandra or one of his successors built the fort in its present form will always be a matter of debate, but it was remarkably difficult to conquer.

The locals told me that no one could conquer the fort until the Mughal Emperor Jehangir subdued it during his reign. Prior to that, Mahmud of Ghazni launched a punitive expedition in 1009 CE, followed by Firoz Shah Tughlaq in 1360 CE and Sher Shah in 1540 CE. Jehangir’s son, then called Prince Khurram, took the fort in 1620 CE after a 14-month siege.

Mughal power began declining after Aurangzeb’s death, but as per my analysis, Mughal influence in the region began to wane in the second half of Aurangzeb’s reign. Aurangzeb spent the second half of his half-century rule fighting the Marathas in the Deccan. Many principalities, like Awadh and Bengal, began pulling away towards the end of Aurangzeb’s reign, denying the Mughal crown influence and money.

The Katoch rulers began harassing Mughal areas, weakening their empire. Moreover, with Aurangzeb being distracted and being succeeded by weak rulers, Mughal influence further waned. The Sikhs, led by Banda Singh Bahadur, further weakened the Mughals, and then the Persian king Nadir Shah and the Afghan king Ahmad Shah Abdali compounded the worries of the puppet Mughal kings.

In 1858 CE, Ahmad Shah Abdali appointed Ghaman Chand, supposedly of the Katoch family, as governor of Jalandhar Province. The Kanhaiya Misl of Punjab helped Ghaman Chand’s grandson, Raja Sansar Chand, regain possession in 1789 CE.

Kangra and Punjab.

The misls of Punjab were twelve independent, autonomous military units that came together whenever they faced a common enemy. The word, ‘misl,’ is a derivative of the Arabic/Persian word that means, ‘equal.’ While the misls were not always equal in wealth or power, they made up a powerful confederacy that Maharaja Ranjit Singh dismantled when he built his short-lived empire.

Before I continue, I must point out that Kangra and Punjab are contiguous regions, with Kangra being 222 km from Chandigarh and 174 km from Ludhiana. Chandigarh, Ludhiana, and Kangra form a triangle.

I will now cut through to the Anglo-Sikh Wars. After the Treaty of Lahore, in 1846 CE, the Sikhs ceded Kangra to the East India Company. People must know that, while the East India Company ruled ‘India’ until 1858, the British Crown increasingly controlled the Company's activities in India from the late 18th century and prescribed and proscribed them.

I’d wager a guess to say that the British Crown directed the Company to grow opium in India and to sell it in China, while denying the Company a monopoly of the opium trade. But England, the Company, and their nefarious drug-peddling activities will be a story for another time, maybe a year into the future.

A British garrison occupied the fort until the devastating earthquake on 4 April 1905. Maybe the old demon’s ear got tired of listening to English chatter in the fort!

Today, the fort is a protected monument under the protection of the Architectural Society of India. The fort is magnificent, but I have not entered its gates. Who knows? One day I may just enter the fort and explore its history in some detail.

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I was born in Ferozepore, Punjab.

Rajiv Chopra — Wed, 12 Aug 2026 07:53:41 GMT

Ferozepore is an important cantonment town

I was born in Ferozepore, Punjab, many moons ago. My late father served in the Army and was posted to the cantonment town for a few years. This is where my younger sister and I were born, a little over a year apart. We had an Alsatian named Gypsy, who was stolen. According to family stories, I’d ride on Gypsy’s back, and he was protective of me, so I wonder how someone stole the blighter.

I had not returned to Ferozepore since we moved away when I was two years old. We moved to Bombay (now called Mumbai), and from there we moved to England, living on the outskirts of London in Kenton, Harrow, Middlesex. Since those heady days in England, I have developed a healthy grouse against the English East India Company, while realizing that we natives were also guilty of allowing the Brits to take over our land and then divide it. But that is another story.

Ferozepore is a border town.

The Hussaini Wala Border is about 11 kilometers from Ferozepore, so the town is an important border town, with a sizeable Army Cantonment.

I finally returned to Ferozepore last year on my birthday because I was keen to see the town and the hospital where I decided to show up on this planet. We made a family trip out of it, also going to Amritsar. My wife cracked her tooth while we were driving to Ferozepore, so we had to hurry back to Amritsar.

I hate to admit that Ferozepore is not a grand town. I want to return in the next one or two years and explore the place properly, but while looking for places to stay, I found advice from other travelers to stay in the neighboring town. Luckily, there is one small South Indian restaurant on the outskirts of the town, so I won’t starve!

A brief history of Ferozepore.

It is time to explore the history of the place where I was born. Since it is my birthday month, I shall do this in two parts, so indulge me. The tradition of kings and others naming towns after themselves is not new. Ferozepore is neither young nor old. It is probably just past adolescence. The Tughlaq king, Firoz Shah Tughlaq, founded the town sometime between 1351 and 1388 CE and named it after himself. This is the same king who founded Firozabad, the fifth city of Delhi – Firoz Shah Kotla, and, if memory serves, Jaunpur in West Uttar Pradesh. This is the same king who carefully transported an Ashokan pillar to his capital, Firoz Shah Kotla, ensuring it arrived in good condition.

Some people refuse to accept the Tughlaq founding of Ferozepore, believing that the Sikhs founded the town a few centuries later.

The Misls and the eventual passing the torch to the British.

After Guru Gobind Singh died, the Sikhs divided into a kind of commonwealth of provinces called ‘misls.’ The word ‘misl’ is of Persian/Arabic origin and signifies equality. While there were large and small misls, they banded together as one unit when faced with an external threat. The Sikhs fought the Mughals (some historians believe the Sikhs set the Mughal Empire on its downward slope) and Afghan invaders such as Nadir Shah. I won’t write about the misls here and will leave that tale to a future date.

However, the Bhangi misl controlled Ferozepore, and after them the town passed to a person named Gurbaksh Singh and finally to his widow, Rani Lachhman Kaur. The word ‘Kaur,’ used for Sikh women, means ‘princess.’

After the Rani’s death, Ferozepore passed into British hands, and for the first time, the British had a foothold at the borders of Sikh territory. Maharaja Ranjit Singh was in his final years, and probably his health was declining. The Maharaja died in 1839 CE and, like Aurangzeb, one of his major failings was that he had no succession plan in place.

The Anglo-Sikh Wars.

Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s death set the stage for the East India Company’s next phase of expansion in India, and the Anglo-Sikh Wars followed. The First Anglo-Sikh War occurred between 1845 and 1846 CE and, by all accounts, was a fierce, bloody conflict, with both sides almost evenly matched. At one point, Governor General Hardinge was ready to admit defeat and even contemplated dying in the war. In the end, the British prevailed, paving the way for the next Anglo-Sikh War.

Ferozepore was the strategic pivot of the battle, which may have led to the establishment of a cantonment in the town. Now that it is a border town, its importance as an Army cantonment remains unchallenged.

There is a memorial erected in 1976 honoring the dead of Mudki, Ferozeshah, Sobraon, and Chillianwala (all villages and battle sites), so maybe when I return to Ferozepore, I will go and have a look at the memorial that has been built.

I’d like to mention a point: Ferozepore did not pass into British hands at the end of the First Anglo-Sikh War. Ferozepore passed into British hands when Rani Lachhman Kaur died in 1835 CE. Since the Rani did not leave a male heir, the British claimed that it had lapsed into their hands. Ferozepore lies close to the Sutlej River, which the British deemed strategically important; they may have insisted on the takeover because of the town’s location, and they used the lack of a male heir to justify it.

I do not know if this takeover was the precursor of the doctrine of lapse later espoused by Lord Dalhousie (that doctrine of lapse was one of the reasons for the Uprising of 1857-58), but it may well have been the case.

As soon as the British completed the takeover in 1839 CE, they established a cantonment there. The political takeover occurred half a decade before the First Anglo-Sikh War. Therefore, the First Anglo-Sikh War was a battle for control of Ferozepore, a strategic military location.

The result of the First Anglo-Sikh War of 1845-46 was the signing of the Lahore Treaty, which severely curtailed Sikh sovereignty.

The Second Anglo-Sikh War took place between 1848 and 1849 CE at Ramnagar, Chilian Wala, and Gujarat (not the Gujarat of Ambani/Adani fame), resulting in a second British victory and the complete takeover of Sikh territory.

The Anglo-Sikh Wars were among the fiercest the British fought in India (barring possibly the wars with Tipu Sultan in Mysore), and the British acknowledged the Sikh fighting spirit and prowess. These wars may have been instrumental in the subsequent British theory of the ‘martial races’ of India, a deeply flawed theory.

Why was the Sutlej more than just a river?

Ferozepore lies on the banks of the Sutlej River. By a strange coincidence, when I was in school, I was in Sutlej House when I was in Grade IV! Anyway, the Sutlej River was not just a river: it was a border. As per the Treaty of Amritsar, 1809 CE, the Sutlej River became the border between the Sikh controlled areas and the British controlled area, creating the cis-Punjab or trans-Punjab area. Ferozepore also became a kind of forward post and Punjab was critical to the British and their expanding ambitions, especially in the 19^th century when the movements of the Russians began to stress them. Babur, while being more of Uzbek origin than Afghan, came to the subcontinent from Afghanistan. Sher Shah Suri was an Afghan, as were Mohammed of Ghor, Nadir Shah and Ahmed Shah Abdali. Some histories state that ‘Hindus’ ruled Afghanistan until about a thousand years ago and even today, there are Sikhs who live in Afghanistan. Were it not for the British there is a strong possibility that parts (or all) of Afghanistan could have become a part of India post 1947.

Punjab was, therefore, critical to the British and their expanding ambitions. Did the theory of ‘spheres of influence’ originate in these times.

I don’t know what, if anything, remains of the old fort but I know that the British converted it into a cantonment.

A mystery. Why did the Punjabis become loyal British subjects?

One mystery remains, and no one has been able to solve it. Why did the Sikhs, who fought against the Mughals and the Afghans and the British, finally capitulate to the British and become their most loyal subjects? Is it because it was the British who finally defeated them? This theory will have holes because it will not account for a change in the structure of the Sikh state.

The misls that existed in the 18^th century always came together when there was an external threat. The misls helped to present a united front to the enemy. When Maharaja Ranjit took over the entire territory, he consciously or unconsciously disbanded the misls, and in the chaos of succession that followed his death, the Sikhs possibly did not present a united front.

Whatever the reason, the Sikhs were part of the psychopathic Nicholson’s forces at the Battle of Kashmere Gate in 1858 when the East India Company forces broke through the resistance. That battle also paved the way for the end of the Mughal Empire when the British exiled Bahadur Shah Zafar to Rangoon and shot his sons – in cold blood – on Delhi’s streets.

And now, we will move on to Part Two of Ferozepore.

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The brilliant era of the tawaifs is over.

Rajiv Chopra — Tue, 20 Jan 2026 16:33:21 GMT

Umrao Jaan and Tawaifs

How many have seen the movie, ‘Umrao Jaan’? I have not seen the movie, but movie critics praised it for its depiction of tawaif culture

Those who have read my previous essays carefully may have noticed that I used the word ‘tawaif’ and referred to a dead tawaif. If not for this dead tawaif, I would not have explored Azamgarh’s histo…

Time & technology change culture.

Rajiv Chopra — Thu, 08 Jan 2026 11:04:32 GMT

Even though politicians are scum, we can learn from them.

Politicians are scum, and there is almost nothing anyone can do or say to change my mind. Yet, even if we detest their morals, we must admire their administrative and other related skills.

I used politicians’ techniques to promote our business.

Years back, when I was a young Area Sales Manager, selling our products in Uttar Pradesh (a crazy state in North India) and trying to develop our business in the state’s rural areas, I spent considerable time figuring out ways to promote our brand and increase awareness and engagement.

I painted many walls bordering highways, rural roads, and near villages with our brand images. Billboards and wall paintings are, at best, reminder media and passive forms of advertising. After many arguments with snobbish brand managers, I got permission to use radio jingles. Our brand managers believed that the only way to promote our brands was through television advertising, ignoring the harsh reality that most villages lacked TV connections.

Culture varies across a state.

One day, I met someone who introduced me to a company called Jain Studios, which had a product called ‘Video on Wheels’ (’VOW’). They developed this service at the behest of politicians (the innovative scum) who wished to push their messaging to the deep rural hinterland.

I won’t describe the model in any detail. A sketchy description will suffice. They’d send a large van on a 26-day journey cycle, covering 52 villages. During the day, they’d get permission from the village elders and then make loudspeaker announcements inviting the villagers to the evening’s program.

Then, after sunset, they’d turn the van's back into a giant screen, install a large projector inside, and project ‘filmi’ movies and scenes onto it. We’d intersperse the hour-long program with our advertisements, sell our products, and give gifts to the villagers.

When I first started my ‘VOW’ journey, I designed a single program for the entire state. After one or two cycles, I came to understand that the culture of the western part of the state differed dramatically from that of the eastern part. In comparison, people in the West loved jazzy disco music; those in the East loved earthy, semi-rural, soulful music full of rhythm.

Under the starry skies, I watched villagers ‘jhoom.’

I remember the villagers in East UP stiffening with shock when I played jazzy music and relaxing when I switched to a different program. Once I changed the program, I saw the villagers relax as they squatted on the ground, their bodies swaying imperceptibly with the music. The Hindi/Urdu word I’d use is ‘jhoom,’ which translates literally as ‘to sway.’ Yet, the literal translation of the word ‘jhoom’ cannot cover its many shades, which range from a mere physical sway to the sway of a person in the throes of divine ecstasy.

I’ve spent many evenings sitting on a coir bed (a ‘khatiya’ in the ritual lingo), watching the program and the villagers gently sway. I am not being romantic when I write that the memory of those evenings, often under the stars, evokes the memory of a bygone era.

Those were the days when cable TV, the internet, and smartphones had not yet penetrated our lives, changing cultures and people’s behavior, forcing us into small screens and away from interaction with other people and from nature’s bounty.

Watch this fantastic YouTube video, with Naseebo Lal and Abeeda Parveen singing ‘Tu Jhoom’ at the Coke Studio in Pakistan.

Culture is not static

Culture is not static. Culture changes. New culture springs from old culture. Sometimes the remnants of old cultures persist for generations, albeit in modified forms; at other times, the old culture dies and lies forgotten, buried in the earth.

You may ask what the above memory has to do with Azamgarh and a dead tawaif, and, if you do, I understand your confusion. But stay with me, and, in the end, you will appreciate my logic.

Azamgarh was a vibrant literary town. Once.

I did some research on Azamgarh because I was curious about the town’s past. Azamgarh is an insignificant town, but once upon a time, its social and cultural life was vibrant.

A brief historical note about Azamgarh.

Azam Khan, son of the Mughal commander Vikramjit Singh, founded the town in 1665 CE. Please note: Vikramjit Singh was probably Hindu, and Azam Khan a Muslim. Pause here and reflect on one small truism. While there were differences between people of different religions in those days, it would seem that normal citizens could, and did, cross the religious divide without the hysteria that pervades modern cultures across the world. The internet and smartphones have not brought wisdom.

The word ‘Azam’ means great in Persian/Arabic, and the word ‘garh’ means ‘fort’ in Sanskrit. So, you have a town named with Persian and Sanskrit roots, which is fascinating.

A brief note about Azamgarh’s literary heritage.

Let’s move to the fun part of this brief essay. Azamgarh was not always a sleepy town. Once upon a time, the town was vibrant, with a thriving poetry culture. It appears to have been known as the ‘Land of Poets & Writers.’ If you click this link, you will see the names of famous poets born in Azamgarh. Kaifi Azmi is a renowned poet known to most Indians of my generation, but I confess to being astounded when I read the names of the people born in this city.

It turns out that Azamgarh has a few excellent colleges, including Shibli National College, founded by educator Shibli Nomani. This college has one of the largest libraries in Asia, handwritten copies of ‘Al-Arawah’ and ‘Sirre Akbar’ by Shah Jahan’s daughter, Jahan Ara. I have one of her books, but I will read it after I learn Persian.

The library also houses copies of the Upanishads and a Persian translation of the Mahabharata.

Shibli Nomani was a remarkable man, and wished to found something he called ‘Darul Musannifin,’ or ‘The House of Writers.’ He could not achieve this aim in his lifetime, but one of his disciples, Sulaiman Nadvi, opened the Darul Musannifin three days after Shibli Nomani’s death. It survives today as a part of the college. Sulaiman Nadvi himself was a remarkable man and one of the founders of Jamia Millia Islamia, a fantastic university.

Azamgarh also played a minor role during the Uprising of 1857-58, resisting the East India Company forces, who took the town after much difficulty.

Today, Azamgarh is a small agrarian town.

Azamgarh today is an agrarian town that few people know about. I have been there twice or thrice. If the most expensive room in the city cost me about $ 3 in those days, you can imagine what kind of place it was, and how far down it has slipped since its heyday.

I visited the town to sell our products at the market and expand our business into its rural hinterland. Otherwise, I would not have gone to see the place. If not for a hungry goat and a chance reading about the life of a dead tawaif, Azamgarh’s name would have passed into the deep recesses of my mind.

Even though some claim that the town’s residents are proud of their hometown’s peaceful, literary, and cultural history, they have allowed the city to sink into a quiet oblivion. How much of Azamgarh’s vibrant literary culture is left today?

Culture changes, and while I do not suggest we wallow in the past, I consider it a shame if we forget our heritage. I don’t believe that all cultural change is desirable. If you consider the bigotry, disinformation, and anger that are spreading in the world, you may agree that these are changes we can do without.

I don’t know whether Azamgarh has forgotten its literary and cultural past or is in the process of forgetting its heritage, settling into the quicksand of anonymity. Few seem to have returned to their birthplace to create new institutions of learning or culture, which is a pity.

We don’t know India. Not really.

I will repeat a line I’ve used often: were it not for a goat and a dead tawaif, I would have known nothing about this small town. Were it not for my writing on Substack, I would not have bothered to research its past. In my corporate days, we often told foreigners that ‘we are Indians, and know India. You don’t understand India. Allow us to translate our country for you.’

Once, I believed in the self-serving bullshit. We don’t know our country: our history and culture are too vast and deep for any of us to achieve complete knowledge. We can, however, admit our ignorance and seek to learn.

I created the image using Midjourney AI.

Illahabas, Illahabad, Allahabad, Prayag Raj

Rajiv Chopra — Wed, 12 Nov 2025 17:48:32 GMT

Every old town in India is ancient

Every city, town, village, or place in India with some mythological or religious significance is considered ancient. It does not matter if you can establish a historical connection or not: we will ascribe divine connections to the place if we deem fit. Our ancestors roamed the Earth for a few million years, and many places on Earth are considered ‘ancient’, but we often overlook this fact.

Now that my sarcastic opening is over, I will talk about Prayagraj, or Allahabad, or Illahabad.

The region is old, and no one should doubt this fact. The town lies nestled between two rivers, the Ganga and the Yamuna, obviously making the site an attractive location. Some say a third river, the Saraswati, joined the confluence of the Ganga and Yamuna, but, from all accounts I am familiar with, the river dried up a few thousand years back.

We refer to the confluence of the Ganga and Yamuna as the Prayag, and it is also the site of the Kumbh Mela, which takes place every twelve years.

Several tribes and kingdoms ruled Allahabad, and findings indicate that, around the first century CE, Allahabad was part of the Kushan empire. Historical findings also suggest that Prayag was part of the Gupta empire. It also appears that Huien Tsang, the Chinese Buddhist monk who travelled to South Asia, wrote that he visited Prayag around 643 CE. Allahabad is sacred to the Hindus, Buddhists, and Jains.

Historians dispute the historicity of the present site, but I will return to this issue later in this essay.

Illahabas enters modern history with Akbar

In my considered opinion, Allahabad first entered modern history when the Mughal emperor Akbar built his fort there between 1574 and 1583 CE. When his son, Jehangir, rebelled, he made Allahabad his headquarters. The site’s strategic location impressed Akbar, which is why he built his fort at the confluence of the rivers and called it ‘Illahabas,’ the ‘abode of god.’ Note that he named the fort as ‘Illahabas’ and not as ‘Allahabad.’ Some historians believe that he used the word “Illah” to encompass both Islamic and Hindu beliefs. Akbar was an enlightened man, far ahead of his time.

After Aurangzeb’s death, the fort’s status became shaky, especially as the various provinces began breaking away from the central Mughal power center. Even though Delhi symbolically remained the seat of power during the 150 years of Mughal decline, power shifted to regional centers, with many rulers vying for influence.

The British eyed Allahabad

The British East India Company eyed Prayag with greed. Like Akbar, the fort’s strategic location impressed them, and finally, in 1801 CE, the Nawab of Awadh ceded the city to the British East India Company. By this time, the fortunes of the Dutch East India Company had faded into the dustheap of history.

The British elevated the status of Allahabad after the Great Rebellion of 1857-58, establishing a high court and administrative center in the city. They also established a university, and Allahabad University is the fourth-oldest university in India.

My father was posted to an army cantonment, Chheoki, across the Yamuna from Allahabad, and, until a few decades back, both the High Court and University maintained a very high standard for themselves. Since then, like many institutions in India, they have allowed themselves to become politicized and to decline. The decline has been exceptionally rapid in the last decade.

And now, it becomes Prayag Raj

The current Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh, Ajay Bisht (people call him Yogi Adityanath, but I do not consider him a yogi), decided to rename Allahabad as ‘Prayag Raj,’ claiming that the original name of the city was Prayag Raj. The administration has been wasting money excavating in a vain attempt to locate the mythical Saraswati River.

Rivers do not live for eternity. They flow, they change their course, and often die. When rivers changed their course in ancient times, entire civilizations were wiped out. Today, we pray to rivers and kill them.

There is no historical evidence that the old name of Allahabad, or Illahabad, or Illahabas, was ever Prayag Raj; however, our right-wing government is intent on wasting money in an attempt to erase Muslim names and Muslim influence from India.

We live in interesting times, with right-wing, authoritarian leaders sprouting like rabbits across the world. I assume that, over the next few decades, the pendulum will shift in the other direction. Until then, we must hope that the nutcases who run riot over the world stage do not burn our planet. Repairing the damage will be well-nigh impossible, and I bet that science-fiction writers have peered into the future, which is why apocalyptic stories have become so popular.

I do not know when Illahabas became Allahabad, but we know when it became Prayag Raj.

You can change the name, but you cannot change the history or the culture of a place with just a nameplate. It is possible to destroy culture. My cousin’s wife’s family owned a law book publishing business, and they were sophisticated and elegant people. Such people have become rare, as screeching mobs replace genteel thought.

Some day in the future, sophistication will return.

I lived in Chheoki for a few winters – I used to visit during my school winter holiday break. Jawaharlal Nehru’s old home is in Allahabad and was the site for many discussions that took place during India’s freedom struggle. I left this aspect out when writing this very brief introduction to Allahabad, choosing to keep it for a subsequent post.