Travel to Tirupathi

Travel to Tirupathi

An unpleasant surprise sprung up at me, late in the evening of the 5th of this month, when my mum told me that we were leaving for a day's trip to visit Sri Venkatachalapathy's temple in Tirupathi. The surprise was particularly unpleasant for me, because the last time we went there (I was about eleven years old) we’d had a bad experience. In fact, whenever the word 'Tirupathi' was said in the vicinity, I had blurred visions of shaved heads screaming and pushing us in their eagerness to get close to the Lord.

Nothing, however, could be said in protest when my parents made their minds up to go. The following morning saw us getting up at the crack of dawn, sleepily and reluctantly bathing and conducting various morning duties, then travelling by car to our destination, which was located on the border of Andhra Pradesh.

Upon reaching, we had a tasty breakfast, courtesy of the Bhimasena restaurant and decided to continue our drive uphill. However, my mum, who seemed to have a penchant for giving me nasty shocks that day, wanted to travel by foot up the Tirupathi pedestrian path, which she had never tried before. This suggestion, nay, command, was unanimously seconded by my traitor of a brother, my dad and my dad's friend, while I silently seethed in the background.

Ironically, I turned out to be the one who enjoyed the climb the most. The Tirupathi pedestrian path consists of around 3500 steps, through the hill. It is widely believed that if one mounts these stairs with the Lord’s name on their lips, all their wishes are fulfilled by Him. The weather was favorable for us as we walked up the stairs- not too hot, and not too chilly. Thousands of devotees were our companions, ranging from men in sweat-soaked cotton shirts, dhotis and the occasional pair of jeans to women in pastel colored saris, carrying baskets and children. Many people brought turmeric powder soaked in water and kumkum, which they dabbed on the front of every stair they climbed. Stalls hawking refreshments like cool drinks, chips, bhelpuri, coffee, etc. lined the border of the path, often the only things separating us and the mounds of grass and rock on the other side.

The journey was long, but mercifully not too tiring. Our driver was waiting for us at the top and took us to a restaurant where we had some questionable food for lunch. Then, as it was getting late, we hurried to the area outside the temple where hundreds and hundreds of people had already lined up.

The queues to the shrine of the Tirupathi are the worst places to wait in. The people are so excited to be so close to prostrating before Sri Venkatachalapathy that they jostle, push, prod, poke and do anything that is humanly possible to make others in the queue feel as uncomfortable and at times, as scared as can be.

That is precisely what happened to us. I, in particular, had to endure three whole hours of short women nudging me painfully in the back, men giving hoarse yells of “Govinda, Goooooovindaa!” (At one point, my dad joined in as well) and an annoying kid who made it his business to wail and sob every five seconds.

Thankfully, three hours went by pretty quickly, and after much shoving and pushing, we found ourselves in front of the Lord’s shrine. I have visited Tirupathi only once before, and have no memory of ever glimpsing the idol of Sri Venkatachalapathy, so this was my very first sight of him. And what a sight.

He was smooth obsidian black, dressed in new silk robes and ornaments that shone and glittered beautifully in the soft light of the lamps, a mysterious figure at the far of the shrine. For a moment there, he looked almost...alive. Caught in the moment, I quickly bowed my head, and said my prayers, resolving firmly that I would be a better person to make Him proud of me, before being swept away by the priests.

We did our pradarshan around the temple (which is said to be more than thousands of years old. Although a few modern mechanisms have been added, the basic foundation consists of smooth cool stone and weathered figures carved on the walls), collected our prasadam, the famous Tirupathy ladoos, and began our journey downhill towards Chennai. As we clambered into our car, I thought about my day at Tirupathy. Sure, I’d had a long day and tiring day. After an arduous climb of around 3500 stairs, having food that would probably not pass the test for consumer approval and being tossed around in a crowd of extremely agitated devotees like heedless insects, I was understandably exhausted and more than willing to return home. But, as my grandmother said, it was all for Him above, who protected and watched over us lovingly. And after what I’d seen in the shrine, I sure agreed with her.

Imagine scores of these bobbling up and down, a sea of turmeric-painted eggs.
It can scar you for life.