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Published: July 22nd 2006
As Saptagiri Express nears the seven sacred hills, pilgrims stretch to look at the parade of temples fleeting by the windows. They prepare themselves for the altitude of piety as the train halts at Tirupati. Though we decided on this trip only last night, Ganesh has been planning it since his father was diagnosed with cancer.
The road from the railway station's entrance leads to a temple, with many to follow until the journey ends at the famed Venkateshwara temple on Tirumala 3,200 feet above sea level. Flower vendors and Hanuman lookalikes heckle visitors. Offerings for the god wait for customers on either side of the road. Those who return from the shrine with tonsured heads grab the wigs.
Tirupati town and its denizens owe its existence to the sacred occupant on Tirumala. From bus stands to colleges, almost everything is funded by the Tirumala Tirupati Devasthanams (TTD), which maintains twelve temples and their sub-shrines in the Tirumala-Tirupati area. The offerings which trickle down from the hills ensure the town's prosperity. Tirupati is among the most profit-making religious destinations, second only to Vatican.
Tirumala on the Eastern Ghats comprises seven peaks, representing the seven hoods of Adisesha. The seven peaks are called Seshadri, Neeladri, Garudadri, Anjanadri, Vrishabhadri, Narayanadri and Venkatadri. The Venkateswara temple is located on Venkatadri, which lies on the southern bank of Sri Swami Pushkarini.
An endless convoy of buses and cars loaded with devotees wind through Venkatadri, day and night. Those who are stronger in will or simply poorer, choose the tough path. Steep steps which cut through the jungle await them. Old men and women, mothers and babies, handicapped devotees burdening themselves with offerings...the contingent is about to test their piety.
If Ganesh had to fulfil a promise given to his mother, I was on a nightout under the starry sky. We hopped over the steps and soon exhausted ourselves. As we sat panting, an old woman with a sack on her head climbed past us ceremoniously. She stepped over each slab unhurriedly, like reciting a prayer. We had just overtaken her in the first lap and would do that again soon.
The old woman never looked around or stopped. Many others were striving along the pilgrim's path. Some resting, some sleeping at the mandapams. We kept on climbing, in different paces, until we bumped into a milestone saying 8 km! Tired and frustrated, we knew that we cannot make it to the top. Calf, thigh, hip...I could feel every muscle in my body throbbing.
But we could not return. There were promises to keep and vanity to fulfil. The call of the peak was irresistable. Like tired old men, we resumed our journey to what we thought was the summit. The illuminated U-shaped Vaishnavite symbol (namam), which seemed so close from the valley, once again became visible. As we covered each mandapam, the shining symbol grew in size.
Relieved, we crossed the grand entrance beneath the symbol. The pavement ends nowhere. It dissolves into the darkness. Vendors sleep in stalls on its sides. Three young men from Hyderabad explained that Kali Gopuram is only an entrance to the temple, another milestone. The temple is a few kilometres away, but the ascent is less demanding.
Our extended group traversed the remaining stretch, sometimes covered with mesh. This is tiger country. TTD officials in a jeep warned us not to walk alone or rest on the unprotected road. We thought we heard a growl. But all we could see was deer, protected from man. At the next mandapam, we decided to rest. I lie down and slept for an eternity of half an hour.
A bigger group hastens to their destination. We resumed our journey. Woods on either side and the silence pervading the darkness add to the mystic ambience. Travellers are in top gear knowing that they are approaching the end of the winding road. Sound of spirited feet and the vehicles which came through another route. Light ahead.
Suddenly we are in a township. Petrol pump, bus stand, shopping complex, pilgrims' quarters...Venkatadri is no forest shrine. It is a huge temple complex which fortifies the deities. The menu displays the cost of visions. Proximity to the god costs you. But there is no dearth of the rich, who can't wait for the sacred hour of darshan.
The tireless old woman and the kid with the big sack too, were eager to this appointment. The men in charge lead us to a hall from where you can see the god free of cost. Almost everyone who travelled with us are bundled together until morning when the god finishes with profitable appointments.
The old woman is patiently resting in a corner. But we can't wait for we have to catch the morning train back to Chennai. I felt sorry for Ganesh. But he looked at the golden dome above the god's abode and smiled. He knew his vow has been fulfilled. He might lie to his mother that he had had darshan: one of those true lies.
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N Ganesh
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And that spicy meals
Had we had prior knowledge that there were seven hills, we would not have dared to climb them - an offering quite often made only by those who suffer from from the worst-ever disease and desperation. Though we could study the muscles on the lower part of our body, as all of them were aching. Looking from our hotel room in the temple town (it's the perfect temple town as you can't attach any other adejective to it unlike others as everything belongs to Tirumala Devaswom in Tirupati), the temple looked so near. Only to find later that it deceived us. Don never complained, except when he came to realise the 'rate' of the variety darshans, and I found it even tougher to digest. And the free darshan, after being put in compartments, too was something new for us, who are familiar only with the serpentine queues in temples and churches. We came down, of course by bus, and back in our hotel room we discussed it in detail and left it somewhere. Also did some shopping and went out to the outskirts, and also to a history museum and the terrific rocky rural ambience, which we could enjoy till evening. Last but not the least, the spicy, hot delicious food. Guys who always savoured the bitter taste of liquor, 'irrespective' of brands, we couldn't just stop eating the meals and the avokkai (mango pickle), majjikapulsu and all others that came along with it. And that trip leaves behind a lot in memory.