A visit to Tirupati

At the end of about 20 hours outside our dear (deer?) campus we, Flashing, Gajju, Surya, and I, hadn't run a marathon, or cycled tens of kilometres, or played hours of football, which we anyway don't. But still, we were dead tired -- our knee joints chirping, minds reeling, heels squealing. All we did was eat, sleep, sing, and stand. Yes, we stood. A lot. And while we stood we ate, slept, and sang.

    The journey started as we boarded the Volvo at about 4:30am. Within a few minutes, a pseud-putting aunty (who was later found holding Sidney Sheldon in her hands as we trudged through the queue) made the driver play some morning bhajans. Suddenly the tranquil in the bus was disturbed by loud 'bhajans', which were also a bit irritating since we didn't understand a word of it except suprabhatam. The aunty was a bit ashamed herself and was seen placing her palm against the speakers, which we deciphered as her well-intended attempt to reduce the volume. Needless to say, it didn't help. Gajju had to tell the driver to reduce the volume. It was only then that we could sleep for a few hours, which was badly needed after a night-out, keeping in the mind the long day ahead.

    Even at Tirumala (atop the hill at Tirupati), it wasn't the most hopeful of beginnings. The namesake guide from Southern Travels had declared that it would take about 8-10 hours for darshan. A certain fat lady from our group -- who was an important government official, we learned in the evening -- gave up as soon as she heard this. Instead, she decided to roam around the Tirumala town, which is quite scenic and pleasant of its own accord. We had our own share of worries, though: our mobile phones and footwear that we were forced to place in the care of a stranger, and Gajju's missing wallet. But in the end all was fine, all was fine.

At Tirumala

Enroute Tirumala

    And thus we were enqueued. Right from the start, the task was daunting. Not only did the queue showed no sign of an end -- it extended till our eyes could follow -- but also it crawled at snail's pace. Naah! Slower! And it took rather long and frustrating sporadic stops. While in the queue, we ate and slept little, but from singing "Govinda... Govinda... Goooovindaaaaa!!" to Vengaboys, and discussing topics ranging from selfless welfare of society to the origin of Sharingan, we hardly rested our tongues. It was necessary, to kill the boredom, to distract ourselves from our aching feet, and to revive our knowledge of a few Animes (3.5 out of us 4 were Anime fans), but mainly to keep ourselves going -- to not let the tank of patience dry up, to tell ourselves that God is waiting just around the corner.

    Wailing infants, fellow pilgrims soiling the pathway by not disposing off their eatables properly, people complaining every now and then about the never-ending queue and how it was much better in their days, our empty stomachs, etc. made sure we didn't forget that the journey, the process, was more important than the end result, the darshan. It taught us to be patient, to be tolerant, to not complain but bring about a change ourselves, and to be humble. After all, you are just one of the hundreds of thousands seeking darshan every single day, and your measly 300 bucks ticket means nothing to the richest God. Deep.

    The chants of Govinda became lounder and frequent, the dhakka-mukki in the queue felt more prominent, and gold was in sight. We knew it was time. We tried our best to stay together but it was a lost cause with the crowd almost going haywire. (I have seen it again and again in almost all the large temples in India, but have never quite understood the reason for people becoming so restless when they have already waited so long -- well, let's just say that people become ecstatic when it's time to meet their Lord.) Nonetheless, we all got more than the expected glimpse of Lord Venkateswara: a darshan lasting about 10-15 seconds. The Lord was in a good mood.

    After the darshan, I stayed back to buy some extra laddus while others went back to the pre-decided checkpoint. As I was trying to find the appropriate exit gate in the humongous but soothing exteriors of the temple, I stumbled upon a spectacular Kuchipudi performance. It was my first time to see live an Indian dance style being performed at a professional level; the silken but exact movements, the occasional sound of their ghungroos, the elaborate make-up, and the facial gestures in tune with song and music left me mesmerized. It was eye-catching to say the least. Lucky me!

    Because of these errands, I missed the trip to the Padmavati temple nearby (the mean travels-wala left me at Tirumala and proceeded with the others), which worked in my favor in a way as I needed some time to soak in the energy and cherish the events of the day, and frankly, I was too tired for another temple. Well, Surya too missed that visit as he was waiting for me. In the bus ride downhill to Tirupati, we two sat relaxed, and reminisced the day. A glad Surya told me how he was lucky enough to see the procession of the Lord being carried out as part of an arati. All is well that ends well.

    Over dinner at a local restaurant, we discussed how the give-up aunty (yes, that fat lady, who had by now become a decent acquaintance of Flashing) preferred to eat alone because she didn't want us to peek over the contents in her plate: either she was eating a lot because she was fat, or she was eating very little as she was dieting because she was fat, or she was eating like a normal person in an attempt to hide the fact that she was fat because she was fat. We saw through her tricks like ninjas. Anyway, recollecting how the travels-wala had given a cheapo breakfast and also left me at Tirumala to fend for myself, we decided to give moderate reviews to him. But Flashing argued, saying the sambar, rasam, and rice preparations in the dinner were good, so he will give good reviews. We had a small, umm... argument.

    The return journey brought forth the hidden reservoir of energy in us. As everyone else around us were trying to sleep after a long and tiring day, Gajju, Flashing, and I went on singing spree -- movie songs, old and new, some funky some sombre, complete with vocal beats -- for almost a couple of hours. At times, we became high-spirited and loud, as we sung a favorite, while at times, we fell silent in search of a good song to sing next. Our melodious show, which we bet everyone thoroughly enjoyed, was interrupted by a call from Flashing's mom. Although he soon ended the call by giving the excuse that roaming rates were sky-high, Flashing was visibly irritated after the call, partly because he was in full flow before it, and partly because for a call with one's mom 4 minutes was just too much. Gajju and I sympathized with him. We decided to finally call it a day, and sleep some before the bus reached the insti.

Some memorable quotes:

 "Abey! Can we too have that tattoo on our forehead?!" - Flashing, referring to tilak. 

"Most of us back in the insti are Maansa-haari, if you know what I mean." - Gajju, during a discussion on non-vegetarianism. 

"Who says God is not merciful?! How else do you think we have survived a day with Flashing?!" - Surya. Okay, fine, I made up this one. 

"Charizard should come to Tirupati for solving his ego problems." - Myself, after a discussion on Pokemon. 

"10 hours traveling. 10 hours struggling. 10 seconds with God." - Deepak, after we reached the hostel late night.