A visit to the temple town of Tirupati gives this doctor an intimate look at the grandeur of religion and the power of faith.
“Have you heard of Tirupati?” I asked my daughters, after my wife and I returned from a visit to the holy town. “It’s that place from where everyone comes back bald, na?” they answered in unison. I was very impressed at the association. “Why didn’t you go bald?” the older one asked. “He has very little to offer in that department,” the younger one retorted, tapping the vertex of my head.
“You cannot come to Tirupati and not visit the Venkateswara temple in Tirumala, the abode of Lord Balaji,” a swami patient of mine told me when he heard of my plans to visit the city. “I can’t stand in line, Swamiji,” I pleaded, trying my hardest to not sound South Bombay-ish. “Don’t worry, doctor ji: with the blessings of the almighty, everything will be arranged for you,” he assured. “Please keep yourself free on the first half of Saturday morning,” he signed off.
A car picked us up from the ashram we were residing in and drove us 30 minutes to the bottom of the hill. “Most famous temple in the world this is!” the driver told us in ‘Teluguan’ English. “Why is it so famous?” I asked. “Whatever you wish for comes true,” he told us. “One lakh people take darshan here every day,” he added. That’s the world population of the entire Parsi community, I thought to myself. “And two crore rupees is donated to the temple daily,” he said proudly. My uncle, who was travelling with us, told me that his boss used to take suitcases of money to donate. “Lord Balaji was a 10% legal partner in his firm!” he said.
“Do you know anyone as famous as this Lord?” I asked my daughters. “Of course,” they chimed in eagerly, in sync. “Taylor Swift! She has more than 500 million followers on Instagram, and she makes 1 million dollars a day,” they rattled off facts whose validity I could not check. That’s about Rs. 8.5 crores a day; four times wealthier than the Lord on a daily basis, I pondered. “And she makes wishes come true,” they added. “Maybe she should have a temple,” I suggested. “Arizona’s Swift City is like a place of worship for all Swifties, dadda,” they educated me.
We met Swamiji at the bottom of the hill on which the temple is situated and he whisked us through a VIP drive-through. After a scenic winding route laden with pretty flowers, we reached the temple city of Tirumala, a fortress in its own right. Men in unform armed with guns paraded each of the entrance gates. We were driven straight to one of the residence quarters. “There are four families of head priests,” Swamiji said, as he introduced us to one of them. “He is the one who dresses up the deity every day,” he proudly announced, as they were related. The priest placed a red tilak on our foreheads and we were served traditional breakfast in the dining hall. We kept our mobile phones away, removed our socks, adorned our dhotis, and made the march with the sun darting its rays on the tar.
“There are several queuing systems that don’t allow for one to understand the magnitude of the crowds, but IIT Madras is responsible for these smooth passageways to greet the almighty,” Swamiji gave us some trivia. We were sitting in a room that was screening a live puja going on in another part of the temple ground, where they marry the Lord Balaji and his wife, Padmavathi (an incarnation of Goddess Lakshmi), on a daily basis. “Bhagwaan ko bhi itna torture karte hai?” I asked Swamiji, who insisted that I should come again at the age of 60 to get remarried. “To the same woman or a different one?” I asked with a poker face, while Swamiji turned his head to my wife for confirmation. Luckily, it was time to change rooms and get into a fast-moving line that meandered from one part of the complex to another, until we entered the four walls of the main temple precinct with a gold-plated tower atop it.
Loud chants of Govinda, Govinda, Govinda – which, I found out later, was another name for the Lord – kept the line moving, as security guards made sure no one loitered around. The loud emphasis on the first syllable of the name made me wonder if it was just a strategic chant to keep people go, go, going on. We got a glimpse of the idol decorated in jewels in a dark room faintly illuminated by a few diyas that added to the mysticism. The head priest whisked us into the sanctum sanctorum where we were allowed to wait a few minutes before being ensconced in chants of Go, Go, Govinda once again, which took us back into the line. We were done in an hour. “Why are the Lord’s eyes always covered?” I asked, referring to the white mark over the idol’s forehead that covered his eyes. “Devotees cannot look directly into the eyes of the Lord, as he radiates cosmic energy, which mortals cannot handle,” Swamiji explained. Some others say that he doesn’t want to discriminate who he is granting his wishes to; he grants them unconditionally. We were offered delicious lunch and expressed our gratitude for this experience.
We drove down the hill to meet Padmavathi, the Lord’s wife. Why they have different temples a few miles apart is confusing. If gods cannot live together as a married couple, how can one blame us mortals? We paid our respects there too, as this is required to be done to complete the circuit. We ended the evening with filter coffee at a local jaunt outside the mandir and strolled along shops selling temple paraphernalia.
“Someday, we’ll see all the places of worship in the world,” I told my kids. “We’ll start with Swift City in America!” they said unanimously. “We’ll start with Udwada,” I gave them a stern look. “We haven’t been this year and it’s time to go!” I reminded them.
This Navroze, may whatever you wish for be yours. As long as someone else isn’t wishing for the exact same thing – because then, you’ll have to share it. May the gods you believe in grant you serenity, wisdom, courage, and compassion. May you always be healthy and mostly be happy.
