It was my first ever darshan...of this oft-celebrated, much sought-after, doubtlessly omnipotent, and perhaps a little overestimated Lord of the Tirumala hills.
"You are a degraded non-believer, a blasphemous idiot...an embarrassing partner..." were the various reactions I got from multiple quarters, the last one coming from my husband.
Man! I gotta be kidding to mock the Almighty...the do-gooder, the sole strength, the all encompassing Venkateshwara. I was most definitely a worm of the lowest possible category, much to the chagrin of my family (read husband and in-laws).
After much debate, we set out on a Wednesday night...both of us quite drained out after a hard day's work. A tiring night journey followed, and we reach Tirupati at 2am.
Finally, some sleep, I thought, after our tempo traveler trundled into a hotel patio. Putting a sad period to my wishful thinking, the tour guide muttered, “Madam…downstairs at 2.30…go to ticket counter…line”… What? No sleep? Take that!
Note: People of similar disposition (similar to me I mean, please have a good sleep before feeling enthusiastic about Tirupati)
We reached the ticket counter at 3am sharp. There was a crowd, comprising religious fanatics, semi-fanatics, enthusiasts, and plain sleep-starved non-enthusiasts. On second thoughts, I think I was the only one belonging to the last category.
It took me days, actually months to realize what gargantuan sin I had committed to stand in a queue for a piece of paper at 3 in the morning. After much thinking, I decide to call it plain karma.
We drove to Tirumala soon after, and by 12 in the afternoon, we were in a caged-room, waiting our turn to pay a visit to the idol. The clock struck 1, and we rushed towards the main temple…like famine stricken Somalians, rushing for a stray helicopter full of food.
I finally saw Venkateshwara…starkly surrealistic behind a pale oil lamp. This was supposed to have been my encounter with ultimate divinity. However, my brain had stopped working. I was fighting for breath, for space, for relief, and for Venkateshwara knows what else.
It feels strange to live the ordeal on this post, all over again. When I think of the darshan, all I can say is, religion is a national obsession that India can perhaps do without. If paying homage to your god means running the risk of a stampede, if paying homage means fighting for air, if paying homage means having to stand in a queue beside a reeking sewage pipe for hours, the god’s must be crazy. I am happy as an apparent atheist. My belief in a super power lies within me.
"You are a degraded non-believer, a blasphemous idiot...an embarrassing partner..." were the various reactions I got from multiple quarters, the last one coming from my husband.
Man! I gotta be kidding to mock the Almighty...the do-gooder, the sole strength, the all encompassing Venkateshwara. I was most definitely a worm of the lowest possible category, much to the chagrin of my family (read husband and in-laws).
After much debate, we set out on a Wednesday night...both of us quite drained out after a hard day's work. A tiring night journey followed, and we reach Tirupati at 2am.
Finally, some sleep, I thought, after our tempo traveler trundled into a hotel patio. Putting a sad period to my wishful thinking, the tour guide muttered, “Madam…downstairs at 2.30…go to ticket counter…line”… What? No sleep? Take that!
Note: People of similar disposition (similar to me I mean, please have a good sleep before feeling enthusiastic about Tirupati)
We reached the ticket counter at 3am sharp. There was a crowd, comprising religious fanatics, semi-fanatics, enthusiasts, and plain sleep-starved non-enthusiasts. On second thoughts, I think I was the only one belonging to the last category.
It took me days, actually months to realize what gargantuan sin I had committed to stand in a queue for a piece of paper at 3 in the morning. After much thinking, I decide to call it plain karma.
We drove to Tirumala soon after, and by 12 in the afternoon, we were in a caged-room, waiting our turn to pay a visit to the idol. The clock struck 1, and we rushed towards the main temple…like famine stricken Somalians, rushing for a stray helicopter full of food.
I finally saw Venkateshwara…starkly surrealistic behind a pale oil lamp. This was supposed to have been my encounter with ultimate divinity. However, my brain had stopped working. I was fighting for breath, for space, for relief, and for Venkateshwara knows what else.
It feels strange to live the ordeal on this post, all over again. When I think of the darshan, all I can say is, religion is a national obsession that India can perhaps do without. If paying homage to your god means running the risk of a stampede, if paying homage means fighting for air, if paying homage means having to stand in a queue beside a reeking sewage pipe for hours, the god’s must be crazy. I am happy as an apparent atheist. My belief in a super power lies within me.
