Nth in a Line.

They say,

"You cannot go to Tirupati if you want to. Mr. Venkat himself would want you here and that's when you will be here."

Whatever!

India, classical India I would say, has saved itself from westernization not just from anything else, but spiritualism. I was recently in one such place which gave me a complete turnover in thoughts. It all started with the elders of the family planning a pilgrimage, which they love doing. Youngsters are just a prey, for not being able to be left back alone at home. I was an annoyed one such person and with less possibilties on my side, we set off.

I've heard of numerous stories this place. The numero uno being the crowd, populace, whatever!. (For all the people who lack the guessing sense and concentration to read Line. 1, yes I was at Tirupati). The place sounds holy as it is pronounced. This neighbouring-state place is one with international recognition and well known for its pure devotees, powerful idol, bee-hive crowd and MONEY. They operate like a village by itself. A village not habituated by people, instead it's a shelter for thousands and ten thousands of devotees, Thirumala is. Not very appreciable architectured boarding rooms were found. But the streets which curved like "The crooked Street" we're lined with identical storeyed buildings with neatly aligned and badly maintained rooms. As if I was happy about going to a place where I found most of the things I looked at to be unbelievable, the rooms and the story the devotees believed in added to my eerie feeling.  There was no private ownership. It all belonged to the Devasthanams, not to the government either. It operated like a MNC on its own, managing revenue from all sides.

( I staggered in the line, left with enough time to tell you about the story of belief & the reason for the crowd.)

Crowd, following crowd.

There is no doubt that god will answer your prayers if you are genuine in worshipping him. At Tirupati, people believe in giving away money so that god will bless them to earn more. Simple as it sounds. They sweep money with broomsticks, and the hundials are just an icing on the cake. (It was the first time I really saw money being sacked apart from Kollywood films.) The methodology of having a meet with Mr. Venkat is what that is exclusive here. You have two options, to be shifted among glass cages one by one for hours or stand in long (infinitely) queues which twists like a snake. It's a bitter feeling to choose either one of the above. Well, paying for it just irritates you more. So, before taking the decision for life, you decide to have a full meal at one of the restaurants. The man in-charge offers you a token that reads No. 84 and a voice from inside calls out, "32! Come in!". Booyah, all you can do is fight for a chair and sit down to wait. After two hours, you come out with your tummy full and in a slightly dizzy state. You choose one of the deadly options and join as 9xx8x'th person in a line.

(Now you are with me, 4 hours passed)

Human beings can possible talk continuously for hours, women for days. But seriously, what conversation will you be indulged in, with a person whose face you will see at a 10cm difference from yours, infront and behind you for about nine hours?! It all starts with introducing and then reintroducing. Then family stuffs, friends. One might even be done with narrating their childhood life. People talk, talk and talk untill the forget the reason for them standing like ants, to see Mr. Venkat. I envy people who find no difference between sleeping in a pillow and sleeping on a steel rod placed to divide people into groups. These are the ones who aren't hit with guilt of choosing to be here in a line, in a place, in a state, for a single purpose. Meeting him for a nanosecond. (yes, that's what you get for a nine hour long queue, you may not even be sure of whom you saw if you haven't seen him before in pictures). Occasional background scores are, “Ra.. ra..” or “Jarugandi...”.

(I dozed for 15 mins, people behind me pushed. It was eight hours now)

As you are nearing to meet Mr. Venkat people start to rustle. You have a deep feeling. It's mixed. It's about completing a slow marathon and getting to meet the most powerful idol of all time. The one who is capable of blessing you with all the health and wealth you had to lose in taking this trip. Mr. Venkat aka Venkatachalam aka Perumal, you start from his feet, you pray towards his head.

(A nanosecond in slow motion....)

He stands there tall. Mighty. Glossy. Different, as people termed. It wasn't just a stone, it was radiation. It reached out to every devotee in the room. This was the only place I've ever seen, where a devotee doesn't close his eyes to pray, he feels it by looking at Him, into his eyes, through his jewellery. One marvelous sight what nature cannot give. Mr. Venkat WAS what he was. He deserved the queue, the deserved the village, he deserved the MNC, atleast, he deserved the devotees. The thousands. I was one.

(Nine hours and a trip of a lifetime ends)

I was back in the car. My mom was stuffing laddoos into the bag. I was too tired to get a hold of them though I was satisfied of getting them(Another queue for an hour). It's quite a long journey back home. I closed my eyes.

They say,

"you cannot go to Tirupati if you want to. Mr. Venkat himself would want you here and that's when you will be here."

Maybe.

Never an atheist,

Swetha Ananthan.