Supreme Prisoner

I was a bit worried when told we would have to climb the Hill on bare feet. But then I was assured, there were wide steps all along, and that they were very well maintained, cleaned and swept. There was shelter above all throughout. No exposure to the Sun.
And sure enough, when I started climbing, the steps below felt clean, there was no grit, for all those smudged remnants of turmeric, vermillion and camphor.

There were shrubs and trees on both sides. Vendors selling fruit, bottled water, juice and more. Water dispensers every 50 meters or less.
You still sweat but mainly because of the effort of climbing.

If you are the kind who savours life and not just hurries on towards destination, you would stop and look behind. The green hills nearby and blue ones faraway were a sight.

After 2000 steps, I thought it was over and hopefully, my relatives, who had chosen to drive up, were there on the other side, with my shoes in the taxi.
But no, the walking continued. We reached the main road, the kids called up the father to find out where they all were.
It turned out we would have to take a bus to some point.
So we walked on the tar road to the bus stop. On bare feet.

As I looked around, I noticed that everyone was walking barefooted. The pavements were neatly laid with stones or tiles and even when you got off the pavement on to the road, you didn't feel any dirt beneath your soles.
We got on a bus, the floor of which, covered with the usual aluminum like sheets looked shiny and felt smooth under our feet. Everyone inside was barefooted.
That's when it struck me. The cleanliness of the place. To the extent of being outstanding, extraordinary, incredible and un-Indian.

We got off the bus and continued barefooted. After a few phone calls we found our family, all smiles inside the air conditioned taxi. We jumped in, and drove off to our accommodation, a short drive away.
The pavements looked polished and I noticed that people were squatting on them, reclining, relaxing as if seated on granite or marble finished floors.

There were sweepers and sweepers and more sweepers all around, working as if, round the clock. Keeping the place spotless, dustfree. Simply put, clean.
This must be one place where at least half the population was made up of sweepers and cleaners I thought. Where did they bring all of them from, when labour everywhere is hard to find?

The drive was scenic too. They had created beauty in all spaces. Gardens, parks, lawns, flower bearing shrubs. Trimmed hedges.
Though there were huge trees providing a canopy above, there were no fallen leaves below. There were statuettes here and there. Mostly black.
Very aesthetic. For a hill top, it was vast and sprawling.

The accommodation was spotless too.
We had already booked tickets, all we had to do was walk towards where the line began.
We entered the area where the enclosure began. One hall to another, one line to the next, one room to another.
There was no way you could get lost or move to the wrong line or accidentally take an exit. It was all so well thought out that every few meters there were restrooms and drinking water.
There were rows of wooden benches to sit on in case the queue stopped moving and wait was long.

What was initially a single file of people turned to two and then a mass filling up a room.
The jostling and pushing began.
I no longer had control over which way I turned or moved. I was being carried forward by the crowd that was pressing me in from all sides.

We walked and walked on and snaked closer and closer to the sanctum but the gopuras or domes were no where in sight. At least some glimpse of it would have been reward enough for the otherwise empty journey through the queue.
But the administrators had other priorities. Order, organization and control. Over our movements.

After a very brief glimpse of the gopuras or towers plated with gold, we found ourselves heaved to the dark sanctum.
There was a frenzy of shouting 'Govinda', 'Govinda' in response to the same being shouted into a mike somewhere.

The crowd had now turned to a single file that had to move fast. We turned right, saw the statue of Garuda when my relative prodded me and said 'look there!'
The file turned left, I looked straight and lo behold! there was Balaji in the innermost sanctum of the Tirupati temple quite a distance away.
I remembered not to close my eyes in prayer as people sometimes foolishly do, when they stand before temple deities. I kept them wide open and fixed on Him as I moved. I was being prodded, pushed and shoved quite unnecessarily by the female guards on both sides but I was not going to be provoked this one time, and kept my eyes fixed on Him as I moved closer to Him.
And then suddenly, I was thrown to my left, and it was over.

There was no going back though I did for just two seconds more, after haggling with the guards who for some reason spoke to me in Hindi. As they all d everywhere I go. Even at home.

A grand frenzied anti climax it was.

It gradually dawned on me what a futility the whole thing had been.
The cleanliness, the order, the gardens, the spotless rooms, the neat buildings, the tasty laddus that were to come. Everything was a futility when the most important thing, the darshan, the view of the deity, was made so scarce by those who governed the place.

Literally, cleanliness here was greater than Godliness! In an ironical way.

They could, by all means, allow the file of people to the inner sanctum before forcing a U turn so devotees would get a good view, from up close, but no, they had to make him scarce.

They could at least avoid the shouting of Govinda into the mike but no they had to create a frenzy to maintain the hype and even increase it.

Clever hyenas feeding on the god hungry people.

The self appointed custodians of Him, were money minded goons and willfully kept Him from us all that had travelled far and wide to meet him.
They could sell fewer Darshan tickets so those who availed it got to stand before the sanctum for a few seconds longer.
Selling fewer tickets per day would mean longer wait times for people trying to book, but that was okay, at least you had a satisfactory Darshan.

Whether you avail the general free darshan or the special 300 rupee Divya darshan, the only thing that's different is the time to spend standing in the queue. The darshan once you reach the sanctum is the same. Unless you are a VIP or a VVIP.

I hear the Brahmins have all been removed from the administrative body and the SC and ST have taken over. (I don’t mind the admittance of the lower castes inside, but it is the systematic removal of the Brahmin that I resent)

The experience is made worse because of it's location. The Andhra people are a rough, boorish materialistic people in general (yes I dare speak politically incorrect generalizations). The shoving, the prodding, the frenzied shouting... It couldn't get more unaesthetic.
Had the same temple belonged in TN or Kerala, it would have been a different experience altogether.

If we unitedly boycott such temples then the management will be advertising on TV but what do we Hindus know of unity?

You will not hear me saying such a thing often, but here I go.
The churches are better. There is silence there is space there is dignity there is peace.
Shame on the Hindu temples for such shoddiness, for their barbarity and shame on Hindus for allowing themselves to be shoved like cattle.

I have walked down the aisle of St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York, the largest catholic church in the United States. I have ambled within the Trinity church famed for its precious tinted glasses. They weren’t crowded alright but had they been, silence would have given way for whispers, may be a buzz, but dignity would have stood firm in its place.

This barbarity in Hindu temples is why so many Hindus are irreligious, disillusioned and averse to Hinduism.

How ironical that Govinda allows this …
We believe HE will deliver us but alas, He is the Supreme Prisoner.
Others are 'most wanted' until they are made captive, but He has been made captive because He is most wanted.

Tirupati, the most sought after temple in the world, was all sound and fury no significance.
The curse of the persecuted Brahmin? Must be. What else?

Let me say this. Someone please drag the Tirupati temple to the court and restore the right of devotees to enter the inner sanctum for a good view of the deity. Break the arrogance and sense of entitlement of the administrators and the politicians behind them. If you do it, whether you are muslim, christian, communist or anti national, I will vote for you!!!

Well, that's how pissed off I am.