seeing the face of a god

Thirupati is an extremely famous temple destination in Andra Pradesh, the Indian state directly north of Tamil Nadu. It is about three and a half hours Northwest of Chennai. It's sister town, Tirumala, is the home of the Venkateshwara Temple, reputed to be the most visited pilgrimage site in the world. The temple is visited by no less than 5,000 pilgrims per day and that total is regularly over 100,000 per day. It sees more visitors than Rome or Jerusalem or Mecca. The temple, which is an avatar of Vishnu, is also reputed to be the wealthiest in the world, taking in over one billion rupees per year.

Thanks to the organizational work of our friend Franc, we arranged for our own little pilgrimage there. We left Chennai on Saturday afternoon and took the three and a half hour train ride in style in the AC compartment. In attendance were Chris and myself, Franc (whose wife just moved to Hong Kong and whom we already miss terribly), Brooke, Hilary, Matt the intern, Drew, Lisa and Juste and funny baby Sedjro, and the new guy, who had landed in Chennai the Friday night before we left and who shall remain nameless until I have permission to name him (that guy is a trooper, by the way).

We arrived in the early evening and checked into our hotel, which was quite nice. Franc had made all of the arrangements for our transport and lodging in advance and the rest of us were just along for the ride. Thanks Franc.

In order to experience the Venkateshwara temple completely and correctly, there are a number of rituals that can be observed. One walks from the beginning of the pilgrimage trail to the temple, which we decided to do (without Lisa and Juste and funny baby Sedjro, as funny baby Sedjro is turning one next week and probably would have trouble walking up the very steep steps that go on FOREVER). Many people also shave their heads before entering the temple, and people tend to fast afterward in order to cleanse their body and soul. Other rituals abound, including giving money, making a wish at the inner sanctum where the god resides, and rubbing different parts of statuary for luck or money.

The pilgrimage trek takes about four hours and traverses about 15 kilometers, straight upward. And we had an appointment for a very special private darshan (viewing of the god) at 06:50. So we set out on the trail at 02:00. Some of us stayed up later than others of us, but who was where and when will remain undiscussed.

We took some rickshaws to the pilgrimage trailhead and started on our way. It was dark, but the entire trail is lit and mostly covered, to accommodate the people who walk the path at all hours of every day. I learned very quickly what I already know, and that is that I am extremely out of shape. Smoking a couple of cigarettes the night before certainly didn't help matters much. For the first hour, I was sincerely quite ready to pass out. But thanks to Chris' patience and Drew's encouragement (and Drew's fruit juice, which saved my life), I finally got my climbing legs and actually managed to make it.

By the time we reached the top, we were all hurting quite a bit, to tell you the truth. I guess that's why they call it penance. Along the way, I saw about 500 big fat toads (which kept me going), an elk, two scorpions (one little, one big), a bunch of spotted deer, and some drunk Indian kids making the climb as a rowdy gang.

We finally reached the end of the trail at about 6:30, just as the sun was coming up and the mist was settling into the mountains (what a treat, to see a mountain!). We then went about trying to find the office of the wonderful gentleman who was helping us with our plans. But, in India, miscommunication is the most common form of communication, and so we were sort of at a loss. First we couldn't find the place. Then we found the place but could not find the man. Then we couldn't find Lisa and Juste and funny baby Sedjro at all, which had us all in sort of a sad mood. And we were tired, and in pain, and poor new guy had only been in country for less than 36 hours. We all expected the temple to really be the only thing at the end of the trail, and assumed that it would be quite straightforward to find anything and anyone that was required. But alas, Tirumala is a city. And with 100,000 people going there a day . . . well . . .

At some point in time, every one of us was ready to give up and go home and sleep. Luckily, it never happened to all of us at the very same time, and we somehow managed to keep going, with little idea of what we were doing and no idea where Lisa and Juste and funny baby Sedjro were.

We took a lot of jeeps around to a lot of places, trying to figure out where and how and if we could get into the temple.

We went to the tonsure place. Chris and Hilary and Franc got their heads shaved, much to the amusement and delight of the masses. Brooke and I changed into our salwars. To enter the temple, women must be properly attired (overalls are NOT proper attire).

We finally managed to secure our VIP passes, but had little idea of what they might actually accomplish. We were all just sort of riding a wave at this point, with no idea where we were or where we were going, and yet still managing to function enough to move, generally, forward.

We made it into the VIP line, got into the VIP area, and somebody suddenly ran up to us, adopted us, and then everything changed. A lot.

We were supposed to be at a 7:00 darshan (the one that had been especially arranged for us), but we managed to miss the connections for it. I suppose that they were wondering where we had gotten to. And now that they found us, they were not going to let us out of sight. The boys all changed into their dhotis, with much help from the temple staff, and then we went back out into the temple ground, which is remarkably like an urban fairground.

There was hustle and bustle. There were LOTS of people. There are a LOT of people in India. And then there was a film crew. And some television crews. And then a gigantic phalanx of movement as the minister walked down the path toward us, in fill view of all and sundry. I've never been blessed by a Hindu government minister before, but it sure was cool. He painted my forehead.

Then Franc got to do a press interview, which he handled with skill and grace, and we all got to meet some of the members of the temple's board. Nobody knows, still, if this was put on because we were coming, if the minister just happened to be there on the same day as we, or what. But it was quite a lavish hoopla and it was fun.

Then they took us to a rest cottage where we could . . . well . . . rest, which we sorely needed. A NEW special darshan was arranged for us at 11:00. Non-Hindus don't usually enter the inner sanctum, where the god resides. We were extremely lucky that these people we so dedicated to our getting to go in.

We set out for our real temple viewing at about 10:30. Unfortunately, at this point, our cameras had to be left behind, and we were not able to take pictures inside the temple.

It was really incredible. It was incredible to look at and it was even more incredible to feel. A place that is invested with so much energy, from so many people, over so many years, is just a completely charged environment. According to the plaque at the entrance of the main temple, worship began at the structure in the mid 1300s.

I saw the inner sanctum, with its Brahmin priest and two mysterious cats, who were just hanging out. It is said that there, one looks upon the face of the god. The priest threw water in our faces and said a prayer for us. I saw the gold temple, which is entirely made of 24 karat gold. I rubbed blessed water on my face and another priest said words over me as he held a sacred hat on my head (he said a REALLY long one over Chris, which made us all wonder what the priest knows that the rest of us don't). I ate the two types of temple pongol. The sweet and the savory.

So it was a truly amazing experience and one that I will never forget.

And the sight of three bald white guys sure is funny in such a situation.

Of course, there are numerous big discussions to be had here. About the fine line that must be tread between cultural curiosity and respect. Between sincere involvement and condescension. And about how privileged we are, as outsiders, to not only be let in, but to be let in with style and pomp and fanfare. We are famous here, which is truly a double-edged sword, both for us and for the people of the country that we live in.

But I'm too tired to talk about that right now.

For now, just look at our pictures.

We never did find Lisa and Juste and funny baby Sedjro at the temple . . .