Savithri, named after the pious mythological Princess, sat down on the sloped platform that encased the long flight of stairs winding its way upwards through the hills and wiped the sweat with the ends of her saree.
A cool breeze blew across affording a momentary protection from the heat. The leaves gently rustled as though delighted at being touched by the wind. Men and women, less tired than her, walked past, and below, she could see many more people heading her way. It was a curious mixture of people - it included those who could not afford the luxury of being taken atop by car or bus and those who could but preferred to trek up the long winding stairways through the mountains to keep a vow or perhaps, to salvage their souls.
With almost four thousand steps covering a distance of more than five winding miles1 to the top of the seventh hill - the temple of the Preserver-God2 - stood in all its majesty, presenting a challenge and a test of faith to those who ventured out on this tough path to reach it.
Seven hills joined as one - or so it seemed - as the steps carved a path winding through the hills and ending atop the seventh which housed the famous golden crested temple. Each hill had been named after a mythological devotee. Troops of monkeys had made their home on the hill that was named after the monkey-God, Hanuman. To the faithful, it was yet another sign of the power of this place, and to the faithless, merely a coincidence.
From her vantage point, Savithri could discern the roads winding in and out of the hills, guiding a procession of buses, cars, and the occasional motorcycle. Along this ascending trail, numerous vendors staked their claims at strategic spots, enticing climbers with the allure of cold drinks to quench their thirst or munchies to appease their hunger.
“Nimbu (Lemon) Soda, Nimbu (Lemon) Soda!" echoed the enthusiastic cries of a teenage boy from his stall. It seemed to be the most sought-after beverage in this humid weather. Interestingly, a few modest stores adorned the path, featuring pictures of movie stars and product advertisements boldly plastered on their walls, introducing an aroma of the outer world.
Savithri found the juxtaposition of the modern with the religious peculiar, yet the vendors seemed entirely comfortable with this coexistence. Working diligently throughout the day, they earned a meager income to sustain themselves.
Even in this seemingly remote locale, competition reigned.
Those vendors who couldn't afford a permanent store carried their wares in baskets atop their heads, ascending higher than their competitors each day. In certain cases, the distribution of spots had been prearranged among the vendors, with each person trusted to acknowledge and respect the rights of others to their designated locations. Camaraderie also won.
The goods they sold varied—from the ‘totapuri,’ an all-time favorite, a seasonally available oval-shaped green mango garnished with a salt and red chili powder mix, to peanuts, candy, and more. Pepsi and its orange sodas also found a place here.
As dusk settled, the vendors would descend to rest their tired limbs, only to climb back up the next morning for the day’s pilgrims. This hard life observed Savithri wryly, didn't seem to diminish their cheerful countenances. Their smiling faces and conversations, when she stopped to rest, reflected contentment as if they were unwilling or unable to question life's justice in placing them to toil so hard.
Savithri was growing sleepy as the cool air caressed her face. Suddenly, two tiny legs sprinted in front of her—belonging to a six or seven-year-old. The child paused, motioning for her companions to hurry, then continued her frisky climb. Skipping and hopping, her enthusiasm seemed to mock Savithri's tired frame.
Sighing, Savithri gathered herself and followed the girl. The steps grew steeper, and her breath came in short gasps.
As Savithri trudged along, a tired teenage voice from a family asked, 'Mother, why does God always live at such heights?'
She didn’t wait for a response and continued on her way.
The steps concluded later, leading her to a break in the path where it flattened, meeting the road carved through the hills for traffic.
Another half-mile of walking on the flat ground awaited her, leading to the next set of steps to ascend the remaining hill.
Thankfully, she would soon reach the summit of the seventh hill, where the thousand-year-old magnificent golden temple from ancient times stood. Spotting the temple roof or ‘gopuram’ marking the entrance to the pilgrimage center, Savithri's heart lifted in joy, and all her exertion was forgotten.
Five hours after taking the first step of the climb, she finally stood at the entrance to Tirumala, the culmination of her hours-long climb, exhilaration replaced her fatigue.
The scene that greeted her contrasted sharply with the peaceful climb in natural surroundings she had traversed. Crowds were everywhere—some waiting for buses to the town below, navigating thirty minutes of hairpin bends. Others had just arrived, stepping down from buses or driving in their cars.
A constant stream of chatter filled the air as people hurried along.
Savithri's first task was to secure a room for the night—a perennial challenge in this crowded pilgrimage center. With this accomplished, she could finally relax. After depositing her meager bag and securing the key in her purse, she ate her evening meal at a nearby vegetarian diner. Soon after, she turned in early, preparing for the early morning ritual she had vowed to perform before entering the temple.
The next day, long queues had already formed since pre-dawn with two distinct types: the free general viewing line and the special viewing line, which required payment but offered faster access. Those who couldn’t afford the special line ticket huddled together pressed against the rails housing the line. Often, they had been waiting for over 12 hours, as the crowds in the free lines outnumbered those in the priced lines. It felt like a continuous stream of people waiting endlessly, inching forward slowly. Faith made patience a necessity.
Outside the barricades and iron rails housing the lines, enterprising vendors sold their religious wares. Some offered water and snacks for families with small children. Others had religious books and small, imprinted rectangular silver-plated amulets featuring impressions of different body parts, such as feet, arms, eyes, or a depiction of the whole body. Savithri overheard a vendor explaining to a newcomer that placing the relevant amulet for a specific body part with the ailment into the 'hundi' or special donation container (curtained in white) inside the temple could cure or ameliorate the ailment.
Savithri, fortunate to possess a ticket, navigated the winding but less crowded lines until she reached the inner entrance of the main temple. Unlike many seeking healing through amulets, her prayer was unique.
The two distinct lines extended as far as the eyes could see and beyond. Uniformed policemen acted as security guards, ensuring a smooth flow. The outer temple, constructed later, enclosed the ancient inner temple where the Deity was originally housed, showcasing a grand design.
As one approached the temple entrance, the original roof, or ‘gopuram,’ plated in gold by rulers in the 12th and 13th centuries, came into view. This architectural marvel featured intricately designed and carved figures from Hindu mythology, illustrating the ten incarnations of the Preserver-God, along with various other gods and goddesses.
Savithri's awe and reverence for this place ran deep, leading her to make an annual pilgrimage. Her steadfast belief in its numerous legends was matched by the profound joy she felt upon entering the temple.
The temple had a peculiar ritual followed as a powerful practice by devotees. Those who undertook it had to bathe in the nearby pond. Clad in wet clothes, they entered through a special doorway earlier than others, circling the temple Deity and offering their ‘seva’ (service) or worship by going around the inner temple, rolling prone on the stone ground as many times as they had vowed.
Some undertook the ritual to seek fulfillment of their wishes, others sought relief from sufferings, and some as a penance to repent for sins committed or for which believed they had been suitably punished (in their minds).
For Savithri, it was to fulfill a wish that she had vowed to undertake it.
Rising early, she took the customary bath, followed by a final dip in the pond in her saree, before coming straight to the temple in her wet clothes.
Her wish had remained unfulfilled even after eight years of marriage—she was still childless.
The Deity in the temple was her family Deity3, requiring an annual trip, but this year her heart was heavy with sadness. Convinced that more was required of her, she had vowed to circumambulate the main temple at least ten times.
First, kneeling, she bowed, and then stretching out prone, she turned to face up, folded hands raised above her head in a salutation, and began to roll to her right. Her mind was steadfastly on the Deity within the inner temple, calling upon Him to answer her prayers and witness her exertions.
The smooth stone ground felt cool against her exposed skin but not painful, and as she closed her eyes, she blindly followed the others, leaving sufficient distance between each of them.
Nearby, a guard approached a woman who, unable to withstand the rotation, was throwing up every third turn with the workers cleaning up after her. He politely requested her to stop, cautioning that she wasn't well and that she was dirtying the temple. This extra work for the maintenance workers during peak hours inconvenienced the patiently waiting devotees in line. The woman pleaded, “It is my sin, sir, causing this. What can I do?” And yet, the woman kept rolling. The guard simply watched.
When Savithri finished her rounds, she slowly sat up to regain her orientation.
Waiting patiently in line, Savithri felt grateful that she hadn't suffered from vertigo during her ritual. Tired but uplifted in spirit, she hastened to join the line for her darshan. The slow movement toward the inner chamber, the sacred place of the main Deity – the Preserver-God, began.
As she moved along the line, bending to catch a glimpse of the Deity amid the crowds, her heart swelled with sorrow, and she prayed earnestly.
A deep yearning for a child consumed her entire being. She longed to hold, cherish, and play with her own baby. She had sought this blessing ever since her marriage, but alas, her home echoed with silence instead of the laughter and tears of a child.
The sheer delight a mother experiences at the tinkling of tiny anklets around a baby's feet was a bliss she craved to experience, not just dream about.
Countless fasts and rituals blurred in her memory. She had followed many a seer and elderly woman's guidance, performing one ritual after another.
As her heart welled up with sorrow, she began to pray earnestly.“Oh, Lord! Why must I be childless while everyone around me is happily experiencing the bliss of motherhood?”
As she thought this, she noticed a child crying and pulling at her mother’s saree while the mother attempted to console her with sweet words and playful gestures. This scene tugged at her heart and renewed her sorrow in greater measure. How unfortunate she was that she could not know the same happiness.
She was not asking God for riches, she justified to herself, nor did she want luxury. Only a baby to cuddle and love. The pride of her heart and the delight of her home.
The line inched slowly inside, devotees murmuring, some silently praying anticipating the precious thirty seconds of darshan, after the long wait. At last, Savithri entered the chamber leading to the Deity.
Sounds of Om
It was dimly lit by soft lights, protecting the ancient idol, and huge oil lamps hanging from the roof. Sounds of Om recited accompanied by the strings of the Veena, resonated in the small room lending to the ethereal nature of the surroundings. The structure was more than a thousand years old.
As she approached the Deity, she was again struck by its majestic appearance. Wearing the finest of jewels and clothes with a dazzling long diamond crown that glittered in the dark, stood the Preserver-God’s form in black stone, his right hand positioned as an unlimited giver.
Savithri's eyes brimmed with tears. Overwhelmed with emotion at the sight of the Lord, her heart, bereft of ego, she thought endearingly: “Refuge of the world, I pray to you without fail every day and do not eat without completing my worship first. I fast each month on Ekadasi. Why are you still not pleased? Knower of all things, is my desire hidden from you? Or is it that you have not heard my prayer? Why must you make me ache so for the want of a child, the joy of which I am denied even after so many years of marriage? Have you no compassion?"
A final note of bitterness crept into Savithri’s mind just for a second, but then it gave way to uncontrollable anguish at her plight, and her eyes sought the Deity’s. However, the Deity appeared to stare back impassively.
Savithri could no longer contain herself. She knelt down and bowed, intent only on making her pleas, "Lord, please grant me a child. I shall do anything to please you. I will worship you at the local temple every day and offer you coconuts and fruits every week. I will do anything to show my gratitude. Grant me a baby, and I shall - I shall,’ she struggled to find a gesture she thought would strengthen her prayer, “I shall offer the child to you at your annual chariot festival at this very temple. Yes, yes. I will offer my child to you at the annual car festival." She had grown desperate.
The female guard prodded her, “Oh Amma (mother), get up. How much longer do you want to stay? There are many more people like you waiting outside."
Savithri rose slowly and glanced at the Deity. With a heavy heart and tears still in her eyes, she made her way out. The sounds of Om continued to resound in the air.
In the inner chamber behind her, a woman was heard whispering to her husband, “Doesn’t it look like the Lord is smiling?”
Read Part 2:
This trek is undertaken each day by thousands of devotees, many barefoot.
It is believed that the Preserver-God took direct human form (an avatar) and lived in this area, ultimately turning to black stone. In this place, now stands the temple, with its black stone Deity, first built by the rulers in 300 AD.
Believing in His presence in this age, come millions each year, to worship, pray, and revere Him. It is considered one of the richest, if not the richest temple in modern India with declared assets of over $30B. The reason for this is attributed to an associated mythological story about the Preserver-God, a tale perhaps for another time.
Many families in India have specific deities they worship, and at specific temples. They are called ‘kul’ (dynasty) Gods.
Always risky!!
"Grant me a baby, and I shall - I shall,’ she struggled to find a gesture she thought would strengthen her prayer, “I shall offer the child to you at your annual chariot festival at this very temple. Yes, yes. I will offer my child to you at the annual car festival." She had grown desperate."
Savithri's pilgrimage reminded me of Shikoku Island, Japan and the 88 temple pilgrimage. Over 700 miles (1,200 km), 30 to 60 days on foot following a route attributed to Kōbō Daishi.
Same mix of sacred and profane, pilgrims and vendors, many afoot, many in air conditioned buses.
I knew one gentleman that completed the pilgrimage over twenty times. On foot when he was younger but by bus in his later years.