Visiting Lord Balaji Temple at Tirupati, Andhra Pradesh from Chennai

It was December 2013. Since I had to stay in Chennai for a few days, I thought to myself — why not visit Vishnukshetra Tirupati and have darshan of Lord Balaji? The moment I told my friend Kamal, he readily agreed. Since it was an unfamiliar place and we also had language difficulties, we decided to go through a travel agency for the Tirupati visit. No sooner said than done — we set out from our hotel, Ramlakshmi Lodge, and walked to the row of travel agency offices opposite Chennai Central Station. We looked carefully to see which one had the biggest crowd — we had to be cautious, after all, to avoid getting cheated! Finally, we entered one and said, “Excuse me, we want to go to Tirupati… Is there any bus from here?”

The man behind the counter replied in his own style,

“Aiyo Rama Tirupati… Onda (onnu) simple ₹900… AC ₹1300.”

On the train, I had heard hawkers shouting, “Dada alur bara! Anna aloo bonda!”

But “onnu”? Sorry — what did that mean? He smiled and clarified,

“Each seat on a normal bus — fare is ₹900. On the AC bus — ₹1300.”

Anyway, we bought tickets for the non-AC (ordinary) bus. The bus would pick us up from our hotel at 5 a.m. — definitely not a Bengali timing! It was pure Tamil Standard Time — five means exactly five! Since we had to wake up early, we went to bed quickly. The night passed in a mix of excitement and anxiety. By 4 a.m., I got up and went for a bath. Kamal was still lying in bed. “Hey, brother,” he mumbled sleepily, “five o’clock means exactly five o’clock?” I didn’t reply. And, as expected, the inevitable happened — the bus arrived right on time. We had to rush — shirts half-buttoned, belts in hand — and somehow climbed aboard. Thankfully, we had packed our backpacks the previous evening, so even in that hurry, we didn’t face much trouble. Traffic in Chennai is very strict, so even at that early hour, our bus kept circling like the hands of a clock, picking up passengers from one hotel after another — passing by our own hotel two or three more times — before finally stopping in front of the travel agency. Then we heard the news — this bus wouldn’t go! An official announced that since there were too few passengers for the ordinary bus, those who had bought non-AC tickets would now travel in the air-conditioned bus, but they’d have to pay an extra ₹100 per head. Kamal grinned and said, “Well, friend, looks like we’re in profit from early morning!”

During these few days in Chennai, speaking half-Hindi, half-Tamil, broken English had almost stiffened our jaws. Even now, the two of us were sticking to our Bengali. But guess what? Out of about thirty passengers, nearly twenty were Bengali! Everyone had come for medical purposes — some from Assam, some from Agartala, some from Kolkata, and even a few from Bangladesh. I don’t know if being Bengali automatically makes one a patient, but I realized this much: no matter how different we are in our own places — north or south — abroad we are all the same. Bengalis are indeed crazy! Crazy about travel! Otherwise, why would the two of us come to a hot place during summer vacation just to enjoy the heat? The others had come to see the Rath Yatra… Since most medical tests take two to three days for results, why sit idle? “Let’s go out and explore!” — in that sense, what harm is there in combining pilgrimage with sightseeing?

About 100 km northeast of Chennai, near the border of Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh, lies the Tirumala hills, home to the Lord Venkateswara / Tirupati / Balaji Temple. At the foot of the hills is Tirupati town, from where one must ascend to the temple atop the hills. The settlement on the slopes is called Tirumala. Our bus left Chennai, moving along a dry, rugged red-earth path. Even through the black-tinted windows, one could sense the brightness outside. Inside, the air-conditioning was set to just 16°C. Oh dear! Must we prove our existence and endurance here as well? One by one, shawls, sweaters, and mufflers came out of the passengers' bags. Eventually, there was only one demand: “Mr. Driver, can’t you turn off the AC?” God be with us… Our guide, understanding broken Hindi, was cooperative, so we didn’t have to beg much. But it seemed that circumstances were not on our side — the enclosed capsule of the bus gradually transformed into a gas chamber of sorts. Inevitably, the plea arose again: “AC on… stop the bus… we’re going to throw up!” Once, twice, thrice… sigh, repeatedly! With a group like this, you could tour 8–10 cities by air travel in the same way! Anyway, we stopped at a dhaba for idli, pongal, coffee, and water, and by around 11 a.m., we reached Tirupati town. From here, we had to take an Andhra Pradesh government bus to climb the Tirumala hills. Since our package included meals, vehicle, and transport, it was best to stay with the guide. If the group got separated, darshan would be impossible, and even returning to Chennai would be stressful. So there was no point in getting agitated. The guide arranged all our tickets and secured a separate bus for us. With our stomachs full, we invoked “Jai Govinda” and boarded the bus. The journey so far had passed through low hills and mounds, looking almost like a canvas from a Sholay movie… Were these hills really mountains? But as the bus turned the next bend, I finally understood why this was the Tirumala hill range!

First came the checkpost. Till now, I had only seen people’s bags being scanned at airports, but here, entire buses along with passengers were scanned — like a small X-ray for the bus stand. Initially, the road was four lanes, then two lanes, and finally a one-way road. I have never seen such well-maintained roads in any of India’s hill towns. Black asphalt roads, white-tiled sidewalks, red-and-white speed and direction markers, green wildlife warning signs, and on top of that, vibrant flowers and creepers along the way — in one word, spectacular! I wondered how high the road would go. But as waterfalls and drifting clouds began to appear along the way, all fatigue from the journey vanished. Our path passed through one of India’s rich forested regions, known as the Tirumala National Sanctuary. Along the way, signboards showed corridors or passageways for elephants, leopards, deer, bears, and sambars. For those coming from Tirupati to Tirumala, bikes are available for hire. One could come again and again just to ride a bike along this route. However, there is also a footpath from Tirupati to Tirumala. This walking path sometimes runs under the bus road, sometimes over it. There must be around fifteen hundred steps! Many pilgrims have walked this path, performing penances (dandi) to fulfil their spiritual goals. Incredibly, over just 25 km from Tirupati to Tirumala, we travelled from the harsh, real-world terrain to a heavenly, picturesque environment. By the time we arrived, the clock struck nearly 12 noon.

At the supermarket in front, the guide instructed us to deposit our mobile phones, cameras, shoes, leather belts, and bags at a designated stall. After taking our tokens, we started walking toward the temple. Here too, a small town has been built by cutting through the hills, known as Tirumala. Crossing a two-lane road, we reached a huge open courtyard, followed by an iron gate. From inside that gate began a maze of iron-barred lanes. Each passage was about two and a half to three feet wide and six to seven feet high, covered with tin sheets on top — fitted with lights, fans, and loudspeakers. There were two, three, sometimes even four parallel lanes running side by side. It looked exactly like a giant board of the Snakes and Ladders game we played in childhood — each path twisting and turning, sometimes crossing over another lane, sometimes underneath it. Every 200 meters, there were separate toilets for men and women, and every 50 meters, drinking-water taps and wash basins were available. Everything was thoughtfully arranged. But there was one rule — once you entered, there was no stopping or turning back midway.

At first, the path was almost empty, so everyone started walking briskly. But what’s this — how far do we have to go? After walking nearly a kilometer, we finally stopped in front of another huge gate. Once again, scanning, checking, and ticketing. The darshan fee was ₹300 per person, with two Laddu prasads included for free. Leaving behind the iron barricades, we now entered a building. Inside, there was an unbelievable crowd — as if the whole world’s Bengalis had gathered there! The three-storied, semi-circular building looked somewhat like Lord’s Cricket Stadium. Inside were several small blocks or enclosures, each arranged like a stadium gallery with tiered seating, TVs, fans, and even toilets and bathrooms — everything was there! From the seats, one could even catch a glimpse of the golden spire of the Tirupati Temple. Our block number was 21. Once the previous block emptied, we would move into it. And so began another round of waiting. The only comfort was that there was a place to sit. A few hawkers were selling bottled water, Frooti, Mazza, and khichuri, but after all, we were inside a cage — no way to escape. After about forty minutes, the iron gate next to us opened. The temperature was now close to 37°C. Our clothes were soaked in sweat, stomachs empty, the heat unbearable — and once again began the struggle for survival. So — run, run, run! By the time we reached Block 11 from Block 21, it was almost evening. All that remained in my stomach was the faint memory of that ₹20 Frooti. Children crying, old men and women pleading, boys shouting, women wailing — none of it registered anymore. Mentally shattered, we dragged ourselves forward, block by block, toward the next enclosure.

There was no other option but to go with the flow of the pushing and jostling crowd. Amid all the shouting, yelling, and chaos, people — Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam, Hindi speakers alike — began to bare their teeth and nails, ready to fight for space. And we were no less! Arguments, quarrels, and heated exchanges broke out over who had pushed whom. Amid this confusion, we somehow reached Block No. 1, where the cool blast of the air conditioner instantly revived us. Does God somehow know when His devotees need a little comfort to calm their minds? Then came another flight of stairs! Oh yes — there were two more floors above us. Could it be that the people from those floors would join us too? Bracing myself with a mix of tension and curiosity, I got ready once again. Now the devotees from the third and first floors had gathered together, moving through a bridge-like passage, much like a jetty leading up to a ship, toward the main courtyard of the temple. As we stepped forward, life seemed to return to our bodies. The closer we got to the sanctum, the weariness began to fade away, replaced by a strange sense of renewed energy and devotion.

We walked along the wall of the ancient stone temple, moving slowly ahead. Now, instead of iron, there were brass barricades — a touch of tradition amidst modern security. Once again, there was a round of checking and scanning. Then, passing through a large stone gateway, we entered the main courtyard. At the Kashi Vishwanath Temple, I had seen golden domes and silver roofs; at Amritsar’s Golden Temple, I had seen golden domes and walls — though all beyond reach. At Kanchipuram, there was a flight of steps made entirely of gold. But here — here stood a whole golden temple! And then began utter chaos and commotion — pushing and shoving everywhere. Where were my friends, my companions? Lost amid dust and darkness! To save oneself became a struggle for survival… Somehow, I managed to enter the main hall, and turning to the left, I found myself standing before the sanctum sanctorum — where Lord Venkateswara himself stood in all his glory. A black granite idol, with a golden plate on the forehead covering the eyes — perhaps because sinful mortals lack the courage to meet the divine gaze directly. Now, no pushing or shouting seemed to matter anymore. Gathering every last ounce of strength, I tried to look more closely, more deeply — to behold him one final time. Then came the darshan, the pranam, the offerings, and the exit. We moved in an orderly line. Holy water flowed continuously from several taps; priests touched the devotees’ heads with silver crowns, offering blessings — in exchange for generous offerings. A little ahead, I received a bowl of curd rice as prasad. After crossing the stone gate again and wandering for a while, I finally found my friend Kamal and the rest of our fellow travellers.

Now it was time to show the coupon and collect the Laddu prasad. The prasad hall was a little distance away — and again, there was a long queue. Kamal stood in line for the prasad, while I joined another line to buy paper or carry bags — ₹5 each. After that, we walked toward the supermarket, as directed by our guide. He had already bought some extra laddus for us. Nearby were several shops — eateries, paan-bidi stalls, barbers — everything one might need. Since not everyone had returned yet, Kamal went to get a shave, and I went shopping for some gifts to take home. Hot lachha parathas and jalebis tasted heavenly — neither of us felt tired anymore. Then came the call to board the bus. But alas! a few people were still missing. I started pacing in front of the bus, while Kamal went off with the lady from Kolkata to look for her husband. The husband, in turn, returned from shopping and went looking for his wife again! A light drizzle had begun, and the air was getting chilly. We had no choice but to wait — our backpacks were still in the air-conditioned bus parked at the Tirupati bus stand, about 25 km away. Even at that late hour, buses full of pilgrims kept arriving one after another. These devotees would stand in queue through the night for darshan of the deity and reach Chennai by the following afternoon. Truly, the Tirumala–Tirupati bus service runs all day and all night — the city never sleeps! Around 8 p.m., our bus finally left. The return route was different. But what’s this! The ride was like a roller coaster — enough to outdo even Kolkata’s Nico Park! With about ten U-turns and seven or eight hairpin bends, we descended the hill and reached Tirupati town in just half an hour.

We stopped at a nice hotel there near Tirupati Bus Stand. After washing our hands and faces, we sat down to eat. It was a South Indian thali — first came chapati, then rice, with ten kinds of vegetables, dal, papad, curd, and sweets — in one word, divine! It was already nine at night. Who knew if we’d get such food again later, so we enjoyed it thoroughly. After a short walk, everyone boarded the bus again. Our bags were lying just as we had left them on our seats. This is South India — there’s hardly any fear of losing things; but if you yourself happen to misplace something, getting it back might be quite a struggle! On the return journey, we were supposed to visit a few more temples, but everyone was too tired, so hardly anyone got down. After a hearty meal, dozing off in the air-conditioned bus was sheer bliss. Around 11:30 p.m., the bus stopped again in front of the same roadside dhaba where we had halted in the morning. We got down for some tea or coffee, of course! The guide informed us that by the time we reached Chennai, it would be around 1 or 2 a.m. Our hotel was near the station, so the two of us made a plan: if the hotel gate was closed, we’d spend the night in the waiting room at the station. Around 1 a.m., we reached Chennai. The bus stopped in front of our hotel around 1:30 a.m. After a little knocking, the guard finally opened the gate. “Jai Govinda! Jai Balaji!”

Travel Guidelines / Important Advice

1. Avoid traveling alone – It’s better to travel with a guide or join a conducted tour for safety and convenience.

2. Keep the guide’s phone number and the bus number noted down – This will help you in case of emergencies or if you get separated.

3. Stay close to your guide – During the trip, the guide is your temporary guardian. Follow their instructions carefully.

4. Carry water, biscuits, and ORS packets with you – Avoid drinking water from outside sources; use your own bottle.

5. Avoid taking small children or elderly people – Such trips may be uncomfortable or difficult for them.

6. Be respectful of local culture – Your culture may differ from theirs. Avoid doing anything that might cause misunderstanding or trouble.

7. Inform the hotel before you leave – Let the hotel staff know where you are going and when you plan to return; they will remain alert for your safety.

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