In the year 2000, my wife and I decided to join an organized tour to Tirupati. The tour van departed from T. Nagar, providing us with tickets for darshan and lunch. It turned out to be one of our quickest trips. We left early in the morning and arrived at Tirupati by mid-morning. The darshan was quick, and by mid-afternoon, we were already on our way back downhill.

During the trip, our group of about 15 people naturally formed smaller clusters. My wife and I found ourselves bonding with a couple related to one of my colleagues and another Marwari couple who were in the finance business. We quickly agreed that the organizers wouldn’t pick a good restaurant for lunch, so we asked for a refund of the meal charges. As expected, we headed straight to Bhima’s Residency—a place we’ve grown to love for its consistently good food, cleanliness, and courteous service.

By early evening, we were back in Chennai. It was a smooth and enjoyable journey, but that turned out to be the last time we joined an organized tour.

On our next trip to Tirupati, we traveled with our younger son. We were determined not to put him through the same challenges he faced during a previous visit. With help from the bank officer renting our first floor, we made all the necessary arrangements. We booked a cab, verified the driver’s credentials, and stayed at the Sringeri Mutt—an exceptionally clean and pleasant place. Darshan was quick, and we followed our routine visit to Alamelu Mangapuram with lunch at Bhima’s Residency.

A memorable part of this trip was the company of a devout guide, who wore only a dhoti and angavasthram. As we passed each hill, he chanted mantras. After helping us with darshan, he left for other duties, but we unexpectedly met him again at Alamelu Mangapuram the next morning, where he offered us prasad. On our way back, he recommended a book on Tirupati, which my son bought. It was a seamless and spiritually uplifting experience.

Another visit was organized by our sambandhis—our younger daughter-in-law’s parents. They booked a cab and arranged darshan tickets. At my insistence, we stayed in a hotel at the foothills and ascended the next morning. By then, a new road had opened, making the journey smoother and faster. It was a pleasant trip, though it marked the year my retinal detachment surgery failed.

Contd. 369. Steps to the Sanctorum - Part 6