In
2002, I had gone to Tirupathi for darshan of the Lord with a friend of
mine, his elder brother and two of his friends. I had an overall budget
of Rs. 1000/- which included an onward journey reserved ticket. The
journey went well, except that one of the guys with me, who had an
immense reputation of being an absolute idiot, lived up to it. That
apart, it was a great trip. I was going there for the first time after
16 years, and hence was very excited. We landed in Tirupathi and climbed
up the hill on foot. It was extremely tiring, but was very exciting.
After a five hour trek, we reached atop the hill at about 3 in the
afternoon. The next two hours were spent in finding accommodation, lunch
and enduring that nincompoop.
At
about 6.30 pm, as we lay tired in the cottage, one of my friend's
friends, who lived in Tirupathi, showed up after we had called in the
afternoon. He came with a letter that allowed us for a special darshan
where we didn't have to wait in any queue. He asked all of us to get
ready by 8.00 pm. At 8.00, I wore a white shirt and formal trousers and
was ready to go. We entered the temple premises through a gate which was
usually closed. It was unlocked for us and we crossed many a empty
corridor to merge with the main large queue about 20 meters from the
Lord. The moment I took darshan, all my tiredness vanished into
emptiness, a wave of energy engulfed me. Before I could think anything,
my mind went blank. Soon, the guard pushed me and I left. It was an
extremely satisfactory darshan.
Once
out, I found it hard to express my joy to my friend. He was in the same
state of mind. We all came out and sat on a platform that ran along the
long wall of the temple. In about two minutes, this notorious human
being, gave me a plastic bag, and said, 'You wait here, I'll be back in
10 minutes. Don't go anywhere' and took his friends away with him. I was
now left only with my friend. He and I were too overjoyed to speak
anything. Just then, his friend, who had us take an earlier darshan than
planned arrived. They left for some shop close by. I refused to go,
because that was the meeting point and none of us had cell phones. The
temple yard had a divine aura to it. A devotional song played in the
background as the temple bathed in HIS glory. I was enjoying my moment
of peace, alone, on that night abounded by hazy orange and white
floodlights, when I turned right to find a man about 50-years-old
sitting by my side.
He wore thick glasses with old fashioned dark brown frame. He hadn't shaved and had a two-day-old white beard. I smiled at him before he struck a conversation with me. He asked, 'Where did you come from?'
'Hyderabad,' I said.
'What's your full name?' he asked.
I told him my name, and he was quick to shift the language to Marathi.
'Came with your friends?' he asked.
'Yes,' I said.
'My son is a little older to you, but you remind me of him,' he said.
'Oh, is it?' I said.
'Where did you come from?' I asked, wanting to know more.
'I came from Nagpur, alone. My son was a drug-addict. He has been to the rehabilitation clinic thrice, but he started off again. But I don't know what happened to him, last year, he quit drugs and concentrated on body building. He has a good body now. He still smokes cigarettes,but that's ok. At least he is away from drugs,' he said.
I was beginning to get uncomfortable with the conversation. But he continued, 'My son doesn't listen to me at all. He doesn't respect me.' On one hand, I was a little repulsive to his approach as a 19 year old, but on the other hand, I was beginning to feel sorry for him. 'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,' I said.
'I came here last night, when I arrived, my bag was lost in the transit from Tirupathi to Tirumala and no one has found it yet,' he said.
I began to guess where this was going. Obviously, it was going to be money. I remember very well that my secret pocket in the front had a Rs.500 note, my wallet has a Rs.100 note and a Rs.50 note in my shirt pocket. I became a little protective about my money and turned slightly left. The next thing that man said was, 'I currently have no money. I have called my people, and they are arranging for some money. I have not eaten any food either.' The last sentence struck my heart and I quickly gave him the Rs.50 note I had in my shirt pocket and said, 'I am student, and this is all I can afford to give you.'
He took the money, put it inside his shirt pocket and said, 'Thanks.' I turned left to see if any of my friends were coming and turned right again. There was absolutely no one sitting beside me. I looked in the front, the left, and scanned the whole place properly. I found no trace of him. The next people on that platform were at least ten meters away and the yard, that day, was surprisingly uncrowded. If he had walked, ran or jumped away from where he sat, or I thought he sat, he wouldn't go unnoticed.
I am 200% sure I gave the man the money and before I could turn my head back, he was gone. In this lifetime, I will not forget what the man looked like, the words he spoke to me and the look of a helpless father on his face. If I try hard, may be I can still remember his voice. Did the man actually exist and I failed to see him leave, is a question that is open for individual interpretation. But interpretations are not explanations.
- Deepak Karamungikar
He wore thick glasses with old fashioned dark brown frame. He hadn't shaved and had a two-day-old white beard. I smiled at him before he struck a conversation with me. He asked, 'Where did you come from?'
'Hyderabad,' I said.
'What's your full name?' he asked.
I told him my name, and he was quick to shift the language to Marathi.
'Came with your friends?' he asked.
'Yes,' I said.
'My son is a little older to you, but you remind me of him,' he said.
'Oh, is it?' I said.
'Where did you come from?' I asked, wanting to know more.
'I came from Nagpur, alone. My son was a drug-addict. He has been to the rehabilitation clinic thrice, but he started off again. But I don't know what happened to him, last year, he quit drugs and concentrated on body building. He has a good body now. He still smokes cigarettes,but that's ok. At least he is away from drugs,' he said.
I was beginning to get uncomfortable with the conversation. But he continued, 'My son doesn't listen to me at all. He doesn't respect me.' On one hand, I was a little repulsive to his approach as a 19 year old, but on the other hand, I was beginning to feel sorry for him. 'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,' I said.
'I came here last night, when I arrived, my bag was lost in the transit from Tirupathi to Tirumala and no one has found it yet,' he said.
I began to guess where this was going. Obviously, it was going to be money. I remember very well that my secret pocket in the front had a Rs.500 note, my wallet has a Rs.100 note and a Rs.50 note in my shirt pocket. I became a little protective about my money and turned slightly left. The next thing that man said was, 'I currently have no money. I have called my people, and they are arranging for some money. I have not eaten any food either.' The last sentence struck my heart and I quickly gave him the Rs.50 note I had in my shirt pocket and said, 'I am student, and this is all I can afford to give you.'
He took the money, put it inside his shirt pocket and said, 'Thanks.' I turned left to see if any of my friends were coming and turned right again. There was absolutely no one sitting beside me. I looked in the front, the left, and scanned the whole place properly. I found no trace of him. The next people on that platform were at least ten meters away and the yard, that day, was surprisingly uncrowded. If he had walked, ran or jumped away from where he sat, or I thought he sat, he wouldn't go unnoticed.
I am 200% sure I gave the man the money and before I could turn my head back, he was gone. In this lifetime, I will not forget what the man looked like, the words he spoke to me and the look of a helpless father on his face. If I try hard, may be I can still remember his voice. Did the man actually exist and I failed to see him leave, is a question that is open for individual interpretation. But interpretations are not explanations.
- Deepak Karamungikar
