On a fresh Saturday morning in July 2007, I paid a visit to TTD Balaji Temple at T. Nagar, Venkat Narayana Road, Chennai. I simply love the ambience and serenity of that place and the peace of mind and mental tranquil that I derive out of it every time I go there.
The fragrance of camphor, sandalwood paste and freshly strung jasmine garlands hung in the air, somehow managing to survive the assault of traffic fumes from Venkat Narayana Road.
With the impending load of work looming large in front of me in the coming days, that place was the only pressure-free zone wherein I could exercise my transcendental patience practice, which was dancing on the edge of getting obsolete in me.
Although I wasn't a super-observer of patience and its assorted comrades like tolerance, persistence, lenience, forbearance and staying restraint, I wasn't way too out of control with my anger too. Well, I at least never used to shout at people with lack of discipline and manners as often as I did these days.
It makes me feel like these people are strict followers of profanity and I am the one against this loathsome sacrilege. Displeased with my mental disability of temper-watch, unable to put up with my disintegrating graciousness (although it is so only with the wrong-doers) and in a bit of soul searching within and inside me alone, I came there with the hope of trudging on with even a small fragment of the desolated equanimity that would lead me to be a bit poised, if not for anything miraculous.
Thwarted was I when I went this time to the shrine.
Rafting away all those alms-mongers, cursing-under-the-breath tulsi garland vendors, repeatedly yelling archana basket vendors, ear-jarring horns of the traffic, unbearably loud clamor of a bunch of fellas fighting over each other to take care of your shoes while you are inside the holy place, and more maniacal hue and cry of the junta that had come to see the God.
People, in desperate measures to make it quicker and shorter for themselves, were cutting across the queue lines and being yelled at by the very throng that was tending to move so lazily and haphazardly that it left no room for movement in the queue that had formed literally two streets away from where the Almighty stood, all graceful and charming before his devotees.
The congregation that had assembled in those early hours of a Saturday morning made me ponder how many others apart from me were probably in a much worse state. Perhaps possessing the most uncommon turmoil in their life, they too had come there seeking consecration from the deity.
Every few minutes, the ringing temple bell would cut through the chaos like a reprimanding school principal, instantly silencing my wandering thoughts.
From where I stood in the queue, the sanctum appeared only in flashes. A glimpse of the golden crown here, a flash of silk there, before somebody's shoulder inevitably blocked the view again.
The granite floor still carried the coolness of the early morning despite the hundreds of feet that had marched across it.
And then, somewhere between the endless cries of "Govinda!", the ringing of a distant bell and the slow movement of the queue, something inside me quietly stopped resisting.
Something suddenly changed in my whole being. I felt a rush of fresh blood flowing through all my veins starting from the brains.
I decided not to seek for anything this time around from God except this sanity that He has gifted me with.
Determined, I kept my cool and moved forward slowly with the crowd, missing out totally, but with full-heartedness, my usual set of prayers. Seeking for happiness. Seeking for promotion. Seeking for wealth and health. Seeking for peace of mind at home and work.
I wasn't feeling guilty for my act.
I was rather happy and contented.
For the first time in my life, I had asked God for nothing.
Absolutely N.O.T.H.I.N.G at all.
For the first time that morning, the crowd, the noise, the vendors and the endless queue no longer felt like obstacles separating me from God. They simply felt like fellow travelers carrying burdens of their own.
After taking the holy prasadh, I prostrated in front of the powerful omnipotent Lord, seeking nothing, for I was a nonentity in the vast plate of petitioners that God had to attend to and get busy with.
With a revolting surge of newfound happiness and fulfillment slowly overruling my rather inordinate demands of a naïve mind, I unlocked my legs from the prostrated form in front of God and landed myself into a sitting position.
There was a girl in green salwar sitting next to me.
She looked too disturbed and was persistently uttering Shostras with her eyes closed.
I watched her as my heart voluntarily sought God's help to resolve whatever that lady's problem was.
As I unfolded my palms in front of me and opened my eyes after praying for this unknown lady who was sitting next to me, I craned my neck to see that she was no more there.
But in her place was a Titan watch that belonged to her.
Instantly I picked it up, pushed away the crowd standing in front of me to leave the temple, yelling out "Excuse me!" as loudly as I could and leaving a bit of the crowd flummoxed in the process.
Finally, I found her near one of those shoe-guarding guys and tapped her on the shoulder. I was breathing hard with the fresh sprinting I had done and extending her the watch with a euphoric smile on my face.
"Thanks a lot. It's my lucky watch and my only prized possession presented by my dad, who's no more," said she.
Tears trickled down her cheeks.
Leaving me completely bolted to the ground for a few seconds.
Then I gathered myself, consoled her, wished her good luck in all her endeavors and left my card with her in case she needed any help.
I stood there watching her gait and her mouth continuing to mumble:
"Vina Venkatesam na natho na nathah
Sada Venkatesam smarami smarami,Hare! Venkatesa! prasida prasida
Priyam Venkatesa! prayaccha prayaccha."
When I walked away, I whispered to myself:
"Lord, I solicit nothing to be bequeathed."
