I first went to Tirupati when I was probably not even a teenager. I remember boarding a train in a hurry, desperately searching for our seats, clueless about coach screens. We got into the general compartment, my parents anxiously checking if my father had made it onto the train. I don’t know why I remember all these details so vividly. We reached Tirupati around 10:30 PM, a timing unchanged for decades because there’s only one major train from my place to Tirupati Krishna Express.

That time, we didn’t know about VIP tickets. We stood in the free darshanam line for hours, maybe the entire day, moving inch by inch, eating whatever we could. Finally, when we stood before Venkateshwara Swami, my mother whispered, "Keep your eyes wide open; this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity." I did. And in that moment, I felt like I was looking at God himself. No distractions, no cameras just my heart racing and my soul surrendering. We never had pictures from that trip, or many other trips, because one day my brother unknowingly downloaded ransomware, wiping away years of memories from our computer.

Five years later, we went again in 2019. This time, we were prepared. VIP tickets, a proper hotel, no stress about coach screens. We explored more Tamil Nadu, the Golden Temple, Meenakshi Temple. In Tirupati, we randomly ran into some of our dad’s side relatives. Completely unexpected. That trip felt different. Maybe because this was the first time I consciously wanted to document everything. I clicked so many pictures. The line moved quickly; in less than 15 minutes, we were inside the sanctum. The moment I stepped in, I don’t know why, but tears welled up in my eyes. Tirupati does something to you. The weight of devotion, the sheer energy in the air it’s unexplainable.

Fast forward to 2023. This time, we decided to climb the seven hills 3,500 steps. It was exhausting. To make it worse, I was in a heavy, fancy dress. But the journey felt surreal. Somewhere along the way, we spotted a deer. Beautiful. But we knew how unpredictable these forests were; people had encountered tigers and even faced attacks before. We made it, tired but excited.

But fate had different plans. Despite VIP tickets and recommendation letters from politicians (yes, that’s a thing in Andhra & Telangana), the waiting time was 20 hours. 20 hours. There were people standing in line for an entire day just for a glimpse of Swami. The devotion in Tirupati is unlike anything else. Despite our tickets, we had to walk away. Instead, we stood before the temple, offered coconuts and camphor, aligning our prayers with the sanctum. And once again, I cried. I don’t know what it is about this place, but it makes me feel everything, all at once.

We roamed the temple streets, bought laddus, and then something bizarre happened. I saw the same tea shop from 2019, the same vendor, the same setup. As if time had paused, waiting for me to return.

One thing that always stays with me about Tirupati is the sound. The chants that echo through the air. There’s always a speaker somewhere softly playing "Om Namo Venkatesaya." as you can see in the video. I guess, We woke early that day to go to tirupati from tirumala, forgot to mention that, the views that you get when you are descending from the hills especially during night or eraly in the morning times is ethereal. If you are travelling by bus you can not really enjoy it. There are private authorised vehicles on tirumala hill to go down to tirupati. Mahindra Thar serves the purpose for that.
It’s not loud, not disturbing just a gentle, rhythmic murmur floating through the temple streets. It’s almost meditative, a reminder that you are in a sacred space. No matter how many times you visit, that chant follows you, a heartbeat of the hills, a whisper of devotion.

The temple, nestled high in the sacred hills, carries an aura of divinity that is almost tangible. The very air feels different lighter, purer, charged with centuries of faith. Since it’s in the hills, it feels like you can almost touch the clouds, as if the heavens themselves are within reach (I felt so). The mist rolls down in the early hours, blending with the golden hue of the temple, creating an ethereal glow that makes you feel as though you are standing at the very threshold of the divine. With every step, every prayer, you feel connected to something far beyond yourself, a presence that whispers through the winds and lingers in the echoes of the sacred chants.