April 22, 2025
By Ananya Velankar
Some moments don’t leave you—even if they were quiet, even if no words were spoken.
A couple of years ago, I went to Tirupati with my family. It was one of those long-pending trips that finally happened. We had a late-night slot for darshan, and after the initial buzz of travel wore off, we found ourselves waiting in the holding area, that big hall they jokingly call a “cage.”
I was scrolling through my phone and sipping on water, half-listening to my cousins’ chatter, when I heard this laugh behind me. Loud, kind of offbeat. I turned, mildly annoyed, and saw this guy laughing with his group. Honestly? My first reaction was something like—“Ugh, who is that?”
But then… time passed.
And I noticed him again. Just… standing. Not laughing anymore. He was kind of cute. The kind of cute that sneaks up on you, not the type that slaps you in the face. He was glancing around, hands in pockets, quiet now. Our eyes didn’t meet. Not yet. But I looked at him when he wasn’t looking, and—here’s the funny part—I think he did the same.
It wasn’t a movie moment. There was no dramatic music. Just quick, secret glances across a crowded waiting room, like we were both pretending not to notice each other while doing exactly that.
When they finally called our group forward, we lined up for the darshan. I stood between my mom and aunt, half-focused on the spiritual part, half still tuned in to that invisible thread.
That’s when I felt it—he was right behind my mom. Just a few inches away. I could almost feel the air shift. I wanted to say something. Anything. A simple “Hi.” But I didn’t. Neither did he.
We walked up the temple steps, had our brief darshan, and exited. The crowd spread out like waves, and just like that, he was gone.
I still think about that stranger from Tirupati sometimes. Wonder what his name was. What he might’ve said if I’d just turned around. I’ll never know.
But that’s how some stories go, I guess.
Not everything ends with a conversation.
Some things just linger as what-ifs.
