The wooden core of the flagstaff (Dhwajasthambham) at Lord Venkateswara’s temple on the Tirumala hill had completely decayed!
Along with polishing the Ananda Nilayam Vimanam atop the Lord’s temple, we had taken up several repair works.
One day, suddenly, an engineer came running in panic and said: “The flagstaff has decayed.”
When we slowly removed the golden covering, we found that the wooden core inside had rotted all the way through. Then how was it standing? Only because of the support of the golden plates on it.
Service to the Lord with a decayed flagstaff? … It was sacrilege. I was filled with anxiety, restlessness, agitation, fear.
When we checked the records, there was no evidence of when the old wooden core had been installed. In the available records of the past 180–190 years, there was not even a mention of this flagstaff. So how old was it? What should we do now?
We needed to procure and install a teak tree 50–75 feet tall. The tree must:
Have no hollows
Have no branches
Have no cracks
Have no bends — it must be perfectly straight
Hopelessness set in. Was this even possible?
Still, hope did not die. Immediately, I contacted our State Forest Department officials. They said clearly: “It is impossible to find such a teak tree with these characteristics in our state.” They added that it might be found in the Western Ghats forests of Karnataka or Kerala.
Hearing this drained my strength. Meanwhile, media friends began spreading rumors that there was hidden treasure beneath the flagstaff!
A sense of helplessness enveloped me. In that state of utter confusion, I surrendered myself to Lord Srinivasa alone…
That night, around 10:30 PM, just as I was about to leave the temple, a devotee named H. S. R. Iyengar from Bengaluru called me.
Though tired, I answered. He spoke rapidly: “Sir, I heard on the radio that you are planning to replace the flagstaff. For such a flagstaff, you need a teak tree at least 280–300 years old. Such a tree may be found only in the Dandeli forests of Karnataka. The Chief Conservator of Forests there is a close friend of mine. If you permit, I will search the forests with his help and select a suitable tree. Please write a formal letter to him. Leave the rest of the coordination to me.”
Immediately, even while sitting in the temple, I spoke over the phone with the Karnataka Chief Secretary and the Chief Conservator and obtained their assurance. By then, it was past 11 PM.
With Iyengar’s initiative, the Chief Conservator and his staff searched the forests and, after examining nearly 100 trees, identified 16 teak trees in the Dandeli hills as potentially suitable.
Coincidentally, that very week, Karnataka Chief Minister Sri Gundu Rao visited Tirumala with his family. When I explained the issue to him, he immediately declared: “Let Karnataka donate the new flagstaff timber to TTD.”
That weekend, along with our engineers, Iyengar, and the Chief Conservator, we inspected those 16 trees. Only six trees met the required standards. Of those, two were taller than our needs. Keeping TTD’s future requirements in mind, I requested all six trees.
Wonderful! When we met the Chief Minister and Chief Secretary in Bengaluru, they declared that all six trees would be donated.
Tree-felling began — and then another complex problem arose. The forest terrain was so uneven that the main road was several kilometers away. How could such massive logs be transported?
Strangely enough, timber cutters working for Somani Paper Mill in that forest learned about our situation. The mill management and staff came forward and said: “Sir, leave this work to us. Consider this our service to Lord Srinivasa.”
Within a week, the trees were felled and brought to the road using ropes, pulleys, and chains. Iyengar again took initiative and arranged a 16-wheeler long truck.
Within two days, the truck carrying all six logs reached Bengaluru. Near Vidhana Soudha, after a small prayer, the Chief Minister formally handed them over to TTD. As I touched those logs amidst thousands of people, my body thrilled with indescribable joy. (Why was that so?)
The very next day by 4 PM, the truck reached Tirupati. Near the dairy farm outside town, thousands of men and women gathered. They welcomed the logs with lamps, chanting “Govinda, Govinda.”
Within another hour, the truck reached Alipiri, the start of the ghat road.
Until then, it was all joy. The driver got down, looked at the hill road — 18–19 km long, with 7–8 dangerous hairpin bends — and came to me.
“Sir, this is the greatest challenge of my life. I must drive continuously uphill without stopping. Some parapet walls may break. Rocks may fall. It may take any number of hours — but I must do this.”
I assured him: “Even if rocks fall or walls collapse, you are not responsible. We will handle everything.”
Traffic going uphill was diverted to the old ghat road.
As dusk fell, bathed in crimson twilight, the teak logs — destined to become the Lord’s flagstaffs — began their ascent.
Just as feared:
At some bends, the logs hit the mountainside and rocks fell
At others, parapet walls collapsed
At some turns, trailer wheels slipped over the edge
Watching from behind, we trembled with fear. At a couple of bends, half the trailer seemed ready to plunge into the valley.
Minutes felt like hours. “Govinda… Govinda…”
And then — in just 55 minutes, defying all odds, the truck reached Tirumala.
Hundreds of devotees and TTD employees burst into joyous chants of “Govinda–Govinda.” The Tirumala hills echoed.
I could not believe my eyes. Waves of joy surged within me, touching the sky. Tears of devotion flowed from my eyes, and I stood frozen in bliss.
What a wonder! The truck that started from Alipiri at sunset reached the hilltop before the sun fully set behind the Western Ghats.
Even more astonishing — the truck owner, who followed us by car, folded his hands and said: “This is my fortune — to serve the Lord in such a way. I will not take a single paisa as transport charges.”
Iyengar, the truck owner, and the driver were honored with Vedic blessings, special darshan, and the Lord’s sacred garments.
Now came the next question: How do we install the flagstaff?
After endless discussions till midnight, exhausted, we postponed the decision to the next day. Sleep eluded me.
After enduring such hardships to bring the teak logs, why couldn’t we solve this final step?
Then a thought arose: “The same power that accomplished all this — won’t it complete the rest? If it is destined that this flagstaff be installed through me, it will happen. Otherwise, it won’t.”
Peace returned. I slept soundly.
The next morning, someone suggested: “Why not bring the log through the main gateway, lifting the top end high, keeping the base on the ground like a lever, and raise it directly through the pavilion opening? Let us take help from the Papavinasanam Dam engineers and skilled artisans.”
A brilliant idea! Measurements were taken rapidly. Engineers confirmed it was feasible without obstructing pilgrim queues.
Without delay, at an auspicious time, the chosen teak log was brought through the temple streets, the Gollamandapam, and the main gateway. Supports were erected carefully. As artisans slowly pushed the log forward, it rose perfectly and entered the pavilion opening. By evening, without any damage, the Dandeli forest teak tree stood erect as Tirumalesa’s flagstaff.
What a miracle! What compassion of Lord Srinivasa!
One final moment: As per scriptures, nine gems and nine grains were placed beneath the flagstaff. Suddenly, I felt an impulse — I removed the gold chain with Lord Srinivasa’s pendant from my neck and placed it inside. Immediately, priests, donors, VIPs, and devotees followed, filling another box with jewelry.
After sealing them and pouring concrete, the flagstaff was installed exactly at 90 degrees, as prescribed. (The old flagstaff was ceremonially laid to rest at the Papavinasanam Dam.)
Within a month, the platform, gold plating, flag, and sacrificial altar were completed.
On June 10, 1982, amid Vedic chants and blessings, the flagstaff and altar were consecrated. Six days later, on June 16, I handed over charge and was transferred.
As I left that morning, I looked at the teak tree that came from Dandakaranya and became the flagstaff. The bells near the flag fluttered gently, as if greeting me.
An elderly scholar nearby smiled and recited:
“I am not the doer — Hari is the doer. All worship and actions are His. If any good is done through me, It is only by His grace.”
(Source: Former IAS officer P. V. R. K. Prasad — “Nāham Kartā, Hariḥ Kartā”)
Om Namo Venkatesaya!
🙏🙏
