But I know there has to be more. And soon, I hit on it: The truth is people come all this way for him — for Guru Dixitar, or just “Guruji” as so many in the congregation lovingly call him. And I get it. I mean, you could say he’s been preparing to be in this precise place, following his spiritual calling, his whole life.

His father and grandfather before him were Hindu leaders, back in India, in Bangalore, and both had their own temples, too. He was ordained at a young age, when he was in his early teens, and went on to run temples in India, Hawaii and San Francisco. He also spent many years leading a temple in Albany.

Hari and Sita Vulimiri, another longtime temple member and friend, both say the guru’s way of leading is unique. I’m told Guruji puts the devotee at the center of it all. And that he reaches out to temple members regularly, to make sure he’s providing them with counsel in their times of greatest difficulty and need.

“You don’t find that at most temples,” Hari says. “But Guruji knows people come here with problems and challenges and does all he can to help them attain peace of mind. He often chats with them one-onone and asks ‘what brings you in?’ ...people really take to him and seek his guidance.”

In June, hundreds gathered at Sri Rajaganapathi with friends and family for the long-awaited inauguration of the temple’s 33-foot-high entrance tower. To celebrate its installation, temple members came from far and wide to attend a two-anda-half-day celebration, known as Kumbhabhishekam. “Getting the structure, designed, built, shipped from India where it was sculpted, and installed,” the Guru says in Tamil, “was a lengthy and costly process that took nearly 11 years and a half a million dollars.”

The tower’s design was mainly conceived by him but he says others at the temple also offered their input and artistic skills to help bring it to life. One notable helper was Sudhaka Vulimiri, Sita’s husband, who passed away in December 2021.

Sita’s eyes water as she remembers how close her husband and Guruji were, how devoted he was to the temple and how much he looked forward to the gopuram’s completion.

“Even when he was in the hospital, he talked about it, he was reviewing drawings and trying to make sure everything was going well,” she says with a heavy sigh. I assure her he’d be so proud to see it now and she quickly leans in for an embrace.

Minutes after, her Guruji takes her aside. And together, in front of a gazebo housing a large statue of Supreme Hindu god, Shiva — that Sita’s husband helped erect — the two first look toward the gopuram, then toward the sky and bring their hands up in prayer.

I stood quietly just a few feet away from them and in that moment understood fully why people travel such far distances to come here. I tried but couldn’t think of a single reason why they wouldn’t.

I know there’d be no distance far enough to keep me away from a place that feels like home or from people, who above all else, treat you like family. As I turned to say my goodbyes, Raji Mami takes a hold of my hand and gently kisses it the way my own abuelita, who’s now in heaven, did so many times.

The gesture left me nearly speechless. But seconds later when she asks if I’ll visit the temple again, I simply grab her hand in both of mine and nod.