Swami Brahm Bodhi

✈️ Travelogue – 2

From Heathrow to Orpington – A Flight of Thoughts

Under the bright lights of Heathrow Airport, everything seems to shimmer — the trolleys, the weary faces, and the memories of home still alive in the heart.
I stand near the baggage belt, watching the endless line of suitcases circling round and round — as if the world itself were revolving in an unending orbit.

I’ve arrived by an Indigo flight — allowed only 30 kilos of checked baggage.
I can’t help thinking: how do people bringing gifts for their loved ones manage within that limit? Clothes, necessities, presents — how hard it is to divide love by weight!

Amidst the crowd, I overhear a little boy whispering softly to his thin, tired mother:

“Mum, airlines shouldn’t just weigh the bags — they should weigh the person too. They should add both together. After all, what matters to the plane is the total weight!”

I can’t help but smile. There’s such innocent practicality in the child’s reasoning!
Perhaps he couldn’t bring enough gifts for his siblings or friends.
Perhaps he’s imagining that if his mother’s weight were added to the luggage, the allowance would double.

A heavyset gentleman standing nearby looks sharply at the boy — clearly, this suggestion doesn’t please him!
I, too, begin to evaluate myself in light of this new “proposal.”

It strikes me — children often have a simplicity of thought born not merely of logic, but of sensitivity.
Indeed, if airlines ever adopted a rule of combined passenger-and-baggage weight, perhaps we would all travel a little lighter — in body and in spirit.

My suitcase finally arrives. I pull my trolley forward and walk toward the exit.

The First Breath of London

We call for an Uber and set off toward Orpington, where my sister lives.
The driver, a young man of Pakistani origin, was born and raised here in England. His speech carries the sweetness of Urdu and the precision of English. He doesn’t talk much — he just drives quietly through the calm streets.

Outside, London wears its autumn attire — damp roads, a soft mist, and falling leaves.
Inside, the scent of India still lingers in my mind.

After an hour and a quarter, we reach our destination. The fare reads £113.
I quickly do the math — around ₹13,000.
In comparison, the same distance from Delhi airport to home costs barely ₹1,500.

I smile.
The rupee may appear “weak,” yet in its own land, its worth is far greater.
That’s why economists today compare currencies not by exchange rate, but by PPP — Purchasing Power Parity.

For the real question isn’t how many rupees make a pound —
but how much a loaf of bread, a book, or a smile costs in each country.
By that measure, I feel that one hundred rupees in India is stronger than one hundred pounds in England.

And with that thought, I step out of the taxi —
onto the soil of a new country, carrying new hopes within me.