Swami Brahm Bodhi

Travelogue – 3

October 27, 2025

My First Day in London

Yesterday was my first evening in London.
The final days of October bring with them the soft melancholy of autumn — moisture in the air, golden leaves drifting from trees, and sunlight touched with a wistful glow.
Here, dusk arrives early; by five o’clock darkness settles in completely.
Thus, when we drove from Heathrow Airport to our residence in Orpington, London appeared only as a city of flickering lights — as though we were passing through a silent procession of fireflies in the night.

It was October 26 — the day I arrived. The house into which I entered was already alive with the preparations for Chhath Puja: the fragrance of offerings, the songs of women echoing through the rooms, and the warm bustle of visiting devotees — all awakening a vivid remembrance of India in this foreign land.

Our residence, a graceful three-storied home built nearly ninety years ago, stood resplendent with renewed charm.
The ground floor housed a spacious living room, kitchen, and a small office.
On the first floor lived my nephew Sid, my niece Anu, and a guest room reserved for me.
The top floor was the abode of my sister and brother-in-law, Vasudha and Rajat.
Behind the house stretched a lush green backyard; in front, a flowered garden — an image of the serene suburban life of England.

The evening haze had veiled London’s beauty, but the next morning, which means today, when I stepped outside, nature seemed to have spilled colors upon an artist’s canvas — gentle sunlight, cool air, and the shimmer of red and gold leaves dancing in the breeze.

The Rhythm of London

The English countryside and its suburban stretches are majestic in their simplicity.
Though Orpington is technically a part of London, it feels worlds apart from the restlessness of Central London.
Here, silence breathes softly; elegant British architecture lines the undulating roads, shaded by trees that whisper in the wind.

During autumn, every tree becomes an alchemist of color — amber, gold, and crimson hues blend like verses of a silent hymn.
White and gray clouds play across the sky; sometimes the sun peeks through smilingly, only to retreat again into their folds.
Light drizzles now and then add to the enchantment, and the air carries a chill that is both cool and invigorating.

The Echo of Chhath in London

My sister’s family, settled in London for many years and now British citizens, continues to celebrate Chhath Puja with devotion.
There are so many North Indian families here that a single WhatsApp message —
“We are observing Chhath” — brings devotees from miles around.
This year, nearly thirty-five families joined in the celebration.
Traditional gifts such as thekua, vermilion boxes (sindoor ki dibiya), and other ritual offerings were distributed.
I had brought the vermilion boxes especially from Vrindavan, for such sacred items are rarely found in London.

It was heartwarming to see Indian women — fluent in refined English, yet adorned in traditional attire — filling the parting of their hair with vermilion from nose to crown.
It was more than ritual; it was a radiant declaration — we have not forgotten our roots.

In the backyard, a symbolic ghat had been created — a large plastic pool filled with water for the offering to the Sun.
On the first day, the setting sun would be worshipped; on the next, the rising one.
This Surya-upasana (solar worship) is one of the oldest spiritual traditions of the Vedas.
From the Rigveda (1.50.10) comes this hymn to the Sun:

udvayam tamasas pari jyotiṣ pashyanta uttaram |
devam devatra sūryam aganma jyotir uttamam ||
(Rigveda 1.50.10)

“Rising beyond the darkness, we behold the higher light;
We have reached the divine Sun — the supreme radiance.”

The Sun is not merely the giver of light; he is the source of life, the witness of time.

Chhathi Maiya — The Worship of Nature

In later centuries, this ancient Vedic sun-worship merged with the popular reverence of Chhathi Maiya — the Mother Goddess representing the nurturing aspect of Nature.
Lord Krishna too speaks of this divine union in the Bhagavad Gita:>l

sarva-yoniṣu kaunteya mūrtayaḥ sambhavanti yāḥ |
tāsāṁ brahma mahad yonir ahaṁ bīja-pradaḥ pitā ||
(Bhagavad Gita 14.4)

“O son of Kunti, it is I who am the seed-giving father of all living beings,
while Nature is their great womb, the mother of creation.”

That very Mother Nature is worshipped in India under many names —
as Durga, as Kali, as Lakshmi,
and in Chhath Puja, as Chhathi Maiya.
This worship is not merely a ritual — it is a prayer for harmony between humanity and the natural world.

The Wheel of Time and England

When I arrived from India, the time difference was four and a half hours.
But with the end of Daylight Saving Time on the last Sunday of October, the difference became five and a half hours.

Yet, it is not only the clocks that have changed — the very wheel of time has turned here.
A century ago, this land was “Great Britain” —
that empire upon which, it was said, “the sun never sets.”
India, Egypt, Australia, Canada, South Africa, and countless islands — all were under its dominion.
Now, that vast empire lives only in the pages of history;
England has withdrawn into its modest, ancient island self once more.

Man can set his clocks, but he cannot command Time.
As Lord Krishna revealed to Arjuna:

kālo ’smi loka-kṣaya-kṛt pravṛddho lokān samāhartum iha pravṛttaḥ ||
(Bhagavad Gita 11.32)

“I am Time — the mighty destroyer of worlds,
engaged in consuming all beings.”

This is the eternal wheel of Kala — the cosmic time that dissolves empires and gives birth to new civilizations.

Epilogue

Thus passed my first sunrise in Orpington –
a day not merely of crossing geographic distance,
but of traversing many bridges of time, culture, and inner emotion.
The traditions of India, the soil of England, and the universal radiance of the Sun together transformed this first day of the journey
into a meditation — a quiet, spiritual awakening beneath the same eternal sky.

---