Swami Brahm Bodhi

Today is 4 November 2025.
I had arrived in England on 26 October. It has been almost a month and a quarter now. Time passed so swiftly that, although I had come thinking that this time I would certainly write a daily travelogue of England and the other countries I visit, I could not do so. But whenever I find the time, I will surely write it down—and after writing, I will arrange all the parts in chronological order.

It is half past two in the afternoon. A taxi stops in front of the house. It is not an Uber; it is a taxi driven by an Indian—the same person with whom Vinod and Jayashree have developed an old and warm acquaintance.

This acquaintance itself is a story. One day Vinod received a call from this taxi driver who said, “I also want to become a lifetime member of the temple you are building.” He knew that to become a life member one has to contribute 2000 pounds—which comes to about two and a half lakh rupees in Indian currency.
He requested Vinod ji that if he could kindly deposit this amount on his behalf, he would repay it in several instalments. Vinod did not know him at all. But Jayashree said, “You should give it; he will certainly return it. He is asking for a good cause.”
And I have seen that whatever Jayashree says, Vinod does not dismiss—he accepts it joyfully, without resistance. And he was greatly surprised when the very next day the driver deposited the entire amount into Vinod’s account. God must have sent the money to him instantly from somewhere!!

In the Bhagavad Gita, Bhagavan says that among women reside the qualities of “fame, prosperity, speech, memory, intelligence, patience, and forgiveness.” In Jayashree, the attribute of ‘intelligence’ is clearly visible—the ability to offer the right advice at the right moment, exactly where no one else might think of it. Despite being educated, she embraces the life of a homemaker with perfect ease and takes pride in it; this too is her remarkable quality. Vinod is an IT consultant; he earns well; but there is never any pressure on Jayashree to work, nor does she feel any such need. Always cheerful, simple, and full of energy—if forty people come to a temple event, preparing food for all forty and bringing it is not a burden to her but a joy.

Vinod and Jayashree—a truly divine couple: Vinod from Madhya Pradesh and Jayashree from Maharashtra. After marriage, Vinod too has become somewhat Marathi. Both are calm, cooperative, and dedicated to the temple with body, mind, and resources. To nurture and beautify the new temple at Dartford from morning till night seems to them like their natural duty.

There is no equivalent of UPI in London. The convenience one finds in India, where even a small street vendor accepts QR-code payments and astonishes the world, is not available here even in a small measure. I found the same confirmed again in Switzerland. Anyone who comes to India realises that in terms of technological convenience, India has become far more advanced in many areas.

Therefore the taxi must be paid in cash—going to Heathrow costs about a hundred pounds, which is roughly twelve thousand rupees. I have a forex card and wish to go to an ATM to withdraw some cash. But Vinod and Jayashree have already paid the taxi fare, and they are absolutely unwilling to let me go to the ATM.

They considered dropping me to Heathrow in their car, but travelling a hundred kilometres in the evening traffic and then returning another hundred kilometres on long, traffic-clogged roads would have been extremely difficult. So even though they wished to, I did not allow them to take that trouble.

I said that one should keep some cash in one’s pocket, but Jayashree smiled and refused, as if saying, “Everything is taken care of.”

Ganesh also came to see me off—people affectionately call him “London Ganesh.” He has made seven feature films in Hyderabad and is making two in London. His contribution to advancing the temple is remarkable. His unusual quality is that he can settle any matter over the phone in two or three minutes—as if the network exists not for him but he exists for the network.

Everyone knew that I would now go to America, then to several countries in Africa, and afterward through the Middle East to India. In every place I was to visit, the devotees of the temple had already found homes where meat and fish are not cooked, and where I would receive sattvic food and a warm, affectionate environment.

Among all this, one thing became even clearer—my journeys may be new, but the affection I receive feels as though it is age-old.

As I sat in the taxi, my heart felt heavy, yet full of gratitude.

Even while living in London, these people have not let their Indian-ness become tarnished in the slightest. Addressing me as “Guruji,” touching my feet with respect, giving their children such values, paying careful and reverent attention to every comfort and discomfort—truly, it felt as though a small India had come alive in London.

I stayed in their home for nearly twenty days. Their elder son, Kartik, upon hearing of my arrival, willingly vacated his room.

I interacted with the temple team almost every day. During these days, Vinod, Jayashree, and the other coordinators did not let me spend even a penny. Wherever I needed to go, they took me in their cars. This dedication awakened a new hope in my heart.

I told them that among the 500 temples, this temple should not become just the 501st—rather, it should become the temple that guides and inspires all the others. The full utility and potential of the temple should become clear to everyone.
They accepted this with ease and immediately began working in that direction.
I suggested that the temple must have, even if small, a spiritual library, where people could borrow scriptures or sit and study, so that their religious and spiritual literacy may grow. Today’s Hindu, whether in India or in England, remains religiously and spiritually illiterate. And the fault is not theirs; it lies elsewhere. The suggestion was accepted within a moment, and the library was set up.

When I return to India, I will send them a large collection of spiritual books—a devotee-transporter is ready to bring it to England free of cost.

The taxi is speeding toward Heathrow.
Through the window, London recedes—the magnificent architecture of its houses, the hill-like slopes by the roadside with finely trimmed grass, as if the earth has wrapped itself in a vast green carpet—all slipping away behind me.

Now the silhouettes of planes taking off and landing have begun to appear—a sign that Heathrow is near.

At the airport, the taxi driver places my luggage on the trolley and bows in respect. I thank him and bid farewell.
And at that moment, a feeling deepens within—

The memories of London are etched in my mind not because it is a wondrous metropolis, but because there are some Indians here who have lived their Indian-ness with such dignity and affection.

With the weight of my luggage on the trolley, and the weight of gratitude in my heart, I enter Heathrow.