TOKYO TALES II

You shut your eyes, you open your eyes. Yes, she's still there. Very much so.  If you see the Statue of Liberty in Tokyo, you are not hallucinating. She lords over the Tokyo Bay.  The smaller replica of the US Liberty lady made her first appearance in the Year of the French in end 1990s. Presumably she was supposed to be a temporary guest, but popular demand turned her into a permanent fixture.  Beyond her lies the Rainbow Bridge and for some reason I feel she should have completely dwarfed it. A niggling feeling, something like when you are a guest at someone's house and an askew picture on the wall drives you nuts with the itch to straighten it.  Then I realise that the Liberty lady in USA is responsible for the distorted visionary perception; you feel that all ladies holding torches aloft should be humongous!

Thankfully, after the heavy rains the previous days, it a blue sky, sunny-ish day.  The bay spreads all over and makes a pretty picture; the lady framed against a background of blue skies, blue waters, the Rainbow Bridge and some tall and towering buildings. Unfortunately, the earlier heavy rains have resulted in a gusty windy hangover and all sailing trips are suspended. Compensation comes in the form a candy store nearby.    

Looking at the Liberty lady and what lies beyond her, it was hard to imagine that even in the 1850s Japan was one of the most isolated nations in the world. The hundreds of miles of water surrounding her physically isolated her, even from Asia, and the ruling Shoguns fought every bit of the way to keep her that way. Today I feel it is one of the most tourist friendly country. Whether you speak Japanese or not is irrelevant as is the colour of your skin or your passport cover. 

 

 

 

As we looked down from the Tokyo Tower Main Observatory, the city could have looked like any super developed urban space, but for the open spread right below, dotted with quintessential Oriental sloping slate roofed structures and lots of landscaped greenery. Behind the biggest structure lies a graveyard, neat and well tended to. It is the Zojoji Temple, the head of the Jodo (Pure Land) section of Japanese Buddhism.  Our friend, Masakazu Maeda San, who is graciously accompanying us for the day, tells us that is centuries old. Later Google God tells me that the original temple was built in 1393 and shifted to the present location in  1598, which means it is nearly 420 years old! But sadly, again as per Google God, that most of the current buildings are reconstructions barring the main gate, the Sangedatsumon which survived many fires, earthquakes and wars and dates from 1622. It must have been some Herculean task to rebuild the damaged temple over and over again. Is it any surprise that 'Gaman' a Japanese world of Zen Buddhist origin, connotes patience, endurance, perseverance, tolerance, self-control and self-denial. Somethings so intrinsic to Japan and Japanese.  Insert two letters, h and d to read Ghamand and you have the Hindi word for arrogance!   

At one section of the Observatory deck there is lots of excitement. Apparently some clouds have rolled by to reveal Mount Fujiyama. I convince myself that the flat top rise is the volcano that the Japanese revere so much. It is at its base that the Japanese gathers in hundreds and thousands to witness the sunrise on the first day of every year. As we move on there is a niche on the right side, a small prayer house. I don't know which Kami (deity)it was dedicated to but I dutifully followed the three-step instruction on the board that prescribed 'The Praying Etiquette' - bow twice deeply, clap your hands twice and bow once more and found all eyes on me. Clearly I was the only one to follow the prescribed etiquette. Well, what else do you expect a lady to do when it is a matter of etiquette?

  

The main gate of the Zojoji temple is stately as usual and so is the entire complex. But what is unique is the long stretch to the right of the main temple with rows of cemented small statues of children, each with red crochet hat and red bib with colourful windmill fronting them. These are 'the care guardian deities of children.' To quote verbatim,' they are dedicate for the safety growth of children and grandchildren, as well as for the memorial service of still birth or miscarried children'. The red hats are to keep their heads warm. That made me shiver. Children are supposed to be running around, playing and having a whale of a time and not represented by cold cement figurines whatever the overload of bright red props. That and the red and white Japanese Eiffel version of Tokyo Tower soaring up behind the main temple and, straight up in the distance from the cemented children deities made a strange picture. The very old, the very new, centuries old faiths and the communications and observation tower, Tokyo Tower all coming together. Looking at the tower, standing among the cemented children deities in an ancient temple complex, I momentarily thought that maybe that was the way to make it come full circle - the earth, the sky, the dead and the living.  If that was not enough, there was a group of nine kids- I did a head count- being escorted around the temple complex by two teachers. I would really like to know  what they were told about the children deities in red crochet hats.

 

 

 

 

The husband and I had been differing a little on going to Asakusa. I had been trying to convince him that he simply couldn't give a go by. But he felt that going to see one more shrine made no sense, even if it was Sensoji shrine, one of the oldest in Japan. All my spiels that beyond it lay an older, quieter and above all, less touristy section of Tokyo  didn't seem to sway him. After the Zojoji temple visit, our friend Maeda San said and now to Asakusa and that was that. Men!

Sensoji shrine is a mixed bag because of the throng of tourists and locals. Built in 628 (yes three digits only) it is an imposing shrine literally towering with five pagodas and almost flamboyant with the typical orange-red colour usually associated with oriental holy places. That was my first tourist destination in 2005 and the rush of people on a hot July afternoon had become tiring after sometime. There is no lessening of the intensity this time too, it is packed to the gills. The very touristy facet is also evident right at the road leading to the temple packed with souvenir shops and eateries. That however, cannot in anyway subtract from the beauty of the temple complex, especially the little secluded corners with statues of Buddha and presumably religious symbols. There are the usual youngsters attired in traditional garbs looking for the right backgrounds for their photo shoots. Soon the buzz is infectious and putting aside the cynical tourist persona, we get caught up in the washing rituals and offering prayers. Besides, there was Unagi lunch to look forward to and explore the more charming side of Asakusa and its neighbourhood.  

 

  

 

 

  

The charming side that I really want to check out was Kappabashi Dori, at the corner of Asakusa. Kappabashi is better known as the Kitchen Town and anything and everything related to the kitchen is available in multiple varieties, right down to life like plastic food. I didn't want much; I just wanted a Japanese knife. And I found one. What impressed me more than the amazing display, the layout, the mind boggling variety or anything else was the inscrutable expression of the the two gents manning the store. There wasn't any expression of any kind whatsoever, not even a fleeting one. Again nothing when our friend Maeda San introduced us as guests from India; they just bowed. For one moment I was quiet tempted to pick a knife randomly and walk out without paying just to see if there would be any reaction from them. Also very impressive was the way one them held a white sheet of paper and sliced it with the knife silently and in much less time than the blink of an eye. No expression again. 

Kappabashi and its surrounding area is an interesting blend of commerce and some residence. That was, I think, the only place where I saw electric wires strung in a, what I thought, rather unsystematic manner for Japan. It made me feel good for some reason. For those into cooking and kitchen wares, Kappabashi can be both delightful and vexing. The first because you can go crazy in sheer delight and the latter because you know you have to be very very selective and you just keep on dithering. You finally pick a few pieces and barely five minutes later, you feel maybe it was the wrong choice and you should have gone for something else! Just maddening. Never mind, the knife will make up for it.

Have you ever walked the streets with a largish knife in your bag? Try it. For no rhyme or reason I wanted to tell the world about it!

  

 

   TOKYO  TALES

Prayers do get answered. Way back in 2005 at the Meiji Shrine at Tokyo, I going with the flow, had written down my prayers on the little wooden tablets called ema  and hung it at the designated spot, more like a prayer wall. Among other things I had selfishly asked that I may be able to come back again, but with the family. Twelve years later I was back and this time with the husband. The daughter couldn't be there. Obviously, more prayers were made. This time not on the ema but on the slip of papers provided for the purpose and put in an envelope. Need one say what the fervent prayer/wish was!

The first time I saw the giant billboard like structure, more like a tapestry with ceramic barrels, adorned with beautiful scripts and images, arranged in a row way back in 2005, I assumed that they were prayers- like the Buddhist prayer flags- or something holy. What else could they have been, right there on the way to the Meiji Shrine in Tokyo.  The Shrine is dedicated to the souls of Emperor Meiji (1852-1912) and his wife Empress Shoken. But even as I admired them I was told that they were advertisements for Sake! And my attention was drawn to the much smaller board next to it which proclaimed, 'Provenance of the Bourgogne Wine for Consecration at Meiji Jingu'. Not just that. It further says, ' The barrels of wine to be consecrated at Meiji Jingu have been offered by the celebrated wineries of Bourgogne of France on the initiative of....' and goes on to name the representative of the House of Burgundy in Tokyo etc! That's Japan - never take it at face value!

This time I was prepared. But this nature had the surprise in store. Our plan was to visit the shrine the next morning after our arrival. Tokyo woke up to pouring rain. Undeterred we bought two umbrellas - the folding kind, remember we are Indians and what is purchased must be carried back. It's another story we came back with just one - and marched headlong, rain or no rain. By the time we neared Meiji, the rains had reached Noah proportions and I wouldn't have been surprised to see an ark positioned nearby. We had to, per force, take a breather at the cafe overlooking the huge Torii gate entrance. The cafe had a ledge like balcony sitting outside. A middle aged Japanese man dashed across and took shelter there, sitting one of the chairs. An employee walked outside, bowed and said something to him. He got up, bowed and walked back into the rain. The section was not open. Close your eyes and transport what just transpired to India, or rather Delhi.  Genealogy abusing would have been the least of the fireworks that would have resulted! It's true the Japanese are so mindful and so concerned not to offend anyone, that one becomes ultra conscious to be civil. Soon it becomes a habit, until of course till you get back.  

Religion and rituals are not exactly the strong point of the family but without second thoughts we find ourselves at the water basin to perform Temizu, or washing of your hands before going into the shrine. There are bamboo dippers to scoop out the water. You also rinse your mouth. There is a particular way to do that and the best way is to take the lead from the locals. On the last visit, a warm summer day, there was not much crowd around. This time despite the fiery rains, there were people everywhere and mostly locals. During the previous visit, the sight of a Japanese wedding  procession with the bride in all traditional white had halted us in our steps. This time too, a bridal team is huddled in one corner, maybe they are waiting for a break in the rains.  What grabs my attention is a young girl and her mother attired in traditional garb. They happily pose for the camera. Interestingly, increasing number of youngsters in Kimonos can be seen at many shrines. Turns out that that there are shops near the shrines where one can hire them!

Like everything Japanese, all the shrines are stately  and admiration evoking, but the first sense at Meiji is what can best be defined as solemnity,something deeply sacred.The thousands of tree all around the shrine accentuate that feeling further. The original plan was walk across to Yoyogi Park after the shrine visit because there is where you can see 'Americanism'  at its best in Tokyo with pop groups to hip hops to now-what-is-that music and musicians and dancers, fancy dress parade of a kind, Gothic, comical, sorry comic and anime characters, dressed up dogs and more - just let it out there, especially on Sundays. Thanks to the rains we drop the plan and that was when, on the way back, I spied this swanky red car discreetly parked under an ancient carved roof and behind a row of young trees. I don't know if its part of the shrine or if the vehicle has an exalted status there, but it made a surreal picture.

After the serenity of Meiji Shrine, Takeshita Dori (street) in Harajuku is like a slide show shift from the sublime to the rambunctious. It's just one long narrow street for hip and hep youngsters to shop. The Japanese youth, at least that was that it looked like to me, seem to excel in combining the latest western fashion trends with their own one of its kind fashion sensibilities. Often, the outcome misfires! There were several moments of oh-god-I-hope-she-doesn't-fall-over with petite, more will-o-wisp figures going chunk chunk on unbelievable block heels!The street is said to have an overdose of 'kawaii' or cute. Well, there is just that much of cuteness one can ingest but yes I will go back there just for this one tiny Ramen joint, which had been recommended to us by someone in the know, and boy did it deliver?  

 

 

It seems that wherever we go, there is at least one misadventure.  And so it was on this trip too. The Imperial Palace plan was a wash out literally. But there was apparently an antique market, Odeo Antique market somewhere near the Tokyo International Forum.   We reached the Forum all right but there was no sight of the said market. This despite the good old Pupuru Wi-Fi rental device that kept telling us go xxx metre and turn right, go yyy metre and turn left. That was the little pocket sized gadget that the husband had apparently rented and it was waiting for us at the hotel reception. It was promptly christened Pupu putar (son) by the husband! It was also often referred to as Shravan, the mythological Indian character who carried his blind parents in two baskets, tied on either end of a pole which he balanced on his shoulder so as to take them on a pilgrimage.  The husband's Shravan Putar was a miserable failure. We admired the Forum building, stocked up on beverages (lets leave it at that!) and checked out what looked like a Farmer's Market where all the salesmen wore front open black robes. Ninja salesmen? Back to Shinjuku it was.

 

 

 

After the ceaseless rain and the missing antique market, salvation was what we were seeking. Because only Shinjuku could provide that we agreed. The evening of our arrival, where else but Shinjuku it was. Because there is where the Golden Gai is with over 200 bars crammed into some six or so really narrow alleys. Jowl-by-cheek, some so tiny that barely 4-5 guests could fit in. Even the biggest ones there could at best hold 8 people. Picture two ginormous book ends packed so tight that taking out one book is a nightmare. With ceaseless sloshing of rains, umbrella dots all over, neon lights above, some dimmish alleys and a rather boisterous air, it would have been  exciting but for the discomfort of rain soaked sneakers. Golden Gai is said to have started sometimes in the 1950s and not much seem to have changed except for the advertisements everywhere. We do what the locals do - hop bars and sample food that we haven't tried before. This is where I fall in love all over again with Umeshe, the Japanese wine distilled from small stone fruits from plums, cherries, apricots and such. My all time high remained and remains Plum Umeshu. A few chunks of ice and wine is a straightaway passport to bliss.

 

Somewhere in Shinjuku, out of the Golden Gai, it happened again. On most of my travels I seem to stumble upon a road/lane in a quiet corner that seems to be heading somewhere and all the while calling me. Strangely, all such roads seem to either take a turn and disappear or head straight into wilderness. There it was again, a tree line side lane barred to traffic, lit up from top with some hazy light streaming in, in fact steaming in would more like it. The way the light appeared, it almost seemed to be that of a small UFO hovering somewhere above preparing to land! A few umbrella armed souls braving the downpour appeared to be striding across purposefully. I don't know where the lane led to, because after a while it curved into the right and vanished into the night. It seemed dreamlike but with that undecipherable element of chill. All the noise faded away. One day, one fine day or night I will venture into one such road and see where it leads.  Or maybe not.