The title of this post came to mind while on the Tokyo subway. But then I remembered the Bollywood movie with the same title released in the 1960s. Since it was a romantic drama movie set in Japan, it pretty much aligns with the story that I want to share through this post. As I sat on the cathay pacific flight to Japan, I stretched my legs, looked out the window, and thought it had been a long time since I had taken a break from the long, hectic work schedule and the stress I was enduring. for a couple of years. Although the cherry blossom season was gone and it was the always cloudy and raining gray month of the year, I was so refreshed from walking the streets of Kashiwanoha, a little place on the outskirts of Tokyo, that it was like sakura blooming in my heart. Sometimes the sun would peek out from the nimbus laden sky and I would sit in a chair on the balcony to see the beautiful wild nature under the golden sun.
My husband and I went to Tokyo often by subway, which was accurate by the minute. That is really a difference that you can feel in Japan from whatever country you come to. The biggest drawback was his excessive love for his own language and a total neglect of English. This used to make me very uncomfortable at first when I went shopping for things. Everything was written in Japanese and it was extremely difficult to communicate with the people in the store as they did not know a shred of English. Later, however, I got used to everything and was also able to understand the language to some extent.
Throughout the ride on the subway, which was sometimes very crowded, I used to observe the people around me, their expressions and their behavior, as I could never understand what they were talking about. It was a bit strange being a foreigner because unlike other countries like the United States you don’t find many people from other countries. Most of the time he was surrounded by an all-Japanese crowd. One peculiar thing that struck me was that at any time of the day, you will never find a Japanese in bad shape. Somehow they always managed to look neat, appropriately and most of the time elegantly dressed and for emphasis, it’s not just about women that I’m talking about.
Sometimes I would see women dressed in kimono, which is their traditional dress, and would go into a daydream about the old days, when geisha culture was at its peak. I had read a romantic drama about that time written by Arthur Golden in his book ‘Memoirs of a Geisha’. I don’t know if everything you described about Japanese culture and tradition was true, but I always felt a mysterious melancholy and indescribable wonder every time I read that book. Those women in their kimonos caused the same strange sensation.
I was thinking about the love story of Sayuri, the innocent village girl who became the most famous geisha, and the president, when my husband woke me up from my daydreams to show me Mount Fuji, which is visible from the subway train. while going from Kashiwanoha to Tokyo. It was cloudy, so the view was a bit hazy, but he could still make out the shape of the mountain. Suddenly my eyes fell on an elderly couple sitting in the nearby window seats. I think they were over 80 years old. The Japanese have a long life, so the couple did not really seem a victim of the fragility of old age that accompanies us. They were both lost in their own worlds. I felt that after long years of company, maybe people have very little to talk about. The man was looking at a boy sitting next to him playing video games. Perhaps he was reminiscing about his own children and childhood, who must be adult individuals now busy in their own lives. The wife was looking out the window and had a slight smile on her face as if enjoying the view outside.
Something bothered her feet and she made a faint, barely audible sound and leaned over to fix it. The old man had such a disinterested expression on his face that I felt that he could hardly be alive for any emotion. But as soon as his wife made the sound, he quickly looked at her and when she leaned down he put his hand on his shoulder and asked something in Japanese. The woman nodded and said something that probably meant “okay.” I thought to myself that the man must have shown his concern and asked him what had happened. Then I saw that the man was looking at his feet with concern and, before the safety of the wife, he looked at her face and after a minute had returned to look lost and tired. Although he did not understand the language being spoken, the love the couple felt was as evident as daylight. It seemed as if her wrinkles had faded a bit during those brief moments. Being in a different country that was so unfamiliar to me, it was strange to feel like I was looking at my own grandparents, whom I had always felt eternally in love with each other. I looked at my husband who was happily enjoying the scenery outside and wishing that we could share the same affection in our old age. Our station arrived and we got off. Over and over he looked back to catch a glimpse of the couple. Somehow they had made me very happy that day.