When I entered the door of Cafe Arco, I saw
Franz K. reading a novel to his friends in one corner of the cafe. In order not
to disturb their enjoyment, I sat a little away from them. Even so, I could
still hear Franz reading the novel, and I happened to recognize that the
reading was part of his novel The Trial which I had just read before coming
here.
‘Everything is so dirty here,’ said Josef K.,
shaking his head, and before he could take the books, the woman wiped the dust
off with her apron. Josef K. picked up the book that lay nearest to him and
opened it; an indecent picture met his eyes. A man and a woman were sitting
naked on a sofa, the man’s obscene intention was obvious, but his drawing was
so clumsy that ultimately nothing could be seen but the man and woman, sitting
there in excessively solid bodies and in too upright a posture to approach each
other. Josef K. did not look at any more of the book, but just opened the
second one at its title page; it was a novel entitled: What Grete Suffered from
Her Husband, Hans. ‘So this is the sort of law books they study here,’ said Josef
K., ‘this is the sort of person sitting in judgment over me.’
When he read this passage, he laughed.
Surprisingly…, Franz K. is known as a writer whose works are very dark, bitter,
and absurd, full of existential anxiety about uncertainty and helplessness.
However, it is precisely in such situations that humor often slips, a bitter
one. Franz K. may have laughed because he realized how ridiculous and ironic
the situation he described in The Trial was. Although the story is serious and
suspenseful, there are moments where the absurdity of life and bureaucracy that
he describes is so ridiculous.
When he noticed my presence sitting at a
distance, he immediately approached me. His face was friendly, a smile adorned
his face with eyes that stared sharply. His nose was long and his ears were
like bat ears. Fragile, not handsome, and maybe he was often the target of
bullying when he was still at school, because of his antique appearance. Maybe
because of his appearance too he had a heavy sense of inferiority, both towards
women and other men.
Even more than his low self-esteem, he blamed
himself for all the problems in his relationships with others. In his
relationship with his strict, authoritarian and abusive father, he blamed
himself for not being able to live up to his father's standards and for feeling
emotionally weak.
He broke off his engagement to Felice Bauer
twice, feeling unable to cope with the demands of marriage and family life. He
blamed himself for this inability. He often felt unprepared for a serious
relationship.
The fragile, spineless man then shook my hand,
his hand feeling soft, his fingers long and slender, befitting someone who
wrote a lot. From these fingers were born his novels full of bitterness,
meaninglessness, anxiety and helplessness, such as The Trial.
I
opened the conversation:
“The part of the novel that you read is really
silly and ridiculous, for Josef K. who is currently being detained by the
court. Until then he couldn't understand why he who was innocent was being
detained. It started one morning when out of the blue he was detained by the
police when he had just woken up in bed; ‘Someone must have been telling lies
about Josef K., he knew he had done nothing wrong but, one morning, he was
arrested.’ So is the horrendous opening of the novel The Trial.
He did not know what the charges were. When he
then sneaked into the courthouse to look for evidence or clues to defend
himself, on the bookshelves filled with collections of books and court records
he found the book with the indecent picture. This shows how ridiculous the
justice system that ensnared him was. This trial is a comedy.”
Franz added, smilingly:
“Listen also to this: ‘In the courtroom, the
Judge turned to Josef K. with the tone of someone who knows his facts and said,
‘you are a house painter?’ ‘No,’ said K., ‘I am the chief clerk in a large
bank.’ This reply was followed by laughter among the right hand faction down in
the hall, it was so hearty that K. couldn't stop himself joining in with it.
Then Josef K. responded to the judge's mistake
and said; ‘Your question, My Lord, as to whether I am a house painter - in fact
even more than that, you did not ask at all but merely imposed it on me - is
symptomatic of the whole way these proceedings against me are being carried
out. Perhaps you will object that there are no proceedings against me. You will
be quite right, as there are proceedings only if I acknowledge that there are."
I responded:
“Josef K. stopped speaking and looked down into
the hall. He had spoken sharply, more sharply than he had intended, but he had
been quite right. It should have been rewarded with some applause here and
there but everything was quiet, they were all clearly waiting for what would
follow, perhaps the quietness was laying the ground for an outbreak of activity
that would bring this whole affair to an end.”
Franz:
"There is no doubt, ‘Josef said quietly, ‘that
there is some enormous organisation determining what is said by this court. In
my case this includes my arrest and the examination taking place here today, an
organisation that employs policemen who can be bribed, oafish supervisors and
judges of whom nothing better can be said than that they are not as arrogant as
some others.”
I said:
“Josef K. then met a tough lawyer suggested by
his uncle, named Huld. However, it turns out that Huld is old and sicky. He
spent most of his time in bed, and his weak physical condition made him
dependent on his nurse. And, he preferred to talk at length about how
complicated the legal system is and how difficult Josef K's case is.”
Franz:
"Yes, even the nurse, Leni, was more
helpful than Huld..."
I said:
“Yes, this Leni is a warm and intimate nurse... even from the first time they met ‘she took
Josef K's hand and led him to the door, her fingers were long and thin, but
also warm and dry, and they held him tightly. ‘Come along,' she said, and then,
as they were standing in the doorway, she added: 'You see, I have a little
defect, my fingers are webbed.' She
spread them apart to show him, and indeed, between the fingers, there was a
thin membrane stretching almost to the second joint.”
Franz:
"Yes, Leni is very friendly towards Josef
K, she is interested in having an affair with him... without hesitation she
kissed him when they first met and seemed to really care about Josef K's
situation."
I said:
“Yes, but Leni advised Josef K. to just admit
his mistake ‘You can’t defend yourself against this court, you just have to
confess. So, confess the next chance you get. Only then do you have a chance of
escaping, only then. But even that’s impossible without outside help, though
you needn’t worry about getting that, I’ll help you myself.’
This quote shows that Leni advised Josef K. to
admit his guilt, as the only way to ‘escape’ the unfair court system. However,
this is inappropriate advice and does not provide a real solution.”
Franz:
"Right, Josef K. does not even know his
mistake..., how can he admit it...?”
I said:
“Leni then gave advice: ‘The lawyer,’ her boss named Huld, ‘is doing
everything he can. The court is very difficult to influence, you shouldn’t
expect too much too soon. But the lawyer is certainly doing everything he can.‘
But in reality, the lawyer, who is decrepit and sick in bed, doesn't help much,
he just chats about the court system. “
Franz:
“Huld said:
‘The court is impervious to proof. It doesn’t matter what you do or
don’t do; the court will reach its own conclusions regardless.”
I said:
“Then, knowing nothing better to do, Josef K.
met a painter, Titorelli, who was said to have had many connections with people
inside the court. He even lived in the
courtroom, and painted many court officials, so he could claim that he had a
fairly close relationship with the judges. Josef K. expected Titorelli to help
him by relying on his relationship with the judge who tried him. So, he
functions like a broker, more or less so”
Franz:
“Titorelli said: ‘ It’s not easy to defend
someone in this court, but it’s not entirely hopeless either. The outcome
depends on many factors, most of which are beyond our control.
The court is infinitely corrupt... It’s not
just a question of bribing the lower officials, but of bribing the whole
system, from top to bottom.’
I said:
“It does seem there is no hope for Josef K.
even though he is innocent. He was helpless against the walls of the court.
Even the priest he meets in the cathedral in the Old City of Prague, who
identifies himself as a "keeper of the law" and says he was assigned
by the court to speak with Josef K., turns out to be part of the same court
system that framed Josef K., although he seems more thoughtful and reflective.”
Franz:
“The priest told Josef K. a parable entitled "Before the
Law", which describes a man from the village who tried to enter the door
of the law but was blocked by the door guard.
This parable reflects the impossibility of
understanding or accessing the law, as well as the powerlessness of individuals
in the face of an unreasonable system.”
I said:
“Yes, the doorman told the man that the man
couldn't come in at the moment, but might be able to come in later. The doorman
also explains that there are many other doors behind it, each guarded by
increasingly tough and intimidating guards.
The man from the village decided to wait at the
door, hoping that one day he would be allowed to enter. He waited for years,
trying to persuade the doorman in various ways, including giving him gifts as
bribes.”
Franz:
“The doorman then said: ‘I accept your gift so
that you do not feel you have left anything undone."
I said :
“The parable tells further: ‘During these many
years the man fixes the gatekeeper almost continuously. He forgets about the
other gatekeepers, and this first one seems to him the only obstacle to his
entry into the law. He curses his bad luck, loudly and recklessly in the early
years, later, as he grows old, he only grumbles to himself. He becomes
childish, and since in his long study of the gatekeeper he has come to know
even the fleas in his fur collar, he asks the fleas to help him and to change
the gatekeeper’s mind. Finally, his eyes grow dim and he does not know whether
it is really getting darker or whether his eyes are only deceiving him. But in
the darkness he can now perceive a radiance that streams immortally from the
door of the law. Now his life is nearing its end.”
Franz:
“All that he has experienced during the whole
time of his sojourn condenses in his mind into one question, which he has never
yet put to the gatekeeper. He beckons the gatekeeper, since he can no longer
raise his stiffening body. The gatekeeper has to bend down to him, for the
difference in size between them has altered greatly to the man’s disadvantage.
'What do you want to know now?' asks the gatekeeper. 'You are insatiable.'
'Everyone strives to reach the law,' says the man, 'how does it happen, then, that
in all these years no one but me has requested admittance?' The gatekeeper sees
that the man is already at the end of his strength and that his hearing is
failing, so he bellows in his ear: 'No one else could gain admittance here,
because this entrance was meant solely for you. I am now going to shut it."
I said:
“The tragic ending of the parable told by this
priest depicts 'no hope', and is a prelude of Josef K.'s fate in the end.”
Franz:
“On the evening before his thirty-first
birthday—it was about nine o’clock at night, the time when the streets were
quiet—two gentlemen came to his apartment. They were dressed in black, with
frock coats that looked as if they were meant for a funeral. ‘Who are you?’
asked K., immediately sitting up in bed. ‘We’re here to fetch you,’ said one of
the gentlemen, while the other looked around the room. K. protested, but they
insisted, saying it was necessary. They led him out of the apartment and into a
waiting car. They drove to the outskirts of the city, to a deserted quarry.”
I said:
“Hmm… those two men dressed all in black were
not clear whether they were police or butchers working for that oppressive
system….”
Franz:
“But the hands of one of the gentleman were
laid on K.'s throat, while the other pushed the knife deep into his heart and
twisted it there, twice. As his eyesight failed, K. saw the two gentlemen cheek
by cheek, close in front of his face, watching the result. "Like a
dog!" he said, it was as if the shame of it should outlive him.”
THE END
This is an imaginary interview
in memory of Franz Kafka.
Source:
The Trial by Franz Kafka, translated by David
Wyllie.
While walking along the Vitava River, in the Lesser
Town, we came across the Franz Kafka Museum. The museum's facade is simple, with
a few doors and windows, with only a large black letter K in front of it.
Uniquely, there is a statue of two
people urinating into a pond in front of the museum. This controversial bronze
sculpture, called Proudy, made by artist David Cerny, robotically moves their
penises as if to spell out something with their urine.
The figures are made of bronze and look as if
they were made from stacked jagged metal slices. Each figure is holding its
penis and urinating, pouring it in a random pattern. They are urinating on a basin
shaped like a map of Czechoslovakia, so they are essentially urinating on
Czechoslovakia. How provocative.
The museum's rooms are dark, as dark as Kafka's
writings. The first section of this immersion into Kafka's world, titled
Existential Space, shows how Prague shaped the writer's life, the imprint it
left on him, and how that transformative force influenced him. His diaries and
extensive correspondence with family members, friends, lovers, and publishers
bear witness to this influence. The challenge for the viewer is to try and
grasp the central conflict in Franz Kafka's life, guided by the writer's
perspective.
The second section, titled Imaginary
Topography, shows Kafka describing his city without naming the places where his
stories take place, with only a few exceptions.
The reader may guess, for example, that the
anonymous cathedral in The Trial is none other than St. Vitus Cathedral; that
the road Joseph K. walks along in the final chapter of the same book leads from
the Old Town, across Charles Bridge towards the outer limits of the Lesser
Town. It is also said that the view from Bendemann's window in The Judgment
shows the embankment, the Vltava River, and its opposite bank in the same way
as it can be seen from Mikulášská Street (now Pařížská Street), where the Kafka
family lived in 1912. This is to prove that the topography of Prague as Kafka
wrote about is historical, even though no place names are mentioned.
However, for Kafka, this is irrelevant. His
writing transforms Prague into an imaginary topography. The city takes a step
backward, and is no longer recognizable by its buildings, bridges, and
monuments. It is no longer important to identify specific offices, primary or
secondary schools, universities, churches, prisons, or castles, as these
structures serve as metaphors and allegorical places.
When we walked in the Old Town Square of Prague, we found a rather
chaotic square full with tourists, numerous street vendors and performers, and souvenir
stalls. The buildings were a mix of architectural styles from different
periods, including Gothic, Baroque, and Renaissance. While the appearance of
the square is chaotic, many people found the square to be both bustling and
charming.
Then, as if raising from the diverse buildings, stood this church with
its twin Gothic spires. Its full name, "Church of Our Lady before
Týn," reflects both its dedication
to the Virgin Mary and its location in front of the Týn courtyard. We struggled
to find the entrance to the church, after we walked through the narrow
passageway between the old buildings, we emerged into a small courtyard where
the main entrance to the church is located.
The church was built primarily in the Gothic style during the 14th and
15th centuries. The interior features tall, vaulted ceilings, pointed arches,
and slender columns, creating a sense of grandeur and verticality typical of
Gothic design. It was richly decorated featuring Baroque arts, reflecting its
long history and the various periods of renovation and decoration. Many of the
paintings and sculptures are from the 17th and 18th centuries, when the church
was extensively renovated in the Baroque style.
The dimly lit interior, the scent of incense, and the quiet ambiance
create a space for meditation and prayer. Whether we attend a Mass or simply
sit in silence, the church offers a peaceful retreat from the bustling Old Town
Square outside.
At night Kabukicho
twinkles and invites tired office workers to enjoy the entertainment here.
There are many nightclubs in this area, not only for men but also for women,
served by male hosts. There are also many so called Love Hotels, which provide
rooms to make love for a short time or
for the whole night. I remember the film 'Kabukicho Love Hotel' which depicts
the atmosphere of a Love Hotel, showing the rooms, the employees and of course
the guests behaving intimately. We can see various types of romance and affair
of couples from various backgrounds, cheating, prostitute hiring, blackmailing,
and apparently love is not the main
theme in the relation.
Kabukicho is a busy red
light area in Shinjuku, Tokyo. In the 1940s it was planned to build a kabuki
theater here. However, even though this theater has not been realized until
now, the name Kabukicho remains attached. As we walk along the narrow streets
lit by neon lights and glittering billboards, we are greeted by waiters and touters
offering their services. This atmosphere is quite common in Tokyo’s shopping
area, but what makes it unique here is that they also offer girls for sex.
However, their behavior is not as vulgar as Pat Pong in Bangkok, where
bikini-clad women display themselves on the sides of the street. Here the
vendors give out flyers offering massages with beautiful women, unique foods
and drinks, video games, pachinko and other shops.
If you want to ignore
the eager offers, you can walk along the alleys in Golden Gai which are lined
with bars and small stalls that look shabby. Here the atmosphere feels more
intimate because of the small space is packed with visitors. You can order some
typical Japanese food and drinks here after you found a seat in the crowd. Don't
be surprised if the smell of smoke from various grills is mixed with cigarette
smoke, but the visitors are all 'cheerful' enjoying the night. You often hear
the words 'oishii' (delicious) or 'kanpai' (cheers) spoken in a tone like
talking to a child or a puppy. Moreover, if it's a woman talking, the tone is
high with a nasal voice, like in Japanese animated films, as you know.
Especially when they see something cute, whether it's a doll or clothes or bag,
they exclaim 'kawai...' in that tone. This place is really jolly.
Before
the interview with Natsume, I took the time to visit Matsuyama city. This city
is the setting for Natsume's novel 'Botchan'. He was once assigned as a teacher
in Matsuyama, and it must have been that experience that inspired him to write the
novel that tells the story of a middle school mathematics teacher assigned to
teach in Matsuyama. The teacher's name is Botchan, which means ‘Young Master’,
in Japanese. Botchan has an unusual character for a teacher, as he has a
sarcastic mouth. His words are sharp without being polished, and without
hesitation he talked that way to his students and other fellow teachers. He
cursed at his students who were often behaving impishly and mischievously
towards him. He also spoke aggressively and sharply to other teachers he didn't
like. He gave nicknames to teachers who behaved strangely. The fresh and comic
narrative makes this novel very popular in Japan and has become a mandatory
reading in schools. Maybe, every student in Japan has read this novel.
The
city Matsuyama is actually not as outdated as Botchan said. Of course, this
city cannot be compared with Tokyo, the big city where Botchan lived before
moving to Matsuyama. Here, I also looked for and found the hot springs that
Botchan often visited, where he escaped every afternoon after teaching at
school. The name of this hot spring bathing place is Dogo Onsen, a fairly large
and famous public bath. The building has three floors, made of wood, arranged
beautifully and magnificently. The hot water in the bathing pool comes from the
earth and contains many minerals. It's really relaxing to soak in this hot
water pool, soothes sore muscles and joints. I can imagine how Botchan enjoyed
the warm water and felt refreshed after soaking for just a few moments.
So,
when I met Natsume at his house in Waseda-Minamicho, Tokyo, I started the
conversation with this Dogo Onsen.
I
said:
"Natsume-san, I visited Matsuyama before
I came here, just to get to know this city which is the city where Bochan
teaches. Although the name of the city is not mentioned in the novel, some
readers may have guessed that, because you yourself once taught in Matsuyama.
In this city I found Dogo onsen and tried soaking in the hot spring water of
this bath. People said that Dogo Onsen is the bathhouse that Botchan often
visits in his free time, because the depiction of the bathhouse in this novel
corresponds to this Dogo onsen building. Is it true that Dogo onsen is where
Botchan bathes every day?"
Natsume:
“Yes,
according to Botchan, the building has three stories, the bathing pool is made
of granite, about 10 square meters in size. There are usually thirteen or
fourteen people in the pool, but sometimes there aren't any. If there is no
one, Bochan takes the opportunity to swim in this pool, even though the small
pool is not a swimming pool and there is a sign that says: "Swimming in
the pool is prohibited." The sign seemed to have been written specifically
for Botchan, who often sneakingly swam in the pool when it was quiet. According
to public practice, the pool is for soaking and enjoying the warm water, the
pool is too small for swimming."
I
said:
“It
seems that one of his students found out that Botchan often swims in the pool and
reported it. So, the next day Botchan was surprised when he entered the school
room, on the blackboard it was written: "Swimming in the pool is
prohibited." Ha... ha... ha.... I remember the old school days, the
students were sometimes so mischievous..."
Natsume,
also laughed:
"Yes, the students are behaving impishly because
Botchan is a young teacher who is new to teaching at the school. Imagine, when
Botchan goes to the bath, he always brings the same large towel, European size.
This towel is slightly red like the color of the hot water which contains
minerals in the Dogo onsen. He always held this towel in his hand when he went
to the bathhouse, both when walking and when taking the train there. Therefore,
the students nicknamed him “Red Towel”. Ha... ha... Looks like all the students
are conspiring to follow him everywhere to observe what this young teacher is
doing... Ha..ha..”.
I
laughed too:
"But
Botchan is no less mischievous, he confronts his students with sarcastic curses
and handles his annoying students fiercely. He gave appropriate punishment to
his students. Many teachers decried Botchan's actions on the students, these
actions were considered unfit for a teacher. Botchan didn't want to be outdone
and denied them with increasingly sarcastic expressions. He was even ready to
fight with the teachers who criticized him. He mocked the teachers with
nicknames according to the teacher's strange behavior..."
Natsume:
“Yes,
especially the “Red Shirt”, the hypocritical and manipulative head teacher, who
is Botchan’s biggest enemy. He was given that nickname because every day he
wore red furry clothes, and talked like a woman,... ha... ha..."
Yes,
the "Red Shirt" is a very annoying character. I wondered if there was
actually one of Natsume's fellow teachers at that school who behaved like Red
Shirt, which inspired Natsume to depict this character. Just like the city of
Matsuyama which became the setting of this novel, and the bathing place which
depiction was based on Dogo onsen, perhaps the characters in this story also were
depicted based on people whom Natsume encountered while teaching at that
school.
Matsuyama
City, apart from being the setting for "Botchan", is also the city
where Natsume reunites with Shiki Masaoka, his best friend since school. Shiki
Masaoka wrote a lot of Haiku since that time in school, and Natsuke was
influenced to write Haiku by him. Haiku is a short poem consisting of 3 lines
and 17 syllables, which is popular in Japan. This short haiku conveys the
impression experienced by the author in an instant, which was spontaneously
felt in an encounter. Haiku can be about simple things that are encountered
every day, things that are light and funny, but they can also have deep,
existential expressions, about love and death. Since thereon, Natsume, together
with Shiki, also wrote a lot of Haiku, both about trivial, funny and deep
encounters.
I
said:
“It
is said that in Matsuyama you met your close friend Shiki Masaoka, and together
you spent time writing Haiku there. How did you become friends with Shiki
Masaoka, who could be said to be one of the Haiku Masters in Japan?”
Natsume:
“
Shiki Masaoka was my best friend since school, and he wrote a lot of Haiku at
that time. He has collected his poems in one book which he entitled
"Nanakusashu", which also contains poems in Chinese writing styles and
Haiku. One day he passed the book around in class for his friends to comment
on. I added my comments at the end of the book and attached nine poems that I
addressed to him. “
I
said: "What kind of poetry did you write...?"
Natsume,
citing one of the poems in that book:
“Living
in nothingness is rather tasteful,
This
summer you decided to rent a room at the House of the Fragrant Moon on the bank
of the river.
Whilst
spending time composing poems featuring a rural landscape of green wheat and
yellow rape blossoms,
The
season has changed and autumn with the red flower of water pepper and white
flower of floating weed has arrived again.”
I
said: “How did Shiki respond...?”
Natsume:
“He liked that poem..., it reminded him of his experience on summer vacation in
Mukojima. He rented a room to write the poetry collection
"Nanakusashu", and according to him this location was a meaningless
world, which was the place where he got inspiration for his writings.
But
later on, I thought the poems were childish... I felt really embarrassed and
asked him to tear up the poems..."
I
said: “I don't feel so...”
Natsume:
"Nevertheless, since then we have become close friends, my pen name
"Soseki" is actually one of Shiki's pen names, which he later gave to
me. And until now my name is Natsume Soseki..."
I
said: “Does Soseki mean anything...?”
Natsume:
"Soseki comes from an expression from "Shinjo" in the Tang
dynasty in China, which means 'to gargle with stones'...".
I
frowned: “Gargling with stones? How strange?"
Natsume:
"Yes, that's an analogy for someone who loses but doesn't want to admit
defeat, Bad Looser... ha...ha.."
I
laughed too: "Hmm... that's the pen name Shiki gave you, huh... So, that name makes fun of both of you,
huh..."
Natsume:
“We
became close friends and often shared Haiku and Chinese poetry writings in our
letters. Shiki was impressed by the Chinese poetry I wrote, and I was impressed
by the Haiku-Haiku he wrote, so we exchanged poems to express our thoughts and
feelings. While in Matsuyama, we wrote more and more Haiku together. At that
time, he actually came to this city to recover from the tuberculosis he was
suffering from, because this city was actually his hometown. There we devoted
our free time to Haiku, and also wrote poems at meetings with poets and our
students.”
I
said: "Hmm... you guys were very productive in writing poetry..."
Natsume:
"Yes, Shiki was very talented, but he admitted later that as a student, he
was not very diligent..."
I
said: "Yes, many prominent people don't study hard, their report cards at
school weren't impressive and many of them even fail at school..."
Natsume:
"Yes,
Shiki experienced many obstacles when studying at school, in the later days he
even intended to resign from Tokyo Imperial University because he failed the
final exam. I received a letter from him about his intentions, I became very worried
and immediately wrote back trying to calm his mind so he wouldn't go the wrong
way...at the end of the letter I added a Haiku to cool him down which read:
'Night cuckoo, if you cry, cry to the full moon...' ... for your information,
his name Shiki means cuckoo..."
I
said: "Then, did you succeed in changing his mind…?"
Natsume:
“Unfortunately…., a year later he actually withdrew from Tokyo Imperial
University….”
In
the middle of our conversation, Kyoko, Natsume's wife, came in carrying a tray
of snacks which she placed on the table in front of us who were sitting
cross-legged. I saw food with attractive colors, those were mochi cakes, a
typical Japanese cake made from sticky rice. There are three kinds of colors of
the cakes, white, orange and brown. The orange one has a citrus taste, a refreshing
one. Natsume immediately took the chocolate mochi cake and ate it with a gusto.
It seemed he was quite hungry that time. Kyoko said that Natsume had a severe
stomach acid disorder, so he was often hungry like that. Kyoko spoke while
smiling broadly in a friendly manner, but her teeth looked irregular and
yellow. Natsume himself once said about his wife 'her teeth are irregular and
yellow, but she doesn't care to hide it. I appreciate her openness'. I remember
it was Natsume's words noted by Kyoko herself.
Natsume
himself is tall, with a fairly bushy mustache, and his eyes are brownish gold.
There is a smallpox scar on the right side of his face, which is covered with
fine hair. In portraits this scar is never visible, perhaps because the
photographer respected him not to show that side of his face.
I
then tried the chocolate mochi, it turned out it tasted of red beans. Kyoko
then served a pot of green tea which is commonly drunk in Japan. The slightly
bitter taste of the tea goes well with the taste of this chocolate mochi. While
enjoying the warm mochi and tea, I looked at the interior of this house. This
house has walls and floors all made of wood, typical of traditional Japanese
houses. The floor is covered with tatami, thick mats made of straw. The walls
and ceilings are all wood. The room dividers are made of wooden frames and are
covered on both sides with white washi, a type of paper that is tough and
durable. The washi paper is translucent, making the room brighter, making
anyone feel at home sitting here. Even though I sat cross-legged for a long
time, I didn't feel tired.
Suddenly
from behind the partition came a cat, which without further ado sat on
Natsume's lap. The cat is a type of medium-sized calico cat, with fur like a
Persian cat, yellowish gray with jet black spots. The cat sat cuddly, being
stroked by Natsume's hand. Immediately I recognized this cat as the cat in the
book "I am a Cat", written by Natsume. Yes, the narrator is this cat,
who often chatters and makes comments about his master, Mr. Sneaze, who is an
English teacher. Coincidentally or not, Natsume was also an English teacher.
The cat also told us that his master had a serious stomach acid problem....
I
then said:
"This
cat is very similar to the cat that plays a role in the book 'I am a Cat', I
would guess that there are many stories that the Cat told us are based on your
real experience..."
Natsume
just smiled….
I
said:
"That
the stomach acid disorder that the Cat talked about his master, Mr. Sneaze,
looks quite serious... I heard stories from people who suffered from the same
suffering that Mr. Sneaze experienced..."
Natsume:
"His
wife always told him to drink Taka-Diastase for his ailment, but Mr. Sneaze
didn't want to drink it anymore, because it wasn't effective. His wife kept encouraging
him to take the medicine, but Mr. Sneaze stubbornly refused, saying it was
useless. She then became upset because he used to take the drug every day and said
it works like a miracle. However, she kept saying to him that patience is
needed to cure the disease, if one doesn’t have the patience it won't heal.
Stomach acid disorder does take a long time to heal..., his wife said so while
looking at her servant, as if asking for her approval... and the servant, of
course she agreed with his wife's words...."
I
said:
“Readers
of this book may recognize the story style of ‘Rakugo’, which is a Japanese
monologue performance, told humorously. Like stand-up comedy in bars, the Cat speaks
like that…”
Natsume:
"Indeed, my stomach acid problem became
severe enough that I had to be hospitalized while writing 'The Gate'. Then I
took refuge in Shuzenji for healing. I stayed at the Kikuya ryokan on the banks
of the Katsuragawa River, nearby which also has an onsen, a hot spring bath. I
felt like coming home after a long journey. But my condition worsened, and I
vomited 800 grams of blood, I felt so close to death at that time.”
I
said:
"
I happened to have read ‘The Gate’, or 'Mon' as the original title, which you
wrote at that critical time, I was very impressed with that novel. It's very
interesting how you talk about the daily life of a person named 'Sosuke', which
also happens to be similar to your pen name 'Soseki'. In the story, Sosuke refuged
to a temple in Kamakura to seek peace in live by studying Zen and practicing
the meditation. And I heard that you have also studied Zen and meditation at
Enkaku-ji Temple in Kamakura."
Natsume:
"But
it turned out that a life full of meditation at the temple was not suitable for
Sosuke, he always woke up late for morning meditation, the long meditations
were too tiring for him and the vegetarian food provided was tasteless. After
ten days he returned home.”
I
said:
“The
Gate referred to in this novel seems to be the Gate of this temple, the Gate to
enlightenment that Sosuke wants to achieve...”
Nasume, citing ‘The Gate’:
“He
had come here expecting the gate to be opened for him. But when he knocked, the
gatekeeper, wherever he stood behind the high portals, had not so much as
showed his face. Only a disembodied voice could be heard: ‘It does no good to
knock. Open the gate for yourself and enter.’
But
how, he wondered, could he unbar the gate from the outside? Mentally he devised
a scheme involving various measures and steps. But when it came to it, he found
himself unable to summon the strength to put his scheme into effect. He was
standing in the very same place he had stood before even beginning to ponder
the problem. As before, he found himself stranded, without resources or
recourse, in front of the closed portals. He had been living from day to day in
accordance with his own capacity for reason. Now to his chagrin he could see
that this capacity had become a curse. At one extreme, he had come to envy the
obstinate single-mindedness of simpletons for whom the possibility of
discriminating among several options did not arise. At the other end of the
spectrum, he viewed with awe the advanced spiritual self-discipline of those
lay believers, both men and women, who abandoned conventional wisdom and did
away with the distractions of analytical thought. It appeared to Sōsuke that
from the moment of his birth it was his fate to remain standing indefinitely
outside the gate. This was an indisputable fact. Yet if it were true that, no
matter what, he was never meant to pass through this gate, there was something
quite absurd about his having approached it in the first place. He looked back.
He saw that he lacked the courage to retrace his steps. He looked ahead. The
way was forever blocked by firmly closed portals. He was someone destined
neither to pass through the gate nor to be satisfied with never having passed
through it. He was one of those unfortunate souls fated to stand in the gate’s
shadow, frozen in his tracks, until the day was done.
THE END
This is an imaginary interview in memory of Natsume Soseki.
From behind the window of the bus we were
riding in, we could see a stunning view of the mountains. It was just the start
of summer, the green leaves and grass look young and fresh, spreading across
the mountains. The tour guide said that in autumn the view is even more
beautiful, the leaves turn red and turn golden yellow before they fall,
providing a stunning panorama along the way. We can only imagine it, from the
photos we have seen, with the dream of one day being able to enjoy the original
view in autumn. Of course, autumn is the busiest season, tourists, domestic and
foreign, plan their trips here well in advance.
We were on our way from Tokyo to the Nikko
mountains. Nikko is a historical place with beautiful views of the mountains
north of Tokyo. The existence of historical places located on the slopes of the
mountains, complemented by their rural charm, has inspired the saying:
"Never say kekko until you see Nikko", meaning that if you go to
Japan, never be satisfied until you see Nikko.
Our first stop was Toshugu Shrine. Tosho is the
honorary name given to Tokugawa Ieyasu after his death, because this shrine is
the burial place of Tokugawa Ieyasu. He was a Japanese samurai leader who led
and unified Japan in the 17th century. He founded the Tokugawa Shogunate which
ruled for more than 250 years, making him a prominent samurai figure in
Japanese history. Like other Japanese leaders, his spirit is considered sacred
and this shrine was built to house his spirit, according to Shinto beliefs. Therefore,
this temple is full of historical value and is very sacred because this temple
is the burial place and residence of Tokugawa Ieyasu's spirit.
From the entrance to the rear shrine, Toshogu
is connected by an uplhill street that is quite wide. At the end of the path,
there is a large Gate, called Torri (Ishidorii). The stone made Torri marks the
entrance to Toshogu Shrine, which according to Shinto beliefs represents the gate
to a holy place.
Usually, Shinto shrines are kept simple by
considering harmony with the natural surroundings, inviting visitors to offer
prayers and offerings at these shrines. Not so with Toshogu Shrine. This temple
is a combination of a Shinto Temple and a Buddhist Temple, giving this temple a
majestic dimension. Simplicity is not a consideration at all, the buildings are
instead rich with ornaments of various colors, including gold leaf decoration,
which can amaze visitors who observe them.
While wandering at
night in the Kabukicho, we saw a very unique restaurant. The name is Robot
Restaurant, which was hugely displayed at the top of the restaurant with
glittering light bulbs, so it could be seen from far. Anybody visiting this
area wouldn’t miss to notice this restaurant. We wondered what kind of
restaurant it was, were we going to be served by robots or something like that?
Actually, the place offered a spectacular Robot-themed cabaret show, and
calling it a restaurant was a bit misleading. It was more a show rather than a
restaurant. They did serve food there, but it was the kind of food to be eaten
while watching the show. The room arrangement was like an arena stage surrounded
by seats for the spectators, not like a normal dining tables arrangement in
restaurants.
The show was
astonishing, loud and full of energy from the beginning. Dancers, laser lights,
dazzling spot lights, mixed with dinosaurs and robots danced in rhythm with the
drum beats. It was spectacular. The movement seemed unchoreographed, but the
performance is actually a carefully planned routine that requires weeks of preparation.
The dancers must master everything from dancing to drumming, pole dancing and
robot riding for the performance. So did one of the dancers told us after the
show.
Though there seemed no
storyline in the 90 minutes show, it appeared to be a classic battle between robot
armies. The dancers ranged from the kawaii (cute) to the monstrous animals, the
goofy anime characters to the ancient Japanese fantasy characters. There was blaring
rock music in the room, with warrior princesses in bikinis fighting a 3 meter tall
transformer robots. They came to tease
you at every corner and in front of your seat. There were also a giant shark
attacking a robotic horse, a Kung-Fu panda wrestling on a Segway. They made us
smile.
For 90 minutes we
entered a different world, monsters and kawaii characters came in flesh, robot
toys became huge, it was a show as well as a wild party. It was one of the top tourist attractions in
Tokyo, located in the Shinjuku nightlife district. It earned a reputation not
long after it opened in 2012, but sadly it must close during the Covid 19 pandemic
and remained closed forever.
Wow,
I was lucky to meet Chairil at the Artic ice cream shop, in Kramat Raya,
Batavia. He was sitting in the corner at a rattan chair and table. As usual, he
was busy reading a book without paying attention to his surroundings. When I greeted
him, he lifted his head from the book and smiled kindly to me. He seemed to
remember his promise to give me an interview, but all this time it was very
difficult to meet him. Maybe he tried to avoid it because he actually doesn't
like the noise of publicity. So, I was lucky to cornered him here.
But
ouch, his face was crumpled, his eyes were red as if he hadn't slept. His face
was gloomy and tired.
"Last
night did you stay up late, Ril...?" I asked.
"Not
really... this is how I am..." he said absentmindedly, then glanced at the
entrance when the doorbell rang. Apparently an IndoDutch girl came in. This ice
cream shop is visited by many Indonesians, Dutch and IndoDutch teenagers, many
of whom have just come home from school. The atmosphere became lively. Apparently,
this is what this 'Wild Beast' (so he called himself in his famous poem) is
looking for, hanging out here while enjoying the view of many pure white,
blonde-haired girls.
There
was no ice cream on the table yet, so I offered: “Would you like some ice
cream… Ril? “
"Anything..."
he said.
"Okay...
I'll order mocha ice cream... the one with biscuits..." I spoke.
But
he didn't seem to care. He really doesn't care what he eats, he just smokes a
lot. His body was thin and looked neglected. His face was pale, with dark
circles around his eyes. His clothes were casual, his shirt was faded and his
trousers were shabby. Truly like “The Wild Beast, cast out from the herd.”
In
fact, as far as I know, his parents are well to do, his father is the regent of
Indragiri. And he was an only child, so you can imagine he was spoiled from
childhood. Everything is there and never lack of anything. I really want to ask
him about his family.
I
said: "I can ask you... Ril, your childhood must have been abundant and
enjoyable... right...?"
Chairil:
“Look
at the faded orange love:
And
I choose
the
view blurs, the surrounding leaves fall
the
house is hidden in tall shady cypresses
in
the glass window no shadow comes floating
Marbles,
spinning toy, wooden horses, little boats of
childhood,
Look
at the faded orange love:
If a
mirage typhoon comes,
rolling
the marbles, spinning toys
wooden
horses, blowing little boats
I
was already rigid.”
At the age of 19, after his parents'
divorce, Chairil and his mother moved to Batavia. He lived in the house of his
uncle, Sutan Sjahrir, Prime Minister of Indonesia. However, he is like someone
whose life is unusual, his clothes are shabby, he eats irregularly, he wanders
everywhere and often sleeps in his friends' rooms.
The waiter served two mocha ice creams at
our table. Chairil ignored it, he just stared, until the ice cream started to
melt.
I asked: “Do you have a nostalgia about
this shop… Ril…?”
Chairil:
“Between
happiness now and later an abyss opens,
My
little sister enjoys licking artic ice;
This
evening you are my love, I garnish with milk plus coca cola
My
wife in training: we stop the clock ticking.
You're
really good at kissing, I can feel the scratch remains
when
we cycle I bring you home
Your
blood is hot, you will quickly become a woman,
The
old man's dream is rising to the sky.
Your
choice every day picks up, every time
changed;
Tomorrow
we'll cross paths, we don't know who each other:
Heaven
is just a short game.
I am
like you, everything passes quickly
I
and Tuti plus Greet plus Amoi heartbroken,
Love
is a danger that quickly fades”
Some time ago, after Indonesia proclaimed
independence, the Dutch carried out military aggression to regain control of
Indonesian territories. Together with the Allied troops they succeeded in
controlling the West Java region. When the Dutch army invaded Bekasi, thousands
of people fled towards Karawang. Fighting then broke out in the area between
Karawang and Bekasi. As a result, many of the Indonesian Republic Army (TRI)
chose to retreat to the countryside and join with local people to build
defenses against Dutch attacks. Several TRI troops were headquartered in
Rawagede village and led by Captain Lukas Kustarjo. Unfortunately, the
fighter's headquarters in Rawagede village was discovered by Dutch henchmen.
Without thinking further, the Dutch
military immediately prepared a plan for a sudden attack on Captain Lukas and
his soldiers. The Dutch tried to find Captain Lukas, but they were unable to
catch him. The Dutch then gathered male residents aged around 14 years in the
field. One by one they were asked about Captain Lukas' whereabouts, but none of
them knew. Their answer certainly did not make the Dutch immediately believe
it. The young men were then ordered to squat with their backs to the Dutch
soldiers with their hands placed above their heads. In an instant, bodies began
to fall after being executed by the Dutch.
I asked him: "You wrote a poem to
commemorate these teen youths who were recently killed by the Dutch between
Karawang and Bekasi, can you tell us about the memory..."
Chairil:
“We who are now lying between
Karawang-Bekasi
cannot shout "Freedom" and take
up arms again.
But who no longer hears our roar,
imagine us moving forward and beating heart?
We talk to you in silence on a lonely night
If your chest feels empty and the wall
clock is ticking
We die young. What remained were bones
covered in dust.
Remember, remember us.
We've tried what we can
But the work is not done, we cannot comprehend
the meaning of 4-5 thousand lives
We are just scattered bones
But they are yours
You are again who determine the value of
the scattered bones
Or our souls soar for freedom, victory and
hope
or not for nothing,
We do not know, we can no longer say
You are the one now saying
We talk to you in silence on a lonely night
If your chest feels empty and the wall
clock is ticking
Remember, remember us
Keep going, keep our souls going
Guarding Bung Karno
look after Bung Hatta
look after Bung Sjahrir
We are now corpses
Give us meaning
Always stay on the line between statements
and dreams
Remember, remember us.
all that remains is bones covered in dust
Thousands of us lay between
Karawang-Bekasi.”
THE END
This is imaginary interview in memory of
Chairil Anwar
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