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
It was winter when I
walked from the Shinjuku Metro station to the Shinjuku Gyeon National Garden. Of
course many people would prefer to visit this garden in Spring to see the Sakura
blossoming, or to see the colors in autumns, however in winter the garden has
its own colors. Not the white color of snow, but the colors of the plants
subdued by the cold winter. A range of green colors not as green in summer
mixed with the remaining color of maple trees.
Shinjuku Gyoen, located
a few hundred meters away from Shinjuku’s heart-beat, is a combination of
Western style garden, which are French garden and English garden, with Japanese
traditional garden. The beauty of Japanese style garden lies in its
asymmetrical beauty, unlike the symmetrical beauty of Western style garden.
Other than that, almost all elements in a Japanese garden indicate a symbolism
deeply rooted in Shinto, which considered the close bond between nature, human
and deities. The word Shinto itself means “the way of Kami (deities)”. Kami
live in the same world as human beings, in the nature. Therefore, nature as the
home of the Kami, is sacred and worshiped with awe. Shinto regards every
element of nature as divine, and that the Kami are present everywhere.
Shinjuku Gyoen was
constructed on the site of a private mansion belonging to Lord Naito, a feudal
lord of the Edo era in 16th century. Later it was converted into a
botanical garden before converted into an Imperial Garden of the Emperor Meiji
in 1906. After the Second World War it was designated as a national garden and
opened to the public. This park features large ponds with islands and bridges,
in Japanese style garden. About 10,000 trees grow in this park, tulip trees,
cedars, cypresses, which give the garden a solemn atmosphere. However, the
skyscrapers in the background awaken us that this place is in modern Tokyo.
Makoto Shinkai's 2013
anime movie, The Garden of Words, is set in Shinjuku Gyoen. The movie is about
a 15 year old high school boy and a 27 year old woman meeting consistently on a
rainy day in the park. The reason Shinkai made this movie had to do with the
East Japan Earthquake and Tsunami of 2011, that made him question the scenery
that we see everyday with the knowledge that it could someday turn into nothing
and might be lost in one day because of disaster like that. He wanted the keep
all the scenery that he personally love and what people might relate to into
the anime.
Thunderous
applause from the audience when the blood-red curtain came down ending the
performance of the comedy drama 'Government Inspector' that evening. This
performance tells the story of how nervous the Governor and other officials
were when they found out that there would be an inspection by a Government
Inspector who came incognito to their area. They are frantically trying to
cover up all the bad things in this area which is infiltrated by corruption
everywhere, which is depicted hilariously and full of satire. The audience who
filled the Akimov Comedy Theater greeted the performance with smiles and
laughter. It was fitting that the audience's response was like that, it is said
that Tsar Nicholas I chuckled at the premiere of this comedy drama and gave a
standing ovation at the end of the performance. Although this drama is actually
a humorous criticism of the depravity of bureaucrats under the Tsarist
government.
Before
the applause died down I slipped out, because I had an appointment to meet
someone very important. Who can say, I made an appointment to meet with
Nikolai, the playwright of this drama! So I rushed down Nevsky Prospekt, the famous
street in St Petersburg, on a cold night. We arranged to meet at the Literary
Café, a café frequented by many aristocrats, poets and other artists. The
famous Russian poet Alexander Pushkin also often hung out here. When I arrived,
Nikolai was already sitting waiting in the corner of the room with dark brown
wooden walls. The hanging lights make the atmosphere of this café cozy and
calm. The chairs are also patterned with dark brown checks, making this room feels
truly aristocratic.
Nikolai
stood up and greeted me in a friendly manner. It turns out he was small, with
legs that were too short for his body. His rather baby face was plastered with
long strands of hair that hung down from her forehead to the side of his face
covering his ears. His nose looked too ponty for his face. He wore modest
clothes, not showing off his fame. With a smile he invited me to sit down.
I
started the conversation:
“Nikolai, I have just finished
watching 'The Government Inspector' at the Akimov Building..., I am amazed that
such a horrendous performance was permitted by the Tsar, who imposed strict
censorship on all works in Russia... The audience responded with uproarious
laughter. laughing at the corrupt behavior of the governor and his government
officials, who were worried about being investigated by the Government
Inspector, who would come incognito. The governor and government officials are
frantically trying to cover up their lies and corruption in every possible way.
They even bribed the person they thought was the undercover Government
Inspector.… There had never been a performance like this before, this was truly
a new movement for the performance art in Russia…”
Nikolai:
“However, there were also hue and cry
raised by the offended press and officials…”
I
said:
“It is not surprising that this drama
dares to attack the bureaucratic foundations of the government in Russia. It
directly mocked all officials, and exposing corruption among high-ranking
officials. It hurled insults directly at all Russian local government
officials, and, indirectly, pointed out the system of corruption that existed
among the highest officials.”
Nikolai:
“In
the Inspector-General I resolved to gather together all the bad in Russia I
then knew into one heap, all the injustice that was practiced in those places
and in those human relations in which more than in anything justice is demanded
of men, and to have one big laugh over it all. But that, as is well known,
produced an outburst of excitement. Through my laughter, which never before
came to me with such force, the reader sensed profound sorrow. I myself felt
that my laughter was no longer the same as it had been, that in my writings I
could no longer be the same as in the past, and that the need to divert myself
with innocent, careless scenes had ended along with my young years.”
I
said:
"It
is said that Aleksandr Pushkin, the famous Russian poet, was one of your first
admirers... how is your relationship with Pushkin?"
Nikolai:
“Our relationship was very close,
Pushkin considered me his student, and I respected Pushkin and considered him
my mentor. I really respect the taste and criticism he gave me. And ‘Government
Inspector’ was the theme he suggested to me ….”
I
asked:
“Why do you write a satirical comedy
like this?”
Nikolai:
“The
comic, actually is hidden everywhere, only living in the midst of it we are not
conscious of it; but if the artist brings it into his art, on the stage say, we
shall roll about with laughter and only wonder we did not notice it before.”
I smiled:
"Yes,
I remember when the governor in this play remembered something he was careless
about: ‘Good God, though, I forgot that about forty cart-loads of rubbish have
been dumped against that fence. What a vile, filthy town this is! A monument,
or even only a fence, is erected, and instantly they bring a lot of dirt
together, from the devil knows where, and dump it there.”
Nikolai:
“When all his depravity was revealed,
the Governor was very worried about his reputation, and complained: ‘Now his
coach bells are jingling all along the road. He is publishing the story to the
whole world. Not only will you be made a laughing-stock of, but some scribbler,
some ink-splasher will put you into a comedy. There's the horrid sting. He
won't spare either rank or station. And everybody will grin and clap his hands.
What are you laughing at? You are laughing at yourself, oh you! ‘ … Stamping
his feet.”
I
said:
“However, about your comical works,
Pushkin once said: ‘Behind laughter we can feel sad tears.’…. This is really
felt in a short story you wrote entitled 'The Overcoat'.... concerns a simple
humble scribe. His income was so small that he only had one overcoat and it had
been worn for too long and was full of patches. Through various thrifts and
sacrifices, which you describe comically, the scribe finally had a beautiful
new robe, which he adored all the time. But one day he was robbed and the overcoat
he was wearing were taken by the robbers... How tragic,... even though the
story is told in comical way .....”.
Nikolai:
“Yes, in a certain department there was a certain
official -- not a very high one, it must be allowed -- short of stature,
somewhat pock-marked, red-haired, and short-sighted, with a bald forehead,
wrinkled cheeks, and a complexion of the kind known as sanguine.
His
family name was Bashmatchkin. This name is evidently derived from
"bashmak" (shoe); but when, at what time, and in what manner, is not
known. His father and grandfather, and all the Bashmatchkins, always wore
boots, which only had new heels two or three times a year.
I
said:
“His
complete name was Akakiy Akakievitch, and it is said that he was very dedicated
to his work as a scribe…”
Nikolai:
“It
would be difficult to find another man who lived so entirely for his duties. It
is not enough to say that Akakiy laboured with zeal: no, he laboured with love.
In his copying, he found a varied and agreeable employment. Enjoyment was
written on his face: some letters were even favourites with him; and when he
encountered these, he smiled, winked, and worked with his lips, till it seemed
as though each letter might be read in his face, as his pen traced it. If his
pay had been in proportion to his zeal, he would, perhaps, to his great
surprise, have been made even a councillor of state. But he worked, as his
companions, the wits, put it, like a horse in a mill.”
I
said:
"Hmm,
I remember that you also worked as a scribe, copying clerk..., where did you
ever work like that...?"
Nikolai:
“When
I left college at nineteen and went to St. Petersburg, where I secured a
position as copying clerk in a government department. He did not keep his
position long, yet long enough to store away in his mind a number of
bureaucratic types.”
I
said:
“So
those experiences are what provide material for your writings, regarding the
ins and outs of bureaucracy in government, with all its depravity..."
Nikolai:
“But,
well, even though Tsar Nicholas I chuckled during the performance of
'Government Inspector', this performance had made fun of everyone. They said, perhaps rightly, that they
themselves were the targets of the satire. Naturally official Russia did not
relish this innovation in dramatic art, and indignation ran high among them and
their supporters. Bulgarin led the attack. Everything that is usually said
against a new departure in literature or art was said against the drama. It was
not original. It was improbable, impossible, coarse, vulgar; lacked plot. It
turned on a stale anecdote that everybody knew. It was a rank farce. The
characters were mere caricatures. ‘What sort of a town was it that did not hold
a single honest soul?’
The
ensuing uproar in polite society was so intense that I felt I had to flee
Russia for Europe, eventually settling in Rome “
I
asked: “Do you feel comfortable in Rome?”
Nikolai:
“I
adore Rome. I studied art, read Italian literature and developed a passion for
opera. The religious painter Aleksandr Ivanov who worked in Rome, became my
close friend, and I also met several Russian nobles who visited there,
including Princess Zinaida Volkonsky, we often met. “
I asked:
“Did you write a lot in Rome?”
Nikolai:
“Yes, the short story ‘Overcoat’ I wrote while in Rome. Also, most part of ‘The Dead Souls’ I wrote there.”
I
said:
“Oh, the novel Dead Souls, your
masterpiece…. At first, I thought that the title Dead Souls was a metaphor,
about Souls not caring anything, or something like that..., but it turns out
the meaning is completely different. This novel tells the story of Chichikov,
who you present as the hero, an accomplished imposter who, after several
experiences of bad luck, wants to get rich quickly. Among his tricks he had the
idea to buy dead slaves, which their deaths had not been officially recorded in
the official census. So, officially they are still alive. Then, he had the idea
to buy dead slaves, as if they were still alive, at a cheap price from the
landowner who owned the slaves. Thus Chichikov had proof that he was a rich man
who owned many slaves, which he could use to obtain capital loans from the
bank. That way, he could pawn the certificate of ownership of the slaves to a
bank to borrow a lot of money for capital for his agricultural business. This
is something very unique, which we have never heard of, and never even thought
about... how do you get idea of the story like this...?”
Nikolai:
"I
got the theme of this novel from Pushkin too, which is based on real
event..."
I
said:
"But,
that Chichikov, whom you put forward as the hero of this story, is an imposter,
he is a rascal..."
Nikolai:
“It
does not lie in me to take a virtuous character for my hero: and I will tell
you why. It is because it is high time that a rest were given to the “poor, but
virtuous” individual; it is because the phrase “a man of worth” has grown into
a by-word; it is because the “man of worth” has become converted into a horse,
and there is not a writer but rides him and flogs him, in and out of season; it
is because the “man of worth” has been starved until he has not a shred of his
virtue left, and all that remains of his body is but the ribs and the hide; it
is because the “man of worth” is for ever being smuggled upon the scene; it is
because the “man of worth” has at length forfeited every one’s respect. For
these reasons do I reaffirm that it is high time to yoke a rascal to the
shafts. Let us yoke that rascal.”
I
said:
“I remember Chichikov's father's
advice to him when he was little, which he always remembered: ‘See here, my
boy. Do your lessons well, do not idle or play the fool, and above all things,
see that you please your teachers. So long as you observe these rules you will
make progress, and surpass your fellows, even if God shall have denied you
brains, and you should fail in your studies. Also, do not consort overmuch with
your comrades, for they will do you no good; but, should you do so, then make
friends with the richer of them, since one day they may be useful to you. Also,
never entertain or treat any one, but see that every one entertains and treats
YOU. Lastly, and above all else, keep and save your every kopeck. To save money
is the most important thing in life. Always a friend or a comrade may fail you,
and be the first to desert you in a time of adversity; but never will a KOPECK
fail you, whatever may be your plight. Nothing in the world cannot be done,
cannot be attained, with the aid of money.”
Nikolai:
“More
than once, while taking these walks, our hero pondered the idea of himself
becoming a landowner—not now, of course, but later, when his chief aim should
have been achieved, and he had got into his hands the necessary means for
living the quiet life of the proprietor of an estate. Yes, and at these times
there would include itself in his castle-building the figure of a young, fresh,
fair-faced maiden of the mercantile or other rich grade of society, a woman who
could both play and sing. He also dreamed of little descendants who should
perpetuate the name of Chichikov; perhaps a frolicsome little boy and a fair
young daughter, or possibly, two boys and quite two or three daughters; so that
all should know that he had really lived and had his being, that he had not
merely roamed the world like a spectre or a shadow; so that for him and his the
country should never be put to shame. And from that he would go on to fancy
that a title appended to his rank would not be a bad thing—the title of State
Councillor, for instance, which was deserving of all honour and respect. Ah, it
is a common thing for a man who is taking a solitary walk so to detach himself
from the irksome realities of the present that he is able to stir and to excite
and to provoke his imagination to the conception of things he knows can never
really come to pass!”
THE
END
This
article is an imaginary interview in memory of Nikolai Gogol.
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