Ikigai

Shinjuku, Japan
June.

Getting out of bed seemed more of an ordeal than it did on any other day. The heat had passed and the weather outside was perfect to snuggle in bed with a loved one. A twenty-three-year-old Aman had barely managed to open his eyes thanks to the excruciating noise of the alarm. He managed to snooze the annoying noise after three to four haphazard swipes on his phone. As he closed his eyes again, his subconscious coupled with the petrichor took him to a place he liked. Hugging his pillow close and adjusting the blanket once again to make him a little cocoon, his mind wandered off to a nice dream where he saw himself seated and writing tales about the rain. A small little canopy in a garden, the rain pattering on the roof, Aman sitting alone with his notebook letting his creativity run wild... He had just jotted down the first line when the excruciating noise returned bringing him back to reality. This time, he exasperatedly looked at the time on his phone and jumped out of his little cocoon like a premature butterfly. He was late, again. Rushing to the bathroom, he quickly brushed, spattered water on his drowsy face. Glancing at his tired face in the mirror, Aman ran down the stairs to find his displeased senior colleague incessantly honking to get him into the cab.

"Sorry. You know how it is, the first day of the rains. It's hard to get out of bed" Aman sheepishly made an excuse for himself. The frown on his colleague's face didn't budge an inch since this was a recurring instance but he had a soft spot for Aman and let it go as he often did. A twenty-minute cab ride to the subway station followed by a forty-minute subway ride and there Aman stood, staring at his office complex. A massive hallway littered with desks of dissatisfied and grumbling workers. Aman made his way to his haven, his work desk by the window, with even less motivation to work than the previous day. He put on some music and instead of staring at his screen, stared at the pattering drops of rain. He observed how every little drop made its way down to the window sill and merged into one another to eventually disappear. From ten in the morning to seven in the evening, the little desk chair had become his life for the past eighteen months. For an outgoing person like him, it was really strange to be confined to the limits of a small space but adult life had ventured into his existence and this is what he did for six days of the week. Wake up, one hour journey to work, write codes for nine hours, one hour journey back home, prepare dinner and sleep.

Aman was a really creative person when he was in school, he loved to observe the people around him and with his observations he created the profiles in his stories. He really had a gift for words. There were quite a few instances where albeit it was just a school essay, he stood out enough for the literature professor to read out his stories to the class. It was a surprise that he never pursued this avenue but then he also did not want to adulterate what came so naturally to him with rules and restrictions. Aman was always known to be a jolly and expressive student full of joie de vivre but then, aren't we all in the initial stages of life? He decided to take up computer engineering and ended up moving to Japan for his post-graduation. A country which really fascinated him. The colours, the constant movement, the lights, the food, the people, the novelty of language... everything appealed to his jovial nature. Besides his computer engineering degree, he also took a small course in Japanese literature where he learnt some of the most fascinating things which the western world is so unaware of! They had numerous poetic forms and just as Aman had begun to grasp the nuances of Japanese poetry he graduated and found himself running behind job interviews. His parents back home were fully supportive of his decisions but since they were a part of the real world and not the fantasy Aman lived, they wanted him to be self-sustaining and that meant getting a full-time job. He did manage to land a pretty lucrative deal for himself in monetary terms but that meant Aman stopped creating stories and instead found his fingers typing lines of code for nine hours.

But that particular day felt different for Aman like it did every June. The radio announcer happily announced the commencement of monsoon in Japan. Aman's favourite season in the land of the rising sun. It seemed to him like the rainwater washed away the monotony of life. He was no longer confined to the desk and its contents. He watched the blurred movement of people down from the window who looked like ants walking with umbrellas in hand...He wondered whether everyone felt the way he did. Was it normal to feel confined? Is monotony the main feature of being an adult? Is adulting dying a little every day to ensure that life, later on, is better? Aman hadn't managed to grasp the entire idea yet. He forced himself to stop daydreaming and got to the task he had been assigned. The rain was a motivation to him and he got through his assignment like a bullet train. An excuse for leaving work early was already formulating in his mind and taking full inspiration from the dramatics classes in school, Aman started fake coughing and sneezing to provide a good backstory to his sick leave.

He went to his senior colleague sitting at his own little desk with the permanent frown. "Hey, man. I'm leaving for the day... Also wanted to let you know that I'll manage my transport during the monsoon. Thanks though!" The wide-eyed fellow barely cared and stuck his face back into the screen. "Oh, well." Aman thought to himself.

Aman impatiently waited for the elevator and as soon as he was out of the office doors, he closed his eyes and took a nice deep breath. He felt like a caged bird had just been set free. He was lucky that despite rushing in the morning, he had remembered to carry his umbrella. Without a specific destination in mind, Aman walked, just doing what he loved to do. He observed the people around him and created backgrounds and future scenarios for the ones he found interesting. As he was wandering about the streets of Shinjuku he came across a garden entrance. It was peculiar that he had thought of a garden just this morning! Taking it as a sign, he entered the garden to find a nice canopy with a small stream passing just beside. Chirping birds, greenery, fresh air... It was perfect. Some lo-fi music playing on his phone, Aman got out his worn out notebook full of scribbles and notes from his Japanese literature course.

"A faint clap of thunder..." his first line of an incomplete poem read.

He looked around searching for inspiration for continuation when he saw a young female decked in a peach coloured dress walking towards the canopy. It was strange because nobody would visit a garden on a weekday that too when it was raining! Aman shoved his head into his notebook with the intention of avoiding conversation but was definitely intrigued by this fellow human who had decided to be there just like he had. Succumbing to curiosity, he sneakily looked up at the woman who was now seated on the bench to his right. She seemed to be a year or two elder to him if not the same age. She didn't look Japanese at all! Considerably fair, jet black hair coiling down to rest happily on her broad shoulders, light hazel eyes... even the vibe she carried seemed very pleasant. Aman was sure that she was as surprised as he was to see another person in the garden. The only pleasantries exchanged were of acknowledgment and his head was back into the notebook. It was too difficult to focus on the writing now for Aman. He was highly distracted by her, not because of her looks but by the thought as to what exactly she was doing here. She was old enough to have a job, surely. Yet, here she was carrying a beer that she nonchalantly popped open. Book in one hand, beer in the other. On a weekday?! Perhaps she took a sick leave as well? Was she there to enjoy the monsoon too? Or was she just a tourist who wanted to get away from the noise of the city? What was she? The only way for Aman to get an answer to these questions was to ask her, but he was too shy to get in conversation with her. So, he just sat there, notebook resting on his lap, lo-fi playing in his ears and inhaling the vibe of the place. For a perpetually sleep deprived person like Aman, in a setting like this, sleep was bound to creep in. His eyes started dropping and before he knew, Aman fell asleep... (Do they have afternoon siestas in Japan too?)

About an hour into his nap, Aman woke up with a startle, this time not because of his excruciating alarm but due to the noise of thunder. It felt to him like he had returned from another dimension because it wasn't every day that he woke up in a beautiful garden... as he slowly got to terms with his surroundings, he realized that his notebook was not on his lap but placed beside him and the lady was nowhere to be seen either. He cursed himself for wasting time without doing anything productive on a day where he was so inspired to create something beautiful! Slightly irked with himself he opened his notebook with the hope of writing, since the distraction was nowhere to be seen, only to be pleasantly surprised.

"A faint clap of thunder,
Clouded skies...
Perhaps rain will come,
If so, will you stay here with me?"

His first line had miraculously evolved into a short yet complete poem. 'Maya' inscribed below. Aman smirked in amusement, the young lady visiting the canopy had taken the effort to finish what he had set out to achieve. It was also a better poem than he had ever imagined writing! "Wow", he thought to himself... The day wasn't completely futile, he had made a new friend. A friend whom he already had great admiration for. A friend named Maya. He wondered if he will ever meet this mystery woman again. She had tapped an intrigue in him which was newfound. He tried to imagine the sequence of events. He probably dropped the book whilst asleep which Maya instinctively picked up and couldn't help but notice the scribbles. She took the onus of completing the line and created the most beautiful piece of poetry he had read in Japan yet. Maya, in three simple lines, had become Aman's Ikigai… In a monotonous life, he had found something worthwhile, a reason to be and to wake up. The most special part of this poem was that it ended on an interrogative note, it ended with a question and now it was up to Aman to answer it.

On the journey back home, Aman tried hard to find lines worthy enough to reply to her beautiful poetry. He had never experienced a loss of words before! It was now imperative that Aman met Maya again and this time to engage in conversation. The poem had subtle hints. She definitely loved the monsoon as much as Aman did and that was the telling sign. Aman decided that he had to return to the garden the next time it rained in order to find her again. He wanted to engage in conversation with her to gauge her thoughts and to study her enough to procure a fitting reply to her.

The next day, Aman woke up with the exuberance of a little kid on Christmas eve. There was no snoozing, no grumbling involved. He enthusiastically got ready, shampooed his hair, even used some facewash! The young lad was ready to meet Maya this time. He called up the office and reused his dramatics class to convince the boss of his illness... A week's holiday was something even he didn't expect to get but then again, he wasn't complaining. Umbrella in hand, Aman trudged to the nearest subway which took him towards the magical garden. The rain started once he was under the safety of the canopy and he impatiently waited for Maya to visit. Like the wise Gautam Buddha had said, "Desire is the root of all sorrow" and there was nothing but sorrow in store for Aman. This time, he was expecting something which had come so unexpectedly earlier!  Maya never turned up. Almost the entire week passed in the same way. Aman waiting desperately with his notebook for her to arrive.... every single day for at least eight hours. Imagine, he had also begun getting his lunch to the canopy not to miss a single moment in case she came for a fleeting instance. Alas, Aman's dream of completing the poem was bound to remain a dream. It had rained every single day... The setting was the same as the day he had seen her yet the only thing missing was the most important one... (ironically, it was the same which distracted him from writing the other day!) The presence of Maya.

On the seventh day, Aman realized what he was doing was stupid and unrealistic. He was trying to live in a world which was found only in movies or storybooks. Instead of waiting for the usual eight hours, he gave up and left in about two this time. However, the universe plays mysterious games with people who tend to give up on their goals and just as he was about to exit the garden, his eyes caught the glimpse of a familiar trait. Curly hair nestled upon broad shoulders. Aman nervously walked towards the lady expecting to be disappointed one last time. How wrong could he have been... There she was. Maya, in all her grace carrying an umbrella to escape from the pitter-pattering rain. Mustering all his courage, Aman approached her with a casual 'Hello'. She was surprised to see him again and replied with an awkward 'Hello' of her own.

"I want to thank you... for adding life to a single line.", Aman began.

"Well, I'm sorry to ruin it for you. I just couldn't resist" Maya apologetically replied.

"Oh, please... It is the most beautiful poem I have ever read in my life!"

"You haven't read many poems then", she answered with all the modesty she could gather.

"Haha! You're far too humble. Can I interest you in a cup of tea to discuss this matter further?" Aman clumsily asked.

"Perhaps tomorrow, I'm running late for work today" Maya sheepishly excused herself and disappeared into the fog as Aman just stood there and watched her alluring figure get out of sight.

'Tomorrow' could not come soon enough for Aman. Each instant seemed longer than the last but after time had taken its merry time to arrive, Aman found himself walking towards the canopy even in heavy rain. To his surprise, Maya was already there! Beer in one hand, a book in the other... on a weekday and in the morning! This time, Aman wasn't awkward. He felt like he was catching up with an old friend. Seating himself on the bench to the left of Maya, Aman initiated the conversation...

"I absolutely loved what you wrote the other day... Are you a full-time writer?"

"Oh,  no! I'm a teacher of English. I've always loved writing poems though"

"Can I please read some of your work? It would be an honour for me to learn from you!"

"I wish I could. I don't write anymore... and whatever I had written as a hobby in the past just exists in ashes", she sadly declared to him. "I don't usually tell this to anyone, let alone a complete stranger whose presence I have shared for no more than about ninety minutes. You strike me as a non-malicious person though and I don't understand why but I feel very comfortable in your company. Something I rarely experience!"

As the rain poured on, Aman was a little taken aback by the sudden confession. He saw a pain in her hazel eyes like he had never seen before.

As she sipped on her beer, Aman reassured himself and took the conversation further, "Exists in ashes?? But... but, why? Judging by the three lines you had written the other day, I'm sure it must have been really good writing!"

"So, I came to Japan eight years ago with my father. He was a professor of English and an ardent fan of my writing. My dad was the only person in this world I trusted. Throughout my childhood, my mother had discouraged me from writing as she thought that it was a waste of time and money. She wanted me to pursue the sciences or law so that I could earn a good amount of money and not lead a family like, well, my father. During a heated argument on this topic, she burnt all of my poems and stories to 'teach me a lesson'. This barely discouraged me and I continued writing. After she passed away, my father decided to move to Japan to learn and master Japanese literature. An eighteen-year-old me had to follow. I instantly fell in love with Shinjuku and Japan as a whole. The colours, the constant movement, the lights, the food, the people, the novelty of language... I was fascinated!"

Aman was intently listening to Maya rant but he couldn't help notice that the things that fascinated her about Japan were the exact same ones that fascinated him!

"I don't really trust anyone fully in this entire world and with that trait, it is really tough to carry on. I do not gel with people instantly, it takes me time to get to know them, really trust them and only then can I be the person I really am around them. After my father passed away last year I was really harsh on myself. I haven't written a single word after that day... He was my biggest fan."

Maya stopped to dab the tears out of her eyes and took a few sips of her beer. Whilst she was recollecting herself Aman posed another question, "I'm really sorry to hear that. Not only did your father pass away but so did the artist in you! If I'm not being intrusive, may I ask what revived that artist the other day?"

"I really do not know!", Maya exclaimed gathering herself. "Your notebook fell down as you were asleep and like any body would have done, I picked it up. My curious nature got the better of me though as I saw a few scribbled words. Something triggered in me as I read the first line. The toughest part after father passed away was to start writing and I guess since you had begun the poem already, I just finished it"

The rain had stopped by now and there was no audible sound other than the water in the stream gushing by. Aman silently took out his notebook quickly wrote a couple of lines and handed it over to Maya. Maya hadn't grinned so much in a long time, she looked up at Aman with a thankful emotion in her hazel eyes... The pain had vanished, Maya had found her Ikigai.

 "A faint clap of thunder,

   Even if rain comes not...

I will stay here,

   Together with you."

                          - Aman

(Poem is not an original work, it is the translation of  a Japanese tanka used in the movie 'Kotohana no Niwa' by Makoto Shinkai)