l  9“The Tumbling Doll’s Parallel-Track Encounter”

Ohta Tokuichi, a Japanese friend who lives in Kyoto, has been one of my close friends for nearly thirty years. I met him when I was in college, when he was my roommate. The two of us often went to Yangmingshan or Beitou together to soak in hot springs, and we were such close buddies that we could be completely open and uninhibited around each other. Over the years, we have stayed in close contact. Whenever he came to Taiwan, I would play host and take him all over the island. Whenever I traveled to Japan, I would usually make a detour to Kyoto to see him.

There are five traditional geisha districts around Kyoto’s Gion area, and Ohta’s home is right on the bustling Hanamikoji Street, where his family makes a living selling traditional Japanese sweets. This time, I went to Kanazawa City in Ishikawa Prefecture, Japan, to meet several important figures, including the mayor, the president of the Hokuriku News, and the head of a television station, to discuss a Taiwan-Japan co-production television series about “Hatta Yoichi, a Pioneer of Taiwan’s Water Conservancy.” After spending two days in Kanazawa and once again visiting Kenrokuen Garden on the outskirts of the city, I took the high-speed train back to Kyoto as planned.

Ohta had specially driven to Kyoto Station to pick me up. The moment he saw me, he burst out laughing and teased me for having gotten even fatter, saying that I must be enjoying good fortune and feeling on top of the world.

I could not help complaining, “The project has only just entered the discussion stage, and we still don’t know whether it will happen. You Japanese are so rigid in the way you do things. You’re so serious and ridiculously picky that even someone with the best temper would be driven crazy by you...”

Ohta knew a little Taiwanese, so of course he understood the words “picky” and “driven crazy.” In the past, I often used the word “picky” when nagging him. His personality was mild and reserved, a typical Japanese temperament. Whatever he did, he always took his time and had to think everything through before making a decision.

As Ohta listened, he suddenly had an idea and suggested, “How about this? I’ll take you to Yasaka Shrine near my house to see a high-ranking Buddhist monk. I heard he keeps a very powerful tumbling doll. You can ask him about your project and have him divine its prospects for you.”

“Okay. I’ll follow the host’s arrangements. Besides, I could use a little time to clear my head.” At that point, I really did not have a better idea.

That evening, in Ohta’s study, he and his wife kept me company as we drank sake and sampled several new products from his shop.

“Brother Fei, aren’t you able to retire from teaching now? Two years ago, I heard you say that you were going to retire and enjoy the good life.”

I let out a long sigh. “Sigh... Plans never keep up with changes! Last year, besides drastically cutting the pensions of retired military personnel, civil servants, and teachers, the ruling party suddenly announced in early August that it was canceling several benefits for retired public-sector employees. One of them was educational subsidies for their children. My three little ducklings are all in college right now. If I retire, that subsidy will be canceled, and I’ll have to take on nearly 600,000 Japanese yen in additional tuition expenses every year.”

Ohta said, “I see! I was actually planning that once you retired, the two of us old married couples could travel around the world together. Looks like we’ll have to put that off for a few years. But we’re both in good health, so waiting a few more years won’t matter.”

The next morning, Ohta took me to the shrine to meet the old monk. The high-ranking monk had completely white hair and beard and possessed an almost otherworldly, immortal-like bearing. He looked to be well over ninety years old.

As soon as we met, the monk stared at me intently for a long time. Ohta explained the reason for my visit to him in Japanese. The monk then said something, and I vaguely heard him mention the name “Natsume Soseki.”

Ohta solemnly conveyed the monk’s words to me. “Master says he sees your previous incarnation. You were the Japanese novelist Natsume Soseki. Japan will be a blessed place for you to develop your career.”

My expression darkened. “But I’m facing a problem right now. Chairman Nakagawa, who promised two years ago to help make this collaboration happen, passed away two years ago. The benefactor who could have helped me is no longer here.”

Ohta comforted me. “Master says he knows about the difficulties you’re facing. If you are willing to sincerely pray to the tumbling doll, the God of Wishes will certainly lend you a hand.”

Then, following the instructions of the attendant monk standing nearby, I pressed my palms together and bowed reverently before the tumbling doll. The old monk lit a bundle of incense and performed a ritual prayer for me. It was astonishingly effective. The tumbling doll, which had remained completely motionless, suddenly began to sway along with the old monk’s incantations. Its movements grew larger and larger until it actually toppled over. Even after falling onto the altar table, it continued rocking from side to side. Everyone present, except the old monk, looked astonished.

I turned my head and quietly asked Ohta, “The tumbling doll has gone off the rails. What the heck is going on?”

Ohta tried to calm me down. “I don’t know either. I’ve never seen a tumbling doll fall over before. Master should have something to tell us in a moment.”

Sure enough, the old monk immediately turned toward me with a kind and benevolent expression and said, “The God of Wishes has agreed to grant your prayer and help you. But He requires you to make a promise. When this television series is broadcast in Japan, you must publish this story in novel form in Japan, so that the Japanese people will have an opportunity to learn that there was once a compassionate Japanese official who devoted himself to Taiwan and left behind many public works that brought profound benefits to the people.”

I more or less understood what the old monk meant, so I bowed to him and thanked him in Japanese spoken with a distinctly Taiwanese accent.

The old monk continued, “Like you, Natsume Soseki was once a schoolteacher, and he was also a teacher of great integrity who refused to compromise his principles. In this lifetime, you have likewise chosen the path of literature. It is just unfortunate that the people of Taiwan do not know how to appreciate your achievements...”

The old monk’s words truly touched something deep inside me.

“Natsume Soseki, do you know how deeply frustrated I have been?”

Those words echoed through my heart like a voice resounding through an empty valley, lingering and reverberating within me...

Note: “Gone off the rails” is a pun based on the Taiwanese pronunciation of “parallel track,” and its original meaning here is “to topple over.”