After being away on a long voyage that lasted several years, Hakkara had returned to his native town of Imaicho in Asuka, Japan. Nothing had changed - the grey podzolic soil, the smell of fresh air, the gnarled trees and the generosity of people – everything seemed to have defied time.
Guests were always revered in Japan, and following this tradition, he was respectfully welcomed by Numara, his cousin. Friends and relatives had been invited for Shuugou, a gathering in honor of the guest. After feasting on Temaki Zushi and Yakinikutea, the men lingered around Hakkara to listen to his stories.
‘People are no different from the waves of the ocean’, said Hakkara. ‘I hardly find any difference amongst them. They all think alike and move alike.’
Numara sighed, ‘I wish I could say the same’. ‘But whenever I remember how the land of the rising sun suffered at the hands of the of the dragon people, the anger rises up inside me like a serpent and tightens around my chest.’
Though he managed to hold himself from saying anything further, Numara could never forgive or forget the people and land of China. He quietly listened to the voyager’s tales of the seas and the places beyond.
Soon the guests left, and Hakkara opened his thin muslin sac, ‘This is one of the best things I got from my travels overseas - bamboo shoots. Bamboos have always symbolized the values of life and have stood upright with grace and integrity. I am sure Numara, you would love to have these Chinese and Vietnamese bamboos growing in your cherished garden.’
He gazed at the shoots - there was a slight difference of color, nothing else. The Chinese shoot was not green, rather it was pale yellow – the color of hate and cowardice, he thought..
Deep in his mind, Numara was wondering how he could refuse a part of the gift from Hakkara. He was sure the Vietnamese bamboo would become a sacred barrier to ward off evils (as all the Japanese believed) but the Chinese one was something he was not keen on.
Hakkara could easily sense Numara’s restlessness. Restlessness that resists change, restlessness that stems from blind beliefs passed down the centuries. But he was sure that with time would come understanding, and with understanding, the change.
* * * * * * * * *
Crouching on his knees, Numara was digging two shallow pits in his garden for the bamboo shoots. And all the hatred and prejudice rooted deep in his mind were coming up and mixing with the soil he was using to cover up the roots of the Chinese bamboo he was planting…
Three months went by and Hakkara came to visit Numara and see how the bamboos were growing. As they walked in to the garden a strange sight greeted them.
The Vietnamese bamboo had shot up to a good height, and the leaves, though thin and young, defied the wind and faced the sun proudly. The Chinese bamboo was stunted. It looked lifeless and dull. There was an air of despair and dejection all around it.
As Hakkara looked at the stunted Chinese bamboo shoot, Numara had a gleam of wicked satisfaction in his eyes.
‘I told you Hakkara san, nothing good ever grows out of Chinese’.
Hakkara did not reply but just gazed at him for long; Numara grew restless soon, and asked, ‘What is it that you are not telling me?’
‘Numara, there was no Vietnamese bamboo ever. Both are Chinese’.
Numara was confused, and it took a while for the realization to sink in.
Hakkara asked, ‘Both shoots were from China, and both were given the same sunshine, soil, water and air. So what was it that that made one wither away while the other rise full of life?’
‘It was your attitude that made the difference. Everyday when you came to water the bamboos, all your negative thoughts flowed on to the one you thought was a Chinese shoot while your positive feelings went to the other.’
‘What you give will get returned to you – be it a bamboo shoot or people. Do not bring forth your imagined hatred and prejudice when you interact with them. Let not your perceptions overpower your true being. Everything and everyone deserves your equal love and affection.’
Numara’s heart went out to the lifeless bamboo shoot. He could feel its forlorn spirit, much like that of a neglected child. He vowed to shower it with all his affection so that one day, it would be able to rise up towards the sky in all its splendor and glory.
© Copyright 2011
