Islands of Protest

by Davinder L. Bhowmik

  I laid out the bedding and carried Toki to the back room. She was so small and light that I could lift her up and carry her in my arms. She gave herself over to me like a submissive child. Our roles were now completely reversed from earlier in the day, and though I couldn’t help but be disconcerted at the unexpected change, I was determined to carry out my new duties. After some time, Toki began to return to normal. Fully conscious, she stared at me with watery eyes and held out a discolored hand. When I took it in mine, she gave a little squeeze and tried to say something, but the words got caught in her throat.

  “The pain’s gone, isn’t it?”

  She nodded slightly and closed her eyes. The muscles in her face relaxed, and she dropped off to sleep. The gathering dusk prodded me to action. I returned to the front room and sat down next to the costumes that had been kicked aside. I assumed that Toki’s illness was in the terminal stages. As soon as possible, she needed to get to a hospital where she could receive proper treatment, and I had to figure out how to make that happen. Yet I was so close to a nervous breakdown that all my energies were focused on trying to control my own emotions. As time elapsed, my sense of helplessness only increased, so I could do nothing but hope Toki would sleep as long as possible.

  If I had decided to live with Hideo on the island eight years earlier, and Toki hadn’t been left on her own, she never would’ve faced this horrible predicament. The deep loneliness of living on her own had caused her to lose the will to live, to abandon herself to her illness, and to forsake all treatment. I could only see her situation in this light.

  I climbed down into the yard shrouded in darkness. After slipping on a pair of geta, I dragged my feet through the broom-swept pattern of rolling waves and left the yard. I soon found myself in terrain overgrown with weeds, with several houses visible off in the distance to the south. Huddled quietly side by side, their dim lights flickering in the darkness, they seemed aloof and unwelcoming. My steps, which had started to head in that direction, came to a halt. I had nowhere to go.

  I returned to the Ōmichi home, closed the door that had been left open, and entered the front room. On the tatami, mingled with the indigo, yellow, purple, vermillion, and black costumes were undergarments and cords tangled up in a pile. Spread out next to them was a white, pleated kakan garment worn like a corset. One sleeve of the navy-blue sudina that Toki had begun folding dangled to the side. I sat down in front of the costumes to put them away, but then I realized that I hadn’t yet finished learning how to fold them. Not wanting to make extra wrinkles, I had no choice but to hang them back up again. I flung open the sliding doors and began hanging the costumes one by one, starting from one end of the dresser.

  A powerful smell of camphor permeated the fabric. I wanted to feel the coarse texture of the handwoven linen. I took down the long, gorgeous sudina that Toki had said I once wanted to wear. Imitating her mannerism, I caressed the neckline. If I had stayed on the island, the costume might already have been mine. That distant dream I had long since abandoned now became an intense desire, and before I knew it, I was stripping off my clothes.

  I tossed my stiff jeans and T-shirt into the corner and stood naked in front of the costume. Starting with the undergarments, I began to dress. Sized for Toki, they were a snug fit. After putting on the undergarments, I wrapped the kakan around my waist and held down the billowing pleats, thereby tightly restricting my torso. The trick being to have a couple of inches peek out at the bottom after putting on the sudina, I had only to line up the hem with my ankles. To do that, I had to adjust the fastening strings at the waist. Then I pulled the sudina on over top. Unlike a brightly colored bingata costume, which had a thick lining, the unlined sudina wrapped my body in a refreshing coolness. I finished by tying the decorative string under my right arm and straightening the collar.

  I had remembered how to put on the costume by seeing it done many times backstage at festivals. It was quite simple, so I managed to do it correctly even on my first try. The costume fit well. I started to feel anxious about my appearance, so I decided to take a look in the full-length mirror, which was attached to the inside of the dresser door. Just as I was about to head into the inner room, a voice rang out from behind.

  “You look nice, Takako.”

  A shiver ran down my spine. Toki, who was already up, had seen everything.

  Ashamed of my blatantly indulgent behavior, I couldn’t turn around at first. While I stood with my head down, Toki approached from behind and placed her hand on my shoulder. Her warm palm clung to me.

  “You put it on all by yourself, Takako! And you did such a nice job!”

  She gently turned me around to face her and began rubbing my stiff arms and shoulders. Her haggard look had mysteriously vanished, and she stared at me with wide-open eyes. Feeling that any explanation would only increase my shame, I kept my mouth shut tight. Toki smiled at me sweetly.

  “That’s just perfect, Takako. As you know, this costume’s for the Ininuri Bushi dance, which is a really important part of the Kitsugan Festival. I’ve been doing the dance for a long time now, but as you can see, my legs are in pretty bad shape.… And, well, I managed last year, but there’s no way I can do it again this time. So, Takako, I’d like you to dance in my place. Everyone will be thrilled to see a young dancer again after such a long time.”

  Flustered at having provoked this reaction in her, I hurried to undress.

  “Oh, Takako. Stay like you are. You don’t have to take it off. It’s better to get a feel for the actual performance anyway. So let’s get started learning the hand movements.”

  She was getting pushy, so I grabbed her arms. Holding her thin, brittle arms made me acutely aware of the seriousness of her illness. I could practically feel her life slipping though my fingers.

  “You shouldn’t move around so much. Please don’t overdo it.”

  “Oh, I’m okay. The pain’s all gone, and I don’t have a trouble in the world. All thanks to you. Ever since you arrived, I’ve felt at peace about everything.”

  “You’ve nothing to feel at peace about. And there’s nothing I can do for you.”

  “That’s not true, Takako. You just don’t really want to. ” She paused. “How about we make a deal? If you learn this dance for me, I’ll do whatever you say. But for now, you have to listen to me. Okay? Is it a deal?”

  I felt boxed into a corner. In any event, I knew that Toki couldn’t unilaterally decide who’d perform in the Kitsugan Festival. The cast was chosen anew each year, in conformance with custom and out of consideration of that year’s circumstances, pending the approval of the council of elders. Besides, I had no qualification that entitled me to participate in the island’s festivals. But leaving that issue aside, if going along with Toki’s plan meant that her wish would come true, then perhaps I had to do what she asked. Or at least I felt I should.

  “You’re telling the truth, right? If I learn all the steps of the Ininuri Bushi, then you agree to get some rest, right?”

  Toki broke into a smile. “So we’re understood, Takako. Then let’s get started right away. At first, just follow my lead, and try to get the hang of it. As you’re repeating, your body will naturally learn how to move.”

  Toki brushed the dust off a small cassette player dredged up from the back room and then started rooting through a box of cassette tapes, evidently in search of a recording of the Ininuri Bushi. Her flurry of activity revealed her anxiety over how little time she had until the next onslaught of pain. Did her determined control over her deteriorating body reflect her deep-seated desire to bequeath to someone the dance? If that were true, and even if I could never perform it publicly, agreeing seemed the only way to proceed. Picking up the elusive movements of the dance would be extremely difficult, but I made up my mind to learn.

  The tape began to play. The sounds of the sanshin were followed by a screeching flute, which sounded like a woman’s cry. The male voice, which seemed to well up from the pit of the singer’s stomach, wa
s apparently Eikichi’s. Not only did he and his son have similar voices, but they also had similar vocalization styles. When their voices rose, you couldn’t distinguish them. The plunging and then gradually climbing voice created a soothing atmosphere.

  I felt caught in a time warp. As time circled back upon me, I could only stand transfixed. For some reason, I felt no emotion. I was simply obsessed by the idea that I was standing where I had stood before.

  Toki’s body, which had seemed so feeble, now stood straight and tall. Staring fixedly ahead, she relaxed her shoulders and stood in quiet readiness. In time with the prelude, she began to move slowly, and when the lyrics commenced, her body undulated gently. Her fingers, wrists, and arms glided through the air in harmony with the movement of her waist. It was a female dance celebrating the rice harvest, divided into three scenes. The closing verse of each scene was repeated, and during the intervals, the dancers added a chanted vocal accompaniment. At these points, Toki’s high-pitched voice rent the air.

  Chanting was out of the question for me. Even though I had begun to move as instructed, the movements of my eyes and neck, hands and shoulders, and legs and waist were completely disjointed. My bodily sensations were pathetically dissociated from my mental image of the dance. I had also become conscious of the pain in my ankle. Toki said just to copy her, but I couldn’t get my body to do what my eyes observed. No matter how many times we repeated the same movements, I showed no signs of improvement. Sweat began to roll down my back, neck, and forehead. Feeling that I shouldn’t dirty the valuable costume, I stopped dancing and started to change.

  Toki prevented this, saying as before, “Don’t take it off. You’ll get a better feel for the dance with it on.”

  I had seen Toki dance many times, both during practices and actual performances. Her plump cheeks as she appeared on the shrine’s stage and the throbbing sound of the sanshin always reminded me of the island’s harvest. Even though as a small village performance, it couldn’t be said to be particularly sophisticated, she had completely mastered that dance. Every movement was perfectly natural—even during the long intervals in the melody. The push-and-pull beckoning movements of her hands enticed me into the undulating movement of huge waves breaking and receding. The rhythm awoke in me a strong desire to make the dance, which up to now I had only admired from afar, my own. Yet this new determination only made my movements more confused. As I gazed at Toki, my legs came to a complete standstill.

  “No, that won’t do,” said Toki harshly. “Takako, you can’t stop. Even a short break will make it harder to learn. The rhythm you learn the first time stays with you forever, so it’s absolutely crucial. I know it’s tough, but you can’t rest until you get a good sense of the rhythm.”

  Spurred on by her words, I began to move again. I was pessimistic that my stiff and clumsy movements could ever follow the leisurely flowing melody—no matter how many hours we continued to practice. Just the same, we repeated the nearly ten-minute-long dance about two dozen times. After a while, I acquired a vague sense of the dance’s movements and the uncomplicated scenes they depicted.

  The first scene was a portrayal of the island’s landscape. The perimeter of the island, with Mount Ufudaki to the rear and white beaches in front, is traced using “embracing hands” movements (whereby the dancer scoops out a space in front of her using both arms) with numerous repetitions of “kneading hands” movements (whereby the dancer moves her arms and wrists forward and backward) while stepping in a zigzag pattern.

  The next scene depicted an abundant rice crop viewed from the top of Mount Ufudaki, a scene reminiscent of the emperor’s looking down over Japan in the Collection of Ten Thousand Leaves.2 The dancer first assumes the “gazing hands” posture by raising both hands above her eyebrows and then strides gallantly forward. When the dancer’s vocal accompaniment begins, she pauses to make a glance and then turns back.

  The third scene celebrated the rice harvest, likened to a young woman who has come of age. One hand lifts the stalks of rice skyward, while the other hand scoops up the drooping ears of the rice in a display before the gods. The dancer leaves the stage while repeating the “kneading hands” movement, alternating from hand to hand.

  That was a general outline of the movements that made up the dance. Just letting myself go with the flow of the music didn’t work, but I discovered that I could do better by humming along with the lyrics to visualize the song’s content. Toki stopped the tape, apparently judging that I had acquired a feel for something. The sweat wrung from her body dripped down her neck and forehead. Her eyes were so bloodshot that I thought they’d ooze blood. And yet her fiercely passionate expression continued to push me.

  “See, you were able to follow me, weren’t you? Now try by yourself, and I’ll check your hand movements.”

  Flustered at being told to dance by myself, I felt unsteady on my feet. But Toki’s piercing gaze made clear that I would not yet be released. She had me stand in a corner of the room. The tape began to play, and I started to step in time with the music. But my body felt heavy, and my torso kept turning in the wrong direction. I stopped turning and stepped forward while counting my steps. One, two, three. However, when the first stanza was repeated, I lost the flow of the music. As I stood, stuck in my tracks, Toki stared at me with her arms crossed.

  “I guess it’s still a bit too difficult on your own. But if I hum the song, you should be okay. Try it one more time, from the top.”

  I started dancing in time with Toki’s humming. That way, she could make adjustments if I fell behind or got ahead of the beat. Whenever I hesitated, she waved me on. That would remind me of the next movement, allowing me to continue. Spurred on and dragging my exhausted body along, I wandered from movement to movement. Somehow, I managed to finish all of the scenes and return to my starting point in the corner. But when I did, I felt a sharp pain in my ankle, and my calf muscle seized up with a cramp. I crouched down, unable to move. When I lifted my head, Toki was staring at me, with a penitent expression.

  “I’m sorry, Takako. I was just pushing my aspirations on you. That wasn’t very considerate.”

  She spoke in her regular voice, but she was obviously in a state of exhaustion. The rings around her eyes were so dark that it must’ve been hard for her to see. She put her quivering arm around my shoulder. It seemed ridiculous that she was trying to support me.

  We sat facing each other: Toki leaned against the post just inside the room, and I against the post at the veranda’s edge. Without support, neither one of us would’ve been able to sit upright. I pulled off the sweat-drenched sudina. Then I loosened the waist cord of the kakan and spread out the disheveled pleats. Toki sat on the edge of the veranda with her head drooping down. Suddenly, she bent her knees and crossed her legs. Following her lead, I took the same posture. After that, we sat for another long silence.

  I suddenly felt weightless. No longer able to sense my center of gravity, I had the feeling that my entire body would float up into the air. When I jerked up my head, the bizarre scene before my eyes caused me to cock my head in confusion. Toki, her body curled up into a ball, was floating above the floor and spinning around in circles. Her head, arms, and legs were tucked in against her body, forming a sphere. As if limbering up before flying off somewhere, she floated slightly above the floor and then sunk back down again, slowly edging along. With each revolution, plumes of smoke swirled up from a light-blue haze around her back. When the gathering haze touched my skin, it changed to a thick, translucent membrane that enveloped my body. I could barely see Toki through the film. I slipped my arm from the sleeve of my undergarment and reached out toward her. When I did, something flickered up my arms through my fingertips. I sensed a subtle force shuttling between our bodies, which were floating above the floor.

  I was wrapped in a time warp again. Convinced that I was experiencing something from my remote past, I felt overwhelmed by intense heartache. Toki suddenly collapsed, and the elasticity of the envelopin
g membrane reeled me toward her. Hovering above her, I peered into her face. She stared back at me with eyes of unexpected lucidity. But then her shoulders began to quiver convulsively. The dark fear that befell her invaded me, and I felt a searing pain that made me want to rend my breast.

  I peeled off the membrane that clung to me and stood up. Then I retrieved a liquor bottle from the cabinet and filled a cup to the brim. Propping Toki up in my arms, I brought the drink to her lips. She gagged a few times but managed to drink it all. After she finished off five or six more cupfuls, her breathing became long and shallow. I gave her some of the painkillers, and several minutes later, her face stopped twitching. I gazed at the limp body in my arms. As I held her, I leaned heavily against the post inside the room. While I sat motionless for what seemed an eternity, I could feel heat flow through my body. Whether it was my own or Toki’s I couldn’t say.

  Toki ’s body looked withered and felt lighter than several hours earlier. What were her blinking eyes gazing at? As she became more lucid, my sense of being fused to her waned, and the fear that had closed in on us earlier became hers alone. The outside darkness, having changed from deep purple to jet-black, weighed down more heavily. In the gloom, the lit-up house felt increasingly isolated.

  Beams of white light from the lamp reflected off the surface of the low dining table. Without a thought in my head, I stared at the rays of light. A noise from the back room suggested that Toki had awoken. When I went to check on her, she gazed up at me with a vacant look. The emaciated cheeks, protruding chin, and heavily creased eyelids revealed what great stores of energy had been consumed in teaching me to dance. I wrapped the bony hand held out to me in my hands. There were some things I had to make sure of. Maybe I should’ve waited for her to bring them up herself, but I had the feeling she’d be ravaged by disease before she ever would.

  “Let’s contact Hideo, okay? He doesn’t know anything about your condition, does he? If he did, I’m sure he’d do something.”