Stars And Crickets

The timetable on the wall shocked me. I would have to spend almost an hour at the station, where I had got off the train by mistake. In a metropolis, each area does not develop at the same rate. In the busiest areas of Tokyo you can catch a train every three minutes, while in some other parts you need to consult a timetable before you go to the station. The district was well known for an old Buddhist temple and a historical shopping mall made for the visitors centuries ago, and the residents had given up thinking of any other ways to strip money from others. Looking down the main street from the vacant platform, I realized that the town had been stuck in the time for last thirty years. The half-wooden shops of small retailers were low and dark under old-fashioned street lamps. When I turned around to see the backyard of the station, I could not believe that I was still in Tokyo. There spread a sea of grass, slowly waving in the wind, as far as the light from the station could reach. I decided to sit down on the bench and open the paperback I was reading on the train.

After several pages, I caught a slight stream of music and looked for its source. I noticed an old man on the bench next to mine, and the music was from his small monaural tape recorder. Apparently belonging to the generation before walkman, he was listening to an old popular song played on the guitar without a headphone. The player was far from good. The music tottered and stuttered. However, I liked the amateurish guitar. It was something essentially different from that mechanical repetition of high-hat leaking from someone's headphone in a crowded train. I stopped reading, kicked back and listened to the guitar. Stars were above us. Crickets in the grass sang to the music.

It was about forty-five minutes later that a small train entered the platform. I came back to the middle 1990's on the train.

Feb 21, 2001