I got on the train from New Delhi to Haridwar and sat on a seat. What I had looked forward to was a train trip in India. I could feel myself relaxing, and I would be soon comfortably, savoring the view, the ambience and some refreshment. What the hell? I saw a portly man in his fifties with gray hair hovering near the train doors. Clearly Japanese. Stay away. I spread my legs, wrapping my arm around the top of the seat next to me, and made it appear as if I was so nasty, hoping he would pass by me.
He looked around for an empty seat; I turned my face out of the window. Don’t come here, please. “You’re Japanese, aren’t you?” he said in Japanese. What a disgusting man; he spoiled my mood. If I choose who I spend my time with, is not between Japanese, is between local people making me feel exoticism of India. It sucks. I gave a slight nod, frowning at him. He stood beside me and with sitting motion he said, “May I sit here?” He sat on the seat before I could answer. I sighed wearily. I was compelled to be with him for five hours on the train.
He spoke to me: “Nice weather today huh?” “When did you arrive at India?” “Where did you come from Japan?”―a mundane talk. I said languidly a word, yes or no in order to intend that I was not going to talk with him, and then took a book from my backpack.
Hardly had I turned the page when he started to talk about himself; that was enough, leave me alone. “I had worked as a public officer for more than thirty years.” He flaunted his career as if he was decent person. I had heard that introductory phrase somewhere one gives a formal speech. It is virtue for his generation to work for the same place until retirement. But thirty years? I definitely can not, so boring that it is little less than killing me. No stimulating. For me, saying that is tantamount to saying you were not courageous to try something new. But for them, giving up halfway through as I did means contaminating their carrier, a shame or a failure.
Of course, he would have worked for family and devoted his life to his company. But, there would have been times when he encountered the unseemly situation―abiding orders that do not make sense, severe reprimands despite his good action, or personal changes against his will; there were no way around that. At the worst, he may have feigned ignorance for his colleagues who were treated unfairly―like bullies―while feeling pity for him. In any case, he proved to me that he had done whatever it took to survive in his company as wage slave, albeit good or bad.
“I retired from the work already,” he said with some dignity. “In Japan, up early every morning, I walk my dog in the park, and then relax at home all day.” He looked as if he had recuperated away from the battlefield, where he strived to survive for thirty years. I believed that the 50s and 60s are the most ultimate generation. The amount of his experiences that he has accumulated is immeasurable. He could have summed up his experiences that young people lacked and started up new business. Why let the special advantage go to waste? Young people would be animated by seeing older people be going to aim higher.
“On my last trip, I went to south India, where I ate curries. Those tasted different from the north ones,” he went on. “The south was good place, far more idyllic than New Delhi, it was tranquil. I recommend.” As he said this, I felt myself disarmed by his peaceful mood implying that he wanted to unwind and enjoy himself. He looked kind, but he was just a boring man with portly frame. I liked the person who poured his own passion and intensity into what he loved and who was always challenging.
Those who never tried doing many different things while young seemed likely to defend his own interest. I recalled my superior, who conceited himself and clung his position. He thought he need not improve himself any longer. And to consolidate the hierarchy between him and me, he often said he had worked so hard that he was now in a position to nurture young people.
Working so hard meant working long hours―work on a day off or overtime. Strange to say, getting results in a short period could be seen as cutting corner, laziness.
Meanwhile, however, I believed that the act of nurturing others meant that his own potential was reduced to zero. For instance, sports athletes culminate at the certain point. But soon or later, there will come when they will no longer able to earn money as active players. After that a retired athlete becomes a mentor to make room for others.
There would be a natural fear to be overtaken by young men who were competent. He knew it would be more difficult to find new job as he got older, so his first priority had to protect his own life and position; we all had lost sight of the essentials of the work—making products that ‘’delight our customer.’’
“This is my first trip to the north. I’m going to Rishikesh via Haridwar too, where I will take the cable car, to see Mansa Devi Temple.” He seemed to be full of life, and said, “Possibly I will encounter you in Rishikesh. Yoga, sounds interesting, I guessed, but not sure, I will try it.” It occurred to me that he would reward himself for making achievement and contribution for thirty years―he must have endured emotional suffering: demanding tasks, human relationships, promotion races, which I could not. As for myself, I just stood at starting point, to live my life by just doing what I liked.
We got off the train together, strolling for a while in Haridwar. He asked me. “Do you want to have lunch with me?” “I wish I could say yes, but I’m not hungry,” I said without hesitation because he is not my boss because this is India.
Japanese culture is based on vertically hierarchical relationships, a junior submissively follow a senior, and the atmosphere would not allow you refusing, even if the difference was only one year of experience among them. Whenever I went out for a dinner or a drink with senior, I just could not be myself by taking a back seat to him, and surmising how he really thought and resonating with his feeling, so exhausted.
I had once evaded my senior’s invitation for a drink. He said I was a kind of odd. Furthermore, I had tried to dodge it from my boss: “How dare you refuse my invitation,” he smirked. I was unpleasant that they said that. In Japan, being considered odd is as good as having no social skill.
“Oddball,” while it is unique, is far from ordinary people who devoted their life to one company. I loathed to do the same thing as others―just doing as you are told without saying your opinion, reading the atmosphere.
After He and I parted, I felt at ease. He would not have sensed he wasted my precious time. I wandered around the town, not wanting to meet Japanese any more. Every now and then, Indian stared at me. It made me feel exposed and in India where I was new.
