To pray

How prayer is hard
I did not realise
till last night. I made a note
a small poetry of five lines
just before lying down

That is why we have words
mantras, prayers
that which keep our minds
help our purity
stay appear

Words are curse
and blessings
you bind us and free us
afterall they are means
to keep us true.


Why do people see things negatively – or positively?
Either way it seems wrong – not wrong, but not right either –
In a way I have lost my faith in language,
Not because of how it is, but because of how it is taken,
Which is actually a part of its nature.
Whatever I have come up with in this chaos,
Is like an oddly shape idol made of mirror,
Reflecting and multiplying the light into shatters.


I feel home when I come back to Kerala.
I once wished to be so, and I once wished not to.
I have many homes, and yet none of them are my home.
Home is such a funny concept that I would refuse to understand,
But somehow the sense comes naturally and mutually.
Perhaps being a foreigner or a minority is a part of my identity,
Although I belong to the earth anywhere.
There is a particular smell in each place that makes me feel home.
After some time I do not smell it any more, and I feel stranger.
Then I am ready to travel.
Ever. Again.

Tantidhatri 2016

For people around Bangalore and other parts of India (as well as the world); please check the website and find out about Tantidhatri 2016, the international women’s performing arts festival in Bangalore.

“‘Tanti’ in the ancient Pali language, is imagined as a thread going beyond time; and ‘Dhatri’ is the woman who holds it.”









Only very recently I am learning that people do actually take others’ words with extra implications, assuming some ill intentions to be behind them. I remember around when I was ten years old, I suddenly realized that some people are friends to each other on the surface but speaking badly about each other behind. My reaction then was, “That is so smart!” I had never even imagined things like that, and it was almost a revelation for me.

Lately there have been a couple of occasions, when I say something very simple, and was taken as an offence- or criticism or whatever that is with ill feelings. It is just that I had never noticed before, and it must have been always like this. Sometimes they get hurt. Each time I get surprised confused, and while thinking about it, the scene moves to the next.

For some time I thought it was about facing my own faults- that I need to observe and be mindful of my own words; to face the arrogant projection of my own ego. It is like a boyfriend and a girlfriend, where the girl says something to the boy just to share the experience, while the boy thinks he is asked for an advice and says something, which upsets the girl. I have a generally anti-masculine stand, while myself being rather bold at times, so that may be another thing I was made to think about.

Yet now, I am feeling differently. It is not so much about faults and defects, though they do take some part of it; but it is about my sense of obligation to respond to others. If at all anything is fault, that is what it is. When people are around or talking to me, there is almost an obligatory urge for me to respond to them in some way or another. But I don’t have to. I do not have to respond to them. I can just be myself, just sitting there. I can even walk away. I have the choice to be present and absent at the same time.

I fall sick after spending a few days with certain others for a long time. I simply get exhausted, and it seems also that I get agitation of those who have unsettled emotions inside. I am wondering and hoping, that by working on not to feel the necessity to respond, I would become easier in this.

I wanted to become a tree

As a Japanese child, “What would you like to be in your next life?” is one of the common questions to get asked. I used to answer, “I want to become a tree, a tree that can grow big”. I will still answer the same.

One of the problems I had was the Indian cosmology and senses being so human-centred; you may say it is like that everywhere, but I feel it is as human-centred as the cultures based on the Abrahamic religions. There is a clear hierarchy that sets humans the supreme among creatures… I won’t go into this too much for now. What I can say is that, purely in terms of worldview, I get more drawn to cultures such as the nomadic Mongoloid cultures of Central Asia.

But that must have been why I came to India through Kerala. For some years I was never interested in North India, and even when I lived there having a job, I did not step out of Kerala for almost two years.

In Kerala, you can feel some connection to South-East Asia, and the sea culture that would eventually lead you to the pacific; I am talking about the traditional culture here. Look at Padayani, Theyyam, Pulluvan Pattu … even Koodiyattam has some primeval and shamanistic taste in it. The Naga and Bhagavati worship too. Just being there, you can feel the spirits from the forest.

So I had to come through Kerala, to meet the Baul of Bengal. I do not think I would have become interested in yoga at all, if it was not through Baul. I had to come through this path, to realise and accept that I like human beings, and I chose to be born as one.

To be a child

People say that children have purer heart, which I agree, but I also think that that makes only half the statement. I think they are so pure that they reflect the adults around them too innocently. They can be much more cruel and lying than adults who have learned either to tame or hide the violent side of their nature. For me, to be in children’s society was very hard. I hated adults, but at the same time I feared peer children.


My painting guru says that painters of colour are born southern than certain point. And I believe in it. I feel that my colour comes from Australia. I was not born there, but I spent three years of my childhood, from four years’ old to seven years’ old, and that means a lot.

However, interestingly, my style has some Nanga taste (or, well, that’s how I feel); Nanga is Southern school of Chinese painting which became the trend in Japan during Edo period (let’s say, 17th-18th century). I never intentionally learned or followed the style, but somehow it happened that way. My painting guru is a painter in oils, but he also recalled once that somebody told him his paintings are like Nanga.

Somehow… my life is now centering around art. Singing has dominated me for the past couple of years, but now dance has entered, and even painting has come back. I am not working at all in the sense of hourly labourhood. Somehow I am still able to live, somehow I am still surviving, rather happily.

I am starting to experience my life in this way, and hoping that this path will continue, towards the light.

towns in japan

Something I like about towns- or the town I live- in Japan is that, on the surface it’s all just concrete and frankly saying pretty boring, after some time anyway, if you have a proper taste (I would say).

But if you look in, there are actually richness of the land and depth of history at many corners. I would say that is a hope, that there will still be something, some traces of treasure and they can be surviving even after so much destroyment.

Today I thought that it is probably a rare thing in the world, where you can keep the woods of a house somewhere for some years and then relocate and reconstruct this old building in another place. This is not a very rare thing in Japan, to preserve historical buildings. I guess it is possible because the traditional Japanese construction does not use nails.

I love this season. The temperature is unbelievably high for this time of the year, I am telling everybody I see that it already feels like summer. Yet the sunlight is so pleasant! What to say! I am just a little bit worried what the hydrangeas are going to do. I hope they will not miss the time to flower in the rainy season, supposed to come around June.

Spring is blooming

I rarely regret for not carrying cameras with me any more, and today was one of the few occasions. Cherry blossoms were blooming full, everywhere in the town.

Something I like about this town that I live in is that, you get sick of all the concrete-paved roads but then suddenly you find a small path leading you to a cozy park full of trees and flowers; and from how they are trimmed you could tell that the place is well looked after. Children, their mothers, and some elderly people are hanging around.

Then you look around, and realise that so many houses have their own heaven-like garden, trees and flowers showing their tails and ears to the road. Today I noticed there is a certain variety of palm tree (I think) that must have been once popular in the area.

Happy spring, the fragrance is all around. Full. Blooming.

In every school and riverbank and temple you find rows of Cherry blossom trees. You might say cynically that it is only due to some large scale plantation a couple of centuries ago, but honestly, so what?

And there are some big properties of old families, good old country-side riches, their garden filled up with so many kinds of trees. I hope they will stay there long, I have heard that so many lands had to be sold and made barren after the family-head’s demise. Why do people have to be taxed for dying, and then inheriting the place?

Gardens! I get attracted to wild forests, but I have also grown up to understand and accept the beauty of trimmed forests and gardens; the artificial universe made in a small segment of area. How arrogant is it to attempt re-constructing the ‘nature’ as your garden, after messing up all that were accumulated there? But somehow, perhaps sinfully, there is definitely some kind of beauty that gets generated there.

Happy spring!

愛情の器 the capacity to love




I’ve just realised that I do actually love others and am capable of doing so, much more than how I considered myself of.

I do not mix myself up with others, but still I feel the love, and perhaps there have been some unnecessary sadness cause by it.

I wish I could love just simply and purely.