Those men in skimpy wear

It was something we all grew up with - images of beefy men in skimpy wear barely able to contain all that fat. They evoked a strange mix of awe and horror. As we settled into our viewing box at the Tokyo's Ryogaku Sumo Stadium last September, the feeling was surreal.I thought to myself - it cant get more Japanese than this!

Pre match -crowds mill at the entrance to watch wrestlers make their entry into the stadium- almost red carpet fashion. In their 'yukatas' (kimono like cottony gowns) and artistically coiffured hair dos - the complexity of the knot an indication of sumo ranking. The gusto of cheering seems directly proportional to the sumo's status.Some stars , some wannabes.

A bit about the system.The sumo world rests on a strong hierarchial ranking (banzuke') system .The 'yokuzuna' is at the top followed by the ozekis,sekiwakes and the makuuchis. Below them are the lowly life of the sumo world who have yet to make it to the top of the 'banzuke' .Top sumos enjoy celebrity status complete with scandals and affairs tagged on.

The actual wrestling bout is over in a blink, but the 'rituals' and chanting surrounding it are fascinating. Men (refrees and 'announcers') in elaborate gowns chant long plaintive cries or read out of ornate scrolls. Sumos parade (slow lumbering giants)in heavily embroidered aprons (thousand dollars worth) accompanied by the deep steady beats of a drum. Everything is sombre and sepulchral.As if playing out of a thousand year old rule book no one dared to change.

The day we watch the match (one of a 10 day fest) the stadium is honoured by the presence of Japan's Royal Family - Crown Prince Naruhito,Crown Princess Masako and their daughter Princess Aiko. As they settle in the Imperial Box they are greeted with enthusiasm and adoration. They wave and smile at us lesser 'subjects' .That settled, the tournament begins...

Menace hangs heavy in the air as rivals take to the rink before a bout .Wrestlers lumber around the rink, slapping their thighs loudly and sprinkling salt around (purifying the space). After what seems an eternity of slapping and sprinkling - serious business begins...wrestlers thump hard on the rink blowing whiffs of dust ,charge forward, grasp each other,fling or get flung onto the bales (rink made of straw bales)- all over in a jiffy. Match over.More chanting.Droning. Next bout. Same rituals.
Match after match sumos fight for their place in the top league. Loud cheers alternating with ritualistic chants- the days proceedings unfold in a fascinating show of strength and drama. At the end of the day spectators applaud in an oddly paradoxical way by throwing pillows in the air - for a brief moment the mood gets flippant.

After its all over, we hop back on our subway train homewards as if snapping out of a dream.Here we were back in the cling and clang of Tokyo's concrete subway holding on to our memories of men in gowns, men in skimpy wear,salt throwing and soulful chants. Images from another world, another era...for now we must remember to get off at the right station...

Azabu Juban - love at first sight

Azabu Juban - our home in Tokyo for now is a charming little pocket in the heart of Tokyo's grey landscape.Surrounded by the buzz of neurotic Roppongi - the seedy sleazy pub district on one side and the high rise 'Roppongi Hills' - a glitzy happening mall- on the other, Azabu Juban doesnt seem to have anything to do with all that. Almost Parisian in charm,yet very Japanese, the small shopping area seems to exist on its own terms. Small hat boutiques to bakeries called St Moritz.Dog saloons to atmospheric cafes. Narrow winding hilly lanes.Cobble stoned to boot. It's all about charm and atmosphere.

A walk through Azabu has led us to some amazing discoveries. Small dimly lit hole-in-the-wall cafes where we thought we spotted a sax player playing to a cosy group of drinkers.A flower shop abutting a pet cemetry. 'M.Roman' selling 'juicy couture' (whatever).Even a kaleidoscope shop! It was like stepping into Mary Poppins' world.Kaleidoscopes in all sizes and shapes! Different worlds in different kaleidoscopes- one more awesome than the other. Come to think of it - a lot like our own time here in Japan!

Sleeping in Tokyo

Zen on the move.

These are pictures taken by my intrepid husband on Tokyo's subway! Wont be too long before one of these weary passengers wakes up to accost him! Till then....

Cars and dogs

In Tokyo, cars and dogs are more than just transport and pets. Fashion accessories? The range is exotic and simply mindboggling . In the birthplace of Honda and Toyota -it is the Lamborghinis,Aston Martins and Porsches that are hot.Ironical. Convertibles that look like space shuttles or cars that dont look like cars at all. For that matter dogs that dont like dogs...giant poodles, skinny whippets, tiny poodles,Alaskan huskies,mammoth Great Danes...this is the Road Show for dog lovers (like me)!

My son and I never fail to peer into the dog saloon near our supermarket. While we move on with our daily load of bread and milk, the lucky pooches are getting a manicure here and a massage there.After which they will, no doubt, slip into designer wear(no exaggeration) and walk their well heeled paws on the cobbled sidewalks while their blow dried hair waves in the wind.Lucky dogs.

The car and dog fest is never ending. Its like walking through make believe world. Where dogs have hair dos and cars no roof. Excuse me, while I gape.

To be illiterate

Regular grocery shopping is what I set out to do in my first week of moving to Tokyo. One hour on-emerged spent and exhausted! So this is what it felt like to be an illiterate! Looking at 'pictures' to figure out.A detergent or a softener? But hey this smiling woman on the label could be doing anything. I look around to ask- but who? How? Stone walled. The feeling is scary.

My husband and I refused to take a cab in the early days.Better to walk than stare blank at an equally blank face (cabbie).Or flail violent 'left'' and right' hands. And then it happened. Three magic words. 'Hidari'. 'Migi'. Massugu'. Left. Right.Straight. Voila.We could actually will our way to our destination now! We have come a long way since. To holding somewhat halting conversations with the cabbie about the weather,India or life in Tokyo. And not freezing at the thought of calling a cab.I am sure we have been forgiven for all our wrong innotations and impolite phrases!

How we bought our cycle in the first week of our stay deserves another blog!

Learning 'survival Japanese' is what we call it. And man ,its empowering.

Other useful phrases: (we parrot regularly)

arigato gozaimasu (thank you) - learn it as your plane taxis into Narita-its your life line

xyz (destination) made(mud-ay) onegashimasu (take me to xyz)- to the cabbie

koko de tomete kudasai (please stop here) - u r in a speeding cab remember?

ikura desu ka? (how much does this cost?)

hai hai (yes yes)

wakarimashita (i understand) - even if you didnt (nicely replaces the blank stare)

..or when your vocab runs out on you (soon) - Nihon-go wakarimasen (I dont understand Japanese) - meaning -I give up!

About masalaSushi : A million sensations

Capturing Tokyo is like trying to catch a thousand different sensations in a bottle. New sights and sounds. A world like no other. Planet Japan.
Since we moved here last July, from the easy predictability of Singapore, this place has never ceased to amaze me.

Just a walk down Shibuya - a crowded shopping district confounds you. Sea of people in all hues and styles.Pouring into and draining out of Hachiko crossing (the worlds most crowded crossing?). A cackle of neon signs and flashing bill boards saying their own things -in strange foreign gibberish. Groups of youth hanging around with r-e-b-e-l written all over them and their pink psycedelic eye shadows.Sales girls shouting out their ware in shrill school girl voices.An unentangleable mass of sights and sounds.



Just when I thought Tokyo is all about frenzy and pulse I see the beautiful white blooms outside my window with a small bird pecking at its petals. And think of all thats delicate, hushed and classy.Graceful Japanese ways. Tea cermonies, bowing and softly modulated voices. Where packaging is an art and small is beautiful. Where almost everything has a 'way' of doing it.The only place where bowing to fellow drivers on the road exists!








My mind says not to rush. Go one sensation at a time. Trying to decipher Japan with my Mumbai-battered brain may just be like trying to make masala sushi! Impossible. All I can do is ramble on- on a blog. Sayonara!