The Sound of the Mountain by Yasunari Kawabata

Author:Yasunari Kawabata [Kawabata, Yasunari]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-307-83365-5
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2013-02-05T16:00:00+00:00

The Bell in Spring

In Kamakura in the season of cherry blossoms, the seven-hundredth anniversary of the Buddhist capital was being celebrated. The temple bell rang all through the day.

There were times when Shingo could not hear it. Kikuko heard it, apparently, even when she was working or talking; but Shingo had to listen carefully.

“There,” Kikuko would inform him. “There. It rang again.”

“Oh?” said Shingo, cocking his head to one side. “And how is it with Granny?”

Yasuko was no comfort. “Of course I can hear it. It’s practically deafening.”

She was reading at her own pace through the five days’ accumulation of newspapers before her.

“There it goes, there it goes,” said Shingo. Once he had caught the sound, it was easy to follow succeeding strokes.

“You seem very pleased.” Yasuko took off her glasses and looked at him. “The priests must get tired, ringing away at it day after day.”

“No, they have the pilgrims ring, at ten yen a stroke,” explained Kikuko. “It’s not the priests.”

“A clever idea,” said Shingo.

“They call it the bell for the dead, or something of the sort. The angle is to have a hundred thousand people or a million people or something of the sort ring the bell.”

“The angle?” Her choice of words struck Shingo as amusing.

“It has a dark sound to it.” said Kikuko. “I don’t really like it.”

“You think it’s dark?”

Shingo himself had been thinking how pleasantly quiet and relaxed it was, sitting in the breakfast room on an April Sunday, looking at the cherry blossoms and listening to the bell.

“What is this the seven-hundredth anniversary of, anyway?” asked Yasuko. “Some say it has to do with the Great Buddha, and some say it’s Nichiren.”

Shingo could not answer.

“Do you know, Kikuko?”

“No.”

“Very odd. And here we all are living in Kamakura.”

“Isn’t there anything in your newspapers. Mother?”

“There might be.” Yasuko passed them on to Kikuko. They were neatly folded and stacked. Yasuko kept one for herself. “I believe I did see something. But I was so struck by the piece about the old couple who left home that I forgot everything else. You saw it, I suppose?” she asked Shingo.

“Yes.”

“A great benefactor of Japanese boat racing. The vice-chairman of the Japanese Rowing Association.” She began to read the article, and then went on in her own words. “He was the president of a company that makes boats and yachts. He was sixty-nine, and she was sixty-eight.”

“And what was there about it that struck you so?” “He left behind notes to their daughter and son-in-law and grandchildren. Here it is in the paper.” Yasuko began reading again. “ ‘Miserable old creatures, living our leftover lives, forgotten by the world? No, we have decided that we do not want to live so long. We quite understand the feelings of Viscount Takagi.* People should go away while they are still loved. We shall go now, still in the embrace of family affection, blessed with numbers of comrades and colleagues and schoolmates.’ That’s to the daughter and son-in-law. And this is

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