“He did not know when or why his fall had begun, but he sensed the seeds of it had always been in him, ever since he was small. It was nothing sudden. It was not failure to try and live an honest life – the result of leading an honest life was the wreckage of his days now. In short, Sentaro suffered because he was who he was.”
Sentaro is just getting by, trudging through each day of work, going home to an empty apartment each night. A secret from his past keeps him right where he is, feeling unfulfilled day in and day out. He does his job well enough, but doesn’t take any special pride in preparing the dorayaki – the sweet bean paste-filled pancakes that are sold at the Doraharu shop on Cherry Blossom Street. He doesn’t even take any particular notice of the cherry trees lining the roadside. Then one day, a disabled elderly woman enters the shop, inquiring about a job. Sentaro reluctantly takes on Tokue Yoshii, mainly so he can learn how to make her sweet bean paste, which is far superior to the ready-made paste he uses in order to save time.
“Bean paste is all about feeling, young man… The aroma seemed to leap up at him, as if it were alive, racing through his nose to the back of his head. Unlike the ready-made paste, this was the smell of fresh, living beans. It had depth. It had life.”
This is a story that digs much deeper than just the preparation and enjoyment of food, however. Yes, food does have a way of bringing people together, of course. A teenager named Wakana begins to frequent the shop after school. A bond of friendship between the three develops and is nourished by their interactions, the sharing of certain aspects of their lives. Sentaro, however, continually worries about what the customers will think and say if they get a glimpse of Tokue’s gnarled hands, her paralyzed face. After all, social discrimination is still alive and thriving. And Tokue has her own secret that is slowly revealed as friendship leads to trust.
“The world hasn’t changed. It’s just as cruel as it always was.”
I’m not going to reveal more about this short little story. The writing is straightforward yet dignified. The ache of disappointment and loneliness is so palpable throughout. Despite its brevity, it packs a precisely aimed punch. It leaves the reader questioning what truly signifies a meaningful life. Is it a grand contribution to society? Is it checking off all the boxes on your list of what you want to accomplish? If you don’t leave a noticeable mark behind, has your life been a failed endeavor? Or is there something more, perhaps? Is it in the way in which you simply live your life; the ways in which you take notice of things? Do you take the time to listen to others, learn from them, forge and nurture those relationships which are important to you? Despite the cliché “stop and smell the roses” (or in this case, perhaps, “stop and look at the lovely cherry trees”!) which popped up in my head from time to time, I thought it sent a beautiful message. There’s a lot of food for thought for anyone that has struggled with the essence of life’s true meaning.
“… everything in this world has its own language. We have the ability to open up our ears and minds to anything and everything. That could be someone walking down the street, or it could be the sunshine or the wind.”