She pined for the beauty of her lover, who was fair to look upon as the flowers; now beneath the moss of this old tomb stone all has perished of her save her name. Amid the changes of a fitful world, this tomb is decaying under the dew and rain; gradually crumbling beneath its own dust; its outline alone remains. Stranger, bestow an alm to preserve this stone; and we, sparing neither pain nor labour, will second you with all our hearts. Erecting it again, let us preserve it from decay for future generations, and let us write the following verse upon it: "These two birds, beautiful as the cherry blossoms, perished before their time like flowers blown down by the wind before they have borne seed."
Two lovers, immortalized as the legendary bird hiyokudori (比翼鳥). It has only one eye and one wing, and is therefore helpless until it finds its mate and becomes a complete bird that can see, fly and be happy. The bird is a symbol of lovers who can only find happiness when they are united as one.¹
Unfortunately, this is Japan, and Japan doesn’t have happy endings. No. If it's a Japanese love story, it must perforce end in tragedy, the triumph of giri (obligations) over ninjō (human emotion), and preferably a dramatic double death or, for extra bonus points, a double suicide.² As soul sister Cecilia says, "Can't have a happy ending. Misery is catharsis. Suffering gives death meaning, especially when avoidable."
Lovers who committed suicide to be united in "the other world" were usually buried together so that they could at least enjoy each other's company in death. Their tombs are called hiyokuzuka (比翼塚), and can be found in various parts of the country.
One of the most famous is the hiyokuzuka that stands at Ryūsenji (瀧泉寺), popularly known as Meguro Fudōson (目黒不動尊), where Hirai Gonpachi (平井権八) and Komurasaki (小紫) are united in love.
Gonpachi. When you hear that name, you may be reminded of the Roppongi restaurant that allegedly served as a model for the House of Blue Leaves in Kill Bill, or perhaps you recall that former Japanese prime minister Junichiro Koizumi took George W. Bush and Laura Bush to this restaurant for an informal dinner (link).
Yes, all of that is correct, but the restaurant was named after the samurai who’s now buried in Meguro.
Gonpachi was a samurai of the 17th century and a great fencer who by misadventure killed one of his clansmen and had to flee from home. He became a rōnin and travelled towards Edo. One night, when he lodged at an inn, a young girl told him it was a robbers' den and that she was kept a captive. Gonpachi killed the robbers, freed the girl, who was called Komurasaki, and returned her to her parents' home. They became engaged to be married, but the restless rōnin couldn’t resist the temptation of the road. He returned to Edo, where he led a life of dissolution.
During a visit to the red light district Yoshiwara, he recognized one of the prostitutes: it was Komurasaki, whose parents had been forced to sell her due to poverty.
(Don’t you love it that parents are always "forced" to sell their daughters? Ho-hum.)
To get enough money for her release, Gonpachi became a robber, but of course he was killed, and equally of course Komurasaki went to his grave, and do I really have to tell you that she then killed herself? Their tragic tale was turned into a kabuki drama and immortalized in numerous prints.
My summary is based on a story in the book The Animal in Far Eastern Art by T. Volker, but you can read a complete version in Tales of Old Japan by Algernon Bertram Freeman-Mitford, which you can find at the Project Gutenberg website (link). The quote with which I started this post comes from Mitford's book.
|I was standing next to the graves of Gonpachi and Komurasaki, looking towards the main gate at|
|The modest graves of Gonpachi and Komurasaki|
The temple where the grave is, Meguro Fudōson, deserves a bit of attention as well. It's a beautiful temple with a small waterfall, a pond and spacious grounds with several sub-temples. It's dedicated to Fudō Myōō (不動明王), the "immovable wisdom king". That "immovable" refers to his ability to remain unmoved by temptation, and his role is to teach self-control. He's also called the destroyer of delusion. He usually holds a sword, and has one fang pointing up and another pointing down. His statues are generally placed near waterfalls or deep in the mountains.³
He's supposed to be scary and intimidating, but when you see the guy against a backdrop of fluffy pink cherry blossoms, you can't help but think that he's a softy in disguise.
The temple was one of the five protectors of Edo and was included in all travel guides of that period. It remains well-known to this day for its fire ritual, called goma (護摩), which is performed in esoteric Buddhism and is supposed to protect you against accidents and evil.
Incidentally, when I Googled for more information about Fudōson temples, I realized with a skrik that my blog posts (with that particular ō spelling) pop up in the search results, and that not much else is available in English. Oh. OK. Then I guess I'll have to continue to find information in books rather than on the interwebs. Fortunately that won't be too much of a sacrifice.
I could carry on for another 71 pages, but let's focus on love rather than religion in this post, shall we?
Also, photos. I might as well exploit my blog's newish layout and bigger photos.
1) It's based on the Chinese mythological bird called a jiān (鶼).
2) When I'm at my most cynical, I think this is why some (originally I said so many, but let's be fair) Japanese women are so besotted with white men. White = Western = chivalry = fairytale with a prince kissing a princess awake = live happily ever after. View that from the male perspective, and you get Japanese woman = cute, childlike, feminine, submissive, exotic = the ideal woman = live happily ever after. Oh, people, you deserve one another. (You're welcome to disagree with me, but there are many reasons why so many white/Japanese marriages end in divorce, and unrealistic expectations feature prominently.)
3) He's called Ācalanātha in Sanskrit.
|Remember this plant in its winter clothes? Want to see a nude shot? Look below.|
|Smaug the dragon|
|Small Inari shrine on the premises|
|The main gate seen from the steps leading to the main temple|