Moonlight communion
The wood is dazzlingly dark, and dearly dense.
The camera panned back and forth capturing the growing detail of
darkening wilderness. It shaped the human emotions at an end. The scene
was shot just flawless, with a new minted look. I was happy, at last.
"Ah, before I forget," I said to my assistant, "I'm awaiting two
guests. An old man and a younger one. They look very much the same, so
you won't have any issue making them out. Show them in."
And the rest I told him... yes, you are going to know it later on. I
was picturing the scene time and again until I realized I am pretty much
fond of it. That moment elapsed soberly, I nodded off at length.
The distant chime of the grandfather clock struck seven times. I have
slept for an hour - that was enough. That's when I saw them come in.
"Breeze is so sweet, isn't it master?" Our conversation set off with
no pleasantries to exchange.
"Yeah, that's what we have been talking about too," master smiled his
consent, "By the way we heard you are taking a rest off a heavy day's
work."
"Yes, but don't worry. I had a good rest. So what do you feel with
this breeze, son?"
"Nature is kissing and caressing me with the wind." Disciple answered
with a warm smile.
"That's so poetic young man," I said patting his shoulder.
"And inspirational, too." Master added.
"So friend... how you doing?" Master started on, leaning against a
tree.
"Perhaps we should go inside."
"No, no sir, this is much better. Besides I am so fond of this
breeze. And the moonlight too." That was disciple. I felt odd to be
called as sir. But master chipped in before I could say anything.
"Yes friend, this place is much better. Know what? We were talking
about Maname on the way. It's one of our local plays by a playwright
called Sarachchandra. He had been inspired by Rashomon."
Now that's a dream - Rashomon. It came off almost involuntarily. Or
did it, I am simply clueless. No other play has made me that happy - of
that I am sure. I was so engrossed in my own thoughts. Only after a beat
of a few seconds, I realized we all have been silent. My courteous
company has respected my thoughtful mood.
But then again I had no idea where to start.
"Yes, master, Rashomon was a dream. I don't know how it came out that
way, but all I know is no other film made me happy that much." Sorry, I
am repeating - I simply cannot help it.
"Did you also play a role in the film? For me it's a real influential
masterpiece."
"Arigato Gosaimasta..." Words spat out almost unbeknown to me.
"Oh... never mind it. Thank you very much, son. But no, I didn't
perform."
They were silent again. I had to take charge of this moment.
"You know son, my aim was to question the truth. I always ask that
question, sometimes from even myself. Well, perhaps..." I shrugged my
shoulders and went on, "I sound stupid, I know."
Master was still leaning against the old tree. I was studying the
profile of the young man, his gaze was fixed in the starry sky. He
seemed a throwback to my heydays.
"Do you still believe truth is multi-dimensional?"
The question sounds sudden. It is.
"Of course, son. And everything else is, too." I said gamely.
"I've watched your 'Dreams'. But I don't think I got it all right. I
mean it seems somewhat disconnected. Something you know..." He paused a
while and continued. "Something like implied quaintness. Anyway
congrats... I'm really moved by the film."
"I don't think I got you too, young man." I didn't get what you tried
to say, in all honesty. "My advice to you. Just take them as 'Dreams'.
That'll do."
"Oh..." I could divine his tone - he wasn't happy with my answer.
"Anyway I'm looking forward to watching your next movie."
I chuckled: "Well that's going to be my best, especially because of
the cast."
"Including..." asked the disciple.
"Including myself."
"Oh that's wonderful." Now that was master.
"Not only wonderful, it's magnificent too, because my opposites
didn't even know their performance is being shot."
"Really? But how so?"
"Well they had no inkling of what's going on in the surrounding. One
actor was gazing up in the moon all the time while his teacher was
leaning against a tree," I paused and went on to add, "with hands
crossed."
I looked right at them. They looked at each other, frozen. It was one
splendid scene, I shrieked out loud with joy: "Cut."
My crew turned up one by one, as seconds wore on into minutes. It was
all coup de theatre for master and disciple. Disciple's curls were
flaxen in the glowing moonlight when he bent to read the plate on my
trunk:
Property of Akira Kurosawa
Shinagawa
Tokyo
[email protected]
[email protected]
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