grazing there; and above, in the absolute blue of the sky, an abundance of luminous clouds rose in magnificent disorder.
There was sound, but complete soundlessness dominated. No sooner was Honda overwhelmed by the silence than the noise of the waterfalls came wildly to his ears. He was enchanted by the alternate stillness and the sound of water.
He was impatient to get to the fifth cave where the water splashed, but a strange feeling of awe held him back. It was almost certain that nothing was waiting there. Yet Kiyoaki’s feverish and delirious words fell like drops of water in his mind.
“I’ll see you again. I know it . . . beneath the falls.”
Since then, he had believed that Kiyoaki had been referring to the Sanko falls on Mount Miwa. Probably so. But it occurred to Honda that the ultimate waterfall he had meant must be these cascades at Ajanta.
10
T HE S.S. Southern Seas , of Itsui Shipping, Ltd., on which Honda left India, was a six-cabin freighter. The rainy season was over, and the ship headed across the Gulf of Siam, which lay in the cool northeast monsoon breeze. After passing by Paknam at the mouth of the Menam, the ship made its way upstream to Bangkok, watching for propitious tides. The sky without rain this November twenty-third was a ceramic blue.
Honda was relieved to be returning to the familiar city from a land of such pestilence. His mind was at rest, but he carried a heavy load of terrifying impressions from his journey, and he remained leaning against the railing of the upper deck throughout the voyage, the cargo groaning deep in the hold of his heart.
They passed a destroyer of the Thai Navy, but there was no sign of human life along the quiet bank covered with coconut, mangrove, and reeds. Finally, when the ship began its approach, with Bangkok to the right and Thon Buri to the left, tall stilted houses with palm-thatched roofs could be seen on the Thon Buri side, and the dark skins of orchard workers were visible under the sparkling leaves, cultivating bananas, pineapple, mangosteen, and other fruits.
Betel nut trees, which the climbing fish preferred, thrived in one corner of the orchard. On seeing them, Honda remembered the old lady-in-waiting who chewed on betel wrapped in kimma leaves that tinted her mouth all red. The modernist Phiboon had already forbidden its use. The old ladies had apparently dispelled the gloom of the regulation by chewing the nuts away from the capital at Bang Pa In.
Sculled boats carrying water became more numerous, and at length the masts of commercial and naval ships formed a forest in the distance. It was Khlong Toei, the port of Bangkok.
The setting sun added a strange brilliance to the muddy waters, making them appear a smoldering rose color; it added further iridescence to the patches of oil, reminding Honda of the smooth texture of the lepers’ skin he had so frequently seen in India.
As the ship drew up to the pier, Honda recognized the obese branch manager of Itsui Products, two or three clerks, the director of the Japan Club, and behind them, Hishikawa, who looked as though he were hiding among the people waving their hats in welcome. Immediately he felt depressed.
As soon as Honda came ashore, Hishikawa grabbed the briefcase from his side before the Itsui clerks had the chance. He acted with unprecedented obsequiousness and diligence.
“Welcome back, Mr. Honda. I’m relieved to see you looking so well. The trip to India must have been very hard on you.”
This seemed to be a very impolite greeting to the branch manager, so Honda ignored the comment and thanked the manager.
“I was amazed at the thoroughness of your arrangements for me every place during the trip. Thanks to you, I traveled like a king.”
“Now you know well enough that Itsui’s not going to be stopped by anything like Britain and America freezing our credits.”
In the car on the way to the Oriental Hotel, Hishikawa was quiet, holding the briefcase in the
There was sound, but complete soundlessness dominated. No sooner was Honda overwhelmed by the silence than the noise of the waterfalls came wildly to his ears. He was enchanted by the alternate stillness and the sound of water.
He was impatient to get to the fifth cave where the water splashed, but a strange feeling of awe held him back. It was almost certain that nothing was waiting there. Yet Kiyoaki’s feverish and delirious words fell like drops of water in his mind.
“I’ll see you again. I know it . . . beneath the falls.”
Since then, he had believed that Kiyoaki had been referring to the Sanko falls on Mount Miwa. Probably so. But it occurred to Honda that the ultimate waterfall he had meant must be these cascades at Ajanta.
10
T HE S.S. Southern Seas , of Itsui Shipping, Ltd., on which Honda left India, was a six-cabin freighter. The rainy season was over, and the ship headed across the Gulf of Siam, which lay in the cool northeast monsoon breeze. After passing by Paknam at the mouth of the Menam, the ship made its way upstream to Bangkok, watching for propitious tides. The sky without rain this November twenty-third was a ceramic blue.
Honda was relieved to be returning to the familiar city from a land of such pestilence. His mind was at rest, but he carried a heavy load of terrifying impressions from his journey, and he remained leaning against the railing of the upper deck throughout the voyage, the cargo groaning deep in the hold of his heart.
They passed a destroyer of the Thai Navy, but there was no sign of human life along the quiet bank covered with coconut, mangrove, and reeds. Finally, when the ship began its approach, with Bangkok to the right and Thon Buri to the left, tall stilted houses with palm-thatched roofs could be seen on the Thon Buri side, and the dark skins of orchard workers were visible under the sparkling leaves, cultivating bananas, pineapple, mangosteen, and other fruits.
Betel nut trees, which the climbing fish preferred, thrived in one corner of the orchard. On seeing them, Honda remembered the old lady-in-waiting who chewed on betel wrapped in kimma leaves that tinted her mouth all red. The modernist Phiboon had already forbidden its use. The old ladies had apparently dispelled the gloom of the regulation by chewing the nuts away from the capital at Bang Pa In.
Sculled boats carrying water became more numerous, and at length the masts of commercial and naval ships formed a forest in the distance. It was Khlong Toei, the port of Bangkok.
The setting sun added a strange brilliance to the muddy waters, making them appear a smoldering rose color; it added further iridescence to the patches of oil, reminding Honda of the smooth texture of the lepers’ skin he had so frequently seen in India.
As the ship drew up to the pier, Honda recognized the obese branch manager of Itsui Products, two or three clerks, the director of the Japan Club, and behind them, Hishikawa, who looked as though he were hiding among the people waving their hats in welcome. Immediately he felt depressed.
As soon as Honda came ashore, Hishikawa grabbed the briefcase from his side before the Itsui clerks had the chance. He acted with unprecedented obsequiousness and diligence.
“Welcome back, Mr. Honda. I’m relieved to see you looking so well. The trip to India must have been very hard on you.”
This seemed to be a very impolite greeting to the branch manager, so Honda ignored the comment and thanked the manager.
“I was amazed at the thoroughness of your arrangements for me every place during the trip. Thanks to you, I traveled like a king.”
“Now you know well enough that Itsui’s not going to be stopped by anything like Britain and America freezing our credits.”
In the car on the way to the Oriental Hotel, Hishikawa was quiet, holding the briefcase in the
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