Mother and Motherland are Greater Than Heaven, Pt. 3

Dear, to whomever it may concern.

Have you ever seen a movie where it’s the last man standing?

Because that’s what was served, in front of me, reminded me of.

A large hill of basmati rice, reminiscent of Mt Fuji. Surrounded by soldiers of spice and food, a platter of food. It was so fragrant. The smell could wake up a coma patient. It was not pungent, as well. Like a beautiful lotus flower. Structured so delicately, it was more art exhibit than food. The lovely lady who served it to me called it ‘Dal Bhat.' I had to ask her to spell it out in Japanese.

It was no child portion either. That platter could feed my extended family in one sitting. I had to share it with Saya-chan and Yusuke. Thank God.

If this is Nepali home cooking? Eating this every day? Maybe I might move out of Japan and migrate. Throw the passport into the port and leave.

Leave. Leaf! There were multiple dishes surrounded by leaves. A multitude of curries and lentils. One white sea of yoghurt.

There was a Nepali couple with us, too. They were speaking to us, yeah it was ‘flawed’ Japanese, but their characters were nothing at all flawed. Genuinely, they were both sweet and caring to us. They showed us how to eat the platter, from just mixing the rice and using your right hand.

Yusuke failed. He used his left hand. I think it’s a big taboo in South Asia? Something about using your left hand to wipe. Why not use a bidet? Then again, you still need to hold the handle. Automatic bidets win.

There was also chow mein, samosas, and some other dumplings. I think they’re called momos? Those were the only other things I ate. Sadly, I’m not an adventurous eater. I’m sure you could tell from my attitude to everything that it obviously follows my tastes in food. Plus, I’ve forgotten the rest.

Some sat on the tables, others sat on the floor. Just for the fun of it, we ate on the floor. Yes, I can recognize that it’s probably dirty, but hell, this food was genuinely worth it.

No overreaction… maybe a little bit. I’ve been living off ultra-processed food for weeks as my parents work some erratic schedules. Sadly, cooking is not my forte. My sister knows how to cook, but her tastes are way too eclectic. No nee-chan! I don’t want eels and rice!

Both Yusuke and Sayako laughed at me. I unconsciously made a defensive manoeuvre, with my hands blocking some kind of threat. I laughed it off too. They didn't know the threat was traditional Japanese food.

Might as well make conversation over food.

“Saya-chan, how was your teaching? How was Sora?”

Sayako gave a slight cough to clear her throat. Or maybe she was shocked I called her Saya-chan again?

“It was good. Sora-kun is surprisingly talkative for any topic. You’d expect their personalities to be switched. Sakura’s the more… reserved type? Maybe aloof is the better word.”

Yusuke, rice in mouth, mumbled.

“It’s Suzuki-san.”

Nice Yusuke! Remember, Sakura… shit, I mean Suzuki-san would rather be called Suzuki.

Sayako was about to hit Yusuke but realized, she might accidentally make Yusuke choke on his rice and curry mix. To be fair, some of that blame could go to Yusuke, who decided to correct Sayako mid-chew. Instead, she spoke.

“Yusuke, you’re lucky. Also, she reminds me of you, somehow.”

“How? Actually, she 100% does if she’s messing with you Honzo.”

Confused, I then addressed both of them in one response.

“There’s no way she’s messing with me. Also, I can see the Yusuke resemblance, actually. Suzuki needs to be male, dyed blonde hair, skinny, a bit of a loner, etc. Then she’s basically Yusuke!”

Yusuke gave a laugh. Regrettably, the same could not be said about the reception from Sayako. You’d think it should be the other way around.

She changed the topic.

“Oh Honzo, you asked about the teaching. She was really quick. There are a few concepts we haven’t hammered in, but I’m sure she’ll be fluent as us in a few months.”

I responded. “Wait, who are you talking about? Your tutee?”

“Yeah, her name is Khadija. She goes to like a nearby school, I think.”

I just nodded my head.

“Also, I think Sora might like her. Like a lot. Asked for her line and IG. She gave both.”

Yusuke and I did not expect that from him. Nor was I expecting Sayako to disclose that to us. Note to self, do not do anything embarrassing in front of Saya-chan.

“Reminds me of Yusuke and Kaede from Class C.”

Once I finished those words, Yusuke coughed on his boba tea. What a man of discipline and self-restraint to have not been drinking that. I would’ve finished it before we entered the building.

Just to let you in on some school drama, Kaede is a gal. Enough said. Okay… maybe I might be discriminating against her. She’s a somewhat beautiful lady with dyed blonde hair, and a… verbally gifted girl shall we say. She had a big crush on Yusuke. But she let it be shown in arguing with him. Every lunch for a few weeks in the first year. It was hell. Imagine it for him? Tatsuya was seriously jealous, but well… he got his own luck somehow over the summer.

That reminds me.

“Sayako, how’s you and Saeka now?”

“What do you mean? That’s almost my twin. The SaeSaya sisters, no?”

“No one is going to make that a thing.” I had to let her know.

Sayako gave a straight face. Clearly, she was hiding the embarrassment. Imagine if me and Tatsuya called ourselves the HonTsuya brothers? Doesn’t make sense and is completely weird.

“Yeah… we haven’t been speaking as much as we used to. She’s with Tatsuya all the time. Matter of fact I think they’re in a movie, right now.”

Yusuke commented. You know it was going to be a crazy one-liner.

“Or he’s inside of her house.”

Yeah. Not weird at all. But sadly juvenile humour is our thing.

This time, Sayako showed no remorse. What a slap. It sounded like an 850cc engine. If they even make those.

I’m going to check my phone now.

They do.

Apparently, that’s not even a big engine. What would I know about engines?

As much as I enjoyed our conversation as it switched to… why are school uniforms different for boys and girls, I was kind of tired. It was now nearly 13:00, on a Sunday.

Come to think of it? Where are my favourite senpais and kouhais? And Tateishi-sensei.

I spotted them talking amongst themselves. I need to describe the scene. It’s time to flex my creative muscles so I can finally get a good grade in Japanese.

The eloquent Kazumi was always audible. Her voice seemed to bellow amongst the rest as if a queen to her peasants. It was as if her figure was seemingly caressed by her dress. Not tight, but certainly pressing the buttons. It appeared that she was enjoying a fruitful discussion with Aya-senpai and Sora. Sora-san. I hadn’t really considered him. I’ve only known him for a few days.

Aya-senpai was another character involved in the discussion. If I could hear closer, I could probably comprehend their topics, but instead, I got small snippets. Similar to shredded documents. All I could hear was something about dresses and “Nice, isn’t it?” Her dress was not as tight as the aforementioned Kazumi. It was free-flowing. A dandelion in the wind. Probably, because there was a fan blowing towards them.

Or perhaps there is a microclimate in this room.

Because it’s just suddenly gotten warmer. Ok, I digress, it’s the heat from the kitchen that’s now transferred to our room.

I started to take my final bites of the momo and chow mein on my plate. The other two seemed to just eat from the platter only. Food review over. If I was hired by Michelin, I would easily bestow the team cooking a whole three stars. Then the tire company would invent a whole new four-star category because this food deserves it. I’d be down in history too.

Now, in all fairness, I think I did have a small sample of food from the kitchen. The weird fried doughnut-like rings may perhaps not be up to scratch. Sel roti? I think that’s what they’re called. I hope I got that right.

I decided to check on my phone, and yes! I did get that one right. Why haven’t they given ‘culinary expert’ to me yet? Where’s my interview? Why am I not on Japanese TV, yet? I can envision it. Honzo-sensei, master of world cuisine. I’m even getting giddy in my mind.

Suddenly, I felt a wave of thirst strike me. Thank God, I decided to buy two drinks. With one quick motion, I opened my backpack, took out the Pocari Sweat and gulped it. Half of the volume had now suddenly transferred into my throat. It was still enough for me to enjoy the citrusy type taste. It’s good. Apparently, the name is a bit funny to native English speakers. It’s because they think you’re drinking ‘sweat’. Heh. You know what, that is a bit weird. Drinking sweat.

Sadly, I think it was time for us to take flight. I sat with my arms behind my back, touching the floor. I was looking at the ceiling. As I stared, there were several black dots that, well, dotted the whiteness. It’s not really a white ceiling actually, more like cream. I needed to digest this heavy food. Maybe I had just consumed my daily 2000 calories? Probably not.

“Is that Aya-senpai?” I spoke first to the woman standing in front of us.

“Yes, it is Fukaze-kun. Our time to be useful is over, I’m afraid. Although we could help out cleaning, the organizers have said that what we’ve done is more than enough.”

What an honestly sweet voice. Wasn’t particularly high pitched nor was it deep that it scared me off.

Sayako spoke as our representative.

“I guess we’re going then?”

“Duh,” Yusuke spoke.

This guy loves his one-liners, I swear.

All of us gave a quick farewell bow to the Nepali couple, who were still eating. Nothing but best wishes for them. Maybe, my misandry is going away? Nah. People still suck unless you interact with them.

Then, the entire group finally reunited after tutoring and eating. We went up to the head of the event and thanked him for letting us help out. Well, I say we, it was more like Aya-senpai and Tateishi-sensei.

“Fukaze-kun… did you know that Nepal had chow mein?”

The stalker Kazumi crept up, from behind, to me. That was slightly terrifying. I’m not afraid to admit I gave out a weird ‘Ahh!’ scream-that-wasn’t-loud-like-a-scream. Yeah. Not wordy at all.

“No, Kazumi-senpai, I did not.”

She gave a smile. What is it with everyone smiling?

“You really don’t know anything.”

“What does that mean Kazumi-senpai? I don’t know anything because I don't know Nepal has chow mein? Did you know Indonesia has mie goreng? Do you want Japchae from Korea? Why challenge me?”

My stance was definitely impressive… or perhaps a bit too weird. Well, it seems everyone, except for Kazumi, found it weird. She responded in sincerity.

“Go on then Honzo, you seem to have forgotten a few nations and noodles. Maybe check your phone?”

No way. She always has this weird thing of picking up my habits. Does she like to stare at me? I had to hide my line of sight from her, but instead, she leaned towards me. Her face was in my sight. Scary.

“What’s the matter, Honzo? Your phone dead?”

I do not want to concede to her. I will take on the teasing. I will succeed. My mind is a fortress. This is the last stand, I will succeed.

I checked my phone.

“Aha Kazumi-senpai! There are several noodle dishes around the world! How did I forget about pho? Pad Thai… from you guessed it. Thailand. Pasta from Italy, Thukpa from Tibet, uhh… pancit? What’s that? It’s from the Philippines. Let’s not forget-”

Kazumi-senpai paused me. She literally pressed the palm of my hand to my lips. What a great person that respects the universal human right of privacy.

“I win.”

What a great response. Perhaps, from the viewpoint of someone who doesn’t care, you could assume Kazumi won. I don’t care. I won. Let me repeat that. Number 1. Gold.

Awkwardly, Sayako, wanting to continue it further, said “My favourite noodle dishes are udon and soba.” Not a bad choice. Also, terribly wrong.

“Why is everyone wrong?” I spoke. Next, I added, “Everyone knows the best noodles are a good cold bowl of somen.”

I agree me, thanks. Maybe there is some congruence between myself and me. Me and I? I and I? I don’t know. I will unify myself.

Kazumi just gave me a sharky toothy grin. Like I said, what is it with these smiles?

“Fu-ka-ze-kun! You’re so wrong. It’s clearly a normal ramen. I think both you and Sayako are in the minority here.”

So, what!

Yusuke nodded alongside Kazumi. Another traitor. Sora said his favourite noodles were also ramen. What a basic generic person. Sakura just ignored us all.

Aya-senpai then went and said, “I like yakisoba more than anything.” Our clearly dignified teacher said something so depressing. Her favourite noodle dish was cup noodles.

I’m glad that’s out of the way.

We gave our farewells to other people, and the congregation finally left the community centre. Honestly, what a nice place. The atmosphere was like a small village in the middle of nowhere. With all honesty, I believe that was a successful event. Now I will never have to do this again.

“You know guys, we could do this semi-regularly. In fact, me and sensei think we should do this, for at least a month. You know, community work!”

So self-righteous, it’s not even notable anymore. Thank you, Iijima Aya. My free time right now is not enough? Did you want to farm an entire year’s worth? I’ve got to be president of the club, so I can end it.

And unsurprisingly, most of the group said yes. Sakura was indifferent as usual. She didn’t give me that impression on Friday, but it is what it is.

At least I might see Ram again. What a good person.

We all headed towards the station. Except for a minor stop. I had to attend to a nearby pharmacy so I could restock on indigestion medicine for, you know, Sayako. It was just me and her. Although everyone waited outside the pharmacy at least.

Then, with one journey, it was time to go home.