Prologue

That day, it was around 5:30 PM as usual when I got back home from work. After taking shower and dinner, I relaxed on the sofa in front of the TV set.

Six years had already passed since I returned to Japan from my last trip. What were those experiences in India and other Asian countries? The days had been so ordinary, yet so fulfilling, that I couldn't help but think so.

However, it was also true that somewhere in the back of my mind, I continued to harbor a longing for India. It was a different world from Japan in every way. I can’t explain it clearly, but it was the original landscape of human existence that I missed so much. I want to go back to India again. I always had such thoughts in my mind, even though I was satisfied with my peaceful daily life in Japan.

The program came suddenly as if driving a wedge into my heart.

It was a popular long-running program called "Ururun Stay Diary," in which young TV personalities go abroad and live in the homes of local specialists of various traditional cultures, living and training together with them.

I watched it every week and liked it very much, so habitually checked the program listings, and at that moment my eyes were glued to the contents. Yoga martial arts? Kalarippayattu? Those words dancing on the paper grabbed my attention. Since it was called yoga martial arts, it must be an “Indian martial art”.

For three years since 1995, I travelled extensively in India and other countries in South Asia. It may sound cliché, but I spent my days practising and wandering, learning the Hindi language, yoga, and Buddhist meditation.

But yoga and meditation were too calm for me. I had always enjoyed being outdoors and being physically active, so much so that I jumped into the forestry fields after graduating from college. While fascinated by yoga and meditation, I was half unsatisfied with the practice of sitting quietly and looking intently into my inner self.

After three years, I settled down in Japan and decided to start Aikido. Because of I was strongly attracted to the expression "Dynamic Zen," which I heard by chance from a Japanese man during my last tour in India.

Through an acquaintance, I was admitted to a dojo in Ibaraki, called the "innermost sanctuary" of aikido. And there I was hooked on "dynamic Zen" and spent almost three years practising morning and evening every day.

After that, I left Ibaraki to return to the forestry work in Wakayama and interrupted the practice, and was secretly frustrated by the lack of a suitable dojo nearby. In that situation, I happened to come across the term "Indian martial arts," which intrigued me greatly.

What’s the hell, Indian martial arts are?

Having spent a total of more than 20 months in India, I felt that there was no greater mismatch between Indians and martial arts training. How in the world could one do such strenuous exercise in such a heat climate like India?

What appears to be a lazy Indian lifestyle to Japanese eyes at first glance is an adaptation to the hot climate in fact. If they worked there as hard as we do in Japan, they would quickly be overheated and fell. 

I wondered if it was possible to practice martial arts in such a place. The aikido dojo I belonged to was famous for its rigorous training, so I could not easily connect that image with the image of India.

With various questions dancing around in my head, I prepared to record a video of the program and waited for it to start.

The young actor visited Cochin in the state of Kerala. Located in the southernmost part of India, this state was known for its scenic beauty, sandwiched between the Arabian Sea and the Western Ghats, full of water and greenery. 

Along with the neighbouring state of Tamil Nadu, it was one of my favourite states, and I remember travelling all over it for several weeks. But was there such a thing as martial arts in Kerala?

The show host explained that Kalarippayattu is a traditional martial art of Kerala and was once shown in a TV commercial where a 3-meter-high suspended ball was lightly kicked up. As soon as I heard this, my memory began to tingle. I remember seeing a vivid commercial in my boyhood, with the catchphrase, "Oh no, he’s a bird man!” What was that commercial about?

The show went on regardless of my thoughts. And suddenly, a group of half-naked men began to perform stick practice in a dojo.

In the dojo where I studied aikido, training was conducted with a trinity of sword, stick, and empty-hand techniques. This was my first encounter with the stick since I had never practised martial arts before, and I was fascinated by it. Swords and body art each have their own flavour. But it was stick fighting that grabbed my soul the most.

And now, the Indian stick technique that unfolds on the screen, was really strange.

Grabbing the middle of a stick as tall as he is, he rotates it with one hand. Without stopping the rotation, he changes hands from his right hand to his left, and from his left hand to his right, and just keeps spinning it around his body in all directions.

At first glance, it is difficult to understand how they do it. The young actor, who was given a stick to hold, tried to imitate the senior student’s moves. But he could not get it right and hit himself in the head many times with his own stick. 

But the moves of stick spinning played by the brown-skinned men were so beautiful that it looked as if a big rotating wheel was flying around their bodies.

At that moment, like a revelation, I had an intuition.

This must be a stick art that symbolizes the rotation of the Dharma Chakra!

It was an intuition completely unfounded, yet full of conviction.

I had no way of knowing at the time that this would be the beginning of an incredibly long and far journey. I just kept replaying the beautiful wheel created by the trajectory of the spinning rod over and over in my mind.