For a couple of weeks, I was a house guest of the Shuklas in the California bay area. I am a poor guest, disorganized and forgetful. But Shubha treated me like a prince, making every comfort a certainty and every meal a gift to relish. Shiv took a day off from his hectic business schedule and offered to take me to any out-of-city site I wanted to see. I opted for the Asian Art Museum, famous for its collection of Sikh and Madhubani art and its ancient Buddha statue, excavated from Sultanganj when rail lines were being laid.
We had a wonderful leisurely trip, enjoying sights on the way. When we arrived at the museum we found out what we hadn’t checked in the website: it was closed that Tuesday. We were crestfallen; I was deeply disappointed, knowing I may not again have the chance to come there. As we wondered what we could do, we noticed a sign a few hundred yards away. A tea garden. We sauntered in.
It was a most astounding discovery. It was an oasis in the middle of a bustling city.
We had a wonderful leisurely trip, enjoying sights on the way. When we arrived at the museum we found out what we hadn’t checked in the website: it was closed that Tuesday. We were crestfallen; I was deeply disappointed, knowing I may not again have the chance to come there. As we wondered what we could do, we noticed a sign a few hundred yards away. A tea garden. We sauntered in.
It was a most astounding discovery. It was an oasis in the middle of a bustling city.
During the World Fair of 1894, as a part of the International Expo, a Japanese tea garden was built in the Golden Gate Park in California. It is the oldest public Japanese garden in the US, masterfully landscaped, three acres of plant, water and rocks clearly inspired by Buddhist and Shinto themes. When the Fair ended, in agreement with the city masters, Makoto Hagiwara, a Japanese emigré and professional gardener, designed and modified the temporary exhibit into a permanent tea garden and became its official caretaker.
He looked after the garden for thirty years. He poured his money and passion into creating a garden of utmost perfection. He tripled the size of the garden and imported from Japan plants, birds and koi fish. He even secured the ornamental wooden gate of the Japanese pavilion when the 1915 Panama Pacific International Expo closed. After he died, his daughter Takano Hagiwara and her children scrupulously maintained the garden.
He looked after the garden for thirty years. He poured his money and passion into creating a garden of utmost perfection. He tripled the size of the garden and imported from Japan plants, birds and koi fish. He even secured the ornamental wooden gate of the Japanese pavilion when the 1915 Panama Pacific International Expo closed. After he died, his daughter Takano Hagiwara and her children scrupulously maintained the garden.
Shamefully, anti-Japanese feelings gripped the country during World War II, and Takano and her family were evicted from their home. They were shipped, along with 10,000 innocent Americans of Japanese origin, to a internment camp. Even when the war ended, the Hagiwaras were not allowed to return to their home or paid any compensation. Reportedly, their home was destroyed, along with a precious Shinto shrine. Rabid authorities even renamed the garden as an ‘Oriental’ tea garden. Much later, a plaque made by Ruth Asawa, known for her elegant metal sculptures, was placed in acknowledgement of the Hagiwara family’s remarkable contribution.
I did not know any of this when I walked into the garden. I confess that I am not fond of most gardens. They seem nurtured in blatant defiance of architect Mies van der Rohe’s classic principle of Less is More. People seem to stuff all the plants and flowers they like in a terrain, where everything looks crowded and the onlooker is overwhelmed rather than pleased. What a different impression this garden made on me!
Everything was in its rightful place and everything seemed just perfect. There was unspeakable elegance in its delicacy and economy. The garden had a network of several pathways, each thoughtfully dispersed. There were arched drum bridges, charming pagodas, cherry blossom trees and serene koi ponds. There were native Japanese plants all over, with a tranquil zen garden. The artistic configuration of rocks and water provided a calm ambience. The grass and stonework and waterfalls completed the picture. The bonsai trees offered a gentle finishing touch.
I stood there. Ambled a short while. And stood again. It was electrifying in the speed with which the garden took away your cares and concerns. I just stood there and breathed peace. I felt at peace with the world. There was balance and flow everywhere in that quiet scene.
We walked some more, and then walked over, fittingly, to the tea house. I ordered the matcha set, which includes matcha tea that is served in the tea ceremony and the red bean paste daifuku. The matcha, brewed in the traditional concentrated way had a mildly bitter taste and exactly matched the sweet daifuku. Others had jasmine, hojicha, sencha and iced green tea along with rice cakes kuzumochi and bean paste pancakes dorayaki.
We walked some more, and then walked over, fittingly, to the tea house. I ordered the matcha set, which includes matcha tea that is served in the tea ceremony and the red bean paste daifuku. The matcha, brewed in the traditional concentrated way had a mildly bitter taste and exactly matched the sweet daifuku. Others had jasmine, hojicha, sencha and iced green tea along with rice cakes kuzumochi and bean paste pancakes dorayaki.
Then we walked out of the quiet Japanese dream in the heart of San Francisco.
I suddenly remembered that was quite the feeling I had when I sat, silently, in the sanctuary of the Kopan monastery in Nepal, waiting to see the Rimpoche. I was at peace even before I met him. On the way out, I read a Tibetan proverb.
It said: To live well and long, eat half, walk double, laugh triple and love without measure.
I suddenly remembered that was quite the feeling I had when I sat, silently, in the sanctuary of the Kopan monastery in Nepal, waiting to see the Rimpoche. I was at peace even before I met him. On the way out, I read a Tibetan proverb.
It said: To live well and long, eat half, walk double, laugh triple and love without measure.
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