Among Friends.
I arrived at Calcutta and lodged at the Mahāboḍhi Society’s rooms,
where I found many priests from Ceylon and Burma as my fellow-lodgers
and conversational companions. One or two days after my arrival, I
called on Mr. Kōjun Omiya, one of my fellow-students in Japan, who was
now staying here for a long time for the study of Samskṛṭ. He had not
the slightest notion of my being in the same town, and I was dressed
in Tibetan clothes when I called on him. Being informed by his servant
that he was in the parlor, I entered the room without being announced.
Owing to the total disuse of Japanese for many years, it was some while
before I could utter a single word in that language, so I simply bowed
to him a little and stared at him. My old friend, who was also staring
at me and undoubtedly feeling offended by the intrusion of a strange
man in a Tibetan dress, addressed me in Hinḍusṭāni: “Whence have you
come?”
I could not help laughing to hear him say this, but at the same time
the words in Japanese came back to me and I said: “Are you not Omiya?”
He did not yet recognise me, and asked in Japanese: “You are a Japanese
who knows me? But who are you?”
I replied: “I am Kawaguchi.”
He was of course much surprised by so great a change in me that I could
easily have passed for a Tibetan. I was soon shown to his room, which
was kept very neat, and we talked about our own country. Mr. Omiya is
a priest of the Tendai Sect and a very agreeable companion, and from
this time I shared his room. On the evening of December 14th, Dr. E.
Inouye, the president of the Tetsugakkwan in Tokyo (where we were
instructed) came to Calcutta and called on us. I need not describe
here how delighted our kind teacher was to see me back safe from the
Forbidden Land.
Next morning, about three o’clock, I waked up Dr. Inouye, and guided
him to the Tiger Hill near Darjeeling, the best place from which to
see the Himālayas; for though it was the best season of the year to
see the loftiest mountains in the world, it was generally impossible
to get a good view after nine or ten o’clock in the morning. With the
noblest work of Nature before us, our poetical interest was aroused
and we made several poems. After short trips here and there, on the
23rd of the month I returned to Calcutta with Dr. Inouye, and on the
same night we had to start on a pilgrimage to Buḍḍhagayā. Pilgrimage
was not my sole object in going to Buḍḍhagayā; I wished to go to Delhi
to see Lieutenant-General Oku of Japan, who was to be present at the
Durbar in honor of the coronation of the King of England and Emperor
of India, and to apply to him for a letter of introduction to the King
of Nepāl, through whose influence I intended to make my appeal to the
Tibetan Pope. So I had first to go to Buḍḍhagayā, and then to the holy
land of Benares, where I had to part with Dr. Inouye, he going to
Bombay and I to Delhi. We got into a train and the next afternoon we
arrived at Bankipur. Here we had to stay some five hours to change cars
for Buḍḍhagayā. Dr. Inouye went to send a telegram and I remained at
the station; there was a Hinḍū there also, who could speak English. He
approached me and asked: “Are you a Tibetan?”
“No, I am not.”
“Are you a Nepālese then?”
“I am not that either?”
“Do you not come from Tibet?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Do you say you have come from Tibet, and yet are not Tibetan?”
“It does not necessarily follow that I am a Tibetan, though I came from
Tibet.”
While I was thus talking, one man whose presence I did not notice came
running to me. Turning to the man, I found my old acquaintance the Rev.
Fujii Sensho. Extending his hand to me, he expressed his joy at the
unexpected meeting, and congratulated me on my safe return from Tibet.
[Illustration: ACCIDENTAL MEETING! WITH A FRIEND AND COMPATRIOT.]
“But what are you waiting for in such a place?” said he.
“I am going to Buḍḍhagayā with Dr. Inouye.”
“Then our destination is the same. I am going to call on the Rev. Otani
Kozui, who is staying at Gayā.”
We despatched a telegram to Mr. Otani telling him that we should arrive
by the next train, and we three then entered the train which took us
to Gayā, where we found a carriage sent by Count Otani to meet us.
When we arrived at the Dak bungalow, we enjoyed a conversation with
the Honorable Count Otani and his suite. After various questions and
answers, His Highness asked me where I was going. I replied that I
was going to Nepāl. Mr. Fujii, whom I had not had an opportunity of
telling my object, was much surprised to hear it now, and asked me what
I wanted there.
“I have two things to do there,” said I; “one is to bring back my
books, which I left with a certain person in that country. The other
is more serious. Many of my acquaintances and friends in Tibet are now
suffering in prison for having been friendly towards me. So though it
is doubtful whether I shall succeed, I am going to Nepāl to get help
from its Government to save them.”
Mr. Fujii rebuked me, saying, “You are no more Kawaguchi of college
life. Your fellow-countrymen are anxious to see you come back and to
hear of the strange land you have visited. Therefore give up that idea
of going to Nepāl, where you can expect nothing but attacks of fever
or wild beasts or robbery, of which you have already had plenty of
experience; I tell you you had better prepare to start home.”
Dr. Inouye, from whom I had heard such advice very often, but who found
me unpersuadable, now said to Mr. Otani: “What is the opinion of Your
Highness about the matter of Kawaguchi?”
His Highness, who was listening to our discussion with interest, spoke
now: “I can but praise your courage, Mr. Kawaguchi; with such courage
only you could enter and return from the closed country. But think of
your personal position; you must not expose yourself to useless danger.”
I was again obliged to expound my motive and intention to go to Nepāl,
and said:
“All that has been said is very true. But if I follow the advice of you
all, where is ‘the Japanese righteousness?’ I am a servant of Buḍḍha,
and my duty is to save any one from misery, though he should have no
personal relations with me. But here are a great many men, to whom
I owe a debt of gratitude, by whose help I accomplished my escape.
They are suffering in jail; while I am enjoying myself in a warm
and comfortable room, what pains are they suffering? I can see them
shivering with cold in the unlighted prison of Lhasa. In the day-time
they are flogged, and the only food given them is a small quantity of
parched barley once a day. Knowing them to be in such a condition, how
should I abandon them, and start for home, even though my life is very
precious to me?”