Japan Diaries: An Ordinary Man Meets an Extraordinary Man

If I had been told a decade ago that one day I would march into the hallowed hall of the palace of the Emperor of Japan and be privileged to meet him; I would have labelled it as a pipedream. The ways of life are remarkable; here I was on 17th Jan 2019, dressed in my regalia, headed to Tokyo station as part of the entourage of the Ambassador of India to Japan, as he would present his credentials to the Emperor. On arrival, we were received by the Station Master and guided to the ceremonial waiting room reserved for the Imperial family. Stewardesses in elegant finery served green tea as we waited for the procession to assemble.

At the appointed hour, the century-old horse carriage pulled into the foyer and we were summoned to board the cavalcade. The precise instructions for the ceremony were delivered with unearthly politeness. The horse carriage was flanked by Tokyo metropolitan police on horsebacks. Under the gape of curious bystanders furiously clicking pictures, and enthusiastically waving Japanese, the cavalcade embarked on a slow ritualistic journey to the Imperial Palace. Japan is a study in contrast with tradition coexisting with modernity; an 18th-century vehicle winding past the ultra-modern Tokyo station crossing mirrored this unusual blend of life in Japan. The cavalcade traversed the Tokyo station crossing and ploughed through the pebbled foreground of the Emperor’s palace. The leafless winter trees of the Imperial Palace garden swayed to the accompaniment of the gentle clatter of horse hooves merging with the sound of slowly turning metal wheels. The procession wound its way through the Imperial Palace garden, crossed the historic Seimon Iron Bridge and halted at the South porch of the Palace.

As we stepped into the palace, I realised that even though a picture captures a thousand words there are times when even a vivid picture is mute, unable to capture the ethereal simplicity and soul of the moment. Unlike the ostentatious sights of other Asian and Western palaces, the delicate simplicity and refinement of the Emperor’s palace was quintessential Japanese. We walked along a manicured carpeted corridor roofed with exquisitely symmetrical Japanese woodwork. The corridor was interspersed with glistening lacquered furniture, placed with the elegance of an artist. The long walk culminated in a waiting room. Sunlight filtered through paper screens and suffused the waiting room, while screens adorned with Japanese motifs and an age-old Bonsai tree stood watch over another set of diplomats awaiting their audience with the Emperor of Japan. After a brief interlude to the accompaniment of green tea, we trudged along to the ceremonial ‘Matsu’ hall for another of the countless rehearsals of the ceremony. Obviously, foreigners don’t have Japanese perfection running through their veins. The hall was formal and sparse with the Chrysanthemum throne placed centrally against a monochromatic background distinguished with Imperial motifs. We ran through the rehearsal, pacing our steps on the shimmering wooden floor and measuring our bows. With the rehearsal behind us, we were guided back to the waiting room with the Minister in attendance welcoming the Ambassador with a tête-à-tête on the significant partnership between our countries.

Before long, it was time, and we shuffled our way back to the Ceremonial Hall. We stood in line outside awaiting the Emperor’s arrival. The stillness of the moment was broken by the gentle but steady footsteps of the Emperor and his entourage as they moved into the hall, as ushers bowed slowly in reverence. The calm exactness of the moment was intense. The Ambassador presented the Letter of Credence and we were summoned in turn to be introduced to the Emperor. Drill is the bedrock of discipline and shapes one’s persona. As we waited in line, I ran through the drill in mind and cautioned myself, “You better get this one right”. In a moment, my name was called out by the Ambassador. I ran through the drill, step in, short bow, walk till two steps short of the Emperor, deep bow and step forward to shake his hand. The numerous briefings received from the Imperial household agency on the politeness expected ran through my mind. I had never thought through a handshake as much as I had for this one. I reached the spot in line with the Ambassador and watched the 85-year-old Emperor extend his hand and extended mine in sync. I felt the gentle pressure of his hand and calibrated mine to emulate his. The Emperor shook my hand, looked up and gently nodded. I stepped back, executed the deep bow, withdrew three steps, turned and walked to the end of the hall. I turned to face the Emperor, bowed and exited.

The Ambassador having presented his credentials was congratulated by the Minister in attendance and the Imperial household agency staff. Before departing, we lined up for ceremonial pictures against the background of the horse carriage. Soon, the cavalcade wound its way back to the Tokyo station. On reaching the Station, the Ambassador was overwhelmed with congratulatory wishes from all present. In culmination, we watched with pride as the Indian flag was unfurled on the head staff of his car.

The conduct of the ceremony was flawless with every nuanced tradition captured with consummate grace and refinement. My memory of the conduct of the ceremony may fade with time, but the tranquil eyes of the Emperor and the grace of his being shall remain with me forever.