1
When Chao Khun Atthikanbodi took his wife, Mom Ratchawong Kirati, to Japan for their honeymoon, I was a student at Rikkyo University and, at the time, just twenty-two years old. I had known Chao Khun in Thailand because he and my father were friends, and he had always been kindly disposed towards me. I had also met Khunying Atthikanbodi, his first wife, and got to know her as well as Chao Khun. About a year after I had gone to study in Japan, I was saddened to hear that Khunying Atthikanbodi had died of influenza. After that I had no further news of Chao Khun for two years, until just recently, when I heard from him once again. Chao Khun Atthikanbodi wrote saying that he was coming to Japan with his new wife, Mom Ratchawong Kirati, and asked me to find accommodation for him and make other necessary arrangements. He intended to stay in Tokyo for two months.
When I say he was taking his wife to Japan for their honeymoon, these are my own words. In his letter, he said he needed a change of scenery and wanted to take a long trip to relax and enjoy himself for a while. His main reason for wanting to come to Japan was to give his wife a treat she would enjoy. Referring to Mom Ratchawong Kirati, he had written, ‘I both love her and feel sorry for her. She is not very familiar with the outside world, despite her age. I want to give Kirati some experience of the world beyond Thailand, and I want to make her happy andfeel that marrying someone of my age is at least not completely meaningless. I think, Nopporn, that you will like Kirati, just as you liked my poor deceased wife. For people who don’t know her, Kirati is rather on the quiet side. But she is kind-hearted. There’s no need for you to worry, though. I think Kirati will like you very much. I’ve told her that, too.’
I had never met Mom Ratchawong Kirati before, and the little that Chao Khun Atthikanbodi had said about her in his letter did not tell me very much. I guessed that she was probably about forty, or possibly a little younger. She was probably rather aloof, or at least somewhat reserved, in keeping with her aristocratic background; and she would certainly not like young people who were loud and boisterous, not that that was part of my nature. She was probably a rather serious person, who took little pleasure in the things most people enjoy, and probably rather rigid in some of her ways, which meant I would have to be careful about how I talked to her.
Chao Khun had said in his letter that he had no desire to stay in a hotel, no matter how luxurious it was, even if it were the Imperial Hotel. He was tired of having to mingle with strangers in his free time, and tired, too, of having to dress formally whenever he left his rooms or took his meals. He wanted to rent a house where he could be completely free, and it did not worry him how much it would cost. Of the latter concern I was well aware, because Chao Khun, as well as being generous and kind-hearted, was widely known to be among the richest men in Thailand. I arranged for him to rent a house in Aoyama District, a suburb not far from the railway. Travel into the city was convenient in every respect. The house I had arranged was not very large, but it was one of the most attractive ones in the district. From the outside it had a Western appearance, but inside, the rooms were partitioned and laid out and furnished in Japanese style. It stood on slightly raised ground, surrounded by a wallmade of large rocks about two and a half feet high. Above the rocks was an embankment about three feet high, covered in lush, green grass, with small shrubs evenly spaced along the top. Inside the grounds there was a garden covered in dense greenery. At the front of the house stood two large trees, their branches and thick foliage covering almost the whole of the grounds, making the house appear pleasant and green and all the more attractive. I myself really liked it, and even though the owner wanted 200 yen a month for rent, I did not think it expensive for a nicely furnished and well-maintained house.
I hired an attractive servant girl to look after the house, in the Japanese manner. In choosing an attractive girl, I do not mean that she was to look after Chao Khun in any sense other than her normal duties. I just thought that if there was a choice between a servant who looked like an ogress and a beautiful one, then the latter was preferable, since living in proximity to beauty, whether in a person or an object, helps to lift our spirits. I was well aware that Chao Khun was in a position to be choosy. I had to pay the servant more than the normal rate, the added expense being not for her looks, but because I had to find a Japanese girl who could speak adequate English. Otherwise, both Chao Khun and his wife would have found it difficult.
The first day I met Chao Khun Atthikanbodi and his entourage at Tokyo Station was also the first great shock I was to experience in my acquaintance with his wife. When I first caught sight of the two women accompanying Chao Khun, I guessed that the one who was about thirty-eight, neatly dressed, and looked somewhat old-fashioned and a little nervous, was probably Mom Ratchawong Kirati. My assumption was based on the letter Chao Khun had sent me. The other was the complete opposite. She looked young and radiant and was elegantly dressed. Even at that first brief glance her dignified demeanour was quite apparent to me. I could not imagine who she was.Chao Khun’s eldest daughter, who had married several years earlier, I had already met in Bangkok. My speculations, however, lasted less than a minute, because after I had exchanged a few words of greeting with Chao Khun, he turned to the young woman, who at that moment was standing beside him, and said, ‘This is my wife, Khunying Kirati.’ His introduction almost startled me. As a result of my stupid mistake, I nearly forgot my manners and stared straight into her face, in order to dispel any doubt that she was Mom Ratchawong Kirati, Chao Khun Atthikanbodi’s new wife.
She received my greetings with a gentle, graceful smile. The other woman meanwhile respectfully retired a couple of paces behind Chao Khun. As I glanced at her once more, I suddenly remembered that in his letter, Chao Khun had said that he would bring his cook out from Bangkok, too. I had completely forgotten. In the end, there could be no doubt as to who was who. Yet I still could not help feeling surprised that I had been so wrong in my expectations about Mom Ratchawong Kirati’s age and appearance.
That day I was wearing my university student’s uniform, and that was the first thing about me that Mom Ratchawong Kirati took an interest in. She said it was nice and neat and that she especially liked the colour, navy blue. As it happened, she was wearing the same navy-blue colour, with a white floral pattern on both her skirt and blouse. There was nothing showy about the colour, yet it conveyed a pride and dignity which is hard to put into words.
As I ordered the car to slow down to pass through the gates of the house, Chao Khun Atthikanbodi leaned over and patted me gently on the shoulder, congratulating me on finding such a lovely house. It was true that in the neighbourhoods we had driven through, there was not a house to compare with ours. Dressed in a kimono, the servant girl stood waiting at the stepsat the front of the house. She bowed in greeting when the car passed through the gates, and then bowed again two or three times, in accordance with the Japanese way of showing great respect, as Chao Khun and his wife got out of the car. He spoke a few words to her, and she was able to respond in adequate English, which prompted a further expression of satisfaction on his part. Finally, when he had looked over the rooms and household furnishings, he expressed his delight and thanked me profoundly once more. I must confess I felt very pleased to have arranged everything to his approval, without missing anything, because it was these organizing skills that later prompted Chao Khun to sing my praises to others as ‘a clever fellow, more thorough than most other young men’.
There was hot water prepared for baths, and not a single detail had been overlooked. They were both delighted from the moment they set foot in the house, and there had been no disappointments to spoil the mood. In the evening I took them for a Chinese meal at Kaco Eng, one of the most famous and sumptuous restaurants in Tokyo. Both the setting and the food that evening occasioned Chao Khun to remark more than once that it reminded him of Hoi Tian Lao Restaurant in Bangkok. When we got back to the house, their beds had already been neatly prepared. I returned home that night, delighted that things had gone more successfully than I had anticipated.
2
The events and feelings of the first day a person becomes closely involved in our life inevitably leave an indelible impression in our memory. That navy-blue outfit with the white floral pattern, and the white hat and shoes, was the first time that the clothes a woman was wearing had made such an impression upon me. I thought the outfit was proud and dignified. Mom Ratchawong Kirati was slightly plump without being large. She had a healthy, radiant look about her, with a soft complexion. Having seen her from close quarters on several occasions, I was even more convinced of her beauty. Her large black eyes sparkled beneath long eyebrows, and her cheeks glowed with health. Her tiny chin curved upwards, slightly, and had a lovely dimple on it. Her lips were long and slender, forming two red triangles at the top, with a third beneath, unparalleled in their beauty. I have to confess I had never seen such a beautiful pair of lips above such a small chin.
I knew perfectly well that Chao Khun was a fine man, and I had the utmost respect for him. But despite this, I could not help but wonder what on earth had encouraged such beauty to marry an old man of more than fifty. I felt curious, like any young man who wants to know and understand what is going on around him. But only in a casual way, and it had nothing to do with any personal feelings for anyone. I noticed that Mom Ratchawong Kirati appeared happy and contented in her newlymarried state, and this aroused my curiosity further. I was certain she was not a widow, because of her fresh and radiant appearance.
Mom Ratchawong Kirati was a quiet person, as Chao Khun had previously informed me. On the journey from Tokyo Station to the house, which took about twenty minutes, she had spoken to me a couple of times. When we arrived, I realized that she was even more delighted with the house I had arranged for them than was Chao Khun. There was no doubt that she was thrilled, but she kept her feelings in check as she wandered gracefully from room to room, admiring the furnishings in a leisurely manner. She spoke little and infrequently, yet I could see the happiness in her eyes. I was aware, then, that she was unlike most other women I had ever met.
During dinner Mom Ratchawong Kirati inquired a little about my studies and my life in Japan. I was surprised that, unlike most visitors, she did not ask about the entertainments and exciting things Tokyo had to offer, but instead listened with a smile as Chao Khun and I chatted. She seemed to be older than I was, so I felt respect for her. Yet her youth and good looks still left me intrigued.
Chao Khun’s trip to Tokyo with his wife happened to coincide with the hot season. The university term had recently ended, so I was completely free. It was an excellent opportunity for me to put myself at his disposal, as and when he required me. Chao Khun was less than delighted to find Tokyo as hot as Bangkok in April. However, it had been his decision, and not my advice. But once he learned that by visiting Tokyo in the hot season, he was gaining the benefit of his trip coinciding with my university vacation, which could prove very useful for him, he was content.
I spent almost the whole of the first week with the couple. There were only two or three occasions when I did not havelunch or dinner with them. At the beginning of his stay, Chao Khun had to call on various Japanese and Thai friends, including the Ambassador. In addition, he wanted to see what was going on in the country and to visit various places, as is only natural for someone visiting a country for the first time. I had to act as his regular guide, because, without a guide who could speak Japanese, getting about would have been difficult. During that first week he attended several parties arranged in his honour by Thai and Japanese friends. There were a considerable number of people at each party, and I had the opportunity to be present on each occasion.
Thus it was that, within the space of a single week, almost all the Thais living in Japan had had the chance to meet the couple. I knew that many were pleased to make the acquaintance of Chao Khun Atthikanbodi. But I was also aware that everyone was even more taken with Mom Ratchawong Kirati, even though she had hardly known anyone beforehand. She told me afterwards that it would take her very little time to count up all the people she knew in Bangkok.
This does not mean that Chao Khun did not match up to his wife. As I have already said, he was a fine person. But Mom Ratchawong Kirati was a woman of exceptional charm, and so people reacted to them with different degrees of appreciation. The men were delighted to see such a good-looking Thai woman as Mom Ratchawong Kirati come out from Thailand to visit Tokyo. It made them feel proud to see the Japanese gazing in admiration at the beauty of one of our women, a beauty which perhaps goes deeper than we realize. The Thai women present were no less curious and interested in her, but naturally they did not make a great deal of fuss. They, and some of the men, too, came up and asked me about Mom Ratchawong Kirati’s background, prior to her marriage to Chao Khun Atthikanbodi. At the time I was still unable to give any answer. The one thingwhich puzzled all of them was what it was that had persuaded her to marry her husband. People guessed that she could be no more than twenty-eight. They could not get over the fact that a beautiful and charming young woman had married a gentleman in his fifties, even if he was a fine man with the dignity and bearing of his years. I myself, however, felt especially proud at the honour of being almost her bodyguard. It seemed to me that she must have been aware of how much everyone liked her. It was true that she was often quiet, but everyone could see the happiness that filled her pale pink face.
As a result of spending almost all day with the couple, nearly every day, a sort of intimacy between myself and Mom Ratchawong Kirati developed rather quickly. I become fond of people quickly, and everyone would consider Mom Ratchawong Kirati someone one could easily become fond of. Whenever I had the chance to be near her, she would often show touches of kindness towards me, serving me, for example, when we were eating, as if I were a child. On one occasion she noticed the stitching was coming loose on my tie, so she told me to take it off and then mended it herself. Another time she noticed some mud on the cuff of my jacket and then took it away and brushed it for me. Normally I took scant interest in such matters, nor in such little kindnesses. However, as I had been abroad for three years, with no family to pamper me, preoccupied with my studies and leading a frugal and barren existence, it had been so long since I had encountered such thoughtfulness. Meeting it at a time when I was lonely, I found, made an even greater impression upon me. This, I felt, was strange. I could not explain why, when Mom Ratchawong Kirati was stitching my tie and I sat waiting quietly, answering her occasional questions, I had felt so happy.
3
By the time two weeks had passed and the friendship between the two of us had grown, I saw a completely different Mom Ratchawong Kirati. She was not particularly quiet with me. Latterly, she appeared to be a rather good conversationalist, someone who wanted to enjoy herself in her own way. She could converse on both serious and non-serious topics. When she spoke on serious matters, I had the impression that she had thought about things much more deeply than I. It surprised me that Chao Khun Atthikanbodi should think that his wife knew little about life and the outside world. When she was enjoying herself, chatting alone with me, she would laugh out loud, her laugh full of vitality and a bright, child-like innocence, which lingered in the listener’s mind long afterwards. At such moments I felt that Mom Ratchawong Kirati was my closest friend. I felt the deepest loyalty towards her.
However, two weeks had gone by and I was still unable to provide an answer to those who came asking me about Mom Ratchawong Kirati’s life before her marriage, and why it was that she had married Chao Khun. It remained a mystery to me. No one thought she had married for love. It is not unusual to see a beautiful woman like her wedded to a man in his fifties, it is true, but for such a beauty and a man in his fifties to love each other is unusual, for love and marriage are two entirely different matters. Most people tended towards the opinion that thepower of the god Money had played some considerable part in this instance, just as in other cases, where a woman, unable to resist the pressure, which might come from various directions, ends up entering into a marriage. But in the case of Mom Ratchawong Kirati’s marriage, no one dared express such an opinion with any certainty, because as far as anyone knew, she seemed very happy with her husband.
To my mind, Mom Ratchawong Kirati was enjoying her stay in Tokyo very much. Whenever there was a chance to go out, no matter where it was, I noticed that she would take a close interest in everything around her, and that her eyes would sparkle with pleasure. Such curiosity, however, was unusual for someone of her age and made her appear serious-minded. As a result, it was difficult for those who had no chance to get to know her to feel close to her.
I learned something new about our relationship while we were out walking alone together one evening during the third week. That evening Chao Khun had gone out to play golf while his wife had been shopping on the Ginza. After she had returned and rested, she invited me out for a walk. The road we walked along was not far from the back of the house. It was a quiet road, shaded by trees on either side and hilly in parts. The fields below were lush green from the different kinds of vegetables growing there. It was quiet and peaceful, with only the occasional lorry passing. Mom Ratchawong Kirati had been out for a walk near the grounds of the house a few times and she had expressed the intention of one day walking down this road to look at the surrounding scenery. This was the first time she had put the plan into action.
We walked for a long time that evening. By that time we knew each other well enough for neither of us to waste time in silence, as we had when we first met. When we were alonetogether, we had plenty of things to talk about, and when one subject was exhausted, there was another to take its place. Some things we talked about at length, others only a little.
Two boys of about twelve or thirteen rode past on small bicycles, staring at us and grinning cheerfully. Mom Ratchawong Kirati smiled at them.
‘I feel so happy today,’ she said, breathing the air in deeply, a soft smile still on her face.
‘Why’s that?’ I asked. ‘I was afraid you might be bored because there’s nothing to see.’
