Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa [22]
“Because they deceive men.”
“Don’t men deceive women too?”
“Yes, but … the Buddha himself was a man.”
“Are you saying that if he’d been a woman, things would be the other way around?”
“Of course not! How could a demon ever become a Buddha!”
“Takuan, that doesn’t make any sense.”
“If religious teachings were just common sense, we wouldn’t need prophets to pass them on to us.”
“There you go again, twisting everything to your own advantage!” “A typical female comment. Why attack me personally?”
She stopped swinging her sickle again, a world-weary look on her face. “Takuan, let’s stop it. I’m not in the mood for this today.”
“Silence, woman!”
“You’re the one who’s been doing all the talking.”
Takuan closed his eyes as if to summon patience. “Let me try to explain. When the Buddha was young, he sat under the bo tree, where she-demons tempted him night and day. Naturally, he didn’t form a high opinion of women. But even so, being all-merciful, he took some female disciples in his old age.”
“Because he’d grown wise or senile?”
“Don’t be blasphemous!” he warned sharply. “And don’t forget the Bodhisattva Nagarjuna, who hated—I mean feared—women as much as the Buddha did. Even he went so far as to praise four female types: obedient sisters, loving companions, good mothers and submissive maidservants. He extolled their virtues again and again, and advised men to take such women as wives.”
“Obedient sisters, loving companions, good mothers and submissive maidservants … I see you have it all worked out to men’s advantage.”
“Well, that’s natural enough, isn’t it? In ancient India, men were honored more and women less than in Japan. Anyway, I’d like you to hear the advice Nagarjuna gave women.”
“What advice?”
“He said, ‘Woman, marry thyself not to a man—”’
“That’s ridiculous!”
“Let me finish. He said, ‘Woman, marry thyself to the truth.”’
Otsū looked at him blankly.
“Don’t you see?” he said, with a wave of his arm. “‘Marry thyself to the truth’ means that you shouldn’t become infatuated with a mere mortal but should seek the eternal.”
“But, Takuan,” Otsū asked impatiently, “what is ‘the truth’?”
Takuan let both arms fall to his sides and looked at the ground. “Come to think of it,” he said thoughtfully, “I’m not really sure myself.”
Otsū burst out laughing, but Takuan ignored her. “There is something I know for certain. Applied to your life, wedding honesty means that you shouldn’t think of going off to the city and giving birth to weak, namby-pamby children. You should stay in the country, where you belong, and raise a fine, healthy brood instead.”
Otsū raised her sickle impatiently. “Takuan,” she snapped, exasperated, “did you come out here to help me pick flowers or not?”
“Of course I did. That’s why I’m here.”
“In that case, stop preaching and grab this sickle.”
“All right; if you don’t really want my spiritual guidance, I won’t impose it on you,” he said, pretending hurt.
“While you’re busy at work, I’ll run over to Ogin’s house and see if she’s finished the obi I’m supposed to wear tomorrow.”
“Ogin? Takezō’s sister? I’ve met her, haven’t I? Didn’t she come with you once to the temple?” He dropped the sickle. “I’ll come with you.”
“In that outfit?”
He pretended not to hear. “She’ll probably offer us some tea. I’m dying of thirst.”
Totally spent from arguing with the monk, Otsū gave a weak nod and together they set out along the riverbank.
Ogin was a woman of twenty-five, no longer considered in the bloom of youth but by no means bad-looking. Although suitors tended to be put off by her brother’s reputation, she suffered no lack of proposals. Her poise and good breeding were immediately evident to everyone. She’d turned down all offers thus far simply on the grounds that she wanted to look after her younger brother a bit longer.
The house she lived in had been built by their father, Munisai, when he was in charge of military training for the Shimmen clan. As a reward for his excellent service, he’d been honored with the privilege