Obon is a custom to express gratitude to deceased ancestors, or in other words, to the bloodline that has connected one’s life to one’s own.

Originally, it was held around July 15 on the lunar calendar, but when the new calendar was introduced in the Meiji era (1868-1912), July 15 fell during the busy farming season, so it was moved one month later to around August 15 in many areas. Many companies and stores set their “Obon vacations” to coincide with this date, and since it also coincided with the end of the war, it seems to have taken root as a time to mourn those who had passed away. Therefore, the custom has taken root as a time to return to one’s parents’ home, similar to the winter New Year’s holiday. In recent years, however, many people consider it a time to enjoy leisure activities rather than to return home.

The custom of visiting graves and making offerings at home to welcome ancestors during Obon remains even in the 21st century. In such cases, cucumbers are sometimes used as horses and eggplants as cows, and decorations are sometimes made with the idea of having ancestors come early with the cucumber horses and return home slowly with the eggplant cows.

This “Itsuki no komoriuta” is not a lullaby to soothe a baby, but a “Moriko Uta,” a song about one’s circumstances, having been sent away from home because of poor birth and given the job of babysitting in a wealthy family. In Japan, 75% of the land is covered by forests, and the amount of land available for cultivation is much smaller than one might imagine. Therefore, men who could do the heavy lifting from the small harvest were given priority, and girls and elderly people were often sent to serve as “Kuchiberashi” or killed.

This song was sung in Itsukimura, Kuma-gun, Kumamoto Prefecture, and became known throughout Japan after World War II when it was recorded. However, it is not widely known that there is a continuation of the lyrics listed here.

Odon ga ucchinda chuute
dare ga naite kuryoka
ura no Matsuyama, semi ga naku

Even if I die,
Who will cry for me?
Perhaps only the cicadas on the pine-covered hill behind the house.

Semi ja gojansen
imouto de gozarū
imouto nakunayo ki ni kakaru

It’s not the cicadas,
It’s my younger sister.
Don’t cry, sister, it worries me.

Odon ga ucchindara
michibata cha ikero
tooru hito gochi hana agyuu

When I die,
Bury me by the roadside,
So I can give flowers to passersby.

Hana wa nan no hana
tsun tsun tsubaki
mizu wa ten kara moraimizu

What kind of flowers would they be?
The sharp, pointed camellia.
And the water will come from heaven.

When the New Year arrives, this song is widely used in various television programs and is cherished by the Japanese people. However, it seems that many relate more to the bright melody, projecting hope for the new year, rather than delving into the meaning of the lyrics.

The first verse conveys the joy of celebrating the New Year in households, while the second verse juxtaposes the grandeur of the Emperor with the first sunrise. It evokes a nuance reminiscent of Japan’s national anthem, “Kimigayo”. This connection is quite apparent as both this song and “Kimigayo” were established in August 1893, with this song being presented as a Ministry of Education’s school song and “Kimigayo” being designated as a ceremonial music, suggesting a sibling-like relationship between them.

The lyricist, SENGE_Takatomi, held positions from Izumo-no-kuni-no-miyatsuko (an official responsible for the religious rituals and governance of Izumo Grand Shrine) to becoming a member of the Upper House, a member of the House of Peers, and the Governor of Tokyo Prefecture. He engaged in politics while being rooted in Shintoist ideology. Considering this, the content of the lyrics aligns well with his background. However, due to its highly dignified classical language, it appears that younger generations might lean towards appreciating the melody rather than the meaning. Moreover, the rhythm, possibly influenced by the classical language, might also have an impact.

Flow in edgewise – 撮影, CC 表示 3.0, リンクによる

Incidentally, I myself thought it was “Ichigatsu tsuitachi,” but the official name of the song is “Ichigatsu ichijitsu.

Setsubun is the day that divides the seasons. Originally, it existed for each of the four seasons, but now only Setsubun remains to divide winter and spring, which falls on the day before the vernal equinox in early February (February 3 in 2024). This is the time of seasonal change, when the bad energy of the year is most accumulated. In addition, the cold weather makes it easy to fall ill. Therefore, it has taken root as an event to purify bad qi and pray for good health throughout the year. As a result, the custom of scattering beans and decorating holly and sardine heads was born to ward off evil spirits. The spiritual meaning of Setsubun is to purify one’s negative emotions and thoughts, and to prepare for the new season with a positive attitude.Many shrines and temples hold Setsubun events.

By – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, Link

On Setsubun day, families generally eat dinner together. After dinner, they prepare beans for throwing and demon masks, and throw beans towards the inside and outside of the house while chasing the demon role wearing the mask. When throwing, it is customary to say “Oni wa soto! Fuku wa uchi!” (Demons out! Luck in!). After the bean-throwing is over, they pick up and eat the same number of beans as their age. This is a charm to stay healthy for a year.

Holly and sardine heads are amulets to ward off evil spirits. Holly has many thorns and is said to prick bad energy. Sardine heads are said to find bad energy because sardines have large eyes. By decorating holly and sardine heads at the entrance or window, it is said to protect the house.

Ehoumaki, a sushi roll eaten on Setsubun day, is one of the pleasures of the day. The origin of Ehoumaki is a custom that began in Osaka during the Edo period. It is a custom to silently eat Ehoumaki while facing the lucky direction (ehou) of the year to wish for good luck. Ehoumaki contains seven ingredients named after the Seven Lucky Gods. Ehoumaki became a nationwide phenomenon from the 1990s to the 2000s. During this time, convenience stores and supermarkets launched campaigns to sell Ehoumaki. It is said that this was a strategy of the distribution industry to attract customers during the Setsubun season.

Hana: The Melody of Japanese Spring

Many people may remember this song when they think of spring scenery in Japan.

The melody, filled with the joy of the arrival of spring after winter, shines like the surface of the river in the sunlight, and the lyrics, which describe the unique beauty of the cherry blossom scenery, match perfectly, making this song the standard for spring in Japan.

The Historic Sumida River and Its Cherry Blossoms

The Sumida River flows through the east of Tokyo, passing the Tokyo Sky Tree and Asakusa before emptying into Tokyo Bay.
The cherry trees sung as flowers in this song are planted mainly along the riverbanks (botei) of the Sumida River from Azuma Bridge to Sakura Bridge, and are called “Senbonzakura (a thousand cherry trees) on the Sumida River.

sumidatei no hanami / KOBAYASHI,Kiyochika

From Edo-Period Flood Control to Modern Hanami Celebrations

It is said that the cherry trees were originally planted by the 8th Tokugawa shogun, Yoshimune, for flood control, and the purpose was for people to gather and trample on the embankment.

Even today, the area is crowded with people during the cherry blossom season, and instead of boats sung with “oar drops,” pleasure boats designed by Matsumoto Leiji, a manga artist known for “Galaxy Express 999” and “Space Pirate Captain Harlock,” come and go, and people enjoy cherry blossom viewing drinks from morning until late at night.

ヒミコ | 【公式】東京都観光汽船（TOKYO CRUISE）

漫画・アニメ界の巨匠・松本零士氏がデザイン。宇宙船のような「ヒミコ」は、「ティアドロップ（涙滴）」をイメージ・コンセプトに、「子供たちが乗ってみたいと思ってくれる船」として、デザインを手がけられました。船内では「銀河鉄道999」のキャラクタ...

www.suijobus.co.jp

Cultural Legacy: From Edo to Present Day

It is a spring event that brings the atmosphere of the Edo period to life.

In summer, the Sumida River Fireworks Festival attracts many people. The “Tamaya” and “Kagiya” are the trade name of a popular fireworks masters in Edo (present-day Tokyo). Kagiya still exists today.

Sumida River Fireworks Festival

The composer of this piece, TAKI Rentarou, went to Germany to study as a music student, but returned to Japan with tuberculosis and died at the young age of 25. His aspiration “for the development of high quality Japanese songs” continues to shine through the ages.

The Tea-Picking Season Heralding Early Summer

“Cha-tsumi” is a famous Japanese song that depicts the season from late spring to early summer. The “tea” mentioned in the song refers to Japanese tea. Japan’s representative “green tea” is an unfermented tea that doesn’t undergo fermentation, which has the benefit of preserving the natural freshness and nutrients of the tea leaves while retaining abundant antioxidants. In contrast, “Oolong tea” is semi-fermented, and “black tea” is fully fermented, all made from leaves of the same “tea plant.” These young leaves plucked from tea plants transform into our familiar beverages through various processing methods.

Qwert1234 – Qwert1234’s file, パブリック・ドメイン, リンクによる

The Significance of “Hachijyu Hachiya” and Agricultural Culture

The “Hachijyu hachiya (Eighty-Eighth Night)” sung in this song refers to the 88th day after “Risshun” (Beginning of Spring), one of the twenty-four solar terms, when the weather stabilizes, making it easier for tea picking. This important agricultural milestone, usually falling around May 2nd each year, signals the full-fledged beginning of farming activities. During this period, there is a risk of late frost called “Osojimo” occurring from chilly nights to dawn, potentially damaging crops. Despite this frost risk, tea picking is conducted during this time because the new buds contain the richest umami components and nutrients like catechins, producing aromatic high-quality tea leaves. Moreover, this “first flush” tea harvested during this period is particularly valuable and serves as a crucial source of income for tea farmers. A few days after Hachijyu hachiya comes “Rikka” (around May 6th), the beginning of summer according to the calendar. The song gently conveys the arrival of an extremely busy season for farmers.

painted by 長谷川等伯, calligraphy by 春屋宗園 – 1. Brill.com [1], 2. Omotesenke.com [2] , Omotesenke Fushin’an Foundation, パブリック・ドメイン, リンクによる

Tea Culture and Its Historical Development

The culture of enjoying tea has a long history, dating back to the reign of Emperor Shoumu in 729 AD, as recorded in ancient texts. Initially, it spread widely among the warrior class and became material for feasts. However, the concept of “Wabi-cha,” which sought simplicity and the spirit of Zen, emerged, leading to the spread of “Cha-no-yu” by figures like Sen no Rikyu. This tradition has been passed down to modern times as “Sa-do” (the Way of Tea).
In Sa-do, Matcha—now popularly used in chocolates and ice cream—is served as ground tea leaves. On the other hand, Sencha, which uses whole leaves without grinding, is commonly sold even in PET bottles. Naturally, the price varies greatly depending on the quality of the leaves and processing methods. Japanese tea culture has thus evolved with the times while maintaining its essential values.

不明 – “Letters from Japan” by Mrs. Hugh Fraser, New York, The Macmillan company; London, Macmillan & co., ltd.. 1904, パブリック・ドメイン, リンクによる

Origins and Spread of the Tea-Picking Song

According to one theory, this song is said to have roots in Uji City, Kyoto Prefecture, and the parts enclosed in quotation marks are considered citations from tea-picking songs sung there since ancient times. However, even after research by local historians, there is still no evidence to support this claim. Since tea harvesting requires intensive labor, there have always been migrant workers known as “Chatsumi musume” (tea-picking girls). As the timing of harvesting varies from region to region, it’s also speculated that the song spread gradually as workers moved from early harvesting areas to later ones.
This song is also known for its rhythmic nature, often accompanied by hand movements, and enjoyed in places like kindergartens and elderly care facilities. Its simple yet pleasant rhythm has become an important cultural asset that remains in the hearts of Japanese people across generations.

Tea-Producing Regions Throughout Japan

While Shizuoka Prefecture is famous as a tea-producing region, places like Yame in Fukuoka Prefecture, Chiran in Kagoshima Prefecture, and Sayama near Tokyo in Saitama Prefecture are also well-known. The soil and climate conditions of each region produce teas with distinctive flavors. In modern times, these traditional tea-producing areas have also gained attention as tourist destinations, with increasing numbers of visitors enjoying tea-picking experiences and the scenic beauty of tea fields. Japanese tea has transcended being merely a beverage to become a symbol embodying Japan’s natural features and culture.

100 Best Japanese Songs.

This is the third most famous tea plantation in Japan, closest to Tokyo.

Tanabata sama — When Summer Stars Come Alive in Song

“Tanabata-sama” is more than just a children’s song – it’s a musical gateway to one of Japan’s most enchanting summer traditions. This beloved melody celebrates Tanabata, a festival that transforms the ordinary evening of July 7th into something truly magical. The name itself tells a story: written in kanji as “七夕” (literally “seven evenings”), Tanabata is also known as the Star Festival, and for good reason. As twilight descends on this special night, families across Japan gather to look up at the summer sky, searching for the celestial drama that has captivated hearts for over a millennium.

The festival represents a beautiful blend of ancient Chinese legend and distinctly Japanese customs, creating a celebration that feels both timeless and intimate. What makes Tanabata particularly special is how it connects the vastness of the universe with the simple hopes and dreams of everyday people. When children sing “Tanabata-sama,” they’re not just performing a cute song – they’re participating in a tradition that links them to countless generations who have gazed at the same stars and wished upon the same cosmic love story.

A Love Story Written in the Stars

At the heart of Tanabata lies one of the most romantic tales ever told, a story so beautiful it has inspired countless songs, poems, and festivals. Picture Orihime, the weaving goddess whose star we know as Vega in the constellation Lyra. She was so dedicated to her craft – creating the most exquisite fabrics in all of heaven – that she never took time to care for her own appearance or seek companionship. On the other side of the celestial realm lived Hikoboshi (known to us as Altair in the constellation Aquila), a diligent cowherd who spent his days tending cattle and working the heavenly fields with unwavering dedication.

The gods, moved by the loneliness of these two hardworking souls, arranged for them to meet through the mediation of Deneb in the constellation Cygnus. Together, these three stars form what astronomers call the “Great Summer Triangle,” a brilliant celestial landmark that dominates the summer sky. When Orihime and Hikoboshi met, it was love at first sight – a romance so powerful it literally changed the heavens. Their wedding was celebrated throughout the cosmos, and for a brief, shining moment, perfect happiness reigned in the celestial realm.

But love, as beautiful as it can be, sometimes comes with consequences that even the gods didn’t foresee.

When Love Disrupts the Universe

The newlyweds were so intoxicated with their happiness that they completely abandoned their duties. Orihime’s loom fell silent, and no more beautiful fabrics graced the heavens. Hikoboshi’s cattle wandered aimlessly while he spent his days gazing lovingly at his bride. The cosmic order itself began to unravel as these essential workers forgot everything except each other. The supreme deity, witnessing this celestial dereliction of duty, made a decision that would break hearts across the universe.

In divine anger, he separated the lovers, placing them on opposite sides of the vast Milky Way – Orihime in the west and Hikoboshi in the east. The silver river of stars that had once seemed so beautiful now became an insurmountable barrier, keeping the lovers apart for eternity. Or almost eternity. Moved by their tears and genuine remorse, the gods granted them one precious gift: once each year, on the seventh day of the seventh month, magpies would form a bridge across the Milky Way, allowing the lovers to reunite for a single, precious night.

This is why Tanabata carries such a bittersweet beauty – it celebrates not just love, but love that endures separation, distance, and the inexorable passage of time. Every July 7th, as people across Japan look up at the summer sky, they’re witnessing this eternal love story play out among the stars.

From Ancient Legend to Modern Celebration

Today’s Tanabata has evolved into something wonderfully accessible and family-friendly, though it retains all the magic of its ancient origins. What makes this festival particularly special is how it brings joy to children across Japan. In kindergartens and preschools throughout the country, little hands eagerly grasp crayons and markers to write their innocent wishes on colorful strips of paper called “tanzaku” – perhaps hoping for a new bicycle, asking for their pet hamster to stay healthy, or wishing to become a superhero when they grow up. These precious handwritten dreams are then carefully tied to bamboo branches, creating wish trees that flutter like prayer flags in the summer breeze.

The festival has also become a cornerstone of Japan’s early summer atmosphere, transforming ordinary spaces into magical wonderlands. Shopping malls compete to create the most enchanting Tanabata displays, with elaborate decorations cascading from ceilings and bamboo groves appearing in unexpected corners. These commercial celebrations serve a beautiful purpose – they bring the ancient tradition into modern daily life, allowing busy families to pause and participate in this timeless ritual of hope. You’ll find these charming displays everywhere during Tanabata season, from grand installations at department stores to simple bamboo branches in local supermarkets, each one representing someone’s heartfelt hopes for the future.

Interestingly, weather forecasters have become unofficial participants in the Tanabata tradition. Every year on July 7th, they invariably comment on the evening’s weather conditions, and there does seem to be an unusually high probability of rain on this night. With a twinkle in their eyes, meteorologists often explain this as “the tears of Orihime and Hikoboshi” – either tears of joy at their reunion or tears of sorrow at their brief time together. While we might laugh at the idea that earthbound weather has anything to do with cosmic romance, there’s something delightfully poetic about the notion that even the skies participate in this ancient love story.

The most spectacular modern Tanabata celebrations take place in Sendai City, Miyagi Prefecture, where the entire downtown area transforms into a wonderland of colorful streamers and elaborate decorations. But perhaps the true magic of Tanabata lies not in the grand festivals, but in those quiet moments when families gather to sing “Tanabata-sama” and look up at the summer stars, connecting their own hopes and dreams to a love story that has been unfolding in the heavens for over a thousand years.

Sakura is symbol of Spring in Japan

“Sakura Sakura” symbolizes spring in Japan. It is said that this song became popular when it was used in the first act of the opera “Madame Butterfly” by Italian composer Puccini in 1904. Since then, it is often performed by foreign musicians, especially rock musicians, when they visit Japan to communicate with the audience.

Historical Background and Evolution of Lyrics

The history of this song dates back to the late Edo period, and it seems to have been popular as a koto practice piece. The title is simply “Sakura,” but in the 1888 “Nihon Sokyokushu,” the lyrics begin with “Sakura Sakura,” and this name is often used. At the time, the lyrics were the second stanza above, but in the 1941 song collection “Uta no Hon,” it was changed to the first stanza. It is speculated that this was because the literary nature of the words may be difficult for children to understand. This may be because literary words may be difficult for children to understand, but in modern times, the words are mixed depending on the generation that learned it.

Although often labeled as a traditional Japanese folk song, “Sakura Sakura” was actually composed in the late Edo period in Edo (modern-day Tokyo) as a practice piece for children learning to play the koto. It was later included in the “Soukyokushuu” (Koto Music Collection) of the “Ongaku Torirabegakari,” a music education institution under the Ministry of Education that existed from 1879 to 1887, and was officially published in 1888.

Cultural Significance and Spirituality of Cherry Blossoms

The reason this song has taken root in the hearts of Japanese people is probably because the graceful melody matches the image of cherry blossoms. Cherry blossoms and autumn leaves are representative of Japanese nature, but the latter can be enjoyed for more than a month, while cherry blossoms can only be enjoyed for two weeks at most. This is probably because cherry blossoms resonate with the spirituality and sense of impermanence of the Japanese people. Many people gather at cherry blossom viewing spots during this season, laying out picnic sheets. However, for drunk cherry blossom viewers (including me), being able to drink alcohol from noon on a calm day is probably more important than that feeling.

At Chidorigafuchi, adjacent to the Nippon Budokan, you can enjoy cherry blossom viewing from a boat.

Theory of Hebrew Origin and Its Context

By the way, there is a theory that this song was originally Hebrew. Some enthusiasts and researchers claim that the word “sakura” resembles a Hebrew word. During the Edo period, Japan had a policy of national isolation, and exchange with the outside world was extremely limited, there was almost no contact with Hebrew-speaking communities (such as Jews), and there is no record of a Jewish community being formed in Japan until the 20th century. But there is also a tomb of Christ in Aomori Prefecture, Japan. Believe it or not?

100 Best Japanese Songs

Moon-viewing is incomplete without offering rice dumplings. / By katorisi – Own work, CC BY 3.0, Link

The Custom of Admiring the Harvest Moon

In Japan, the 15th day of the 8th month of the lunar calendar (around late September today) is called Jyuugoya or Chuushuu no Meigetsu, and it is celebrated as the night when the moon is at its most beautiful of the year. On this evening, people place offerings of pampas grass, rice dumplings, and seasonal harvests, and enjoy gazing at the moon in the crisp autumn air. The sight of families and friends looking up at the bright moon, sometimes with a cup of sake in hand, conveys a uniquely Japanese autumn atmosphere.

Haiku and the Humor of the Full Moon

KOBAYASHI Issa, one of the representative haiku poets of the Edo period, composed the following verse:

Meigetsu wo totte kurero to naku ko kana
名月を取ってくれろと泣く子かな
(A child carried on his back points to the full moon and cries, “Please get it for me.”)

Yoshi Canopus – 自ら撮影, CC 表示-継承 3.0, リンクによる

This scene, humorous in tone yet full of seasonal elegance, is a well-known haiku even today. It reminds us of the cultural richness of the Meigetsu (harvest moon).

The Poetic Eye of NOGUCHI Ujyou

The lyrics of Jyuugoya Otsukisan were written by NOGUCHI Ujyou, a renowned poet of children’s songs. He is also the author of lyrics for masterpieces such as “Nanatsu no Ko” and “Akai Kutsu”. NOGUCHI’s strength lay in his ability to depict the world through the innocent eyes of children, while subtly weaving in the realities of the society of his time. In this song, too, beneath the simple words of a child addressing the moon lies a heartfelt longing for the mother he misses.

Hidden Social Realities of the Taishou Period

At first glance, the lyrics of Jyuugoya Otsukisan may sound like an innocent child’s monologue to the moon. Yet, in reality, they reflect the social struggles of the Taishou era. After experiencing an economic boom during World War I, Japan plunged into a postwar recession. Many factory workers in the cities lost their jobs and were forced to return to the countryside, placing heavy economic burdens on farming households.

Family Separation and the Cry of a Child’s Heart

Because of this hardship, many rural households had to let go of their housekeepers (baaya), and poverty forced them to send their younger daughters away for work. In this context, the child singing longs for his absent mother, perhaps never to see her again, entrusting his sorrow to the moon. Simple though the lyrics may be, they are imbued with the deep sadness of family separation in that era.

The Power of MOTOORI Nagayo’s Melody

The melody was composed by MOTOORI Nagayo. His music, at once beautiful and tinged with melancholy, brought out the sorrow of the child’s heart and the shadow of society hidden behind the lyrics. The harmony of the moon’s beauty with this sadness made the song unforgettable, leaving a deep impression on Japanese hearts.

The song “Omatsuri Mambo” opens briskly with a rhythmic, upbeat mambo beat. The protagonist is a stylish uncle born and raised in Kanda—a true Edokko, a native of Edo (old Toukyou(Tokyo)), and a genuine Kanda native.

Kanda is located in the heart of Toukyou(Tokyo), in Chiyoda Ward. Today, it’s known as an area that includes Akihabara, the world-famous electronics district and subculture mecca. However, historically, it developed as a prestigious merchant and artisan district centered around Kanda Myoujin Shrine, which guards the northeastern direction (the “demon’s gate”) of Edo Castle. This vibrant neighborhood buzzed with merchants and craftsmen exchanging spirited calls. For those born and raised here, festivals run through their very blood.

Kanda myoujin, formally known as Kanda Shrine, has been beloved by common people since the Edo period as the general guardian shrine of Edo. The deities enshrined there are Oonamuchi-no-mikoto (Ookuninushi-no-mikoto, Daikoku-sama), Sukunahikona-no-mikoto (Ebisu-sama), and Taira no Masakado. The shrine is particularly known for enshrining Taira no Masakado and has been revered as Edo’s guardian deity. Every May, the Kanda Festival is held with great pageantry, and as one of Edo’s three great festivals, it continues to captivate many people to this day.

Base map: GSI Tiles (Standard Map), Geospatial Information Authority of Japan (GSI), modified.

Fans of period dramas will immediately think of “Zenigata Heiji” when they hear Kanda myoujin. The detective Zenigata Heiji lived precisely at the foot of Kanda myoujin. The Kanda tenement houses where his assistant Hachigoro would come running, crying “Boss!”—and from which Heiji would throw his trademark copper coins—Kanda is truly a place that symbolizes Edo’s common people’s culture.

Heiji Zenigata DVD

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amzn.to

The uncle, who grew up in this Kanda, has been wearing festival jackets and carrying portable shrines (mikoshi) since he was old enough to understand. Carrying a mikoshi is not merely a ritual—it’s an identity and a source of pride for a Kanda native. The moment when hundreds of carriers unite with the chant “Wasshoi, Wasshoi” to hoist up the heavy mikoshi, the uncle’s face flushes and his eyes shine like a boy’s.

To carry a mikoshi means to bear the portable shrine containing the divine spirit of Kanda myoujin and transport the deity throughout the town. The deity makes a circuit of the parish where the worshippers live, bestowing blessings upon the people. The carriers protect and worship the deity, deepening bonds with their neighborhood comrades and passing down the soul of Kanda to the next generation. This is not merely a traditional event but a living faith and a sacred ceremony that confirms community solidarity.

There’s something called the “shitamachi spirit”—the spirit of downtown Toukyou(Tokyo). It embodies the Edokko aesthetic of “not keeping money overnight” and values “iki” (sophisticated style) above all else. Don’t sweat the small stuff; live the present moment to the fullest. Lend a hand to those in trouble, and loosen the purse strings when festival time comes. This generous spirit is the essence of a Kanda native.

Directed by Keigo Kimura, produced by en:Daiei Film – Screenshot of the movie, public domain, by link

The phrase “Shio maite okure” (sprinkle the salt) that appears in the lyrics is also intriguing. Rather than being for fire prevention, it can be interpreted as purifying salt for the sacred festival. In Shinto tradition, salt has been believed to have the power to dispel impurity and create sacred space. Before or during a festival, which is a sacred event, salt is scattered to purify the area. This is a reverent preparation for welcoming the deity. The uncle, too, was one of those devout Edokko who valued such purification rituals.

That’s why, once the festival begins, the uncle forgets all mundane concerns. Work, household matters, even tomorrow—all are set aside as he immerses himself completely in the festival. A neighbor seems to be shouting, “Uncle, it’s terrible! There’s a fire!” but amid the weight of the mikoshi and the cheers, such voices fade into the distant beyond.

Background: “Meguro Gyounin-zaka Fire Scroll”,
National Diet Library Digital Collections (public domain, Japan)

Here, the term “suriban” deserves attention. This is an abbreviation of “suri-hanshou” (rubbing half-bell), meaning to ring the half-bell (hanshou) repeatedly to warn of a nearby fire, or the sound itself. Normally, the half-bell would be struck slowly—”kaan, kaan”—but when fire was approaching, it would be rung continuously, almost frantically, as if rubbing it. That urgent sound was an emergency alert to which everyone should have paid attention. But for the uncle, lost in the festival, even that couldn’t reach his ears.

Edo and fire have an inseparable relationship. As the saying goes, “Fires and fights are the flowers of Edo”—the city was frequently struck by conflagrations. The reason was that most of Edo’s buildings were wooden structures. Densely packed tenement houses, wooden shops, temples and shrines—once a fire started, it would spread in an instant, becoming a major disaster. The Great Meireki Fire of 1657 consumed most of Edo and is said to have claimed over 100,000 lives.

Hanshou

Due to this constant danger of fire, Edo residents developed a unique attitude toward conflagration. Since everything could be lost to fire at any moment, perhaps this gave birth to the aesthetic of “not keeping money overnight.” Even if you accumulated wealth, it could turn to ash in a single night. In that case, why not enjoy life in the present? Such was their philosophical resignation.

The mikoshi parading through Kanda’s streets, the cheers from the roadside, the sounds of festival music—everything blends together, drawing the uncle into the vortex at the festival’s heart. The weight of the mikoshi digging into his shoulders, the sweat streaming down like a waterfall—all of it feels pleasant. Having entered the ecstatic state of a mikoshi bearer, the uncle can no longer hear anything. Tomorrow? Who cares! This moment, carrying the mikoshi—that alone is the uncle’s entire world.

The rhythmic mambo beat perfectly expresses the uncle’s elated spirit. The light tempo, the cheerful melody—listeners can’t help but sway along. This is the very embodiment of festival euphoria.