Photo/Illutration A girl hangs a slip of paper with her wish on a bamboo branch in Kobe's Tarumi Ward on July 6, the day before the Tanabata star festival. (Asahi Shimbun file photo)

When I recently visited a local library, I came across decorations for Tanabata, the traditional Japanese star festival held on July 7.

A slender stalk of “sasa” bamboo stood tall, its branches adorned with colorful “tanzaku”—long, narrow strips of paper used for writing wishes and hanging them on bamboo as part of the festival tradition. One wish read, in a child’s innocent handwriting, “I want to be able to do a back hip circle.”

Other wishes ranged from hopes for love to success in school entrance exams. The countless tanzaku swayed softly in the breeze, like ripened fruit gently weighing down the branches.

As Tanabata draws near, I’m reminded of childhood evenings spent gazing up at the night sky in search of the two stars. In Chinese legend, the star-crossed lovers Orihime and Hikoboshi—separated by the Milky Way and allowed to meet only once a year on this day—are known as Zhinu, the weaving girl, and Qianniu, the cowherd.

Astronomically, they are Vega, a brilliant blue-white star in the constellation Lyra, and Altair, the brightest star in Aquila, the Eagle. Though these stars lie some 14 light-years apart, invoking such scientific detail seems almost out of place amid the romance of the story.

My eyes were drawn to one yellow tanzaku that read: “Oba-chan ga 100 sai made ikiraremasu yoi” (I hope Grandma can live until she’s 100). The handwriting was bold, thick and full of youthful energy.

From a grammatical standpoint, the final “yoi” was likely meant to be “yoni,” but such small errors only added to the charm. Free of pretense, the tender emotion came through with striking sincerity.

Perhaps it’s because we live in a world where mockery and hatred roam so freely that the simplicity of this wish moved me so deeply. Without realizing it, my eyes welled with tears.

Yes, it’s important to care for ourselves, but the selfless act of thinking of someone else, of wishing happiness and health for a loved one, is profoundly moving. That short message on a piece of yellow paper made me bow my head in quiet reverence.

A poem published in The Asahi Shimbun’s “Senryu” section on July 5 also struck a deep chord with me:

On a tanzaku/ “Peace on Earth” written/ in the children’s ward.

Even while battling illness, there are children who still pray for peace in the world. How heavy with meaning such a simple line can be.

It evokes the vision of “the true happiness of all people” that the Japanese writer and poet Kenji Miyazawa (1896-1933) expressed in his celebrated fantasy novel “Night on the Galactic Railroad.”

Another Japanese novelist, Osamu Dazai (1909-1948), once reflected on a single kanji character in a letter to a friend.

The character in question is one pronounced “yu" in its “on’yomi" (Chinese-derived reading). It can mean "sugureru" (to excel) or "yasashii" (gentle or kind). But if you look closely, the character is composed of the radical for “person” and the character for “grief” or “worry”—suggesting “to worry about others.”

“To be sensitive to another person’s loneliness, sorrow or pain—that is kindness,” Dazai wrote. “And perhaps, I wonder, that’s what makes us most human.”

—The Asahi Shimbun, July 6

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Vox Populi, Vox Dei is a popular daily column that takes up a wide range of topics, including culture, arts and social trends and developments. Written by veteran Asahi Shimbun writers, the column provides useful perspectives on and insights into contemporary Japan and its culture.

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