Life is quite strange. The way our lives collide with those of others. Others who have interesting experiences but for some reason don't share them with the world. My life has been pretty ordinary to say the least. Well except for that one experience. But then again it was not my experience. I just happened to know the person who lived through it. Although it has been years since this happened, I dont really know what to make of it. Fact or fiction. It is one of those "experiences" that happen only to a few and everyone else doubts them but are too polite to say so. Had I not been there when all this happened, I too would have had a much more difficult time believing Sam. Let me start from the beginning. A story rarely makes sense to those not familiar to the circumstances that led to...ah well. So, I met Sam many years ago. Sam was a student in the USA. He came to the USA for higher education and stayed. I did not know him back in medical school although our schools were barely 5 miles away. Even though he did part of his internship in my hospital, we rarely cross paths there. I met him, unlikely as it may sound, at a martial arts dojo, 4,500 miles away from home. In New York of all places. There I go again getting ahead of myself. Lets go back a few decades.
I was a high energy kid that most parents fear. Sugar had nothing to do with it. My mother had run out of ideas on how to get me to calm down enough to sleep. Even at night. Or at least something to take the edge off. Nuclear energy, they would joke, fueled me. That was of course before she found the local karate dojo. I crawled home for a month after that. Over the years as we moved cities and homes, my mother always insisted that I join some form of martial art. More for her health than mine. And so it was. Over the years, I practiced karate, kung-fu, jujitsu and many more. Each one as a result of my family's frequent moves and the availability of a martial arts dojo nearby. As I grew up, I saw my friends start going to the gym. I never could make myself do that. And it was not for a lack of trying. I needed the more intense work out that only a martial art provides. After medical school I came to the USA for higher education and found an Aikido dojo nearby. A great work out but for some reason not enough for me. One day as I wandered in a bit early hoping to get a few hours of work out and going over a few moves that my teacher had showed me. I changed into the traditional white gi top and the indigo blue hakama and stretched in the changing rooms downstairs before proceeding to the top floor of the three floor building where the practice rooms were. As I entered the dojo and I heard the loud shouts of kiai. And there they were. Kendo-ka. Kendo is the art of Japanese fencing. It is quite modern and very popular globally. The energy in the dojo was palpable. My non- martial arts friends would probably say so was the odour and smell. Aikido emphasized graceful smooth movements of empty handed techniques while Kendo was all about attacking the opponent with bamboo sticks or shinai at full speed. I sat at the back and watched the participants go through many paired exercises and later the open tournament style competition. Towards the end of their practice session, one of them walked up to me. He was still wearing his armor and his face mask so I could not tell. Not until he introduced himself. Sam.
Sam was genuinely pleased to meet me. After all how many Indians are there who are interested in Kendo. After they had bowed out and practice was over, he and I chatted for a few hours. The coincidences were shocking. We were both surprised to learn that we had grown up a few blocks from each other, had gone to medical school and then come to the USA for higher studies. However that is where the similarities ended. Sam came from a military family and was supposed to enter the armed medical core. Reading too many books (read comics) had landed him with myopia and he had failed to clear the physical for the armed medical college. Nevertheless, he had finished medical school and was working as a fellow in a nearby hospital. My class was about to start and so we said our goodbyes. Over the years we kept in touch. About five years after we met, I moved away to DC and started working at a hospital there. Sam have moved to Atlanta but we stayed in touch. At around this time, Sam and I independantly stumbled onto a style that is quite rare. In fact I found an Aikido dojo in DC that also had classes offered in that style of swordsmanship. I happened to mention that to Sam when he was in town for a Kendo tournament and for the first time he stopped us mid meal to go see that class. Apparently Sam had been searching for such a dojo for over a decade. True martial artists are a rare breed. Also a very strange breed. I reluctantly asked for my meal to be packed knowing fully well that it would be a waste. Reheating that dish (and I am forgetting what it was right now) could never handle the reheating..it did something to the flavor. Anyways getting back to the events, Sam and I went back to my dojo and watched a class. The teacher was quite charismatic and very talented. After the class, Sam introduced himself (and of course me) and spoke at length with the teacher. I too was drawn into their conversation and soon found myself promising to return and try out the class soon. I didnt know how given my other classes and work committment but their enthusiasim was infectous.
After we left the dojo, Sam could not contain himself. He was already planning on how he would travel regularly to train there at the dojo. I think some readers, especially those not familiar with martial arts might wonder what I am saying here. The ryu or school that Sam made me take him to was a kenjutsu dojo. Kenjutsu was the battlefield art of sword fighting from Japan. Kendo is the more modern sport version which is hugely popular and derived from kenjutsu. Sam loved everything to do with the Japanese sword styles. This was not the first time that I had been dragged to something like this. JapanFest took place each year in many cities., The one in DC is especially nice and many martial art dojos perform there. Sam would always drag me to watch them. And he never missed a single demonstration. I sometimes felt he should have been born a few centuries ago in Japan.
Sam was true to his word. He would travel a few times down to DC to study with the group and I found myself also joining with him. It was incredible. Sam could be very persuasive. I did enjoy the people in the group. They were very diverse and quite talented. But then most martial arts groups usually are. Sam was the purest martial artist. His life, outside of the work arena, consisted of practicing martial arts. He was quite dedicated as well. Sam had black belts in five martial arts that I knew of and then some. He would never tell you of course. Humility was his other quality that drew everyone to him. Sam was quite well liked as well. I watched with admiration as he learned each and every kata that the sensei taught him. I struggled but Sam took to them like a fish to water. Initially, Sam would take the bus/flight to DC and crash on my couch. He practiced all hours that he could. Over time, he started staying at the dojo at nights when he was in DC. Although he told me it was because he could get more hours of practice in if he crashed on the couch in the dojo, I knew he felt a bit awkward as my living situation had changed in the decade we had known each other. I had married and now had two beautiful children. Real hell raisers. I dont know how my saintly wife put up with them. I could escape to the dojo once in a while. She, on the other hand, had no escape apart from work. I knew it was a bit disturbing for Sam. Sam had never married and I doubt he intended to. The others were more than happy to practice with him. Sensei really liked him and he progressed faster than most in the dojo inspite of being there only once a month or so. I think...no I know that he practiced in his free time and in between shifts at the hospital too. I had visited him once and found a few bokken scattered around his office. One was a gift from me on his 29th birthday quite a few years ago.
And so we came to accept that we would run into Sam at the dojo on weekends. He practiced the regular hours and at all other hours. If he found someone to practice with that was great...if not then he practiced solo. Usually it was the latter. And he loved it. Moving meditation he called it. I smiled. I did try to get there more when he was in town but it is hard with two small children and increasing work committments. There were other classes held at times when there was no kenjutsu or aikido class there. Time share martial arts, he called it before laughing loudly at his own joke. Of course, he was right. It was hard financially to stay afloat for most groups if they did not have such a time share arrangement. He stayed for the most part of the weekend at the dojo. When other groups were not practicing he stayed and practiced. Once the other groups arrived, he would leave for the Starbucks a block away. I invited him over many times. However, he would politely refuse. His patterns did not change. Every few weeks, he would arrive on a Friday evening and stay at the dojo till Sunday evening. He would attend every practice session we had and then some more. Sometimes he would watch the other classes that took place in between our practice sessions. They all seemed to welcome him in. The teachers and students alike. I guess everyone recognised a kindred spirit. I would drop off a blanket and pillow for him once he decided to stay at the dojo instead of our couch. The dojo was not well heated and could get quite chilly at nights. I would pick them up on Sunday evening after class before dropping him off at the airport. This went on for quite a few years. We both had adjusted to this arrangement and it suited us fine. I was happy to see him and practice with him whenever he was in town. Although I wondered at times the kind of dedication it takes to do what he did- sleep on a hard couch in the dojo, spend his life practicing and thinking of nothing else but martial arts. Truly a dedicated martial artist.
The events I speak of happened a few years after the birth of my second child. Sam had been coming down to train with the DC group for almost 10 years now. Sam had one quality that I really envied. Sam was usually a sound sleeper. A fact I had discovered years ago when the fire alarm in our building went off and I had to drag him down the stairs half asleep. He slept no more than 6 hours a day and yet slept more peacefully than anyone I knew. I, on the other hand, had not had a decent night's sleep after the birth of our eldest. Sam arrived as usual on Friday evening and I picked him up from the airport. We had dinner at our usual restaurant. A small Italian place that Sam favoured. After dinner I dropped him off at the dojo and left.
The next morning, I arrived at the dojo at 10 AM to practice with him for an hour before the the morning class. Sam was already on the mats when I entered the dojo. I wasnt surprised by that at all. He usually practiced immediately after the first group had left at 9. Sam was in peak physcial condition. But he seemed to be sweating more than the usual amount. I had hardly ever seen him break into a sweat even when he went up against some of the best. I had just started warming up when he saw me and came over. He seemed to be quite excited. In between pushups and stomach crunches, Sam told me about the sword master he had met earlier in the day. I knew that the owner of the space sometimes rented the early mornings out but had never seen the man he described. Sam had woken up at 4 AM for his early morning run. After his 5k run, he was in the shower, when he heard someone in the changing rooms. He poked his head out of the shower and saw an elderly Asian gentleman putting on his gi in the changing room. He wished him and the elderly gentleman returned his greeting. He quickly finished showering and joined the elderly gentleman in the changing room. They chatted as they changed and then went upstairs to the mat/practice rooms to practice. It seemed that the elderly gentleman had rented the place but did not mind Sam's presence. They warmed up and then started their solo practice at opposite ends of the dojo. However, Sam could not keep his eyes away from the older martial artist. He seemed to be over 80 and yet moved like a 20 year old. His movements were fluid. He was practicing a similar style of kenjutsu. Only his movements were nothing like he had seen before. Sam waited for him to finish and then approached him. The older gentleman was only to happy to work with Sam. From the first strike, Sam knew he was outclassed. The older sensei seemed to sense Sam's movements even before Sam had himself realised it himself. Sam did all he could to attack initially and then realised that he would be better off trying to fend off attacks. He did not have a chance to attack anyway and the older sensei got through his defences with ease. When they stopped, Sam was perspiring like it was his first day of training. Their sparring session had lasted less than 5 minutes. Sam bowed and apologised. The older sensei smiled and started training again with Sam. Sam, I knew, was as skilled if not more than our current sensei. The way he spoke of this older gentleman, I knew he had found a new sensei. Practitioners like Sam were rare. Our sensei had commented that Sam would not be with us for much longer. There was little more that he could teach Sam. I had felt both a sense of pride and envy at that statement of his but knew it to be true. I could see now that he was right. Sam had found a new sensei. I would have loved to train with them but I had too many things going on to be able to do so. I was happy for my friend. And so it was. Sam continued to train with us and with the elderly gentleman. His skill levels improved in leaps and bounds. It truly takes two- a good teacher and a good student. Sam did not hesitate to teach us what he was learning. However, he was always respectful of our sensei and that of his new sensei. The years rolled by.
I often thought of coming in early to meet his other sensei but somehow never managed to do so. I probably would never have were it not for ...Sam was on a flight to DC as usual and it crashed. Everyone on board perished in the crash. It came as quite a shock to me. I was at the airport waiting for him when I learned of the crash. It took me a few days to process things. I couldnt believe that someone like Sam could die so easily. How truly fragile life really is. Of course, I attended his funeral. My third visit to Boston. The other two had been for his graduation from the fellowship program and for a conference. His lawyer met me at the funeral and informed me that Sam had made me the executor of his will. His will. Although I had one too, I never realised that I would ever have to read that of a friend and a fellow martial arts brother. It took me a considerable time to go through his bequests. He had extensive family both in the USA and back home in India. I was surprised to learn that he had two brothers and a sister who lived in the USA not too far from DC. He had left most of his weapons and martial arts gear to the dojo. Sam collected many weapons from different cultures. Some of there were quite valuable. I was very surprised to see that he had left me quite a few of these in his will. As we finished going through his list of bequests, there was a sealed envelope addressed to our sensei in DC and yet another to his other teacher. The one I had never met. He had left instructions for me to deliver these personally along with two rather rare bottles of sake from his wine collection. I was more than happy to fulfill my late friend's wishes. The first was rather easy to fulfill. It was the second one that proved to be a challenge.
I inquired at the dojo management office and they had no idea who I was speaking of. Sam had left no name. Just the words Kenjutsu Sensei, DC scrawled in his barely legible writing using his favorite green ink fountain pen. Sam like fountain pens a lot too. His two passions, I would tease him- fountain pens and katanas. He would always come back that he was a samurai after all. I wondered if the gentleman had moved dojos or had another address where I could reach him. Sadly there was nothing else on the envelope that gave me any clues about his identity. I asked our teacher and he too did not know anything about that gentleman. I asked every group at the dojo and no one seemed to know of him. In fact no one had ever even heard of him. Or seen anyone of that description. I was at my wit's end. The man simply did not seem to exist. And yet Sam had trained with him for over a decade now. Had Sam found another dojo nearby? Or had he simply hidden the truth from me? These negative thoughts plagued my mind. I went to every dojo in a 5 mile radius. You would be surprised to learn of the number of dojos that actually exist in DC. I know I was. Nothing. No one knew of them. I cursed myself for not having paid closer attention to Sam's words and description of the style. I checked Sam's Facebook page. He hardly ever posted. Most were pictures that he had been tagged in by others. I posted a request about the identity of the style or the name of the master.
I spent my free moments thinking of a way to solve this riddle. As I watched my kids eat one Friday and my wife droned on about their plans for the weekend, it hit me. The sensei was always there to train. At 5 AM. every Saturday and Sunday. Sam had said so on many occasions. I knew now how to get in touch with him. However getting to the dojo at 5 AM was quite a challenge. I lived about an hour and fifteen minutes away. And I did not want to miss him if I was late. It had already been 3 months since Sam's passing. I quickly dressed, threw the blanket and pillow in the car and told my wife of my plans. She was not pleased. It was my turn to help the kids with their bath. But she stoically kept her silence and nodded her acquiesce. She was truly a saint. And I loved her deeply. I made a mental note to make it up to her.
I drove to the dojo and made it there just as the last students were clearing out. Some who knew of my friendship with Sam, came up to offer their words of sympathy. Sam had touched their lives too. I settled in for the night. I would be a long one. I dared not fall asleep in case I missed him. But whenever we try to keep awake, sleep will always invariably overcome us. And so too I passed out at some point in the night. I dont know when. I was woken up by a rhythmic clacking. Initially I thought it was the sound of the bamboo pieces at the base of the numerous scrolls hitting the walls. It took me a few minutes to realise that they were the familiar sounds of bokken hitting each other. Click Clack Click Clack. Over and over. I could hear the kiai. It was intense but not loud. But these were different. The bokkens barely seemed to make contact. And the speed at which they were moving was unbelievable. I had never seen anyone move with that speed. I rubbed my sleep heavy eyes and slowly adjusted to the dim light in the dojo. I could barely make out their outlines as they moved. It took all my concentration to see them and yet I could barely see them. I sat up and waited. I had found him. He had another student by the sound of it. Sam have never mentioned that. In fact, I clearly remembered Sam stating that the older sensei trained by himself. Well until Sam had joined him.
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