The Rope of Ashes

Once there lived at the foot of a mountain a poor farmer and his aged, widow mother. They owned a bit of land that supplied them with food. They both led a happy, peaceful and humble life.

Shinan, the town where they lived, was governed by a despotic leader who, though a warrior, had a great and cowardly shrinking from anything suggestive of failing health and strength. This caused him to send out a cruel proclamation. The entire province was given strict orders to immediately put to death all aged people. The days were barbarous, and the act of abandoning old people to die in isolation was not strange. The poor farmer had immense love and reverence for his aged mother and the order filled his heart with sorrow. No one could even think to refuse to obey the mandate of the governor.

With many deep and hopeless sighs, the youth prepared for the kindest mode he could kill his mother with.

At twilight, when his day’s work ended, he took a quantity of unwhitened rice, the principal food for the poor. He cooked and dried the rice and tied it in a square cloth making a pack of it. The bundle was swung around the neck along with a gourd filled with cool sweet water. He then lifted his aged mother to his back and set out on his painful journey up the mountain. Guided by hunters and woodcutters, crossed and re-crossed the long, steep and narrow road at several places. At some places he was confused and lost, but he paid his…

The narrow path led to Obatsuyama, the mountain of the “abandoning of the aged.” This was the place where all aged people were taken and left to die. The mother knew the path well, for her feet had climbed it many times. She was full of love and sacrifice. While her son struggled on under his burden, she quietly broke twigs and dropped them as markers to help him find his way back.

At last the summit was reached. Weary and heart-sick, the youth gently released his mother and prepared a place of comfort. He wrapped her padded coat closely around her shoulders and made the last farewell. The trembling hand of the mother stroked his cheek. Bowing, he left her alone.

But the mother’s heart was tender and full of love. She whispered, “My son, the mountain road is full of danger. Follow the path of twigs I have dropped. They will guide you safely home.” Tears blinded the youth’s eyes. He bowed low and returned, following the path of twigs.

…mother and supplied her with everything she needed, watching and fearing if she would be discovered. Time passed and he began to feel safe when again the governor sent forth messengers bearing another senseless order, seemingly a proof in his power. His demand was that his subjects should present him with a rope of ashes.

The entire province again went into a state of fear. Who in all Shinano could make a rope of ashes? Yet the order had to be obeyed. One night, in great distress, the son whispered the news to his hidden mother. “Wait!” she said. “I will think. I will think!” Next day she told him how to make a rope of ashes. “Make a rope of twisted straw,” she said. “Then stretch it upon a row of flat stones and burn it on a windless night.” He summoned all the people and did as she had said. After the blaze died down, there lay a rope of ashes upon the stones, with every twist and fiber looking perfectly intact.

The governor was pleased at the wit of the youth and praised him, but he was not to know where he got his wisdom. “Alas! Alas!” cried the farmer, “the truth must be told.” With deep bows he related his story. The governor listened and then meditated in silence for a while. Then he lifted his head. “Shinano needs more than strength of youth,” he said gravely. “Ah, that I should not have forgotten the well-known saying, ‘With the crown of snow, there cometh wisdom!’” That very hour the cruel law was abolished, and the custom drifted so far into a past that only legend remains.