First published in Indian Periodical, January 1, 2023

It seemed that he had called me.
But I missed it. So,
I called him back. But,
he didn’t take it.

After a few hours, he called me again, but I missed it again.
Then, I called him back. But again, he didn’t reply.

It was the day before yesterday.
We haven’t communicated since then.

I was afraid
if something had happened to him
in the process of proving that
he was innocent before the Japanese police.

I hoped that
he managed to answer the police
without the help of Japanese citizens.
Or,
I wish
he would have tried to hear me after several months,
just to say “Hello.”

Due to my academic background, after retiring from my career as a researcher,
I have been taking care of the students from
one of the South Asian countries
at a Japanese prefectural high school.

Most of them were brought to Japan
at the age of 12 to 15
by their parents working here
without knowing even a single Japanese word.

All of them settled in Japan irrespective of their will, if not against,
uprooted from their native soil during their teenage years.

Their mother tongue has not yet taken root deeply at this age, and
all of a sudden, it has been pulled out, and
transplanted into another soil.

They started learning basic Japanese as if they were elementary school kids,
as well as studying mathematics, science, biology, geography, history and
even English with Japanese medium
together with local native Japanese speakers.

At home, their parents speak only their mother tongue
despite spending more time in Japan than their sons and daughters,
because their work never required learning any languages
--they just work without saying a word.

They have no alternative but to be constantly
coming and going between two languages,
the one that they have to manage with out of home and
the other, that has not been matured enough to express
how they feel and what they think.

Who could speak for them?
if they are involved in something wrong
--unintentionally and/or unknowingly.

They are so fragile when they are questioned on the street
by the Japanese police.

They might be on their way to rush for a part-time job
to raise money for their school fees.
They could be in a hurry to attend something on time.
Possibly a matter of family emergency.
Then?

He had already graduated from high school.
Since then, we haven’t contacted each other.

In December 2021,
we met not in the classroom but online.
I shared a news article with him for discussion:
“U.S. Embassy warns of suspected racial profiling by Japan Police.”

On that day,
he told me how his life is in Japan,
that I had not realized until then
although I had known him for nearly three years.
He is often questioned by police; 10 to 15 minutes each time,
because of his skin color and facial appearance
different from those of typical Japanese,
in his opinion.

If he forgets to carry identity card --foreign registration card-- he is questioned.
They ascertain his residential status and deadline of permission to stay in Japan
along with his name, age, and address,
arbitrarily.

“One day,” he said,
“I was stopped and questioned five times in the same day!
Suppose I was out for ten hours on that day,
then it has become that
every two hours
I was asked to show my identity card
to police.”

He continued to say that one time,
he carelessly forgot the card with him,
they had to escort him home, so
he could show it to them.
That day, he failed to report for work.

Instead of a call,
he sent a text message to me on SNS.
It says,
“Sensei, genki desuka? (How are you?)”
Finally,
I’m relieved.