Selecting a Toro (Japanese Stone Lantern)

     "If you want a nice toro for a reasonable rate, I am happy to introduce you to the owner of a local shop," said tomodachi san.  With a wedding anniversary looming and endless remarks from shujin (husband) upon viewing Japanese stone lanterns around town, the offer was accepted instantly. Temples and shrines on every Tokyo corner boast at least one granite ishidoro (ishi = stone, toro = lantern): a hollowed out, lidded candle holder weighing about a ton perched upon a pedestal carved from stone. Since the sixth century these exalted carvings have lit the path for worshippers along ancient routes, with 2,000 lighting the way in Nara to the Daibutsu (Great Buddha). During the Edo Period they were adapted as decorative touches to private gardens. While to the Western eye the stone sometimes appear chunky or even awkward, they symbolize the light that Buddha sheds upon human ignorance.  

    One dull Saturday afternoon at Ebisu eki, tomodachi san collected us and we headed to Setagaya (one of Tokyo's 23 wards). First stop was a stone mason's yard in the neighborhood known as Yoga (no relation to the Indian practice). "Please use this bug spray," admonished tomodachi san, who was well aware that stones are a breeding ground for Tokyo's blood thirsty mosquitoes. Within minutes our ankles were covered in welts, as we browsed the many styles of toro. Since the proprietor was nowhere to be found, we moved on to the second stop: a gallery of lanterns below the Shuto Expressway behind the local Book Off (used book shop chain). The owner, an elderly gent, emerged from the building. When asked for a price, he sucked his teeth, the Japanese signal of reluctance: The lantern in question was made in China, a copy, so not a good choice. No price was quoted.

   Climbing up the fire escape to another level, more lanterns were examined. Each selection was rejected as not worthy of a sale ("That one is from Korea"). Unlike Western salesmen, this proprietor did not seem eager for business. Back down on the ground, we entered the showroom. A lantern with no price tag beckoned, and the proprietor looked in his price book: It was for sale at a reasonable price! But what about delivery? Generous tomodachi-san offered to drive it to the Manor. The proprietor wrapped the three part toro in burlap and climbed into the trunk of the car to tuck it in carefully. In his office he produced a bill of sale with the official hanko (seal), which was ceremonially handed over to shujin. Out of the shop we rode, victorious, proud owners of a toro that will live out its days in the Berkshire hills of Massachusetts.