A Day of Reflection in Nagasaki

 On a quiet morning in Fukuoka, we boarded a Willer Bus bound for Nagasaki — a journey across prefectures and back in time. The ride, a smooth and scenic 2.5 hours, was a gentle introduction to the day ahead. As the cityscapes gave way to misty mountains and glimpses of the sea, we settled into our seats, the hum of the bus blending with a sense of quiet anticipation.

Entry to the A Bomb Site- Nagasaki

Upon arrival in Nagasaki, the city’s peaceful atmosphere masked the weight of its past. 

The Peace Fountain

Our first stop was the Peace Fountain, a serene cascade built to honour those who died begging for water after the atomic blast on August 9, 1945. The sight of water dancing in the sunlight was moving — a visual tribute to those last, desperate cries.

Atomic Bomb HypoCenter

We then walked through the Peace Park, lined with statues and offerings from countries across the world, each a plea for peace. Further ahead, the Atomic Bomb Hypocenter marked the exact spot over which the bomb exploded. A simple black pillar stands there, quietly bearing the unbearable.

The Nagasaki Peace Memorial Statue

Near the site, the earth still holds memories — charred soil, jagged remnants from the destroyed. Towering at the park's centre stood the Peace Memorial Statue, a colossal figure with one hand pointing skyward to warn of the threat of nuclear weapons and the other stretched outward in a gesture of peace. The closed eyes reflect prayer for the victims, while the seated posture symbolises calmness. Designed by sculptor Seibo Kitamura, it is a powerful and contemplative symbol, urging all who see it to reject war and cherish peace.

The Charred Remains at the Site

Shiroyama Prison, fragments of brick, stone, and glass twisted by the unimaginable heat. These are not just ruins, but silent remnants of a moment that scorched itself into history.

When Time Stood Still in Nagasaki

At the heart of our visit was the Nagasaki Atomic Bomb Museum. The exhibits here are haunting and deeply human. A wall clock, stopped forever at 11:02 a.m., marks the moment time was shattered. 

A Replica of the A Bomb that destroyed Nagasaki

Beside it, twisted steel girders, once strong enough to support buildings, are bent like wax. Glass fragments from Urakami Cathedral’s stained windows are displayed — once beautiful art, now deadly splinters that flew like shrapnel. One case held a lunch box, its rice still charred black from the heat, another a melted rosary, fused by fire.

The remains of Urakami Cathedral

Every object was someone’s life, frozen in ruin.

At the rebuilt Urakami Cathedral

Among these remnants, a story reached out to us — that of Kawaguchi Michiko, a ten-year-old girl found barely alive beneath her collapsed home. She kept asking her mother for water, again and again. By the time her mother brought it, Michiko was gone.

As we exited the museum, we realised our water bottle was missing — perhaps left on a bench, or maybe unknowingly offered as our own quiet tribute to those who had perished of thirst. The loss felt symbolic.

The remaining pillar of the Urkami Cathedral

Before leaving, we visited Urakami Cathedral. Once the largest Catholic church in East Asia, it had stood barely 500 meters from the blast. Now lovingly rebuilt, it houses cracked statues, charred saints, and remnants of its old walls — sacred scars preserved with dignity.

Message for Peace outside the Prayer Hall

As we boarded our bus from the Nagasaki Bus Terminal back to Hakata in Fukuoka, silence hung between us. The return journey was the same road, but it felt different. We had come seeking history — we left carrying its weight. We had kept Nagasaki as our last stop on the trip to bid adieu to the darkest hour of history, hoping that mankind would never witness such misfortune again

PS- All pics are mine