There is a Buddhist philosophy that if a man loves his wife, he should steal something from her. That way, she will have to find him in the afterlife to get it back.

Death of a Chatterbox, a rakugo performed by Halit Mizirakli, takes us on a slightly different postmortem journey. Following a man and his companions on a boat crossing a river, the story draws on Buddhist ideas of the afterlife and who we might meet there – as well as the consequences of our actions.

Rakugo is a traditional Japanese form of storytelling in which one performer sits before an audience and portrays every character. Told almost entirely through dialogue, it leaves descriptions of setting and character to the audience’s imagination. During an in-conversation event with Professor Sender Dovchin, Halit Mizirakli described performing rakugo as a “kind of embodied process”. Its reliance on oral tradition resonates with Dovchin’s Mongolian heritage, as well as with the storytelling practices of First Nations peoples in Australia.

Dovchin is an applied linguist at Curtin University who is originally from Mongolia and has spent time in Japan. Mizirakli was born in Turkey and moved to Japan for his PhD, where he discovered rakugo. He has been performing the art form for 20 years and, through Curtin University, is currently working with the Wirlomin Noongar community in south-west Western Australia to research how they preserve Indigenous knowledge.

Mizirakli began with a history lesson on the word arigato, Japanese for thank you. He explained that arigato comes from the older Japanese word arigatai, which translates as “hard to exist”: ari means “to be” and gatai means “difficult” or “hard”. To say thank you in Japanese, he suggested, is to acknowledge the effort it takes each of us to arrive where we are in life, and that taking the time to assist someone carries great meaning.

The rakugo Mizirakli performed as his stage persona, Warattei Harito, was Death of a Chatterbox, based on a traditional Japanese tale and adapted for an Australian audience. Drawing on Buddhist philosophy and his experiences growing up in Turkey and Japan, Mizirakli brought more than 10 distinct characters to life through voice and gesture after stepping aside and allowing Harito to take over.

To enter the performance mindset, Harito knelt on a cushion atop a table, dressed in a traditional Japanese kimono, with a few props by his side. The central question – “Where do we go when we die?” – was repeated at the close of the performance. Mizirakli said he felt he had spent his whole life crossing rivers and becoming curious about what might lie on the other side.

The story reflects this idea through Steve, who chokes on a fish bone, dies and finds himself on a boat bound for the afterlife. Once aboard, Steve, the proverbial chatterbox, talks incessantly to his fellow passengers: two thieves who suddenly regret their crime because it means they must now listen to him; a young Indigenous boy whom Steve takes under his wing; and the boat’s captain. Steve regales them with stories from his life, recalling his mother’s warning that “whatever troubles come your way, it’ll be because of that big mouth of yours”, and laughing that he died trying to talk while eating. He eventually jumps overboard to rescue another passenger and swims alongside the boat, only to be left behind as it speeds away.

The story returns to the mortal world, where Steve’s son, Jack, sees his father’s body talking and wonders whether he might not be dead after all – leaving the answer to the audience.

This was my first experience of rakugo, and it brought to mind fond memories of primary school, sitting on the mat as the teacher read a picture book on hot summer afternoons. Aircon on full blast, red faces, hair stuck to the back of our necks. Mizirakli captured so many different characters with ease, making the audience laugh effortlessly. It was a joy, entertaining and yet thought-provoking.