The concept is straightforward: visitors lie inside wooden coffins styled after those used in Japanese funerals. A 30-minute session invites participants to reflect on their thoughts while calming music and visual projections play above them. 

Although intended purely for meditation, the coffins are nearly identical to real ones, including a glass viewing panel normally used in traditional services.

The company insists it is not attempting to shock or sensationalise but to provide an unusual place for contemplation. 

Staff say the environment is carefully controlled and that participants must be in good physical and mental health. Those suffering from claustrophobia are strongly advised to avoid the experience.

There are also practical limitations: customers must be at least 18 years old, under 185 centimetres in height and weigh less than 90 kilograms.

Sessions cost around $13 (2,000 yen) and run four times a day.

While the idea may appear extreme, it fits into a broader Japanese culture of seeking quiet spaces — whether in cafes, hot springs or parks — where people can pause and detach from daily pressures.

Yet, behind these displays of its military muscle, Xi Jinping’s China is waging an equally strategic campaign to dominate through something far less tangible —and also far more innocuous —soft power.

From the viral success of the Labubu blind box dolls to the global reach of video-sharing app TikTok, Chinese-originated cultural exports are reshaping global tastes and narratives, bolstering Beijing’s status as the world’s No. 2 soft power nation, second only to the US.

And while these seemingly harmless tools of power contrast sharply with China’s tormentor image in Asia, in reality, the two work hand in hand, according to Dylan Loh, an associate professor at Nanyang Technological University in Singapore who specialises in Chinese foreign policy.

“China's attempt to cultivate or build an image of a peace-loving, open country sometimes rubs up against the fact that it pursues more assertive actions on the ground,” Loh told Global South World.

“But I stress again that the fact that using soft power doesn't mean that countries give up more blunt tools of foreign policy,” he added. “Using soft power does not preclude using coercive measures.”

Among China’s most successful recent cultural exports are the Labubu dolls, a pop culture phenomenon that sent sales of their creator, Pop Mart, soaring by over 100% in 2024, thanks in part to their growing popularity in Western markets.

Their rise has been fuelled by TikTok, the video app built by Beijing-based ByteDance and now used by more than one billion people, including almost half the population of the United States.

TikTok’s rise is peculiar as the app is banned in China, a country known for blocking popular social media platforms like Facebook, Instagram and X. 

As well, this app’s global dominance has demonstrated how lines between soft power and geopolitics intersect. Recently, the US and China reportedly reached an agreement to transfer TikTok’s U.S. operations to American investors, ending years of speculation that the platform could be used by Beijing to spread propaganda through its algorithm.

The agreement even became one of the most-discussed outcomes of Presidents Xi Jinping and Donald Trump’s meeting at the APEC summit in South Korea in October.

For Loh, the Labubu craze represented a more organic way of harnessing soft power for China — one detached from the ruling Communist Party’s influence, and therefore less prone to Western suspicion. 

“Labubus have underlined the potential of private industry, of society , of apolitical elements of soft power and how it can go global pretty quickly with very little intervention from the state,” he said. 

“In many ways, these are the most authentic kinds of soft power because you see the absence largely of the state,” he added. “It's done almost on a purely commercial basis. People do not think that it is threatening or suspicious.”

With or without Xi’s direction, China is rapidly emerging as a formidable challenger to the Western-dominated cultural landscape. Whether this ascent — like the Labubu dolls and TikTok themselves — will prove a passing fad or a lasting trend remains to be seen.

“It shows that Chinese-created cultural products can have global aesthetic appeal,” Loh said. “It shows that cultural products from the West do not have a complete monopoly or dominance over media , cultural entertainment, or sporting domains.” 

“Whether or not this represents a longer-term shift into the acceptance of Chinese products or Chinese cultural products, we will have to wait and see for a bit longer. 

But this population surge is a double-edged sword that brings with it both opportunities and great challenges.

India’s urban centres, such as Mumbai, are the bedrock of its economic transformation. With over 28,000 people per square kilometre, Mumbai exemplifies the density and dynamism that define India's cities.

According to government forecasts, urban areas are expected to contribute 75% to India’s GDP by 2036 , and urban population figures could swell to 600 million.

This urban explosion presents an immense opportunity for India to fuel manufacturing, digital services, logistics, and construction. According to K.T. Ravindran, an urban planning expert, such growth must be met with targeted investments in infrastructure .

"The focus should move towards food security, water security, energy security, and security from waste management," he told CGTN.

But that transformation is already colliding with real-world pressures.

India's unemployment rate climbed to 5.6% in May 2025, with a notable rise among young people.

Millions migrate to cities in search of work , often fleeing rural distress and climate-induced displacement, only to find themselves stuck in low-wage, low-skill jobs in sectors like e-commerce delivery or informal construction.

"They have to be skills which are required by industries… Otherwise, disparity will remain," warns Madan Sabnavis, Chief Economist at Bank of Baroda.

India’s educational and skilling systems have struggled to keep up with the pace of change. While programmes exist to boost employability, many lack alignment with industry needs.

The result? A growing class of underemployed youth and a missing middle in the labour market.