Wu Cheng-en - Journey to the West (vol. 1)

This brought the blindness back on Sanzang, who believed these trouble-making remarks and made the magic with his hand as he recited the spell. “My head's aching, my head's aching,” Monkey said. “Stop, please stop. Tell me off if you like.”

“I've nothing to say to you,” replied Sanzang. “A man of religion should always help others, and his thoughts should always be virtuous. When sweeping the floor you must be careful not to kill any ants, and to spare the moth you should put gauze round your lamp. Why do you keep murdering people? If you are going to kill innocent people like that there is no point in your going to fetch the scriptures. Go back!”

“Where am I to go back to?” Monkey asked.

“I won't have you as my disciple any longer,” said Sanzang.

“If you won't have me as your disciple,” Monkey said, “I'm afraid you may never reach the Western Heaven.”

“My destiny is in Heaven's hands,” replied Sanzang. “If some evil spirit is fated to cook me, he will; and there's no way of getting out of it. But if I'm not to be eaten, will you be able to extend my life? Be off with you at once.”

“I'll go if I must,” said Monkey, “but I'll never have repaid your kindness to me.”

“What kindness have I ever done you?” Sanzang asked.

Monkey knelt down and kowtowed. “When I wrecked the Heavenly Palace,” he said, “I put myself in a very dangerous position, and the Buddha crashed me under the Double Boundary Mountain. Luckily the Bodhisattva Guanyin administered the vows to me, and you, master, released me, so if I don't go with you to the Western Heaven I'll look like a 'scoundrel who doesn't return a kindness, with a name that will be cursed for ever.'”

As Sanzang was a compassionate and holy monk this desperate plea from Monkey persuaded him to relent. “In view of what you say I'll let you off this time, but don't behave so disgracefully again. If you are ever as wicked as that again I shall recite that spell twenty times over.”

“Make it thirty if you like,” replied Monkey. “I shan't hit anyone else.” With that he helped Sanzang mount the horse and offered him some of the peaches he had picked. After eating a few the Tang Priest felt less hungry for the time being.

The evil spirit rose up into the air when it had saved itself from being killed by Monkey's cudgel. Gnashing its teeth in the clouds, it thought of Monkey with silent hatred: “Now I know that those magical powers of his that I've been hearing about for years are real. The Tang Priest didn't realize who I was and would have eaten the food. If he'd so much as leant forward to smell it I could have seized him, and he would have been mine. But that Monkey turned up, wrecked my plan, and almost killed me with his club. If I spare that monk now I'll have gone to all that trouble for nothing, so I'll have another go at tricking him.”

The splendid evil spirit landed its negative cloud, shook itself, and changed into an old woman in her eighties who was weeping as she hobbled along leaning on a bamboo stick with a crooked handle.

“This is terrible, master,” exclaimed Pig with horror at the sight of her. “Her mother's come to look for her.”

“For whom?” asked the Tang Priest.

“It must be her daughter that my elder brother killed,” said Pig. “This must be the girl's mother looking for her.”

“Don't talk nonsense,” said Monkey. “That girl was eighteen and this old woman is eighty. How could she possibly have had a child when she was over sixty? She must be a fake. Let me go and take a look.” The splendid Monkey hurried over to examine her and saw that the monster had

Turned into an old woman

With temples as white as frozen snow.

Slowly she stumbled along the road,

Making her way in fear and trembling.

Her body was weak and emaciated,

Her face like a withered leaf of cabbage.

Her cheekbone was twisted upwards,

While the ends of her lips went down.

How can old age compare with youth?

Her face was as creased as a pleated bag.

Realizing that she was an evil spirit, Monkey did not wait to argue about it, but raised his cudgel and struck at her head. Seeing the blow coining, the spirit braced itself again and extracted its true essence once more. The false corpse sprawled dead beside the path. Sanzang was so horrified that he fell off the horse and lay beside the path, reciting the Band-tightening Spell twenty times over. Poor Monkey's head was squeezed so hard that it looked like a narrow-waisted gourd. The pain was unbearable, and he rolled over towards his master to plead, “Stop, master. Say whatever you like.”

“I have nothing to say,” Sanzang replied. “If a monk does good he will not fall into hell. Despite all my preaching you still commit murder. How can you? No sooner have you killed one person than you kill another. It's an outrage.”

“She was an evil spirit,” Monkey replied.

“Nonsense, you ape,” said the Tang Priest, “as if there could be so many monsters! You haven't the least intention of reforming, and you are a deliberate murderer. Be off with you.”

“Are you sending me away again, master?” Monkey asked. “I'll go if I must, but there's one thing I won't agree to.”

“What,” Sanzang asked, “would that be?”

“Master,” Pig put in, “he wants the baggage divided between you and him. He's been a monk with you for several years, and hasn't succeeded in winning a good reward. You can't let him go away empty-handed. Better give him a worn-out tunic and a tattered hat from the bundle.”

This made Monkey jump with fury. “I'll get you, you long-snouted moron,” he said. “I've been a true Buddhist with no trace of covetousness or greed. I certainly don't want a share of the baggage.”

“If you're neither covetous nor greedy,” said Sanzang, “why won't you go away?”

“To be quite honest with you, master,” he replied, “when I lived in the Water Curtain Cave on the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit and knew all the great heroes, I won the submission of seventy-two other demon kings and had forty-seven thousand minor demons under me. I used to wear a crown of purple gold and a yellow robe with a belt of the finest jade. I had cloud-treading shoes on my feet and held an As-You-Will gold-banded cudgel in my hands. I really was somebody then. But when I attained enlightenment and repented, I shaved my head and took to the Buddhist faith as your disciple. I couldn't face my old friends if I went back with this golden band round my head. So if you don't want me any longer, master, please say the Band-loosening Spell and I'll take it off and give it back to you. I'll gladly agree to you putting it round someone else's head. As I've been your disciple for so long, surely you can show me this kindness.” Sanzang was deeply shocked.

“Monkey,” he said, “the Bodhisattva secretly taught me the Band-tightening Spell, but not a band-loosening one.”

“In that case you'll have to let me come with you,” Monkey replied.

“Get up then,” said Sanzang, feeling that he had no option, “I'll let you off again just this once. But you must never commit another murder.”

“I never will,” said Monkey, “never again.” He helped his master mount the horse and led the way forward.

The evil spirit, who had not been killed the second time Monkey hit it either, was full of admiration as it floated in mid-air. “What a splendid Monkey King,” it thought, “and what sharp eyes. He saw who I was through both my transformations. Those monks are travelling fast, and once they're over the mountain and fifteen miles to the West they'll be out of my territory. And other fiends and monsters who catch them will be laughing till their mouths split, and I'll be heartbroken with sorrow. I'll have to have another go at tricking them.” The excellent evil spirit brought its negative wind down to the mountainside and with one shake turned itself into an old man.