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

The king of Tarrycart really was muddle-headed: when he heard advice from the East he inclined to the East, and when he was advised from the West he inclined to the West. “What sort of competition with them do you propose, Teachers of the Nation?” he asked.

“We would like to compete with them in sitting in meditation,” said the Great Immortal Tiger Power.

“The Teacher of the Nation must have made a mistake,” the king replied. “That monk comes from a sect that practices dhyana meditation. He must have mastered the art of meditation before his emperor sent him to fetch scriptures. Why would you want to compete with him at that?”

“The way we sit in meditation,” the Great Immortal replied, “is not the ordinary way. It has a special name: 'revealing one's holiness on a cloud ladder'”

“What does that mean?” the king asked.

“A hundred tables are needed,” said the Great Immortal. “Fifty of them are piled one on top of each other to make the meditation platform. Once must mount it not by using one's hands or a ladder, but by riding a cloud to take one's seat on it and sit motionless for the agreed number of hours.”

Realizing that this was rather difficult he asked this question: “Monks, the Teacher of the Nation would like to compete with you in a way of sitting in meditation called 'revealing one's holiness on a cloud ladder'. Can any of you do that?” When Monkey heard this he kept silent and did not reply.

“Brother,” asked Pig, “why aren't you saying anything?”

“I'll be honest with you,” Monkey replied. “I can manage all sorts of tricks like kicking the sky into a well, stirring up the sea, turning rivers upside down, lifting mountains, chasing the moon away, and moving stars and constellations around. I'm not afraid of having my head chopped off, my brains sliced up, my entrails laid open, my heart cut out and being shifted about in other ways like that. But when it comes to sitting in meditation I'm beaten. I'm not a sitter by nature. Even if you chained me to an iron column I'd want to wriggle up and down. I'd never want to sit still.”

Then Sanzang cut in with, “I can sit in meditation.”

“That's splendid,” said Monkey with delight, “splendid. But how long can you do it for?”

“When I was young,” Sanzang replied, “a monk of the Chan sect who came to my monastery taught the way of fastening one's being to the root, settling the nature, and fixing the spirit while on the boundary of life and death. I can sit for two or three years.”

“If you're going to sit there for two or three years, Master,” said Monkey, “we can give up the idea of going to fetch the scriptures. You won't need to sit there for more than a few hours before coming down.”

“But I can't get up there, disciple,” Sanzang protested.

“Go forward and accept the challenge,” said Monkey. “I'll get you up there.”

The venerable elder put his hands together in front of his chest and said, “This humble monk can sit in meditation.” The king then ordered that the meditation platforms be built. The state had the resources to tear down mountains, and in less than an hour the two meditation platforms had been built, one to each side of the throne hall.

The Great Immortal Tiger Power then went down from the hall, stood in the middle of the steps, sprang into the air and went straight up on a cloud to the Western platform and set down. Monkey plucked out one of his hairs and turned it into a double of himself that stood below with Pig and Friar Sand while he made his real self into a coloured auspicious cloud that lifted the Tang Priest up through the air to take his seat on the Eastern platform.

Then he put the cloud away, turned into the tiniest of insects, flow into Pig's ear, and said, “Brother, keep a very close eye on the master and don't talk to my double.”

“I understand, I understand,” replied the idiot with a grin.

The Great Immortal Deer Power had been sitting on his embroidered cushion for a very long time watching the two of them sitting on their high platforms without either emerging as the winner. He decided to help his elder brother, so he plucked a hair from the back of his head, rolled it into a ball, and flicked it straight at the Tang Priest's head, where it turned into a huge bedbug that started biting the venerable elder. Sanzang first itched and then was in pain. When sitting in meditation movements of the hand are forbidden; if he moved his hand he would lose. The agony was soon unbearable, and he pulled his head down to scratch it against his collar.

“This is bad,” said Monkey. “The master's being driven mad by epilepsy.”

“No,” said Friar Sand, “it's a migraine.”

When Monkey heard this he said, “Our master is sincere and a gentleman. If he says he can sit in meditation he most certainly can. Gentlemen don't lie. You two shut up while I go up there for a look.” The splendid Monkey then flew with a buzz straight up to the Tang Priest's head, where he saw a bedbug the size of a bean biting the master. He immediately picked it off him then scratched and rubbed his head for him, so that the venerable elder did not itch or ache any more and sat up straight again.

“Monks have bald heads,” thought Brother Monkey, “and not even a louse could settle on one, let alone a bedbug. I think it must have been a trick by those Taoists to get the master killed. Hunh! Well, they haven't won yet, despite their cheating. I'll try a trick on them.” Monkey then flew up and landed on the head of one of the ceramic animals on the roof of the palace hall. He shook himself and turned into a poisonous centipede seven inches long that went straight for the Taoist and stung him in the nose. The Taoist could sit still no longer, and tumbling head over heels he fell off the platform and would probably have died had not the senior and junior officials saved him. The horrified king sent the royal tutor to take the Taoist to the Hall of Literary Splendor to comb his hair and clean himself up; meanwhile Monkey went up on his auspicious cloud to carry his victorious master down to before the steps of the throne hall.

The king ordered that Sanzang be allowed to leave the country, but the Great Immortal Deer Power made this submission: “Your Majesty, my elder brother has long suffered from rheumatism. The heavenly wind in that high place brought on a new attack of his illness, which was why the Buddhist monk won. Please keep him here so that I can compete with him at guessing objects through wooden boards?”

“What is guessing objects through wooden boards?” the king asked.

“This humble Taoist has the power of knowing what is on the other side of a board,” Deer Power replied, “and I would like to see whether that Buddhist monk can too. If he is better at guessing than I am, let him go. But if he is not then I hope Your Majesty will decide what crime he is guilty of, avenge us brothers, and not allow our twenty years of protecting the country to be sullied.”

The king was so utterly muddle-headed that he accepted this malicious suggestion and ordered that a red lacquered chest be carried by the eunuchs of the royal household into the harem, where his queen was told to put one of her treasures inside. The chest was carried out and set in front of the steps of the throne hall a few moments later. “Your two faiths must each compete with your magical powers in guessing what treasure is in the chest,” he told the Buddhist and the Taoist.

“Disciple,” asked Sanzang, “how can I tell what is inside?”

Monkey put his cloud away, turned himself back into the smallest of insects, landed on Sanzang's face and said, “Don't worry, master. I'll go and take a look.” The splendid Great Sage flew over to the chest, crawled under its legs, and saw a crack between the boards through which he squeezed inside. Here he saw a red lacquer tray in which was placed a set of court robes: a mountain, river and state jacket and a heaven, earth and land skirt. He picked them up, shook and crumpled them, bit the tip of his tongue, sprayed a mouthful of blood over them, called “Change!” and turned them into a worn-out cloak into which he pissed before crawling out through the crack between the boards. He then flew back to the Tang Priest's ear and said, “Master, say that it's a worn-out cloak.”