Wu Cheng-en - Journey to the West (vol. 3)

“What do you mean by things being pretty difficult?” Monkey asked.

“We will be honest with you, my lord,” the lamas replied. “Although there are only a hundred or so of us lamas in this monastery we all became monks as children:

When our hair grows we have it shaved off;

Our clothes are patched with rags.

We rise in the morning to wash our faces,

Then bow with hands together

In submission to the Great Way.

At night we tidy up, burn incense,

And piously pray,

Chanting the name of Amitabha.

When we look up we see the Buddha

On his ninefold lotus throne

Well-versed in the Three Vehicles,

Riding in his mercy on clouds of dharma,

And we long to see the Sakyamuni in the Jeta park.

Looking down we see into our hearts,

Accept the Five Prohibitions,

Pass through a thousand aeons,

And live each life amid the countless dharmas,

Hoping to understand emptiness and the impermanence of matter.

When the benefactors come,

Old, young, tall, short, fat, thin,

We each beat wooden fish,

Strike bronze chimes,

Slowly and deliberately,

With the two rolls of the Lotus Sutra

And the short Litany of the Emperor of Liang.

When the benefactors do not come,

New, old, strange, familiar, rustic, smart,

We put our hands together,

Eyes shut,

Silent,

Entering meditation on the rush mats,

Firmly closing the gates under the moon.

Let the orioles sing and other birds chirp in idle strife:

They cannot mount our expeditions and compassionate chariot of dharma.

This is why we cannot subdue tigers and dragons,

Or recognize monsters and spirits.

If, my lord, you provoked the evil monster,

To which we hundred and more lamas would be but a single meal,

All of us living creatures would fall to the wheel of rebirth,

This ancient monastery of meditation would be destroyed,

And finally there would be no light at the Tathagata's assembly.

This would cause great troubles.”

When Brother Monkey heard the lamas say this anger surged up from his heart and hatred from his gall. “What a stupid lot you lamas are!” he shouted at the top of his voice. “Are you only aware of those evil spirits? Do you know nothing of what I've done?”

“Really we don't,” the lamas replied in very quiet voices.

“Then I'll tell you briefly about it,” Monkey said.

“I used to subdue tigers and dragons on the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit;

I once went up to Heaven and made great havoc in its palace.

When I was hungry I nibbled just two or three

Of Lord Lao Zi's elixir tablets;

When I was thirsty I sipped six or seven cups

Of the Jade Emperor's own wine.

When I glare with my golden eyes that are neither black nor white,

The sky turns deathly pale

While the moon is hidden in cloud.

When I wield my gold-banded cudgel that's the right length,

It strikes unseen

And leaves no trace behind.

What do I care about big or little monsters,

However rough or vicious they may be?

Once I go for them

They may run away, nimble about, hide or panic.

Whenever I grab one

They'll be filed down, cooked, ground to bits or pulverized in a mortar.

I'm like one of the eight immortals crossing the sea,

Each of whom gives a unique display of his magical powers.

Lamas, I'll catch that evil spirit and show it to you:

Then you'll know what sort of person this Monkey is.”

When the lamas heard this they nodded and said quietly, “From the way this damned baldy is shooting his mouth off and talking big there must be something behind it all.”

They all made polite noises of respectful assent except for the older lama who said, “Wait. Your master is ill, and catching the evil spirit is not as important as that. As the saying goes,

When a young gentleman goes to a feast

He either gets drunk or eats till he's filled.

When a strong warrior goes into battle

He either is wounded or gets himself killed.

If you two fight it out here you may well get your master into trouble too. It's not a sound idea.”

“You're right,” said Monkey, “you're right. I'll take my master a drink of cold water and be right back.” Picking up the begging bowl he filled it with cold water, went out of the monastery kitchen and back to the abbot's lodgings and called, “Master, cold water for you.” Sanzang, who was just then suffering torments of thirst, raised his head, held the bowl with both hands, and took only one sip of the water. It really was a case of

A drop when you're thirsty is just like sweet dew;

Get the right medicine and you'll feel good as new.

Seeing the venerable elder gradually recovering his spirits and looking less worried Monkey asked, “Could you manage some soup and other food, Master?”

“That cold water was a magical cure,” Sanzang replied. “I have already half recovered from my illness. I would like some food if there is any.”

“The master's better,” Monkey shouted repeatedly at the top of his voice. “He wants some soup and other food.” He told the lamas to arrange some at once. They washed and boiled rice, made noodles, cooked pancakes, steamed breadrolls, and prepared vermicelli soup. Four or five tables of food were carried in, but the Tang Priest ate only half a bowl of rice gruel, while Monkey and Friar Sand managed only a tableful between them. Pig gobbled up the rest. The dishes were then taken out, the lamp was lit, and the lamas dispersed.

“How long have we been here now?” Sanzang asked.

“Three whole days,” Monkey replied. “By tomorrow evening it will be four days.”

“We could have covered a lot of distance in three days,” Sanzang replied.

“Never mind about the distance, Master,” said Monkey. “We'll be on our way tomorrow.”

“Yes,” said Sanzang, “even if I am still a little poorly there is nothing that can be done.”

“If we're setting out tomorrow let me catch the evil spirit tonight,” said Monkey.

“What evil spirit?” Sanzang asked in astonishment. “There's an evil spirit in this monastery that I'm going to catch for them,” Monkey replied.

“But how can you be having ideas like that before I have even recovered from my illness?” Sanzang asked. “If that monster has magical powers and you fail to catch it, then it will kill me, won't it?”

“You're always running people down,” Monkey replied. “Wherever we go I subdue evil creatures. Have you ever seen me come off second best? That could only happen if I did nothing. If I act I'm bound to win.”

“Disciple,” said Sanzang, clutching him, “the saying is quite right that goes:

Do people a good turn whenever you can;

If it is possible treat them with mercy.

Worrying cannot compare with true kindness;

Better be patient than strive for supremacy.”

In the face of his master's impassioned pleas and refusal to allow him to subdue the monster, Monkey could only speak frankly.

“I'll be honest with you, Master,” he said. “The evil spirit has been eating people here.”

“Who has it eaten?” Sanzang asked with shock.

“In the three days we've been here it's eaten six of this monastery's young lamas,” Monkey said, to which Sanzang replied:

“Foxes will grieve at the death of the hare;

Creatures will all for their own kind show care.

As it has eaten monks from this monastery and I am a monk too I will let you go, but do be careful.”

“No need to tell me,” said Monkey, “I'll wipe it out the moment I get my hands on it.”

Watch him as he tells Pig and Friar Sand in the lamplight to guard the master. When he leapt happily out of the abbot's lodgings and went back to the Buddha Hall he looked and saw that though there were stars in the sky the moon had not yet risen and it was dark inside the hall. He breathed out some of his magic fire to light the glazed lamp then beat the drum that stood to the East and struck the bell to the West. That done, he shook himself and turned himself into a young lama of only eleven or twelve who was wearing a yellow silk shirt and a white cotton tunic, striking a wooden fish with his hand as he recited a sutra. He waited till the first watch without seeing anything happen. The waning moon rose only in the second watch. Then a roaring wind could be heard. It was a splendid wind: