“All you have to do to put the flames out forever,” said Raksasi, “is wave the fan forty-nine times. Then they'll never burn again.”
Now that Brother Monkey knew this he took the fan and fanned the mountains with it forty-nine times as hard as he possibly could, whereupon heavy rain began to pour down. The fan really was a treasure: where there were flames it rained, and where there were not the sky was clear. By standing where there no flames master and disciples avoided getting wet. After spending the night sitting there they got the horse and luggage ready the next morning and returned the fan to Raksasi.
“If I don't give it back to you,” Monkey said, “people might say I don't keep my word. Take the fan with you, go back to your mountain and don't make any more trouble. As you've achieved human form I'll spare your life.” Taking the fan from him Raksasi said the words of the spell, pinched the thread so that it shrank back to the size of an apricot leaf and put it in her mouth. She then thanked them all and prepared to cultivate her conduct as a hermit. Later she too achieved the true reward and her name was made eternally famous through the scriptures. Raksasi and the local god expressed their deep gratitude to the four sages and escorted them along their way. As Monkey, Pig and Friar Sand escorted Sanzang along his way their bodies felt cool and the ground under their feet was pleasantly damp. This was indeed a case of
With the help of trigrams Kan and Li the primal is compounded;
When fire and water are balanced the Great Way is completed.
If you don't know how many years it was till they returned to the East, listen to the explanation in the next installment.
Chapter 62
Cleansed and with a Washed Heart He Sweeps the Pagoda
The Devils Are Captured and Converted; the Body Is Cultivated
Through all the hours it must never be forgotten:
When success is won all time will be put away.
For five years and sixty thousand miles
Do not let the holy water dry up,
Do not allow the fire to flag.
When water and fire are in balance no harm will arise;
The Five Elements are joined as if with hooks.
Ying and Yang in harmony climb the cloud tower,
Riding the phoenix to the purple palace,
And flying on the crane to magical Yingzhou.
This lyric is set to the tune Lin jiang xian. It tells how Tang Sanzang and his disciples with the help of water and fire cooled their natures and borrowed the fan that was pure Yin to blow out the flames on the distant mountains. It took them many days to cover the 250 miles as they made their way West feeling relaxed and free of care. It was now the time when late autumn was becoming early winter, and this is what they saw:
The petals of wild chrysanthemums wilting,
The tender new blossom of the plum.
In all the villages crops are gathered in;
Delicious broth is everywhere enjoyed.
As the trees are stripped of leaves distant forests can be seen;
Ravines are thickly frosted and the quiet valleys pure.
In response to the cold season
The silkworms are put away to hibernate.
In pure Yin and Yang
The moon rules over the primal ocean;
Where water is at the full
Shun's sun shines with merciful brightness.
Earth vapors sink,
Sky vapors rise.
The rainbow is no more to be seen,
While slowly ice forms over the pond.
Flowers fall from the creepers on the cliff,
While bamboo and pine show still greener in the cold.
When the four of them had traveled a lot further they approached a walled and moated city. Reining in the horse the Tang Priest spoke to his disciples: “Wukong, what sort of place is that with all those tall and magnificent buildings?” Monkey looked and saw that the city was like this:
A wall of bronze, shaped like a dragon,
And in the form of a crouching tiger,
From all directions fine carriages approach
And many a wheel has smoothed the roads to it.
Amazing beasts are carved on the balustrades of marble;
Statues of great men stand on pedestals of gold.
This is indeed a blessed capital,
A true metropolis.
Its vast domains are firmly held;
The dynasty has flourished for a thousand years.
To the monarch's goodness the barbarians submit;
Here is the holy gathering from islands and from sea.
Before the palace steps is purity;
Peace reigns on the highways.
The bars are full of noise and song;
Bliss is found in the houses of pleasure.
Outside the palace grow trees of eternal spring
Where phoenixes sing their greetings to the dawn.
“Master,” said Monkey, “that city is a royal capital.”
“The world is full of prefectural cities and county seats,” laughed Pig. “What makes you so sure that this is a royal capital?”
“You don't seem to realize that royal capitals are different from prefectural cities and county towns,” Monkey replied. “Just look. It's got over ten gates and the wall must measure twenty or thirty miles around. Those towers are so high they disappear into the clouds. How could anything except a royal capital be as grand as that?”
“You're right, brother,” said Friar Sand, “it is a royal city. But what's it called?”
“How can I tell?” Monkey replied. “There aren't any signs or banners. We'll have to go into it and ask.”
The venerable elder whipped on his horse and was soon at a gate, where he dismounted to cross the bridge and go in to look. They saw the six main streets and the three markets, where commerce was flourishing, as well as the imposing clothes of the noble and great. Then as they were walking along they saw a dozen or so Buddhist monks in chains and cangues, heavy boards locked round their necks, begging from door to door. They were dressed in rags.
“The fox mourns for the death of the hare,” sighed Sanzang. “All things are sorry for their own kind. Go and ask them, Wukong, why they are being punished like that.”
Doing as he had been told, Monkey asked, “What monastery are you from, monks? Why are you in cangues and chains?”
“My lord,” said the monks, all falling to their knees, “we are from the Golden Light Monastery and we have been wronged.”
“Where is the Golden Light Monastery?” Monkey asked.
“Just round the corner,” they replied.
Monkey led them to the Tang Priest and asked them, “How have you been wronged? Tell me.”
“We don't know where you're from, but you look a little familiar to us, my lords,” the monks replied. “We don't dare talk here. Please come to our poor monastery where we can tell you our woes.”
“Very well,” said the venerable elder, “we shall go to their monastery and ask them all the details.” They went with them to the monastery gate, over which was a board on which was written in letters of gold
NATION-PROTECTING GOLDEN LIGHT MONASTERY
FOUNDED BY ROYAL COMMAND
When master and disciples went inside to look around this is what they saw:
Cold were the lamps in the ancient hall;
Wind blew the leaves along deserted cloisters.
A thousand-foot pagoda touched the clouds;
Pine trees grew to nourish the nature.
Fallen blooms carpeted the unvisited grounds;
Spiders span cobwebs all over the eaves.
The drum-stand was empty,
The bell hung in vain,
And the frescoes could barely be seen through the dust.
Still was the pulpit where no priest could be seen,
Silent the dhyana hall except for the birds.
The desolation made one long to sigh;
Its dreariness caused great pain.
Although an incense burner stood before the Buddha