nzang.

As he walked further Sanzang saw written over the gate in large letters SEA-GUARDING MONASTERY OF MEDITATION. Only then did he stride in through the gates, where a monk appeared coming towards him. Just see what the monk looked like:

His hat of velvet and brocade was held with a pin,

And a pair of bronze rings hung from his ears.

His tunic was made of woolen stuff,

And his eyes were white and bright as silver.

He held in his hand a self-beating drum

As he recited scriptures in an unknown tongue.

Sanzang did not know before

That he was a lama on the road to the West.

As the lama came out he saw how very handsome and elegant Sanzang was: clear-browed and fine-eyed with a broad forehead and level top to his skull, ears hanging to his shoulders and arms so long they came below his knees. He looked like an arhat come down to earth. The lama, his face wreathed in smiles, went up to Sanzang chuckling with delight to grab hold of him, feel his hands and feet, rub his nose and tug at his ears as ways of showing his friendliness.

After leading Sanzang into the abbot’s lodgings and going through the rituals of greeting the lama asked him, “Where have you come from, venerable Father?”

“I have been sent by His Majesty the Emperor of Great Tang in the East to worship the Buddha and fetch the scriptures from Thunder Monastery in India in the West,” Sanzang replied. “As we were passing this way when it was becoming dark I have come to your distinguished monastery to put up here for the night before leaving early tomorrow morning. I beg you to grant me this expeditious help.”

“You shouldn’t say that,” replied the lama with a smile, “you shouldn’t say that. We didn’t really want to become monks. We were all given life by our mothers and fathers and only cut our ties with them because we had unlucky destinies and our families could not afford to keep us. Even though we are now disciples of the Buddhist faith you must not talk empty words.”

“I spoke in all sincerity,” Sanzang replied.

“However far is the journey from the East to the Western Heaven?” the monk said. “Along the way there are mountains, there are caves in the mountains and there are spirits in the caves. I don’t think that a lone traveler looking as delicate as you could possibly be a pilgrim going to fetch the scriptures.”

“You are quite right, abbot,” Sanzang replied. “I could never have got here alone. I have three disciples who clear my way across the mountains and build me bridges over rivers. It is only because they have protected me that I have been able to reach your monastery.”

“Where are your three distinguished disciples?” the lama asked.

“Waiting outside the gates of the monastery,” Sanzang replied.

“Father,” said the lama with alarm, “you don’t realize that there are dangerous tigers, wolves, evil bandits, ghosts and demons here. We don’t dare roam far even by day and we shut the gates before nightfall. How can you leave people outside this late?” He then told his disciples to ask them in at once.

Two young lamas hurried outside. At the sight of Monkey they fell over, and then fell over again when they saw Pig. Scrambling to their feet they ran back in as fast as they could and said, “My lord, your luck is out. Your disciples have disappeared. There are only three or four evil monsters standing outside the gates.”

“What do they look like?” Sanzang asked.

“One has a face like a thunder god,” the young lamas replied, “one has a face like a tilt-hammer, and one has a green face and terrible fangs. There is a girl with them too—she has oiled hair and a powdered face.”

“You would not know who they are,” replied Sanzang with a smile. “The three ugly ones are my disciples and the girl is someone I rescued in the pine forest.”

“My lord,” the lama said, “how can a master as handsome as you have found yourself such ugly disciples?”

“Ugly they may be,” Sanzang replied, “but they are all useful. Ask them in straight away. If you take any longer the one who looks like a thunder god is a bit of a trouble-maker. He was not born to a mother and father and he will fight his way in.”

The young lamas then hurried outside again and fell to their knees, shivering and shaking, as they said, “My lords, Lord Tang invites you in.”

“Brother,” said Pig, “if he’s invited us, that’s that. Why are they shivering and shaking?”

“They’re scared because we’re so ugly,” Monkey replied.

“Rubbish,” said Pig. “We were born that way. None of us is ugly from choice.”

“Make yourself look a bit less ugly,” said Monkey, and the idiot really did tuck his snout into his tunic and keep his head down as he led the horse while Friar Sand carried the pole and Brother Monkey brought up the rear, holding his cudgel in his hand and dragging the girl along. They went past the ruined buildings and cloisters and in through the third part of gates. When they had tethered the horse they went into the abbot’s lodgings to meet the lama and take their seats in order of precedence. The lama then went inside to lead seventy or eighty young lamas to greet them, tidy their rooms, give them a vegetarian meal and look after them. Indeed:

In storing up achievement be mindful of mercy;

When the Buddha’s Dharma flourishes monks admire each other.

If you do not know how they left the monastery, listen to the explanation in the next installment.