COMMENT At the beginning of the week and the year, I hosted someone no less than the current chancellor of Nalanda University himself, George Yeo, who was also the former foreign minister of Singapore.

The modern Nalanda University was built about 10km away from the site of the ancient university in the state of Bihar, in the eastern part of India.

The ancient Nalanda, founded in 5th century AD and continued to be in operation for 800 years until its sacking in 11th century AD, is said to be the oldest university in the world - Al Azhar in Cairo was founded in 972 AD, University of Bologna in 1088 AD and Oxford in 1167 AD.

Buddha and his disciple Sariputra were said to have preached at Nalanda. Monks and learners from all over the world had undertaken perilous journeys along dangerous ancient highways to come here.

As I congratulated Yeo on his chancellorship, appointed July last year to take over from Nobel Laureate Professor Amartya Sen, we inevitably spoke about the Tang Dynasty monk Xuan Zhang, whose travelogue provided one of the best descriptions of ancient Nalanda. The monk spent at least 15 months there, being personally instructed by the abbot-chancellor of the university, the sagely scholar Silabhadra.

Western scholastic haven

Xuan Zhang’s disciple and biographer, Hui Li, described Nalanda - no doubt from listening to his master’s narration - as “the most remarkable for grandeur and height” among the myriad of monasteries and temples in India.

Of its architecture, Nalanda had richly adorned towers, like heavenly pagodas and pointed hilltops built near one another, and their turrets “seem to be lost in the morning mists and the upper rooms tower above the clouds” so that “from the windows one may see how the winds and the clouds are formed and above the soaring roof, one may observe the transitions of the sun and moon”.

But physical grandeur was not the only charm of Nalanda. At the university were 10,000 students who studied not only the great texts of Buddhism but also logic, grammar, medicine and philosophy.

Among these, “a thousand can explain twenty collections of sutras and sastras, five hundred can explain thirty collections and ten [including Xuan Zhang himself] can explain fifty…”. There were a hundred seminars conducted in a day and students busied themselves to hear the expositions of great teachers.

Western spiritual heaven

The story of Xuan Zhang’s travel was later fictionalised, during the Ming Dynasty, into a novel familiar to many of us: Journey to the West . In this version, based loosely on the real travel, Xuan Zhang journeyed from Tang China to India to bring back original Buddhist sutras (scriptures) and he was aided by four magical disciples; a monkey, a pig, a monk and a white steed.

Instead of the earthly Nalanda, this semi-fictional Xuan Zhang and his motley crew headed towards Vulture Peak, an actual hill 20 minute’s drive away from Nalanda, but fictionalised into a mythical abode of the Buddha in the story.

Journey to the West: Charlie Hebdo of its time

Like many things in Malaysia, recently, this well-loved folklore became controversial. In the latest silver screen rendition of the novel, the pig character, known as Zhu Bajie, was removed from its promotional poster.

But the thing is, Journey to the West has always been controversial. The novel was written at a time when Buddhism had taken root in Imperial China for at least 1,400 years, with the emperor and other powerful lords becoming patrons of Buddhist monasteries and monks. It was said that the founder of the Ming Dynasty, Zhu Yuan Zhang himself, was a Buddhist monk before leading a rebellion against the Yuan Dynasty of the Mongols.

Against such background, the writer of Journey to the West wrote how the monkey, Sun Wukong, took up a wager with Sakyamuni Buddha to jump out of the latter’s right palm with a single somersault. Sun Wukong, after leaping what seemed to be light years away from the Buddha’s palm, arrived at what he thought was the five pillar mounts at the end of the universe.

“I’d better just leave a record of some kind, in case I have trouble with Buddha... and he wrote ‘THE GREAT SAGE EQUAL TO HEAVEN REACHED THIS PLACE’. Then to mark his disrespect, he relieved nature at the bottom of the first pillar…”

It turned out the pillars were actually the five fingers of the Buddha. The monkey’s magical leap was barely a skip in the omnipotent palm of the Sakyamuni.

But a monkey urinated on the Buddha? And before that, he flung the sagely founder of Taoism, Lao Zi, head over heels as the latter tried to burn the monkey alive in his furnace.

And the pig. Chinese know in their guts that pigs are not exactly “noble” animals. Hence Zhu Bajie was characterised as lazy, gluttonous and lustful.

As the plot of the novel unfolds, Zhu Bajie time and again demonstrated his carnality towards female fairies, demons and humans, thus guaranteeing him a place as the symbol of lewdness in Chinese culture. And true enough, at the end of the story, when all the protagonists were awarded with “sainthood”, Zhu Bajie was merely made “Cleanser of the Altar” due to his still-base nature.

The fictionalised Xuan Zhang, on the other hand, displayed his ignorance of even his own teachings. While he is portrayed as often reciting the Heart Sutra, especially at impending dangers - “emptiness is form, form is emptiness” - yet, the self-same monk always failed to look beyond superficial forms and often misunderstood his disciple Sun Wukong for attacking demons masquerading as weak humans.

So much so that towards the end of their journey, having reached the foot of the Vulture Peak, when Xuan Zhang said, “Monkey, that’s a fine place”, the Monkey replied in utter sarcasm, “Considering how often you have insisted upon prostrating yourself at the sight of false magicians’ palaces and arc impostors’ lairs, it is strange that when at last you see before you Buddha’s true citadel, you should not even dismount from your house.” There you go, a monk of high attainment being mocked by his imp of a monkey disciple.

As if all the vulgarities against the Chinese religions were not enough, when the pilgrims finally reached Vulture Peak, Ananda and Kasyapa, the right- and left-hand disciples of the Buddha assigned to present the pilgrims with the sutras, demanded “donation” from them!

“Having come here from China you have no doubt brought a few little gifts for us. If you will kindly hand them over, you shall have your scriptures at once.” Only after the pilgrims shouted and threatened to inform the Buddha did the two disciples concede and allow them to fetch the sutras.

But later, Xuan Zhang and his disciples found out that because they had not given Ananda and Kasyapa their “commission” (the exact word used in the book “Monkey”, translated by Arthur Waley), they had given them blank scriptures!

Now, boy, isn’t this a book in which the Buddha, gods and immortals are mocked and lampooned? Journey to the West, if anything was the Charlie Hebdo of its time.

Let history be our mirror

I think the author of the book knew that this work was a Charlie Hebdo, that it was highly offensive. Perhaps that was the reason why the author did not lend his or her name to the work. What the Malaysian film distributor did, isn’t it the same act of self-censorship as done by the original author of the novel 400 years ago?

For all you know, the Buddhists at that time may rage against the book, burn it or worse, demand the author’s head. After all, the novel touched on every raw nerve of Buddhist sensitivity; and not just Buddhists, but Taoists and Confucianists as well. To think that we have not even begun to discuss the political dimension of the novel.

Thus, it seems like we did not just inherit this amazing ancient literature but also the timeless fear of angry self-righteousness, which may any time explode when it senses the slightest impugnment against its belief.

But the truth is, a hundred years later, no one seems to feel angry anymore. The novel was hailed as one of the Four Great Chinese Classic Novels. Before the story was depicted in films and movies, Xuan Zhang’s mythical journey and the monkey’s adventure were reenacted on many an opera stage across China and her history.

A hundred years later, we have learnt to look beyond the superficial mockery into the allegorical and satirical lessons of 'Journey to the West'; from the simple narrative of the basest creatures attaining greatness, to the profound philosophy of Buddhism exemplified by the Heart Sutra.

A hundred years later, we are able to laugh at the comedy of that motley crew, of that fat Zhu Bajie wobbling his way to the West. The novel had become, in the words of the brilliant Chinese scholar-diplomat Hu Shih, “a book of good humour, profound nonsense, good-natured satire and delightful entertainment”.

At this point, what I really want to say is this, when we are confronted with this situation of a missing pig, perhaps it is good to relook at the many-layered lessons accumulated over centuries in the story of the 'Journey to the West'; from the original travelogue of Xuan Zhang, to the Charlie Hebdo-style fictionalisation of the journey and then how its audience received it over these hundred years.

We need to appreciate afresh these lessons, to feel the weight of the characters and their stories lost on us against the comic we have come to love - think about it again, a monkey urinated on the Buddha!

When we have re-learnt the lessons, can we look back at the self-censorship and the self-righteousness 400 years ago and confidently say, “Why were we so sure and so wrong?”.

If no, then we must realise that society today is no different from society centuries past - if we can be offended we must allow others to be offended as well. Let history be our mirror. But if yes, we can look back four centuries and realise that our rage was unfounded, we must then imagine what will be said of us today a hundred years from now and act accordingly. Let history be our mirror.

STEVEN SIM is the MP for Bukit Mertajam. He is a fan of Journey to the West and will certainly go watch it this Chinese New Year.