The Song of King Gesar, page 33
King Gesar summoned a torch, one comprised of three true fires – air, stone and wood – which would sever all the human entanglements of a lifetime. ‘Send someone born in the year of the tiger to light the pyre.’
Danma took the torch from the king, who instructed him to open the gate of fire from the east side. At this, Khrothung’s soul flew down to put out the fire, and a swirl of cold air blew over everyone nearby. But the true fires continued to burn brightly, and Khrothung called his soul back into his body. Once there, it was bound so tightly by the rigid, cold flesh that when he tried to shout for Danma to stop, and to beg the king’s forgiveness, he could not open his frozen mouth. He tried to open his eyes, but the heavy lids had stiffened. Then the fire gate opened and a jubilant flame rose up the soaring pyre. A column of thick smoke slanted up into the sky and, with a loud crack, the pyre collapsed. Those present thought they heard a startled scream, though they saw nothing but white-hot flames.
Gesar sat motionless, his eyes closed and his palms together as he recited a sutra for the body burning in the pyre. He heard Khrothung’s soul circle him, chirping like a bird. He felt it land on his shoulder, and heard it speak in a human voice: ‘Drogod Tenzin.’
‘I know. My celestial mother told me last night in a dream, but I wanted Uncle to say it himself. Khrothung, your remorse at the moment of death has delivered your soul to the Pure Land in the west.’
Khrothung’s soul circled above the ashes, watching people collect pieces of bone in a pottery urn. They gave blessings as the urn was sealed. Then Khrothung’s son, Dongtsan, took the urn, with some of his people, to the mountain where Tagrong’s soul bird resided.
The Storyteller
In Minyag
Jigmed came to a small school, which had only one teacher. The students were not at their teacher’s side. Puddles surrounded by green algae dotted the tiny sports field. The teacher, a wide-brimmed hat on his head, sat on the steps reading a book. This was holiday time for mountain schools – they had been given two extra weeks to help at home. Farmers’ children cleared weeds from the fields; shepherds’ children helped to take the flocks to their summer pastures in the mountains.
When he heard Jigmed’s footsteps, the teacher removed his hat, and offered him tea.
Jigmed asked what the teacher was reading. He replied that it was a book about the countries of the world, at least two hundred. ‘Grungkan, the number of real countries is far greater than those in your stories.’
Jigmed’s response touched the teacher’s heart: ‘Though you know a great deal about the world, who knows about you and this small place?’
The teacher put his hat back on, covering his eyes, and Jigmed changed the subject. ‘I’m looking for a place called Minyag.’
‘A place of legend.’ The teacher took Jigmed into the classroom and, with the pointer he used to help students recognise written characters, showed Jigmed a map. ‘These are real places, and Minyag is not among them.’
Jigmed left the school and walked to the village below, where a family was building a new house. The masons were making a stone wall, while the owner had set up a wok beneath a walnut tree. He asked Jigmed to stay for a while. ‘Songs from a grungkan would be a great blessing for our new house.’
The masons stopped working to listen to Jigmed sing. When he had finished, the people blessed each other.
‘I’m looking for Minyag,’ he told them, and was greeted with laughter.
‘Where you have just come from and the places you will pass through when you leave, all of this was ancient Minyag,’ he was told.
‘Really?’
They pressed their faces close to his. ‘Can you see that we look different from you?’
Sure enough, they all had a pointed, slightly crooked nose, and brown eyes.
‘And don’t we sound different?’
So these were the remains of ancient Minyag, where broad valleys had been opened up and where wheat and barley grew on the land between the forest and the water. Symbols of luck were drawn in chalk on the gabled walls of stone buildings. Walnut and apple trees surrounded the villages, and clumps of burdock grew at the edge of the barley threshing ground. The wind blew long strands of cloud over the open valleys.
That evening he sang for the people at the threshing ground and spent the night with the masons in their tent. ‘Minyag, Minyag,’ he mumbled, as he fell asleep. The place seemed peaceful, devoid of any trace of magic. That night he had another dream.
The man came to his dream again. He sat down in Jigmed’s head with his legs crossed but, unlike previous times, he was quiet.
‘King?’ Jigmed asked gently.
‘Yes,’ Gesar replied, in a low voice. ‘Today I despatched Khrothung.’
Jigmed let out a soft, startled cry.
‘I came to the human world to kill evil spirits and demons, but now I have killed a human being.’
Jigmed remained silent.
‘I heard a cry. Why were you startled?’ Gesar asked.
‘You changed the story.’
‘Should not Khrothung have died thus?’
Jigmed held his tongue.
‘Or perhaps Heavenly secrets should not be revealed.’ His sarcasm was unmistakable. ‘But his body has turned to ashes and his soul has been directed to the Pure Land. Do you expect him to return to life?’
‘He was feigning death.’
‘I know that. But he refused to admit his mistake and ask for my forgiveness even when his body was placed on the pyre.’
‘But he did! After Danma lit the pyre he crawled out to beg your forgiveness.’
‘He was burned to ashes and his soul landed on my shoulder like a bird.’
‘You have changed the story,’ Jigmed muttered.
‘Day will break soon, so I must leave you. I regret Khrothung’s death. My mission was to kill demons, not to take human lives.’
‘He was not a good person.’ Jigmed felt he should console him.
‘He forced me to kill him.’
Jigmed held his tongue.
‘But I am a deity, and there was no need for me to kill a human.’
‘You are also human, and that is why you are unhappy.’
‘Why do humans make other humans unhappy? Sometimes Brugmo and Meza make me sad. So does the chief minister. Even my human mother.’
A cockerel crowed in the village, and Gesar said, ‘Perhaps Khrothung is not dead. Perhaps it was a dream.’
‘I don’t know. But I beg you to stop coming into my dreams.’ In the dream Jigmed knelt down.
Gesar stood and, shrouded in the dusty early-morning light, said firmly, ‘No matter what you say, the story is different now.’
When he woke, Jigmed ran outside, only to see a mist rising slowly from the river valley to the hills. The king’s words rang in Jigmed’s ear. ‘The story is different now.’
Khrothung had died, and his soul had been led to the Pure Land, but . . . Jigmed tried to remember Khrothung’s original end. Standing in the damp fog, he panicked: he had lost the end of the story. But at last the end played out vividly before his eyes.
He pressed his head against a rock, and felt the coolness course through his body.
The Story
Treasure and Vows
‘Now I am a cruel king,’ Gesar said, to the chief minister, after delivering Khrothung’s soul.
‘You are a fair and just king,’ the chief minister replied.
‘Who was Drogod Tenzin?’
‘An earth god from the land between Gling and Minyag.’
‘Is there nothing you do not know?’
Detecting the sarcasm in the king’s voice, the chief minister said, ‘Is the king referring to the fact that I do not know where Asal Lokhra lives? I really do not know, for I had never heard his name before.’
‘Like Gesar, King of Gling, who had never heard of a country called Minyag, which was right under his nose.’
‘Honourable King, I know you are troubled by Khrothung’s death. Relieve me of my post if you must punish someone.’
Without a word, Gesar went back to his palace, but he sent a message that the chief minister should guard the palace while he took a few men with him to seek out the earth god, Drogod Tenzin.
The chief minister laughed. ‘I am relieved that he overcame his anger so quickly.’
When they reached the red hills on the border, Gesar stamped his feet to summon a local god. Danma asked why he did not kneel before the king, and the local god knitted his snow-white brows and said, ‘I do not know which country I belong to.’ He added, with some pride, ‘A god has no country,’ and told them that he had been on that land for more than a thousand years, long before the border between Gling and Minyag was created.
Growing impatient, Danma tried to force him to kneel before the king, but the old man’s body sank into the ground only to pop up again elsewhere. ‘The king is responsible for the people, the livestock and the crops. But I am responsible for the essence of the land, the veins of metal in the mines, and things invisible to the human eye.’
Gesar had been sunk in gloom since the death of Khrothung, and this god amused him. When Danma raised his bow, Gesar transformed himself into the twin of the greying old god, forcing Danma to lower his bow.
‘So you are not human,’ the god said.
‘He is the king sent by Heaven to rule Gling.’
A rainbow appeared in the sky, and faint music could be heard.
‘So, you came from the home of the gods?’ the god asked.
Gesar smiled, unsheathed his sword and waved it. A thread of silver ran through the hill, a growing mineral vein the earth god had been nurturing.
Now, finally, he was willing to kneel before Gesar.
Gesar, still in the guise of the old earth god, said ‘No. You are kneeling to yourself. Now, tell me where I may find Asal Lokhra, the yaksa.’
‘I cannot . . .’
Gesar raised his hand, and a wind twirled the earth god like a spinning top. He was brought to the edge of the Earth, to the icy void, where there was no beginning and no end. He wept when he was jerked back to the hillside.
‘Tell me.’
‘Cross two red mountains and a black mountain ridge, and you will find Asal’s land. But no one who has searched for him has ever returned. The grass and trees and the water that flows from the mountains are poisonous. On the black ridge stands a lone tree, under a rock that has existed since the day Heaven and Earth were separated. The rock is the centre from which Asal roams. But, please, do not harm him.’
As he spoke, a thunderclap sounded and the yaksa stood before them. His body stretched up into the sky; among his tangled locks was a braid studded with bright gemstones. He was weeping and his great teardrops fell onto the copper red earth, giving off the scent of rusted iron.
‘I will not hurt you,’ said the king.
The yaksa shook his head, and his teardrops flew to the lowlands between the mountains and made pools. ‘King Gesar, you do not know. I have been able to cultivate my magic for hundreds of years without causing trouble in the human world because I rely upon those who know of my whereabouts to keep their vow of silence. Every knot on my gemstone braid is a symbol of a promise to keep my secret. For years, people have kept that secret, as have the birds in the sky, and the King of Minyag. But my braid will loosen now that Drogod Tenzin has opened his mouth.’ The yaksa stumbled down the mountain. ‘My body and strength are simply an accumulation of energy. I do not eat or drink, and I do not harm anyone. Indeed, my presence has prevented evil spirits and demons from causing trouble. Drogod Tenzin, is this not true?’
‘They wish to borrow your treasure. They will take neither your life nor your land,’ the god said.
‘You broke your promise,’ the yaksa roared. ‘Once you told them my secret, my strength began to fail and my body will soon disappear.’ His figure and face were blurring. ‘Gesar, from now on no one will practise magic simply because they enjoy it, and no one will keep a promise.’
He cried when Danma took out the bamboo claw to remove the braid. ‘Foolish man, that is useless now that the vow has been broken.’ His voice and body faded, and the copper mountain became a little darker. The gemstones from his braid fell to the ground, and rolled to the feet of Gesar, who was staring blankly at the void Asal had left. They glittered as they cooled and re-formed. The king’s attendants sprang into action, using grass, horsetails, silk thread, even hair pulled from their heads to string the stones together. Once the treasure was in his hand, the king prepared to leave. The earth god asked them to leave the stones with him so he could bury them in the ground where the mountain peak had first risen up. The stones would grow again to nurture the land, and the mountain would be covered with a dense forest and clear streams.
Danma, who thought that Gesar would regret having eradicated a harmless yaksa, for he had questioned all of his actions following the death of Khrothung, snapped at the old god. ‘Why are you chattering like this? Do you expect a reward?’
‘We should make recompense to Drogod Tenzin,’ Gesar said.
‘If the king plans to bestow a reward, please give it to the land, not to me.’
‘If I do, will the land grow in the way you described?’
The god waved his hands earnestly. ‘My land and I need no reward from you.’
Gesar laughed. ‘My wish is for this land to have forests and clear waters.’ And as he spoke, a flock of birds flew above them, bringing seeds they had collected from all corners of the world. Gesar said to the god, ‘Now a single rainfall will bring trees and grass to your land.’
‘But the flaming mountain has baked the clouds dry.’
‘I will see that the ground receives the rain for which it thirsts.’
Seven days later they were back in the palace. The king ordered the chief minister and Prince Gralha to keep watch over the country, and told Gralha to behave as a king. The chief minister asked him to return quickly, for he feared he might not see the king again. Shanpa Merutse, looking older than ever, was also eager for the king’s return.
Instead of wine, Brugmo and Meza gave the king two sharp arrows with the wish that their husband would return soon.
And so Gesar left Gling, accompanied by Danma, Sheng-ngon and Michung. As they passed the copper mountain, Gesar summoned the god of rain to send water to the barren land.
The Story
The Demon in China
Gesar and his contingent travelled through the dark country of China, where the days were pale and the nights dark grey. The light grew even fainter as they neared the centre of the country. On the last night, they camped in a dense grove of bamboo and the sky was darker and deeper than they had ever known it.
When they pitched their tents, the demon in the palace shuddered, and the bamboo around the campsite turned into poisonous snakes. Gesar melted the musk deer’s heart fat, from the Minyag treasure, over a flame. Its strange scent repelled the snakes. When a miasma rose, he took out the piece of snakeheart sandalwood.
‘Sleep. Tomorrow morning we will enter China’s palace city,’ Gesar said.
‘How will we know when morning comes?’ asked Danma.
‘We will wake when birds begin to search for food and flowers bloom. That will be the morning.’
‘How can flowers bloom where there is no light?’ Sheng-ngon asked.
Gesar was silent.
On the move again, they saw flickers of light by the roadside. Looking closely, they saw that it came from inside the buds of flowers. In the dense darkness, they came to a bridge made of Chinese white jade. The princess appeared to greet them at the middle of the arch, a lantern in her hand, its light shrouded in dark cloth.
‘I have been waiting here for three hundred days,’ she said. ‘I despaired of seeing you.’
‘You know I have come to kill your mother,’ Gesar said.
‘I am the emperor’s daughter.’
Their journey into the city was like a dream, the houses and wells, and the goods in marketplaces dimly outlined. The darker shadows that moved like emptiness were humans; thick black cloths covered their lanterns, too. In the circles of fainter shadow the people conducted their business, gossiped, kissed, read books, breastfed . . . It was almost as though the furtive dark brought them a special pleasure.
The princess took them to the city’s finest inn. There, dark shadows flitted back and forth and hot tea and delicious food were placed before them. Then the princess went to tell the emperor that the King of Gling and his retinue had arrived in China.
‘How dare he come without my permission?’ the emperor snarled.
So Gesar sent Sheng-ngon into the palace as his emissary. Sheng-ngon could hear the emperor’s voice but could see nothing except the golden dragon chair, whence a lethargic voice said, ‘We will meet your king in the square before the palace.’ And so the meeting was arranged for the fifteenth day of the fifth month, when two auspicious constellations, the Ghost Mansion and the Tree Star, would be aligned.
To mark the day, the emperor allowed a crack to open in the sky to let a little light in so that the people could witness the occasion, and he ordered nine more layers of heavy black curtains hung around the room where the demon’s body lay.
And so Gesar met the Chinese emperor in the palace square.
When a ray of natural light shone through the clouds and lit the square, there were thunderous cheers from the crowds.
‘My people have such love for me that I cannot often leave the palace. I do not want them to cheer,’ the emperor said.
‘Perhaps they applaud the change in the weather.’
‘My people are happy to allow me to order the weather. It saves them the trouble of doing so.’
