Xuan Zang (大唐玄奘)

Hello, ma'am. I study archaeology.

I'm looking for a book

by Alexander Cunningham.

Alright. Wait a moment.

Okay.

This is Cunningham's journal.

Have a look. Will this work for you?

Let me see.

- Sure, ma'am. - Thank you.

There was a period in my life when

every night before I slept.

I read a Very old Chinese book

from the Tang Dynasty.

The book was called A Journey To The West.

It was written by a monk named Xuanzang.

And in his book, he described statues and temples all

surrounding a Very, Very important tree.

The tree, in fact, under which

enlightenment was granted to Prince Siddhartha,the Buddha.

We found these ancient ruins.

The Mahabodhi Temple.

The Nalanda.

And in this digging,

we followed the path laid out by Xuanzang.

It was an exciting time.

And everywhere we went.

Xuanzang's descriptions and our discoveries

matched perfectly.

I've been in India five years already.

Mother said, in the year of the flood,

she put me in a wooden basket that floated downstream.

She feared she'd never see me again.

Who'd have thought I floated into a temple

and an old monk saved me.

I've been a monk since childhood.

People say my brother took me there.

But I prefer to believe my mother.

I was fated to be a monk.

The night I left Chang'an

seems Very long ago.

By Imperial Decree,

We, in sympathy with the people and their plight,

issue a special order

that they may leave

and go to wherever, there is abundance

to survive the famine.

So be it.

The emperor

forbids travel to the West.

Therefore the other acolytes

won't travel with you to India.

Abbot. I've made up my mind.

You've mastered the Tripitaka.

I see no need for you to go ahead.

Although I am in Chang'an,

my heart is already on the road.

Natural disasters

left the land barren.

Years of drought led to mass famine.

Now, frost and locusts

forced people to flee their homes.

Buddhists could only pray.

But Buddhist texts came to China

in many different translations.

People argued points of faith.

Hearing the Sanskrit sutras,

I wanted to go to India

to find the true original texts.

Walking by day, resting by night,

I lived on dew and wind.

The further from Chang'an,

the more desolate the landscape.

This city is called Liangzhou.

It Wasn't just 'hang' - desolate,

but had an air of Violence,

abandonment and desperation.

Catch the spies!

Where did he come from?

Take him in for questioning.

Name.

The humble monk Xuanzang.

A monk poking his nose into trouble.

That's how you see it.

I see it as practicing my faith.

Why are you in Liangzhou?

I'm passing through on my way to Sidhu.

You want to practice your faith, I won't stop you.

But pass through Liangzhou on your way to Sidhu?

I have to ask

do you have permission?

No.

No?

How'd you leave Chang'an?

With the refugees.

An illegal border crossing.

You put yourself at risk

and dragged me into it too.

Your trip ends in Liangzhou.

Forget going further west.

Ten years of study and not one true text.

I need to collect the scriptures for the sake of the faith.

Don't you know the law?

His Majesty sent me, Li Daliang

to the western regions

to strengthen the borders.

Try to cross and it's a year in jail.

Succeed and you get worse.

I want Buddhism to endure, that's all.

Your devotion moves me. I won't punish you.

But today go back to Chang'an.

I'm ordering all officials

from here to the West

to arrest you on sight.

Your luck runs out here.

What's up?

Mahayana-samgraha-sastra

Volume One

Translation by Paramartha.

I've been thwarted, but I won't give up.

I'll teach here in Liangzhou

until they've forgotten my quest.

Then the Venerable Hui Wei will help me get away.

Master

Why do you wear a patchwork robe?

Buddha, meditating on the mountain,

saw the fields below

square, neat, clearly marked.

It gladdened his heart.

He had his disciples find scraps of cloth,

wash them clean

and sew them together

to resemble the fields.

It's Called a lucky-field robe.

A monk wears the robe

as the hill wears its fields,

sowing seeds of fortune with faith.

When a monk lectures

in a lucky-field robe

good fortune spreads outwards and protects the living.

"Your blue robe, ever in my mind..."

Smells nice.

Venerable

my name is Li Chang.

Bless you.

M'1ord.

Y mite not him, amen“: you'?

Tell me the truth.

That way, I can help you out.

My name is Xuanzang and yes, I am that man.

Please help me out.

Since you admit it, I ought to arrest you

and return you to Liangzhou.

Yet seeing you

eating thin gruel out in the cold.

I saw how hard it is for a monk.

Hard, yes, but it's my destiny and I am happy with it.

Why's that?

I think only of Buddha

and of the texts I'll find in Sidhu.

I fear you won't make it.

Say I let you pass by Guazhou.

You'll never get through Yumen Pass.

And the other road

winds around five Watchtowers

Three hundred miles apart, no water anywhere.

Generals guard all water sources. It would defeat a god.

Say you make it past the five.

Behind lies the Vast Gobi Desert,

just hot Winds and desolation.

Most camel trains don't make it out alive.

On your own without even a horse

all the way to Sidhu - forget it.

My advice return east to Chang'an.

Sir,

I've come this far. I won't turn back.

Should I die on the way, it will be Without regret.

I got past Guazhou,

grateful to Li Chang, who took risks to help me.

Although he tore up the Warrant

Liangzhou had sent them to every western guard post.

From now on

at no pass could I let down my guard.

Otherwise, I'd fail in my quest.

From ancient times,

monks have traveled with merchant caravans.

I was grateful to them

for taking me time and again.

How'd you get those out?

At the frontier

they were still just eggs.

They didn't find them.

The mulberry leaves should last to Cuiye.

By then, they'll be making cocoons.

Cocoons - that means silk.

Weaving is an important art.

I've thought it through.

Next time I'm in the south, I'll marry a Weaving girl to take home.

I'll treat her really well.

And We'll make silk.

With silk, I don't have to work so hard