CUHK Series:Snow in August Read online

  (Young) Shenhui, an apprentice Buddhist monk

  Writer

  Singsong Girl

  Fahai, a Zen master

  Xue Jian, Court Messenger

  Shenhui (c. 684-c. 758)

  Crazy Monk

  Old Woman

  This Master, That Master, One Master, Another Master, Quite Master, Nice Master, Right Master, Wrong Master, Old Master, Big Master, Monks, Discipline Teachers, Novice Monk, Messenger, Soldiers, and Laymen A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I. There are more than 30 characters in total.

  Act I　Scene 1

  In which Huineng Listens to the Sutra on a Rainy Night

  [Enter Huineng in front of the curtain. He sports a short Chinese jacket and a cloth waistband, in which is tucked an axe used for cutting firewood. He has on straw sandals but no stockings. He is holding a carrying pole with iron tips. Sound of wooden clappers.

  Huineng:

  Greetings, members of the audience!

  I am Huineng. My original surname is Lu. I was born in New Prefecture in the twelfth year of the Zhenguan period of the Tang Dynasty. My father came from Fanyang. He was an official, but he offended the court and had his office taken from him. After returning to civilian life, my parents became exiles in Canton, a place far away from civilization. My father died when I was young, and my mother, being a widow with a young son, decided to move the family to Nanhai. So here I am, trying to eke out a living by cutting and selling firewood.

  [The curtain rises. Sound of wooden fish and fast clappers. There is an altar at stage centre, lit by a single lamp. A single incense stick is burning; its smoke forms circles which hover in the air. The nun Boundless Treasure is dressed in a Buddhist kasaya robe, her head wrapped in a piece of plain blue cloth. She is sitting cross-legged on a futon in front of the altar, her head lowered, her back facing the audience. She is chanting the sutra while beating the wooden fish. She is mumbling, so the words are indistinct.

  Huineng approaches. He stands motionlessly beside her and listens to her chanting.

  Boundless:

  (She stops beating the wooden fish but does not turn to look at Huineng.)

  Who is it?

  Huineng:

  It’s me. I’m here to deliver firewood.

  Boundless:

  Just put it in the kitchen.

  Huineng:

  I’ve stacked it there neatly for you already.

  Boundless:

  I am chanting the sutra. Come back early tomorrow morning for your money.

  Huineng:

  I don’t take money from anyone serving Buddha.

  Boundless:

  Amitabha. The grace of Buddha!

  (She beats the wooden fish three times then stops suddenly.)

  Why aren’t you leaving?

  Huineng:

  I want to listen to your chanting.

  Boundless:

  (She stands up and turns to leave.)

  It’s getting late. I have to close the doors now.

  (She looks up, revealing her bright eyes and delicate facial features. She is in her prime and obviously in possession of grace and beauty.)

  Huineng:

  I’ll go and close the doors for you. Just leave them to me.

  Boundless:

  If you want to listen to our chanting, you should come here early. We regularly hold our morning chanting sessions at four o’clock. You can join us if you want to.

  Huineng:

  I have to go up the mountain to cut firewood before the cock crows three times in the morning. I’m afraid I won’t be able to come and listen to your chanting. Our family is very poor, and I have to support my aging mother. I really cannot come in the morning. I hope you will forgive me.

  Boundless:

  We followers of Buddha aim at delivering humanity from their miseries. There is no need to speak of forgiveness.

  Huineng:

  Can I stay by your side and listen to your chanting, if it’s not too much trouble?

  Boundless:

  The temple has rules. I presume you are familiar with them. Even though I’m a nun, I’m still a woman and I should avoid being here with you. If you really wish to become a monk, you should take this copy of the sutra and recite the words of wisdom in it. Then you will have obtained some merit for yourself.

  Huineng:

  I wouldn’t know any words even if they were as big as a rice dipper. My family is poor, and I never went to school. If I had a copy of the sutra in my hand, I wouldn’t be able to understand a single word.

  Boundless:

  (Thinks to herself.)

  What should I do now? I’m a nun, and I should not get caught in any romantic entanglement. That was the reason I decided to seek refuge here at the Mountain Stream Temple! But now…

  Deep autumn, early chill, the raindrops hit the banana leaves. The night is long, and this young woodcutter insists on staying by my side. He refuses to leave the temple. What should I do? Amitabha, what should I do?

  Huineng:

  It’s fine with me. Please keep on chanting. I’ll stay by your side and listen. Just ignore me.

  Boundless:

  If you don’t know any words, how can you understand what I am chanting just by listening? (Beats the wooden fish twice then stops. Thinks to herself.)

  Maybe this guy has an ulterior motive or something wicked on his mind?

  Huineng:

  When we’re thinking we don’t need to write anything down. Especially with the profound wisdom of Buddha nature, how can it be explained by words? Why should literacy be a barrier? Please go on chanting. I’m listening.

  (Boundless Treasure resumes her position, beats the wooden fish and starts to chant rapidly.)

  Huineng:

  You’re chanting too fast.

  (Boundless Treasure turns to look at Huineng and frowns.)

  Huineng:

  The words can’t get into your heart if you chant so fast.

  (Boundless Treasure beats the wooden fish and chants slowly.)

  Huineng:

  Now you’re too slow. You see, the sentences are all cut up and the thoughts broken.

  Boundless:

  Do you want to listen or not?

  Huineng:

  (Takes one step forward and leans to one side, paying full attention.)

  I’m all ears.

  Boundless:

  (Thinks to herself.)

  This guy is a real pain! (Beats the wooden fish continuously.) (Music.)

  Huineng:

  (Thinks to himself and turns to look at the nun.)

  What’s her problem? I thought nuns didn’t have problems.

  Boundless:

  (Thinks to herself.)

  A woodcutter, and he knows not a single word! How can I make him understand?

  (Rubs her hands.)

  Cut, cut, cut, let me cut out his delusions.

  (She lowers her head to untie her blue head cloth and reveals her shaved head. Turning around, she finds herself face to face with Huineng. She starts to sing in a high-pitched voice.)

  Boundless Treasure am I—

  Boundless troubles occupy.

  Huineng:

  (Sings.)

  Hair can be cut and thrown away,

  But it’s not as easy,

  To keep troubles at bay

  Boundless:

  (Sings.)

  From Spring to Autumn,

  Day after day,

  A lonely lamp is my only company

  To keep loneliness away.

  Huineng:

  (Sings.)

  From sunrise to sunset,

  I cut and carry firewood.

  I’ll cut more and more,

  And sell as much for my livelihood.

  Boundless:

  (Sings.)

  Long and endless is the night,

  Who’ll understand my plight?

  Huineng:

  (Sings.)

  Year after year,

  What do I want for myself
?

  Boundless:

  (Sings.)

  Boundless Treasures am I,

  Boundless troubles occupy…

  Huineng:

  (Sings.)

  I don’t understand why…

  Boundless:

  (Sings.)

  The night rain hits the banana leaves,

  The wind and the rain,

  When will they ever end?

  Huineng:

  (Sings.)

  The thoughts keep coming,

  Now and then,

  Then and now.

  They can’t be cut,

  They can’t be blocked.

  Boundless:

  (Sings.)

  Endless regrets,

  Boundless remorse;

  Endless and boundless sorrow.

  Huineng:

  (Sings.)

  Is it true,

  Troubles lead to Bodhi?

  And Nirvana is the other shore?

  [The stage turns dark. Huineng steps forward as the curtain comes down behind him. One clap of the soundboard.

  Huineng:

  One day, Huineng went to a store after selling firewood in the market. There he saw a man reading the Diamond Sutra at the front. He stopped and listened and his mind was illuminated. He asked the man, “Sir, where did you find this sutra?” And the man answered, “I went to pay my respect to Hongren, the old master at the East Mountain Temple in Yellow Plum County and he pre-sented the sutra to me. He has nearly a thousand disciples, including monks and laymen. And he enlightens the people with this sutra, which reveals the true nature of things, so that they may all become Buddhas on the instant.”

  [Silence. Huineng focuses his thoughts and meditates. Exit.

  Act I　Scene 2

  In Which the Dharma Is Passed on at East Mountain Temple

  [Thuds of pounding rice.

  Enter Hongren. He stops and listens.

  Enter Shenxiu hurriedly. He is good-looking and personable.

  Hongren:

  (Raises his hand.) Instructor Shenxiu.

  Shenxiu:

  Yes, Patriarch. (Stands in attention at once. Clasps his hands in greeting.) What is your wish?

  Hongren:

  Who is pounding rice down the hall?

  Shenxiu:

  A young layman. His surname is Lu, and he is known as Huineng. I’m not sure if that’s his ordination name. As far as I know he has not been ordained. He’s been here for about eight months now. When he first arrived I brought him here to have an audience with Your Holiness.

  Hongren:

  Yes, I remember him now. He’s the barbarian from the south. As soon as he opened his mouth, he said he wanted nothing but to become a Buddha.

  Shenxiu:

  What arrogance! An out and out savage from the mountains. And he even dared to talk back to Your Holiness.

  Hongren:

  (Smiles.) He talks as he thinks. Don’t mind him. It’s not his fault. Don’t hold a grudge against him.

  Shenxiu:

  At least he’s honest. Every day he pounds rice in the shed and talks very little.

  Hongren:

  His words are few but every word is to the point. Do you remember what he told me? He said, “You can separate men into northerners and southerners, but you can’t divide Buddha nature into north and south. Barbarians are not monks, but what difference is there in their Buddha nature?”

  Shenxiu:

  Who does he think he is? This is really preposterous.

  Hongren:

  Someone that discerning can’t be all that bad. If that was really his idea, then he’s not doing too badly. Today I’m going to give a lecture on the Supreme Sutra. Inform all the monks and staff to drop whatever they’re doing when they hear the bell, and come immediately to the assembly hall. Invite the monks and laymen who are staying with us at the temple as well. I have something to tell everybody.

  Shenxiu:

  Yes, master. Should I also invite Lu the painter to come? We’ve commissioned him to paint two pictures: “The Transfiguration of the Assembly in the Lankavatara Sutra” and “The Buddha Passes on His Robe.”

  Hongren:

  This doesn’t concern him. Let him think in peace. Have the walls in the hallway been whitewashed?

  Shenxiu:

  Please be reassured. Everything has been kept neat and tidy, ready for the painter to do his job tomorrow.

  Hongren:

  In that case, leave me.

  [Exit Shenxiu. Hongren listens to the sound of pounding rice. The bell tolls loudly and the pounding stops. Enter the monks one by one. Hongren ascends the hall. The tolling stops.

  Hongren:

  (Goes up the pulpit.)

  All disciples and followers, let your hearts be at peace.

  (All clasp their hands and lower their heads.)

  Hongren:

  I don’t have much to say to you. I’ve said all I wanted to say already in past lectures. At any rate, all that which can be spoken is not the real meaning of the Dharma. It is something you have to comprehend for yourself. Day and night you people are busy worshipping and paying homage to Buddha, trying only to cultivate the field of merits, but you never ask yourself the big question of life and death. If you can’t extract yourself from the bitter sea of life and death, what is it that you aspire to? If you have lost your self-nature, what is the use of the field of merits? Do you think you will be able to save yourself from suffering in this way?

  What are you staring at? There is no use staring at me. Go and stare at yourselves! Return to your rooms. If you possess wisdom, you should let yourself be enlightened of your own prajna, your innate wisdom.

  (The crowd look at one another, not knowing what to do.)

  Hongren:

  Have you not come to my temple to seek Buddha? Now go and compose a gatha poem and show it to me. If any one of you can prove that he has understood the truth of Buddha in his gatha, then I will pass on the Dharma to him, and he will inherit the robe and the almsbowl, which have been handed down for five generations since the Bodhidharma, and become the Sixth Patriarch.

  [Exit Hongren. Crowd scurry around in confusion, not knowing what to do.

  Shenxiu, bewildered, stands on one side, his head lowered.

  Crowd:

  Look, come and take a look!

  What the hell are you looking at? You’re stepping on my shoes!

  Instructor Shenxiu, he must have got it already.

  They didn’t make him the principal instructor for nothing. Don’t waste your time.

  Don’t worry, after Instructor Shenxiu receives the Dharma, we’ll just follow him and chant our sutra. We’ll be all right.

  (Huiming, martial arts instructor, walks through the hall, strutting and swaggering.)

  Crowd:

  Instructor Huiming!

  Have you got it?

  (Huiming ignores them. Exit.)

  Crowd:

  You think he’s got it already?

  Him? If you asked him to fight, he wouldn’t have a problem for sure. But writing? That’s a different story!(Exit Crowd.)

  Shenxiu:

  (Paces back and forth, rubs his palms continuously, and talks to himself.)

  The Patriarch has a thousand disciples, but no one dares to write this gatha.

  As principal instructor, I’ll have to write it even if nobody will. I’m the only one to do it.

  If I were to plot, if I were to take over the Patriarchate for myself.…Even the thought of it is not right. I can’t possibly force myself to do that, not under any circumstances.

  (Ruminates.)

  If I don’t present this gatha to the Patriarch, then he won’t be able to know how deeply I have understood the sutra, and I won’t be able to become the true successor and inherit the Dharma. What am I to do? What am I to do! (Exit.)

  [Silence. The stage turns dark. The nightwatchman’s drum starts thumping.

  Enter Shenxiu holding a candle. He is very watchful and lo
oks here and there.

  Shenxiu:

  The watchman has struck for the second watch. All the rooms are silent. When I first became a monk, I only wanted to serve the Patriarch and to purify my mind, so that it would be free from doubt. I have never been ambitious; I have never thought about succeeding the Patriarch. Now the old master wants to pass on the robe and the almsbowl, but his intention is unclear. What is to be done?

  (Listens to the drum.)

  Luckily no one knows what I’m doing here!

  (He takes out a brush from inside his sleeve, removes the cap and writes in a frenzy on the wall, reciting.)

  The body is a Bodhi tree,

  The mind a mirror bright,

  Always wipe it clean,

  And let no dust alight. (Exit.)

  [The bells ring for the morning chanting session. One by one the monks hurry across the stage, which gradually lights up.

  Enter Lu Zhen the painter carrying an ink slab and a brush. He swaggers forward, swaying left and right as he walks. Percussion music.

  Lu:

  I’m Wonder Brush Lu Zhen!

  As a painter, I have painted everything under the sun, all of them in beautiful colors and vivid detail. From the gods in Heaven to the ghosts and demons in hell, and from the Queen Mother of the West to Cow Head and Horse Face, the guards at the entrance to Hades, not to mention kings, generals and ministers, boudoirs and studies, and even the secrets of inner chambers. There is but one picture I still haven’t painted, the portrait of Master Bodhidharma from Western Heaven. I don’t know if he had long ears drooping down to his shoulders, or if he had horns growing on his forehead. Lucky for me no one has seen him in person either.

  (Suddenly looks up.)

  What’s going on here? Yesterday this was a nice, clean white wall, but some scoundrel has scribbled graffiti on it. How impudent and disrespectful! This is no ordinary drafting paper. It’s to be the sacred spot, a place of worship, after a portrait of Bodhidharma has been painted on it. Now it’s been defiled and totally ruined! Outrageous indeed!…Anybody here?

  (Enter a Novice Monk hurriedly.)

  Novice:

  Master Lu, what’s happened to you? Have you hurt your foot or something?

  Lu:

  Your master has not hurt his foot, thank you very much. Take a look at this wall! Who did this? Do you recognize the writing? The impudent rascal!