Flavour of centuries past
Priyanka Singh

Chasing the Monk’s Shadow
by Mishi Saran. Penguin. Pages 446. Rs 495.

What do you say of a book that takes you on a trip to trace the footsteps of the Chinese monk Xuanzang, is an engaging and racy historical account of the seventh century AD and lends an interesting perspective to places, people and words? Only, that it is extraordinarily gripping.

The accounts of Xuanzang, who undertook a spiritual quest for Buddhist philosophy, are drawn from the biography of Xuanzang by Hui Li, a contemporary of the monk whose accounts are considered to be more vivid than the monk’s own records. Xuanzang had been away from China for 18 years, collecting scriptures and carrying back 600 of them, which he translated from Sanskrit to Chinese.

At 32, Mishi had the gumption to come up with the idea of this unique travelogue and pursue it even in the face of apparent danger. Undeterred by the prospect of travelling by crowded trains, rickety buses and hostile territories, she travels across China, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, India and Pakistan, all on her own.

She weaves a story and what a story at that. At no time does the pace of the book slacken as the narrative moves back and forth from the monk’s times to the 21st century. Her writing skills are immense as she describes quotidian activities in a manner that make them appear quite out of the ordinary.

Mishi fuses her own experiences with that of the monk’s so that in parts the book becomes autobiographical. She loses track sometimes just like the monk probably did centuries ago but the sheer quality of prose salvages it each time.

The author evolves as a person and writer as she comes closer to completing the circuit. She is contemplative and saddened by her surroundings. Her eyewitness account of Kabul under the Taliban — just a month before 9/11 — is dramatic. It is a turning point where she understands the complexities of life and can discern between sordid realities and projected illusions — "The colour of light depends on how you turn the prism."

She talks of her own fears, desolation and elation, interlacing them with the monk’s. Before long, their apprehensions and joys are your own. Drenched in cynicism, she writes, "I felt aged, as though I left with a great burden. I understood less not more. I had failed to come up with right conclusions about anything...I had acquired this sadness."

By the time the book ends, you are left with the feeling that you’ve known her and the monk all along.

Of broken dreams, crumbled kingdoms, bleeding Kashmir valley, unnerving Gobi desert, icy winds, infinite land mass, dynamic Central Asia, torn Afghanistan, naive India and a cautious Pakistan, the book exudes a subtle flavour of bygone centuries. A peep into history has never been more delightful.

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