Siddhartha

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Siddhartha Siddhartha Siddhartha Siddhartha Siddhartha Siddhartha Information about Project Gutenberg Information about Project Gutenberg Information about Project Gutenberg Information about Project Gutenberg Information about Project Gutenberg Information about Project Gutenberg The Legal Small Print The Legal Small Print The Legal Small Print The Legal Small Print The Legal Small Print The Legal Small Print

Siddhartha
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Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. **Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** **eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** *****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** Title: Siddhartha Author: Herman Hesse Release Date: February, 2001 [EBook #2500] [Most recently updated: October 23, 2002] Edition: 10 Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, SIDDHARTHA *** This etext was produced by Michael Pullen <globaltraveler5565@yahoo.com>, with original translations made by: Gunther Olesch, Anke Dreher, Amy Coulter, Stefan Langer, Semyon Chaichenets. Proofreading corrections were done by Chandra Yenco <cyenco@dnet.net.id> and Isaac Jones <ijones@cis.ohio-state.edu>. SIDDHARTHA An Indian Tale by Hermann Hesse FIRST PART To Romain Rolland, my dear friend THE SON OF THE BRAHMAN In the shade of the house, in the sunshine of the riverbank near the boats, in the shade of the Sal-wood forest, in the shade of the fig tree is where Siddhartha grew up, the handsome son of the Brahman, the young falcon, together with his friend Govinda, son of a Brahman. The sun tanned his light shoulders by the banks of the river when bathing, performing the sacred ablutions, the sacred offerings. In the mango grove, shade poured into his black eyes, when playing as a boy, when his mother sang, when the sacred offerings were made, when his father, the scholar, taught him, when the wise men talked. For a long time, Siddhartha had been partaking in the discussions of the wise men, practising debate with Govinda, practising with Govinda the art of

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reflection, the service of meditation. He already knew how to speak the Om silently, the word of words, to speak it silently into himself while inhaling, to speak it silently out of himself while exhaling, with all the concentration of his soul, the forehead surrounded by the glow of the clear-thinking spirit. He already knew to feel Atman in the depths of his being, indestructible, one with the universe. Joy leapt in his father's heart for his son who was quick to learn, thirsty for knowledge; he saw him growing up to become great wise man and priest, a prince among the Brahmans. Bliss leapt in his mother's breast when she saw him, when she saw him walking, when she saw him sit down and get up, Siddhartha, strong, handsome, he who was walking on slender legs, greeting her with perfect respect. Love touched the hearts of the Brahmans' young daughters when Siddhartha walked through the lanes of the town with the luminous forehead, with the eye of a king, with his slim hips. But more than all the others he was loved by Govinda, his friend, the son of a Brahman. He loved Siddhartha's eye and sweet voice, he loved his walk and the perfect decency of his movements, he loved everything Siddhartha did and said and what he loved most was his spirit, his transcendent, fiery thoughts, his ardent will, his high calling. Govinda knew: he would not become a common Brahman, not a lazy official in charge of offerings; not a greedy merchant with magic spells; not a vain, vacuous speaker; not a mean, deceitful priest; and also not a decent, stupid sheep in the herd of the many. No, and he, Govinda, as well did not want to become one of those, not one of those tens of thousands of Brahmans. He wanted to follow Siddhartha, the beloved, the splendid. And in days to come, when Siddhartha would become a god, when he would join the glorious, then Govinda wanted to follow him as his friend, his companion, his servant, his spear-carrier, his shadow. Siddhartha was thus loved by everyone. He was a source of joy for everybody, he was a delight for them all. But he, Siddhartha, was not a source of joy for himself, he found no delight in himself. Walking the rosy paths of the fig tree garden, sitting in the bluish shade of the grove of contemplation, washing his limbs daily in the bath of repentance, sacrificing in the dim shade of the mango forest, his gestures of perfect decency, everyone's love and joy, he still lacked all joy in his heart. Dreams and restless thoughts came into his mind, flowing from the water of the river, sparkling from the stars of the night, melting from the beams of the sun, dreams came to him and a restlessness of the soul, fuming from the sacrifices, breathing forth from the verses of the Rig-Veda, being infused into him, drop by drop, from the teachings of the old Brahmans. Siddhartha had started to nurse discontent in himself, he had started to feel that the love of his father and the love of his mother, and also the love of his friend, Govinda, would not bring him joy for ever and ever, would not nurse him, feed him, satisfy him. He had started to suspect that his venerable father and his other teachers, that the wise Brahmans had already revealed to him the most and best of their wisdom, that they had already filled his expecting vessel with their richness, and the vessel was not full, the spirit was not content, the soul was not calm, the heart was not satisfied. The ablutions were good, but they were water, they did not wash off the sin, they did not heal the spirit's thirst, they did not relieve the fear in his heart. The sacrifices and the invocation of the gods were excellent--but was that all? Did the sacrifices give a happy fortune? And what about the gods? Was it really Prajapati who had created the world? Was it not the Atman, He, the only one, the singular one? Were the gods not creations, created like me and you, subject to time, mortal? Was it therefore good, was it right, was it meaningful and the highest occupation to make offerings to the gods? For whom else were offerings to be made, who else was to be worshipped but Him, the only one, the Atman? And where was Atman to be found, where did He reside, where did his eternal heart beat, where else but in one's own self, in its innermost part, in its indestructible part, which everyone had in himself? But where, where was this self, this innermost part, this ultimate part? It was not flesh and bone, it was neither thought nor consciousness, thus the wisest ones taught. So, where, where was it? To reach this place, the self, myself, the

the most important thing. they sat down. was written there. would meet with his innermost part and would reside in the Atman. did not the pristine source spring from his heart? It had to be found. chiefly his father.-. who had succeeded in not just knowing this deepest of all knowledge but also to live it? Where was the knowledgeable one who wove his spell to bring his familiarity with the Atman out of the sleep into the state of being awake. "Govinda. not to be looked down upon was the tremendous amount of enlightenment which lay here collected and preserved by innumerable generations of wise Brahmans. Samanas had travelled through Siddhartha's town. he who knows such a thing. particularly in the Upanishades of Samaveda. quiet and noble were his manners. and not the teachers and wise men. was he not also just a searching man. where the wise men or penitents. with dusty and bloody shoulders. almost naked. Siddhartha right here. strangers and enemies to the world. as a thirsty man. The evening had come. there was another way. from the offerings. "Your soul is the whole world". After the usual time of the exercise in meditation had passed. ready to speak the Om. the most venerable one. he knew and whose instructions he had received. the solely important thing? 4 Surely. a thirsty man? Did he not.Siddhartha Atman. over and over every day? Was not Atman in him. the name of the Brahman is satyam--verily. never he had quenched the ultimate thirst. the origin of speech. withered men. The Brahman is the arrow's target. the pristine source in one's own self. who had quenched it completely. Siddhartha sat there lost in thought. not the holy sacrificial songs! They knew everything. nobody knew it. Govinda twenty paces away. from the books. which was worthwhile looking for? Alas. of food. and nobody showed this way. His father was to be admired. in his deep sleep. they had taken care of everything and of more than everything. wrapped up in contemplation.But where were the Brahmans. Thus sat he. will enter the heavenly world every day. the arrow is soul. strive for a cleansing every day." They went to the Banyan tree. the eternal thirst. his eyes were rigidly focused towards a very distant target. of inhaling. of exhaling. let's practise meditation. the acts of the gods. Marvellous wisdom was in these verses. delicate and noble thoughts lived behind its brow --but even he. Siddhartha repeated murmuring the verse: Om is the bow. He called Siddhartha's name. That one should incessantly hit." Siddhartha spoke to his friend. his soul sent after the Brahman as an arrow. come with me under the Banyan tree. pure his life. did he have peace. Once. they knew everything. they knew infinitely much--but was it valuable to know all of this. the heavenly world. this was his thirst. was getting lost. wonderful verses. strangers and lank jackals in the realm of humans. No. the tip of his tongue was protruding a little between the teeth. my dear. the pure one. into word and deed? Siddhartha knew many venerable Brahmans. who knew so much. not the father. surrounded by loneliness. Govinda rose. And among all the wise and wisest men. While putting himself down. the irreproachable one. wise his words. but never he had reached it completely. ascetics on a pilgrimage. three skinny. was a detour. and it was written that man in his sleep. not knowing that one and only thing. Behind . have to wash off sins every day. "Govinda. the Brahmans and their holy books. into every step of the way. who had reached it completely. the scholar. pure as honey collected by bees. the heavenly world. have to drink from holy sources. did he live in blissfulness. it was time to perform the evening's ablution. among all of them there was no one. spoke of this innermost and ultimate thing. neither old nor young. thinking Om. the arrangement of the senses. the creation of the world. again and again. Thus were Siddhartha's thoughts. all knowledge of the wisest ones had been collected here in magic words. it had to be possessed! Everything else was searching. many verses of the holy books. Often he spoke to himself from a Chandogya-Upanishad the words: "Truly. it seemed near. from the disputes of the Brahmans? Why did he. Siddhartha did not answer." Often. where the priests. scorched by the sun. this was his suffering. into the life. he seemed not to breathe.

of merciless self-denial. looked through the small window. the father left the chamber. "O Govinda. paced to and fro. my own. in the moon light. 'ere the silence was broken. "will your father permit you to do that?" Siddhartha looked over as if he was just waking up. Speak no more of it. and left the house. Siddhartha will go to the Samanas. After an hour." Slowly. Through the small window of the chamber he looked back inside.Siddhartha them blew a hot scent of quiet passion. And he turned pale like a dry banana-skin. and there he saw Siddhartha standing. With anxiety in his heart. his arms folded." 5 The Brahman fell silent. since no sleep had come over his eyes. In the evening. his arms folded." Indignant. filled his heart with anger. where his father was sitting on a mat of bast. Arrow-fast he read in Govinda´s soul. until his father felt that someone was standing behind him. He will become a Samana. Quoth the Brahman: "Is that you. since no sleep had come over his eyes. Tomorrow. With worry in his heart. Siddhartha stood silently. And he came back after an hour. at daybreak I will begin the life of the Samanas. read the fear. silently. when he heard these words and read the decision in the motionless face of his friend. the Brahman rose. by the light of the stars. Siddhartha spoke to Govinda: "Early tomorrow morning. And he came back hour after hour. paced to and fro. the Brahman stood up. he looked into the chamber. and with his. in the darkness. Pale shimmered his bright robe. now Siddhartha is taking his own way. unstoppable like the arrow shot from the bow. I came to tell you that it is my longing to leave your house tomorrow and go to the ascetics. silent and motionless sat the father on the mat. "What are you waiting for?" asked the father. Silent and motionless stood the son with his arms folded. Then spoke the father: "Not proper it is for a Brahman to speak harsh and angry words. after the hour of contemplation. May my father not oppose this. indignant. saw him standing in the same place. now his fate is beginning to sprout. Govinda realized: Now it is beginning. the Brahman stood up again." Quoth Siddhartha: "With your permission. not moving from his spot. "let's not waste words. saw Siddhartha standing." he exclaimed. and the stars traced their paths in the sky. Siddhartha? Then say what you came to say. and remained silent for so long that the stars in the small window wandered and changed their relative positions. "O Siddhartha. there stood Siddhartha. he went to his bed and lay down." Govinda turned pale. my friend." he spoke quietly. But indignation is in my heart. Soon and with the first glance. the father returned to his bed. After another hour. not moving from his spot. my father. of destructive service. I wish not to hear this request for a second time from your mouth. My desire is to become a Samana. read the submission. and stepped behind his father and remained standing there. Through the window of the chamber he looked back inside. . his arms folded." Siddhartha entered the chamber. walked out of the house and saw that the moon had risen. moonlight reflecting from his bare shins. he came back after two hours. Quoth Siddhartha: "You know what. the father went back to bed.

" "So will you abandon your plan?" "Siddhartha will do what his father will tell him to do." "You will die. stepped into the room. The Father touched Siddhartha's shoulder. If you'll find disappointment. then return and let us once again make offerings to the gods together. saw the young man standing there. before the day began." said Siddhartha and smiled. "Siddhartha." "I will become tired." he spoke. The Brahman saw that Siddhartha was trembling softly in his knees. "You will. and went to his mother to do as his father had said. and evening?" "I will stand and wait." He took his hand from the shoulder of his son and went outside. Go now and kiss your mother. and joined the pilgrim--Govinda. When you'll have found blissfulness in the forest. than obey your father?" "Siddhartha has always obeyed his father. Siddhartha." 6 The first light of day shone into the room. "go into the forest and be a Samana. Siddhartha." "I will not fall asleep. who seemed tall and like a stranger to him. filled his heart with anguish." "I will die. Siddhartha wavered to the side. As he slowly left on stiff legs in the first light of day the still quiet town. "what are you waiting for?" "You know what. tell her where you are going to. that he had already left him." "Will you always stand that way and wait. "You have come. . filled it with sadness. Then his father realized that even now Siddhartha no longer dwelt with him in his home." "You will fall asleep. as he tried to walk. he returned. And in the night's last hour. But for me it is time to go to the river and to perform the first ablution. who had crouched there. bowed to his father. then come back and teach me to be blissful. He put his limbs back under control. "You will become tired. In Siddhartha's face he saw no trembling. a shadow rose near the last hut.Siddhartha filled his heart with unrest. noon." "And would you rather die. until it'll becomes morning. his eyes were fixed on a distant spot." he spoke. Siddhartha.

Silently. until nothing stung any more. to be open to miracles in unselfish thoughts. the skinny Samanas. he cowered in the thorny bushes. until they were quiet. and Siddhartha's soul slipped inside the body. mothers nursing their children--and all of this was not worthy of one look from his eye. was the dead jackal. he slipped out of his self into thousands of other forms. glowing with thirst. blood dripped from the burning skin. turned to dust. Silently. was wood. he stood there in the rainy season. Feverish dreams flickered from his enlarged eyes. had died. felt the pangs of a heron's hunger. through imagining the mind . from festering wounds dripped pus. a single goal: to become empty. Instructed by the oldest if the Samanas. and Siddhartha stayed rigidly. ate fish. had decayed. lay on the banks. He went the way of self-denial by means of pain. was water. empty of joy and sorrow. Siddhartha sat upright and learned to breathe sparingly. A dead jackal was lying on the sandy bank. He went the way of self-denial by means of meditation. many ways leading away from the self he learned to go. until no blood flowed any more. Once all of my self was overcome and had died. it all stank of lies. stank. it all stank. He saw merchants trading. Life was torture. Dead to himself. where he could escape from the cycle. and never something cooked. it all lied. according to a new Samana rules. Siddhartha learned a lot when he was with the Samanas. turned into a skeleton. They were accepted. The flesh waned from his thighs and cheeks. stayed motionless. overcame the thirst. through voluntarily suffering and overcoming pain. and the penitent stood there. then the ultimate part of me had to awake. practised meditation." said Govinda. from his hair the water was dripping over freezing shoulders. tiredness. until nothing burned any more. He wore nothing more than the loincloth and the earth-coloured. Siddhartha practised self-denial. it all pretended to be meaningful and joyful and beautiful. the great secret. was a heron. awaited in new thirst like a hunter in the gap. once every desire and every urge was silent in the heart. leaned to reduce the beats of his heart. empty of dreams. felt thirst. He killed his senses. WITH THE SAMANAS In the evening of this day they caught up with the ascetics. He learned. that was his goal. felt new thirst. long nails grew slowly on his parched fingers and a dry. learned to stop breathing. turned round in the cycle.Siddhartha "I have come. whores offering themselves. Siddhartha exposed himself to burning rays of the sun directly above. not to be a self any more. decayed. was skinned by vultures. hunger. and awoke every time to find his old self again. And Siddhartha's soul returned. got bloated. the innermost of my being. he killed his memory. lovers loving. to find tranquility with an emptied heard. until they were only a few and almost none. until he neither felt any pain nor thirst any more. to calm the beat of his heart. unsown cloak. empty of thirst. He fasted for fifteen days. and it all was just concealed putrefaction. was stone. He ate only once a day. priests determining the most suitable day for seeding. was dismembered by hyaenas. sun shone or moon. His glance turned to icy when he encountered women. until he could not feel the cold in his shoulders and legs any more. his mouth twitched with contempt. was scattered as dust. and stood there. was carrion. was blown across the fields. shaggy beard grew on his chin. which is no longer my self. Silently. A goal stood before Siddhartha. had tasted the gloomy intoxication of the cycle. over freezing hips and legs. died a heron's death. and offered them their companionship and--obedience. physicians trying to help the sick. beginning with the breath. where an eternity without suffering began. empty of wishing. flew over forest and mountains. was his self again. was an animal. spoke the heron's croak. glowing with pain. The world tasted bitter. learned to get along with only few breathes. A heron flew over the bamboo forest--and Siddhartha accepted the heron into his soul. when he walked through a city of nicely dressed people. where the end of the causes. mourners wailing for their dead. until they were silent. He fasted for twenty-eight days. thirst. 7 Siddhartha gave his garments to a poor Brahman in the street. princes hunting.

his shadow. this I know. "How do you think. being among the Samanas. Siddhartha. This is how it is. insensitivity against hunger and pain there among these wretched people?" And Siddhartha said quietly. has not become wiser. and was once again his self and Siddhartha. we are moving up. holding your breath. But that I. up to this day. to beg for food for themselves and their teachers. who have thought we were escaping the cycle?" Quoth Govinda: "We have learned a lot. has gathered no enlightenment. my friend. we have already ascended many a level." Quoth Govinda: "Siddhartha is putting me on. drinking a few bowls of rice-wine or fermented coconut-milk. We are not going around in circles. you've learned every exercise. oh Govinda. and we'll continue learning. I could have learned more quickly and by simpler means. "how do you think did we progress? Did we reach any goals?" Govinda answered: "We have learned. You'll be a great Samana. Though Siddhartha fled from the self a thousand times.--has not risen several steps. Govinda. oh Govinda." Quoth Siddhartha: "I can't help but feel that it is not like this. as a child in the mother's womb. These and other ways he learned to go. but he'll return from the delusion." Siddhartha spoke one day while begging this way. my friend. oh Siddhartha. it is a short numbing of the senses against the pain and the pointlessness of life. One day. then he won't feel the pains of life any more. then he finds a short numbing of the senses. when he found himself back in the sunshine or in the moonlight. this I know." . find only a short numbing of the senses in my exercises and meditations and that I am just as far removed from wisdom. stayed in the animal. undertook the same efforts. walked the same paths. In every tavern of that part of a town where the whorehouses are. Occasionally the two of them went through the villages. They rarely spoke to one another." And once again. it is a short escape of the agony of being a self. stayed in nothingness. from salvation. oh Govinda. staying in the non-self. Quickly." And Siddhartha spoke with a smile: "I do not know. he'll find the same what Siddhartha and Govinda find when they escape their bodies through long exercises. I've never been a drunkard. you'll be a holy man. Siddhartha. often the old Samanas have admired you.we. By his side lived Govinda. as if he was talking to himself: "What is meditation? What is leaving one's body? What is fasting? What is holding one's breath? It is fleeing from the self. another time. and again felt the agony of the cycle which had been forced upon him. inescapable was the hour. But though the ways led away from the self. How could you have learned meditation. might we be on the right path? Might we get closer to enlightenment? Might we get closer to salvation? Or do we perhaps live in a circle-. What I've learned. It's true that a drinker numbs his senses. there is still much to learn. finds everything to be unchanged. the return was inevitable. oh Govinda. a thousand times he left his self. Siddhartha. to beg for some food in the village for their brothers and teachers. their end nevertheless always led back to the self. The same escape. in the stone. it's true that he briefly escapes and rests.Siddhartha 8 to be void of all conceptions. Then he won't feel his self any more. When he falls asleep over his bowl of rice-wine. than the service and the exercises required. Siddhartha began to speak and said: "What now. this. in the shade or in the rain. for hours and days he remained in the non-self. when Siddhartha left the forest together with Govinda. and yet you know that Siddhartha is no driver of an ox-cart and a Samana is no drunkard." Quoth Govinda: "You say so. the same short numbing is what the driver of an ox-cart finds in the inn. oh friend. among carters and gamblers I could have learned it. the circle is a spiral.

But the most important thing. what would then become of all of this what is holy. Siddhartha. as what we refer to as `learning'. Yes. Siddhartha! How could it be that among so many learned men. oh Siddhartha. so I believe. There is. what is precious. it had been just as well. our venerable teacher?" Quoth Govinda: "Our oldest one might be about sixty years of age. he thought. a man of bliss. when the two young men had lived among the Samanas for about three years and had shared their exercises. and spoke: "If you. oh my friend. the path of paths. among so many who are searching. only would not bother your friend with this kind of talk! Truly. had been just as smart and just as profitable. At one time. and I have asked the devote Samanas. . I believe out of all the Samanas out there. a slightly sad. if I had asked the hornbill-bird or the chimpanzee. rose his hands.Siddhartha Siddhartha answered: "How old. a slightly mocking voice: "Soon. And so I'm starting to believe that this knowledge has no worser enemy than the desire to know it." spoke Govinda. He thought about the words which Govinda had said to him and thought the words through to their end. this is within me and within you and within every creature. and will fast. what of the holiness of the Samanas. But Siddhartha remained silent. the exalted one. Govinda stopped on the path. I'm suffering of thirst. oh Govinda. so many who are eagerly trying. we learn feats. what would remain of all that which seemed to us to be holy? What remains? What can stand the test? And he shook his head. in the yellow cloak of an ascetic. I have always been full of questions. than learning. a verse from an Upanishad: He who ponderingly. to deceive others." At this. of a purified spirit. year after year. among so many Brahmans. and on this long path of a Samana. would you think. He'll turn seventy and eighty. your friend will leave the path of the Samanas." And Siddhartha: "He has lived for sixty years and has not reached the nirvana. so many holy men. year after year. year after year. no one will find the path of paths?" 9 But Siddhartha said in a voice which contained just as much sadness as mockery. Gotama by name. "wouldn't speak such terrible words. we will not find. we find numbness. will reach the nirvana. a rumour. I have asked the Brahmans. not a single one. loses himself in the meditation of Atman. Oh Govinda. surrounded by disciples. And just consider: what would become of the sanctity of prayer. is our oldest Samana. among so many austere and venerable Samanas. perhaps not a single one. Govinda. Perhaps. I always thirsted for knowledge. We find comfort. But we will not reach the nirvana. and will meditate. this is everywhere. the Buddha. and I have asked the holy Vedas. what is venerable on earth?!" And Govinda mumbled a verse to himself. he won't and we won't. some news. if it was as you say. and you and me. but with a cheerful brow. and Brahmans and princes would bow down before him and would become his students. teaching. It took me a long time and am not finished learning this yet. just one knowledge. standing there with his head low. oh Govinda: that there is nothing to be learned! There is indeed no such thing." "If you only. a myth reached them after being retold many times: A man had appeared. you words stir up fear in my heart. he has walked along your side for so long. with a quiet. he had overcome the suffering of the world in himself and had halted the cycle of rebirths. oh Govinda. without possession. without a wife. if there was no learning?! What. He was said to wander through the land. without home. we will grow just as old and will do our exercises. unexpressable by words is his blissfulness of his heart. what of the venerability of the Brahmans' caste. this is Atman. my thirst has remained as strong as ever.

he would spent his days in luxury. Mock me if you like. because the oldest one of the Samanas did not like this myth. and thought to myself: If only I would too. Siddhartha and me. But let's do it. you would not walk the path of the Samanas for much longer?" At this. But his enemies and disbelievers said. this rumour. They rarely talked about it. drop by drop. when he brought news of him. again and again. the Brahmans spoke of it and in the forest. but had then turned back to luxury and worldly pleasures. a knowledgeable one. you've heard from me. wouldn't we want to go there too and listen to the teachings from the Buddha's mouth?" Quoth Siddhartha: "Always. its fragrants rose up. that fragrant myth of Gotama. to seek the wise man. an eagerness. the world was sick. and also Siddhartha. was never again submerged in the murky river of physical forms. this legend resounded. and that my faith in words. friend. is small. the young men listened up. live to see the hour when we will hear the teachings from the mouth of this perfected man! Speak. he had reached the nirvana and never returned into the cycle. The scent of magic flowed from these reports. the exalted one. my dear. and said: "Well. where the Buddha spreads his teachings. and as such news would go through the land and everyone would talk about it. life was hard to bear--and behold. and he had no high opinion of this Gotama. the name of Gotama. if only we both would too. every drop laden with hope. The myth had also reached the Samanas in the forest. Govinda would stay with the Samanas. the Samanas. scorned the offerings. the Sakyamuni. had overcome the devil. many would doubt. to hear these teachings? And have you not at one time said to me. he remembered his previous lives. Many wonderful and unbelievable things were reported of him. had spoken to the gods. here a source seemed to spring forth. felt hope. which is that I have grown distrustful and tired against teachings and learning. Verily. the helper. many would believe. He had heard that this alleged Buddha used to be an ascetic before and had lived in the forest. I knew little of his heart. I had thought. He possessed. slowly. Everywhere where the rumour of Buddha was heard. and in his house. the Buddha reached the ears of the young men. every drop laden with doubt. Govinda. comforting. was without learning. full of noble promises. and a Brahman invited me into his house. But behold. whose word and breath was enough to heal everyone who had been infected with the pestilence. Siddhartha! But have you not also developed a desire. with praise and with defamation. Siddhartha laughed in his very own manner. "Today. this made my chest ache when I breathed. my faithful friend. "Oh Siddhartha. you've remembered correctly. I was in the village. After all. you've spoken well. the Buddha.Siddhartha This myth. but many would get on their way as soon as possible. there was the son of a Brahman from Magadha. which are brought to us by teachers. felt a longing. If you only remembered the other thing as well. which are becoming a Samana. this Gotama was a vain seducer. who has seen the Buddha with his own eyes and has heard him teach. here a messenger seemed to call out. I had not known Govinda well enough. oh Govinda." . The myth of Buddha sounded sweet." Quoth Govinda: "You're mocking me. the highest enlightenment. the wise man of the family of Sakya. everywhere in the lands of India. he had performed miracles. want to take a new path and go there. mild. So now you. with good and with bad talk. and knew neither exercises nor self-castigation. 10 It was as if the plague had broken out in a country and news had been spreading around that in one or another place there was a man. in which his voice assumed a touch of sadness and a touch of mockery." Govinda spoke one day to his friend. and among the Brahmans' sons of the towns and villages every pilgrim and stranger was welcome. here and there. just like this this myth ran through the land. I am willing to listen to these teachings--though in my heart I believe that we've already tasted the best fruit of these teachings. so the believers said. and also Govinda. in the towns. a wise man. always I had believed his goal was to live to be sixty and seventy years of age and to keep on practising those feats and exercises.

to see him. the most venerable one. the silently begging ones. before the door of which they stopped to beg." "I do not seek to walk on water. who handed them the food: "We would like to know. food has been offered to them. because the two young men wanted to leave him. spoke stammeringly a godly wish for a good journey." On this very same day. and to hear the teachings from his mouth. On the way. But the Samana became angry. every child knew the name of the exalted Buddha. But Siddhartha's thoughts brought the Samana under their control. went on their way with salutations. deprived him of his power. There you pilgrims shall spent the night. But Siddhartha put his mouth close to Govinda's ear and whispered to him: "Now. his eyes became motionless. his arms were hanging down. I want to show the old man that I've learned something from him. commanded him. whatever he demanded him to do. All tales and answers. which the rich merchant Anathapindika. had given him and his people for a gift. Siddhartha informed the oldest one of the Samanas of his decision. you would soon have learned to walk on water. oh friend. He informed the oldest one with all the courtesy and modesty becoming to a younger one and a student." Positioning himself closely in front of the Samana. you have learned more from the Samanas than I knew. Govinda was startled and became embarrassed. performed gestures of blessing. which we already now received thanks to the Gotama." Quoth the woman: "Here. if you had stayed there." . with a concentrated soul. And thus. And arriving at Savathi. the perfected one. and talked loudly and used crude swearwords. But tell me. You should know. for there is enough space for the innumerable. have already revealed their best fruit to us?" Quoth Siddhartha: "Let us eat this fruit and wait for the rest. The old man became mute. subdued him under his own will. It is hard. he had fallen victim to Siddhartha's spell. where the Buddha dwells. consisted in him calling us away from the Samanas! Whether he has also other and better things to give us. and every house was prepared to fill the alms-dish of Gotama's disciples.Siddhartha 11 Quoth Govinda: "Your willingness delights my heart. the grove of Jetavana. in Jetavana. in the very first house. that he wanted to leave him. without power. oh Govinda! But this fruit. the old man made several bows. even before we have heard them. his will was paralysed. and Siddhartha asked the woman. Truly. Govinda said: "Oh Siddhartha. made him mute. and they accepted the food. an obedient worshipper of the exalted one. what they commanded. for we are two Samanas from the forest and have come. had pointed them towards this area. it is very hard to cast a spell on an old Samana. Near the town was Gotama's favourite place to stay. to do silently. you Samanas from the forest. which the two young ascetics had received in their search for Gotama's abode. took away his free will. let us await with calm hearts. who flock here. "Let old Samanas be content with such feats!" GOTAMA In the town of Savathi." said Siddhartha. how should this be possible? How should the Gotama's teachings. oh charitable one. he had to carry out. he captured the old man's glance with his glances. And the young men returned the bows with thanks. in the garden of Anathapindika is where the exalted one dwells. returned the wish. to hear the teachings from his mouth. you have truly come to the right place.

for rather many pilgrims and monks as well from Gotama's community were on their way to the Jetavana. heard the contents of this Buddha's teachings again and again. the shady gardens looked like a city. breathed of. he did not believe that they would teach him anything new. for they themselves . have you seen him with your own eyes?" Quoth the woman: "Many times I have seen him. did not imitate. Govinda listened and wanted to ask and hear much more. but he had. calm. in deep contemplation--or in a conversation about spiritual matters. Govinda looked at the monk in the yellow robe. according to a precise rule. Siddhartha did not answer. breathed softly in an unwhithering calm. did not search. there were constant arrivals. Never before. At sunrise. thus we have reached our destination. The Buddha himself. no desire. his quietly dangling hand. no imitation. They thanked and left and hardly had to ask for directions. no effort to be seen. just as Govinda had.Siddhartha 12 This made Govinda happy. glistened of truth." Delightedly. quiet. they saw with astonishment what a large crowd of believers and curious people had spent the night here. the exalted one. shouts. This man. On many days. do you know him. He felt little curiosity for the teachings. On all paths of the marvellous grove. The two Samanas. But his face and his walk. I have seen him. only light and peace. Siddhartha saw him. somewhat resembling a healthy child. bearing the alms-dish in his hand. as if a god had pointed him out to him. in an unwhithering light. his quietly lowered glance. walking silently. found quickly and without making any noise a place to stay and rested there until the morning. his calm face was neither happy nor sad. "This one is the Buddha. to collect food in town for their lunch. leaving with a filled dish. And soon. Siddhartha had venerated a person so much. bustling like bees. and it seemed to him as if every joint of every finger of this hand was of these teachings. his shoulders. his quietly dangling hand and even every finger of his quietly dangling hand expressed peace. we'll hear the teachings from his mouth. The Buddha went on his way. and the two Samanas recognised him solely by the perfection of his calm. the enlightened one. This man was holy. But attentively he looked at Gotama's head. And since they reached it at night.or third-hand information. exhaled the fragrant of. He saw him. walking through the alleys in silence. The majority of the monks went out with their alms-dish. and full of joy he exclaimed: "Well so. accustomed to life in the forest. wore the robe and placed his feet just as all of his monks did. the only meal of the day. With a hidden smile. the Buddha walked. expressed perfection. never before he had loved a person as much as this one. And they followed him and observed him. to collect alms. the Buddha. by the quietness of his appearance. under the trees they sat here and there. presenting his alms-dish in silence at the doors of the houses. "Look here!" Siddhartha said quietly to Govinda." said Govinda. in which there was no searching. monks walked in yellow robes. it seemed to smile quietly and inwardly. and he instantly recognised him. spoke of. They both followed the Buddha until they reached the town and then returned in silence. this Buddha was truthful down to the gesture of his last finger. his feet. who seemed to be in no way different from the hundreds of other monks. full of people. and our path has come to an end! But tell us. But Siddhartha urged him to walk on." Attentively. wearing his yellow cloak. an untouchable peace. "Today. and talk of those who sought shelter and got it. Thus Gotama walked towards the town. modestly and deep in his thoughts. a simple man in a yellow robe. Govinda also realized: This is the one. though these reports only represented second. was also in the habit of taking this walk to beg in the morning. oh mother of the pilgrims.

For a long tome. when the heat cooled down and everyone in the camp started to bustle about and gathered around. They saw Gotama returning--what he ate could not even have satisfied a bird's appetite. Govinda urged his friend. Often I have thought: Won't Govinda for once also take a step by himself. Govinda! Very good are the teachings of the exalted one. Govinda has heard the teachings." For a long time. for a long time. Right afterwards. and they saw him retiring into the shade of the mango-trees. taught the eightfold path. it has come to you well." Behold. will take your refuge with the exalted Buddha!" Siddhartha placed his hand on Govinda's shoulder: "You failed to hear my good wish for you. I beg you. do you want to wait any longer?" Siddhartha awakened as if he had been asleep. also stepped forward and spoke: "I also take my refuge in the exalted one and his teachings. he has taken refuge in it. like a light. Govinda realized that his friend had left him. patiently he went the usual path of the teachings. my learned friend. oh Govinda. that you shall find salvation!" In this moment. taught the four main doctrines. renounced your birth and possessions. this is what the exalted one wants. renounced all friendship. Thus join us and walk in holiness. Siddhartha kindly spoke to him: "Don't forget. But Siddhartha turned him away every time and said: "Be content. now you've turned into a man and are choosing your path for yourself. But in the evening. We have both heard the exalted one. be have both perceived the teachings. my friend. oh my friend. of the origin of suffering. that you are now one of the Samanas of the Buddha! You have renounced your home and your parents. the shy one. it is not my place to scold you. I'll leave you. my honoured friend. he should tell him why he would not want to seek refuge in Gotama's teachings. not completely understanding it yet. brightly and quietly his voice hovered over the listeners. yet firm voice the exalted one spoke. you've been my friend. in a voice without mockery: "Govinda. that you also. that you shall find salvation!" Govinda. But you. out of his own soul? Behold. Tomorrow. many a pilgrim stepped forward and asked to accepted into the community. full of suffering was the world. was full of peace. repeated his question in an impatient tone: "Speak up. This is what the teachings require. I wish that you would go it up to its end. oh Govinda. and it was also perfected. Always. they heard the Buddha teaching. you've always walked one step behind me. was of perfect calmness. how could I find a fault . I'm repeating it: I wish that you would go this path up to its end. "Siddhartha!" he exclaimed lamentingly. of the way to relieve suffering. without me. to put an end to all suffering. they lay there and found no sleep. when he heard Govinda's words. When the Buddha--night had already fallen--ended his speech. Then he spoke quietly. and he started to weep. like a starry sky. Govinda. This is what you wanted for yourself. when the Buddha had retired for the night. And over and over again. of the repetitions. Suffering was life. my dear! Tell me. but salvation from suffering had been found: salvation was obtained by him who would walk the path of the Buddha. oh Govinda.Siddhartha 13 intended to abstain from on this day. now you have taken this step. he looked into Govinda's face. now you have chosen this path. sought refuge in the teachings. since it could not be any other way. renounced your free will. Gotama taught the teachings of suffering. With a soft. then Govinda. don't you also want to walk the path of salvation? Would you want to hesitate. the friends continued walking in the grove. of the examples. Calmly and clearly his quiet speech flowed on. what fault he would find in these teachings." and he asked to accepted into the community of his disciples and was accepted. Govinda turned to Siddhartha and spoke eagerly: "Siddhartha. They heard his voice. And Gotama accepted them by speaking: "You have heard the teachings well.

that the great and the small things are all encompassed by the same forces of time. Everything in your teachings is perfectly clear. something which had not been there before. by the same law of causes. to hear your teachings. without gaps. possibly this is not essential--but the uniformity of the world. Now he spoke. an eternal chain the links of which are causes and effects. nothing else. not depending on gods. the young man summoned his courage and asked the venerable one for the permission to talk to him. embraced once again his childhood friend and left with the novices. Quoth Siddhartha: "Yesterday. oh most venerable one. is proven. through a small gap. everyone can support them or discard them. clear as a crystal. oh exalted one. and good for you that you've thought about it thus deeply.Siddhartha in them?" 14 Very early in the morning. this is what shines brightly out of your exalted teachings. "I have not spoken to you like this to argue with you. oh son of a Brahman. he has taken his refuge with you. of coming into being and of dying. And now my friend is going to stay with your people. that everything which happens is connected. an error. But Siddhartha walked through the grove. Please forgive me for expressing this objection. are no opinion. this world of unity is invaded by something alien. the entire eternal and uniform law of the world is breaking apart again and becomes void. would not be angry with me. But I will again start on my pilgrimage. Then he happened to meet Gotama. and their goal is not to explain the world to those who seek knowledge. the perfected one. there is little to opinions. Together with my friend." the venerable one spoke politely. to argue about words. whether living according to it would be suffering or joy. they may be beautiful or ugly. "Too bold is my speech. Does it please the venerable one to listen to me for one moment longer?" Silently. I had come from afar. with his polite and clear voice: "You've heard the teachings. But according to your very own teachings. But let me say . You've found a gap in it. lost in thought. a chain which is never and nowhere broken. the heart of every Brahman has to beat stronger with love. oh perfected one. Then Govinda broke loose. But the teachings. Gotama had listened to him. their goal is salvation from suffering. one of his oldest monks. to dress them up in the yellow robe and to instruct them in the first teachings and duties of their position." said the young man." Quietly. Never before. Silently the exalted one nodded his approval. you are presenting the world as a perfect chain. you've heard from me. I have admired in your teachings most of all. oh exalted one. went through the garden and called all those to him who had as novices taken their refuge in the teachings. a follower of Buddha. Quoth Siddhartha: "One thing. and which cannot be demonstrated and cannot be proven: these are your teachings of overcoming the world. I do not wish to discuss. with his kind. oh seeker of knowledge. this unity and necessary sequence of all things is nevertheless broken in one place. You are truly right. the exalted one." "I wish that you. This is what Gotama teaches." Siddhartha continued. and when he greeted him with respect and the Buddha's glance was so full of kindness and calm." "As you please. the Buddha nodded his approval. of the thicket of opinions and of arguing about words. "but I do not want to leave the exalted one without having honestly told him my thoughts. unmoved. There is nothing to opinions. not depending on chance. smart or foolish. But with this small gap. with this small breach. of salvation. once he has seen the world through your teachings perfectly connected. truly. never before. They have a different goal. But be warned. You should think about this further. this has been presented so irrefutably. I had been privileged to hear your wondrous teachings. Whether it may be good or bad. something new. this has been seen so clearly.

oh exalted one." the venerable one spoke slowly. the venerable one spoke. quietly. oh stranger." The Buddha's eyes quietly looked to the ground. sit and walk this way. oh exalted one. Well so. I wish to be able to glance and smile." exclaimed Siddhartha. thus concealed. oh Samana. thought Siddhartha. through enlightenment. I have never before seen a person glance and smile. oh venerable one. oh Samana. If I merely were one of your disciples.". I do not want to lower my glance before any other. through thoughts. and his glance and half of a smile remained forever etched in Siddhartha's memory. and even more he has given to me. when I have heard the teachings. when my eyes beheld a holy man. This is why I am continuing my travels--not to seek other. Gotama looked into the stranger's eyes and bid him to leave with a hardly noticeable gesture. with an unwavering openness and kindness. oh venerable one. I am deprived.Siddhartha 15 this one more thing: I have not doubted in you for a single moment. my love for you. in perfect equanimity his inscrutable face was smiling. "I wish that they shall all stay with the teachings. Truly. before whom I would have to lower my glance. not before any other. myself. But often.--nobody will obtain salvation by means of teachings! You will not be able to convey and say to anybody. I must chose. I'll think of this day. but that in truth it would live on and grow. that you have reached the goal. only a person who has succeeded in reaching the innermost part of his self would glance and walk this way. since this man's teachings have not enticed me. for myself alone. for then I had replaced my self with the teachings. thus free. I must decide. "You know how to talk wisely. "I wish. that you shall reach the goal! But tell me: Have you seen the multitude of my Samanas. through meditation. I saw a man. a single man. You have found salvation from death. the highest goal towards which so many thousands of Brahmans and sons of Brahmans are on their way. he alone among hundreds of thousands. better teachings. "that your thoughts shall not be in error. thus open. my many brothers. This is what I have thought and realized. who had been my shadow and is now Gotama's shadow. that they shall reach their goal! It is not my place to judge another person's life. in words and through teachings what has happened to you in the hour of enlightenment! The teachings of the enlightened Buddha contain much. oh exalted one. He has deprived me of my friend. truly. he thought. Salvation from the self is what we Samanas search for. But there is one thing which these so clear. I am deprived by the Buddha. do you believe that it would be better for them all the abandon the teachings and to return into the life the world and of desires?" "Far is such a thought from my mind. But he has given me Siddhartha. thus venerable. Only for myself. I have not doubted for a single moment that you are Buddha. too. I also will seek to reach the innermost part of my self. Siddhartha thought. I'd fear that it might happen to me that only seemingly. these so venerable teachings do not contain: they do not contain the mystery of what the exalted one has experienced for himself. I must refuse. my duty to follow you. Be aware of too much wisdom!" The Buddha turned away. "You are wise. it teaches many to live righteously. through realizations. It has not come to you by means of teachings! And--thus is my thought. . but to depart from all teachings and all teachers and to reach my goal by myself or to die. the one who had believed in me and now believes in him. who have taken refuge in the teachings? And do you believe. thus child-like and mysterious. my friend. It has come to you in the course of your own search. for I know there are none. and of this hour. No teachings will entice me any more. and the community of the monks!" With half of a smile. only deceptively my self would be calm and be redeemed. on your own path. sit and walk this way. to avoid evil.

then he felt that in this grove his past life also stayed behind and parted from him. so it seemed to him. but become entities and start to emit like rays of light what is inside of them. even him." Siddhartha opened his eyes and looked around. like diving into a deep water he let himself sink down to the ground of the sensation." he thought. Beautiful was the world. of me being Siddhartha! And there is no thing in this world I know less about than about me. I was willing to to dissect my self and peel off all of its layers.Siddhartha AWAKENING 16 When Siddhartha left the grove. all this yellow and blue. because to identify the causes. the sky and the river flowed. the singular and divine lived hidden. Neither Yoga-Veda shall teach me any more. I was fleeing from myself! I searched Atman. Truly. on the path to himself. All of this. Slowly walking along. want to be my student. and if also in the blue and the river. I wanted to free myself from. were still unable to teach you?" And he found: "It was the self. which filled him completely. no thing in this world has kept my thoughts thus busy. river was river. but had turned into a man. which was: "That I know nothing about myself. to find a secret behind the ruins. where Govinda stayed behind. the awakening one. life. He had also left the last teacher who had appeared on his path. who have taught you much. and right away another thought sprang forth from these. only hide from it. of me being one and being separated and isolated from all others. as a snake is left by its old skin. Buddha. the purpose and essence of which I sought to learn. walked quickly like a man who knows what he has got to do. he now stopped as these thoughts caught hold of him. But I have lost myself in the process. as he was slowly walking along. stayed behind. "Oh. taking a deep breath. nor the ascetics. nor any kind of teachings. this mystery of me being alive. down to the place where the causes lie. a smile filled his face and a feeling of awakening from long dreams flowed through him from his head down to his toes. He pondered deeply. the ultimate part. what you have sought to learn from teachings and from teachers. the forest and the mountains were rigid. the Atman. a single cause: I was afraid of myself. about Siddhartha!" Having been pondering while slowly walking along. He realized that he was no youth any more. could only flee from it. who scorns diversity. as this my very own self. Slower." He looked around. could only deceive it. river and forest. here was yellow. is the very essence of thinking. as if he was seeing the world for the first time. Siddhartha. and what they. all of it was beautiful. which had accompanied him throughout his youth and used to be a part of him: the wish to have teachers and to listen to teachings. I want to begin my thoughts and my life with Atman and with the suffering of the world. had to part with him. to find the core of all peels in its unknown interior. where the Buddha. that Siddhartha has remained thus alien and unknown to me. He pondered about this sensation. the most holy one. which I sought to overcome. nor Atharva-Veda. all of it was mysterious and magical. Blue was blue. colourful was the world. I do not want to kill and dissect myself any longer. here was green. want to get to know myself. he walked along in his thoughts and asked himself: "But what is this. He realized that one thing had left him. . "now I would not let Siddhartha escape from me again! No longer. was no longer a pointless and coincidental diversity of mere appearances. who seeks unity. strange and mysterious was the world! Here was blue. he had left him. entered Siddhartha for the first time through the eyes. that one thing no longer existed in him. the divine part. the highest and wisest teacher. was no longer the veil of Maya. I want to learn from myself. It was the self. and by this alone sensations turn into realizations and are not lost. a new thought. despicable to the deeply thinking Brahman. was no longer a spell of Mara. stems from one cause. was not able to accept his teachings. in Siddhartha. Siddhartha pondered. the perfected one. And it was not long before he walked again. But I was not able to overcome it. I searched Brahman. the secret of Siddhartha. and in its midst was he.

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so it was still that very divinity's way and purpose, to be here yellow, here blue, there sky, there forest, and here Siddhartha. The purpose and the essential properties were not somewhere behind the things, they were in them, in everything. "How deaf and stupid have I been!" he thought, walking swiftly along. "When someone reads a text, wants to discover its meaning, he will not scorn the symbols and letters and call them deceptions, coincidence, and worthless hull, but he will read them, he will study and love them, letter by letter. But I, who wanted to read the book of the world and the book of my own being, I have, for the sake of a meaning I had anticipated before I read, scorned the symbols and letters, I called the visible world a deception, called my eyes and my tongue coincidental and worthless forms without substance. No, this is over, I have awakened, I have indeed awakened and have not been born before this very day." In thinking this thoughts, Siddhartha stopped once again, suddenly, as if there was a snake lying in front of him on the path. Because suddenly, he had also become aware of this: He, who was indeed like someone who had just woken up or like a new-born baby, he had to start his life anew and start again at the very beginning. When he had left in this very morning from the grove Jetavana, the grove of that exalted one, already awakening, already on the path towards himself, he he had every intention, regarded as natural and took for granted, that he, after years as an ascetic, would return to his home and his father. But now, only in this moment, when he stopped as if a snake was lying on his path, he also awoke to this realization: "But I am no longer the one I was, I am no ascetic any more, I am not a priest any more, I am no Brahman any more. Whatever should I do at home and at my father's place? Study? Make offerings? Practise meditation? But all this is over, all of this is no longer alongside my path." Motionless, Siddhartha remained standing there, and for the time of one moment and breath, his heart felt cold, he felt a cold in his chest, as a small animal, a bird or a rabbit, would when seeing how alone he was. For many years, he had been without home and had felt nothing. Now, he felt it. Still, even in the deepest meditation, he had been his father's son, had been a Brahman, of a high caste, a cleric. Now, he was nothing but Siddhartha, the awoken one, nothing else was left. Deeply, he inhaled, and for a moment, he felt cold and shivered. Nobody was thus alone as he was. There was no nobleman who did not belong to the noblemen, no worker that did not belong to the workers, and found refuge with them, shared their life, spoke their language. No Brahman, who would not be regarded as Brahmans and lived with them, no ascetic who would not find his refuge in the caste of the Samanas, and even the most forlorn hermit in the forest was not just one and alone, he was also surrounded by a place he belonged to, he also belonged to a caste, in which he was at home. Govinda had become a monk, and a thousand monks were his brothers, wore the same robe as he, believed in his faith, spoke his language. But he, Siddhartha, where did he belong to? With whom would he share his life? Whose language would he speak? Out of this moment, when the world melted away all around him, when he stood alone like a star in the sky, out of this moment of a cold and despair, Siddhartha emerged, more a self than before, more firmly concentrated. He felt: This had been the last tremor of the awakening, the last struggle of this birth. And it was not long until he walked again in long strides, started to proceed swiftly and impatiently, heading no longer for home, no longer to his father, no longer back. SECOND PART Dedicated to Wilhelm Gundert, my cousin in Japan KAMALA

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Siddhartha learned something new on every step of his path, for the world was transformed, and his heart was enchanted. He saw the sun rising over the mountains with their forests and setting over the distant beach with its palm-trees. At night, he saw the stars in the sky in their fixed positions and the crescent of the moon floating like a boat in the blue. He saw trees, stars, animals, clouds, rainbows, rocks, herbs, flowers, stream and river, the glistening dew in the bushes in the morning, distant hight mountains which were blue and pale, birds sang and bees, wind silverishly blew through the rice-field. All of this, a thousand-fold and colourful, had always been there, always the sun and the moon had shone, always rivers had roared and bees had buzzed, but in former times all of this had been nothing more to Siddhartha than a fleeting, deceptive veil before his eyes, looked upon in distrust, destined to be penetrated and destroyed by thought, since it was not the essential existence, since this essence lay beyond, on the other side of, the visible. But now, his liberated eyes stayed on this side, he saw and became aware of the visible, sought to be at home in this world, did not search for the true essence, did not aim at a world beyond. Beautiful was this world, looking at it thus, without searching, thus simply, thus childlike. Beautiful were the moon and the stars, beautiful was the stream and the banks, the forest and the rocks, the goat and the gold-beetle, the flower and the butterfly. Beautiful and lovely it was, thus to walk through the world, thus childlike, thus awoken, thus open to what is near, thus without distrust. Differently the sun burnt the head, differently the shade of the forest cooled him down, differently the stream and the cistern, the pumpkin and the banana tasted. Short were the days, short the nights, every hour sped swiftly away like a sail on the sea, and under the sail was a ship full of treasures, full of joy. Siddhartha saw a group of apes moving through the high canopy of the forest, high in the branches, and heard their savage, greedy song. Siddhartha saw a male sheep following a female one and mating with her. In a lake of reeds, he saw the pike hungrily hunting for its dinner; propelling themselves away from it, in fear, wiggling and sparkling, the young fish jumped in droves out of the water; the scent of strength and passion came forcefully out of the hasty eddies of the water, which the pike stirred up, impetuously hunting. All of this had always existed, and he had not seen it; he had not been with it. Now he was with it, he was part of it. Light and shadow ran through his eyes, stars and moon ran through his heart. On the way, Siddhartha also remembered everything he had experienced in the Garden Jetavana, the teaching he had heard there, the divine Buddha, the farewell from Govinda, the conversation with the exalted one. Again he remembered his own words, he had spoken to the exalted one, every word, and with astonishment he became aware of the fact that there he had said things which he had not really known yet at this time. What he had said to Gotama: his, the Buddha's, treasure and secret was not the teachings, but the unexpressable and not teachable, which he had experienced in the hour of his enlightenment--it was nothing but this very thing which he had now gone to experience, what he now began to experience. Now, he had to experience his self. It is true that he had already known for a long time that his self was Atman, in its essence bearing the same eternal characteristics as Brahman. But never, he had really found this self, because he had wanted to capture it in the net of thought. With the body definitely not being the self, and not the spectacle of the senses, so it also was not the thought, not the rational mind, not the learned wisdom, not the learned ability to draw conclusions and to develop previous thoughts in to new ones. No, this world of thought was also still on this side, and nothing could be achieved by killing the random self of the senses, if the random self of thoughts and learned knowledge was fattened on the other hand. Both, the thoughts as well as the senses, were pretty things, the ultimate meaning was hidden behind both of them, both had to be listened to, both had to be played with, both neither had to be scorned nor overestimated, from both the secret voices of the innermost truth had to be attentively perceived. He wanted to strive for nothing, except for what the voice commanded him to strive for, dwell on nothing, except where the voice would advise him to do so. Why had Gotama, at that time, in the hour of all hours, sat down under the bo-tree, where the enlightenment hit him? He had heard a voice, a voice in his own heart, which had commanded him to seek rest under this tree, and he had neither preferred self-castigation, offerings, ablutions, nor prayer, neither food nor drink, neither sleep nor dream, he had obeyed the voice. To obey like this, not to an external command, only to the voice, to be ready like this, this was good, this was necessary, nothing else was necessary. In the night when he slept in the straw hut of a ferryman by the river, Siddhartha had a dream: Govinda was

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standing in front of him, dressed in the yellow robe of an ascetic. Sad was how Govinda looked like, sadly he asked: Why have you forsaken me? At this, he embraced Govinda, wrapped his arms around him, and as he was pulling him close to his chest and kissed him, it was not Govinda any more, but a woman, and a full breast popped out of the woman's dress, at which Siddhartha lay and drank, sweetly and strongly tasted the milk from this breast. It tasted of woman and man, of sun and forest, of animal and flower, of every fruit, of every joyful desire. It intoxicated him and rendered him unconscious.--When Siddhartha woke up, the pale river shimmered through the door of the hut, and in the forest, a dark call of an owl resounded deeply and pleasantly. When the day began, Siddhartha asked his host, the ferryman, to get him across the river. The ferryman got him across the river on his bamboo-raft, the wide water shimmered reddishly in the light of the morning. "This is a beautiful river," he said to his companion. "Yes," said the ferryman, "a very beautiful river, I love it more than anything. Often I have listened to it, often I have looked into its eyes, and always I have learned from it. Much can be learned from a river." "I than you, my benefactor," spoke Siddhartha, disembarking on the other side of the river. "I have no gift I could give you for your hospitality, my dear, and also no payment for your work. I am a man without a home, a son of a Brahman and a Samana." "I did see it," spoke the ferryman, "and I haven't expected any payment from you and no gift which would be the custom for guests to bear. You will give me the gift another time." "Do you think so?" asked Siddhartha amusedly. "Surely. This too, I have learned from the river: everything is coming back! You too, Samana, will come back. Now farewell! Let your friendship be my reward. Commemorate me, when you'll make offerings to the gods." Smiling, they parted. Smiling, Siddhartha was happy about the friendship and the kindness of the ferryman. "He is like Govinda," he thought with a smile, "all I meet on my path are like Govinda. All are thankful, though they are the ones who would have a right to receive thanks. All are submissive, all would like to be friends, like to obey, think little. Like children are all people." At about noon, he came through a village. In front of the mud cottages, children were rolling about in the street, were playing with pumpkin-seeds and sea-shells, screamed and wrestled, but they all timidly fled from the unknown Samana. In the end of the village, the path led through a stream, and by the side of the stream, a young woman was kneeling and washing clothes. When Siddhartha greeted her, she lifted her head and looked up to him with a smile, so that he saw the white in her eyes glistening. He called out a blessing to her, as it is the custom among travellers, and asked how far he still had to go to reach the large city. Then she got up and came to him, beautifully her wet mouth was shimmering in her young face. She exchanged humorous banter with him, asked whether he had eaten already, and whether it was true that the Samanas slept alone in the forest at night and were not allowed to have any women with them. While talking, she put her left foot on his right one and made a movement as a woman does who would want to initiate that kind of sexual pleasure with a man, which the textbooks call "climbing a tree". Siddhartha felt his blood heating up, and since in this moment he had to think of his dream again, he bend slightly down to the woman and kissed with his lips the brown nipple of her breast. Looking up, he saw her face smiling full of lust and her eyes, with contracted pupils, begging with desire. Siddhartha also felt desire and felt the source of his sexuality moving; but since he had never touched a woman before, he hesitated for a moment, while his hands were already prepared to reach out for her. And in this moment he heard, shuddering with awe, the voice if his innermost self, and this voice said No. Then, all

he entered the city. the baskets. the mistress. when the sedan-chair came closer. I am still an ascetic and beggar. stood still on the squares. he thought. For a long time. he no longer saw anything else but the damp glance of a female animal in heat. Pursuing his goal. with a charming omen. but he thought about it. very delicate. charming face. Then. Now he had a goal. who was following him. asked him. Siddhartha saw how beautiful she was. He instantly felt drawn into the grove. and straightening up again. the maids. and only now he became aware of how the servants and maids had looked at him at the entrance. beautiful Kamala approached her grove in her sedan-chair. I must not remain like this. without a word into a pavilion. But that servant who walked at the very end of her train he motioned to him and asked him to inform his mistress that a young Brahman would wish to talk to her. the famous courtesan. and was told that this was the grove of Kamala. resting fair hands. I will not be able to enter the grove like this. long and thin. a clear. sat a woman. Then he went to take his bath in the river. read for a moment in the smart eyes with the high arcs above. breathed in a slight fragrant. which made to tower high on her head. Under black hair. The next person who came along this path he asked about the grove and for the name of the woman. smart and watchful dark eyes. he did not know. He bowed deeply. Among the boats by the river. a brightly red mouth. After a while. In their midst. With a smile. and that. how despicable. before the first customers came into his shop. When late in the afternoon. and early in the morning. Before the city. he had lived in the forests. And he laughed. carried by four servants in an ornamental sedan-chair. Thus I am entering this city. whom he had seen working in the shade of an arch in a building. carrying baskets. he slept this night. aside from the grove. the beautiful women nodded for a moment and disappeared into the grove. comb his hair and anoint it with fine oil. in which he had slept that night. When the evening came. and the straw hut of the ferryman. who had been waiting. like a freshly cracked fig. both male and female. he allowed the city to suck him in.Siddhartha 20 charms disappeared from the young woman's smiling face. saw the sedan-chair and saw the lady in it. and left him alone with her. he looked at the fair. the traveller came across a small group of servants. . Siddhartha was standing at the entrance. turned away from her and disappeared away from the disappointed woman with light steps into the bamboo-wood. made a bow and received the courtesan's greeting. whom he found again praying in a temple of Vishnu. drifted through the flow of the streets. and his heart rejoiced. saw the servants. whom he told about stories of Vishnu and the Lakshmi. how rejecting. Politely. in a beautifully fenced grove. had been the first roof for a long time he has had over his head. he had the barber's assistant shave his beard and cut his hair. how distrustful. Siddhartha stopped at the entrance to the pleasure-garden and watched the parade. Siddhartha thought. on red pillows under a colourful canopy. he reached the large city before the evening. the servant returned. he made friends with barber's assistant. and then the servant as well. greeting me?" asked Kamala. where Kamala was lying on a couch. eyebrows which were well tended and painted in a high arch. tall neck rising from a green and golden garment. she owned a house in the city. and was happy. I am still a Samana. On this day. he petted her cheek. with wide golden bracelets over the wrists. to follow him conducted him. rested on the stairs of stone by the river. "Weren't you already standing out there yesterday. very smart face. he saw a very fair. for he felt the need to be among people.

Samana. without money?" Laughing. And if it doesn't displease you. you have seen everything. Kamala laughed aloud. Siddhartha has come to me?" "To tell you this and to thank you for being so beautiful. have combed the hair." Kamala smiled and played with her fan of peacocks' feathers. with oil in his hair. and long hair. I am not afraid of this. But now. oh Samana.Siddhartha "It's true that I've already seen and greeted you yesterday. And now let's get to it: You aren't satisfied with Siddhartha as he is. Siddhartha has set harder goals for himself than such trifles. Kamala. you'll see. and he has reached them. someone might come and grab him and steal his learning. and dust in your hair?" 21 "You have observed well. that a Samana came to me with long hair and an old. was you. . My mouth is red and fresh as well. my dear. they have perfume in their hair and money in their pouches. You shall know. my friend. I was already learning. And asked: "And only to tell me this. pretty clothes. There is little which is still missing in me. "Never before this has happened to me. Kamala. To say this. and his religious devotion. oh excellent one: fine clothes. This is. which I have set for myself yesterday: to be your friend and to learn the joys of love from you! You'll see that I'll learn quickly. money in my pouch. even before I had entered the city. it will be a suitable match for yours. Did any Samana or Brahman ever fear. You have seen Siddhartha. He could hurt you. and the first one I met. Do you know it now. without shoes. and he isn't afraid of anything. he's strong. a stupid Samana from the forest. beautiful girl. aren't you at all afraid of the Samana from the forest. I have already taken off my beard. Samana from the forest? Did you mark my words?" "Yes. and his depth of thought? No. but without clothes. I have marked your words. He could kidnap you. and shoes.--But tell me. and there are also sons of Brahmans among them. and who has been a Samana for three years. Kamala. beautiful Kamala." At this. fine shoes. the son of a Brahman. Kamala exclaimed: "No. I would like to ask you to be my friend and teacher. I have come to you. and gifts for Kamala. Even yesterday. for they are his very own." Quoth Siddhartha: "Already I am starting to learn from you. how the young men are like who come to me. that a Samana from the forest came to me and wanted to learn from me! Never before this has happened to me. the Samana. oh Kamala! You are the first woman whom Siddhartha is not addressing with his eyes turned to the ground. for I know nothing yet of that art which you have mastered in the highest degree. who has come to learn how to make love?" "Whatever for should I be afraid of a Samana. pretty shoes. He could force you." "No." Siddhartha exclaimed. Clothes are what he must have. How shouldn't I reach that goal. I have left that path and came into this city." "But didn't you yesterday wear a beard. have oil in my hair. and lots of money in his pouch. Never again I want to turn my eyes to the ground. but they come in beautiful clothes. "How should I not mark words which are coming from such a mouth! Your mouth is like a freshly cracked fig. he doesn't satisfy me yet. they come in fine shoes. who has left his home to become a Samana. when I'm coming across a beautiful woman. torn loin-cloth! Many young men come to me. who is coming from the jackals and doesn't even know yet what women are?" "Oh. I have already learned harder things than what you're supposed to teach me.

thus advise me where I should go to. finding it in the street. he remained standing where he was. so that the golden bracelets clanged." "Nothing else?" "Nothing. In this. Deeply. which knows how to give so many sweet things! You are learning easily. "Beautiful are your verses. No. and truly. I can wait. after he had thought about it for a moment. thought the young man." . and was in this moment astonished like a child about the cornucopia of knowledge and things worth learning. Beautiful and red is Kamala's mouth. precisely like this it is also with Kamala and with the pleasures of love. Siddhartha. lovely Kamala. if I'll like your poem. buying. "It would be a pity. I can also write poetry. but just try to kiss it against Kamala's will. nor you from mine! So it is settled: Siddhartha will return. a well ordered. I would give you pieces of gold for them. you are so right! It would be such a great pity. well tested sequence of kisses. everyone different from the others. if a pretty young man like you would want to tackle it in such a wrong manner. shoes. More lovely is offering to pretty Kamala. but it cannot be stolen. once he'll have have what he still lacks: clothes. and with a deep astonishment Siddhartha felt how she taught him. "Very beautiful are your verses. money. who is coming from the jackals of the forest?" "Dear Kamala. and you will not obtain a single drop of sweetness from it. There is no other way for a poor man to obtain money. I can fast. clothes. Kamala kissed him. Kamala. thus you should also learn this: love can be obtained by begging. oh brown Samana. these verses: Into her shady grove stepped the pretty Kamala. you have come up with the wrong path. But speak. many would like to know this. At the grove's entrance stood the brown Samana. couldn't you still give me one small advice?" "An advice? Why not? Who wouldn't like to give an advice to a poor. What might you be able to do?" "I can think. if you want to be Kamala's friend. he was still to receive. But it will be difficult for you to earn thus much money with verses as you need. Kamala loudly clapped her hands. No. how she controlled him. receiving it as a gift." exclaimed Kamala. lured him. Bowed that man. You must do what you've learned and ask for money." Siddhartha bowed with a smile. seeing the lotus's blossom. it would be a pity. and how after this first one there was to be a long. and shoes in return." She beckoned him with her eyes. I shall not lose a single drop of sweetness from your mouth. More lovely. Would you like to give me a kiss for a poem?" "I would like to. that I'll find these three things most quickly?" "Friend. rejected him. and smiling Kamala thanked. For a long time. Like this it is. which revealed itself before his eyes. "if I was rich. For you need a lot of money. he tilted his head so that his face touched hers and placed his mouth on that mouth which was like a freshly cracked fig. But yes. ignorant Samana. I'm losing nothing when I'm giving you a kiss for them.Siddhartha 22 and he would only give away from those whatever he is willing to give and to whomever he is willing to give. how wise she was. What would be its title?" Siddhartha spoke. Breathing deeply. than offerings for gods.

without a word he accepted a piece of rice-cake. remember this! Tomorrow. he is the richest merchant of the city. Without fully understanding what was happening to him. But what will become of you? Aren't you able to do anything else but thinking. she sent for bread and fruits and treated him to it. "You're able to read? And write?" "Certainly. and all beautiful things. he managed to get out of the grove and over the hedge without making a sound. Contently. Suddenly." In this moment. Be polite towards him. he'll entrust you with a lot. where travellers stay." she called out to him. led into the bushes. Kamala!" stammered Siddhartha. they won't make a person lose any sleep. Perhaps as soon as tomorrow. therefore I do not lack clothes. a maid came running in and whispered a message into her mistress's ear. You will also still find use for the magic spells. you shall become his equal. near goals. nobody may see you in here. easy like that lessons in kissing." Kamala interrupted him. How come? Do you have a spell?" . and ultimately hopeless. without words he asked for food. nothing else. I have read the scriptures--" "Stop. At the inn. "You've been lucky. Many people can do this." thought Siddhartha. "Things are working out well. I can do this. I'll see you again. If he'll like you. "There's a visitor for me. there he turned up the following day. he positioned himself by the door." He had already discovered Kamala's house in the city long before. being given upper garments as a gift. he is very powerful. But don't be too modest! I do not want you to become his servant. everything is easy. Siddhartha found himself being dragged away by the maid. he'll accept you into his service. It is very good that you're able to read and write. I will ask no one for food any more. carrying the rolled up garments under his arm. "They are expecting you at Kamaswami's. "Simple is the life which people lead in this world here. shoes." Siddhartha thanked her and laughed. he did as he had been told. Being accustomed to the forest. and when she found out that he had not eaten anything yesterday and today. I also know magic spells. I also can't do it. he returned to the city. 23 "Yes. this I am able to do." she said when they parted. Everything was difficult. Siddhartha. when I was still a Samana.Siddhartha "The way you're able to kiss. "but I do not want to sing them any more. He gave the rice-cake to a dog and remained without food. he thought. brown Samana. very good. pride flared up in him. Kamaswami is starting to get old and lazy. "I'm opening one door after another for you." exclaimed Kamala. Be smart." said Siddhartha. making poetry?" "I also know the sacrificial songs. brought into a garden-house avoiding the direct path. which Kamala is giving me. "Hurry and get yourself away. fasting. and urgently admonished to get himself out of the grove as soon as possible without being seen." But to the maid she gave the order to give the pious Brahman white upper garments. bracelets. If he'll like you. this a small. "It presents no difficulties. Contently. Now. but I do not want to speak them any more. I had others tell him about you. I need clothes and money. it was no longer becoming to him to beg. He was no Samana any more. toilsome." "Most people can't. or else I won't be satisfied with you.

he is drawn. It was my resolution to learn love from this most beautiful woman. where he awaited the master of the house. to wait. with very intelligent. "when I came to you into your grove. with whom I have lived for a long time. he was directed into a rich house. But it is useful for many things. But I am so voluntarily. everyone can reach his goals." With one kiss. Nothing is effected by daemons. and to fast. it will speed on the fastest course to the bottom of the water. a swiftly. my teacher. But perhaps it is also like this: that Siddhartha is a handsome man. as soon as yesterday I have kissed Kamala. but that you seek to be in the service of a merchant. Everyone can perform magic. Surely. a learned man. "I wish that it should be this way. you'll see. This is what Siddhartha has learned among the Samanas. "But where would you be without me? What would you be. "as you say. You'll see that the stupid Samanas are learning and able to do many pretty things in the forest. I did the first step. he lets himself fall. Politely. servants led him between precious carpets into a chamber. which the likes of you aren't capable of. without doing anything. if he is able to think. but he passes through the things of the world like a rock through water. he fasts. Siddhartha bid his farewell. "I have been told. if Kamala wasn't helping you?" "Dear Kamala. without stirring. Kamaswami entered. "I have not become destitute and have never been destitute." Kamala listened to him. You should know that I'm coming from the Samanas. I told you I knew how to think. if he is able to wait. From that moment on when I had made this resolution. Siddhartha does nothing. he thinks. This is what fools call magic and of which they think it would be effected by means of the daemons. Kamala." she said quietly." said Siddhartha and straightened up to his full height. and soon I'll be a merchant and have money and all those things you insist upon." . The day before yesterday. there are no daemons. that my glance shall please you. She loved his voice." "If you're coming from the Samanas. I am without possessions." "Well yes." said Siddhartha. because he doesn't let anything enter his soul which might oppose the goal. smoothly moving man with very gray hair. the host and the guest greeted one another. Brahman. I also knew that I would carry it out. Look. "if this is what you mean. friend. "Perhaps it is so. cautious eyes. I was still a shaggy beggar.Siddhartha 24 Siddhartha said: "Yesterday. he waits. that always good fortune shall come to me out of your direction!" WITH THE CHILDLIKE PEOPLE Siddhartha went to Kamaswami the merchant. if he is able to fast. at your first glance at the entrance of the grove I already knew it. a resolution." the merchant began." "But what if I hadn't been willing?" "You were willing. and therefore I am not destitute. she loved the look from his eyes. This is how it is when Siddhartha has a goal. with a greedy mouth. how could you be anything but destitute? Aren't the Samanas entirely without possessions?" "I am without possessions. I knew that you would help me." said Siddhartha. His goal attracts him." she admitted. Kamala: When you throw a rock into the water. but you thought this was of no use. "that you were a Brahman. Might you have become destitute. that his glance pleases the women. so that you seek to serve?" "No. that therefore good fortune is coming towards him.

what would you like to give?" "Everyone gives what he has. the teacher teachings. he knows no emergency. because hunger would force him to do so. Being smart is good." "Well said. he would give his merchandise in return.Siddhartha "But what are you planning to live of. thinking is better. sir. I have been without possessions." "You're right. This. "And would you write something for me on this piece of paper?" He handed him a piece of paper and a pen." "So you've lived of the possessions of others." said Kamaswami. the farmer rice. sir. For more than three years. fasting is the smartest thing he could do. "Excellent. being without possessions?" 25 "I haven't thought of this yet. Kamaswami read: "Writing is good." the merchant praised him." "Presumable this is how it is. being patient is better. The warrior gives strength. Wait for a moment. he would have to accept any kind of service before this day is up." "That's everything?" "I believe. But he wouldn't take anything from another person for nothing. which he handed to his guest while asking: "Can you read this?" Siddhartha looked at the scroll. such is life. "Many a thing we will still have to discuss with one another. a merchant also lives of what other people own. When. that's everything!" "And what's the use of that? For example. For today. Siddhartha can wait calmly. I can fast. on which a sales-contract had been written down." "But if you don't mind me asking: being without possessions." .what is it good for?" "It is very good. and have never thought about of what I should live. whether it may be with you or wherever. what you're able to do?" "I can think. the fasting-. and Siddhartha wrote and returned the paper. everyone gives. I can wait. But like this. I'm asking you to be my guest and to live in this house. and began to read out its contents. the fisher fish. for example." Kamaswami left the room and returned with a scroll. After all. for a long time he can allow hunger to besiege him and can laugh about it. And what is it now what you've got to give? What is it that you've learned. When a person has nothing to eat. Everyone takes. sir." "So it seems to be indeed." "It is excellent how you're able to write." "Yes indeed. is what fasting is good for. Siddhartha hadn't learned to fast. the merchant gives merchandise. he knows no impatience. Samana.

became her student. wearing pretty clothes. and that every gesture. and returned extremely satisfied from his trip. when there is a loss. but let him also be liable for the same amount of the losses. smart mouth. I am very satisfied with this trip. Kamaswami held against him that he had not turned back right away. joined in the celebration of a wedding. he accepted it with equanimity. as if he did not care about the business. yes even more than an equal. without one admiring the other. a plentiful meal was served. and in the art of listening and deeply understanding previously unknown people. about that school of thought which teaches that pleasure cannot be be taken without giving pleasure. still a boy and had a tendency to plunge blindly and insatiably into lust like into a bottomless pit. there is never any passion in his soul when he conducts our business. at the hour appointed by her. the merchant. but Siddhartha looked upon all of this as if it was a game. a servant prepared a bath for him. Siddhartha answered: "Stop scolding. showed him calculations. every spot of the body. And thinking of Kamala's words. Much he learned from her red. which would bring happiness to those who know about it and unleash it. nobody knew that I was a merchant. dear friend! Nothing was ever achieved by scolding. he heard a lot and spoke little. gave copper-coins to their children. or something he has learned among Samanas." he said to a friend. every caress. that lovers must not part from one another after celebrating love. and lived in the dealers house from now on. Kamaswami conducted his business with care and often with passion. they never rule over him. "is no proper merchant and will never be one. who was. At one time. every look." exclaimed Kamaswami indignantly. He soon saw that Siddhartha knew little about rice and wool. when he already took part in his landlords business. he travelled to a village to buy a large harvest of rice there. so that with none of them should start feeling fed up or bored and get that evil feeling of having abused or having been abused. that he had wasted time and money. fine shoes. treated the farmers for a drink. and shoes. him she taught. the rice had already been sold to another merchant. farmers have shown me their fields. her lover. but Siddhartha only ate once a day. When he made a profit. But when he got there. he visited beautiful Kamala. Nevertheless. they never fully become a part of him. and that Siddhartha surpassed him." Kamaswami followed the advice. but the contents of which did not touch his heart. you are a merchant after all. children have sat on my knees. and soon he brought her gifts as well. forced him to treat him as an equal. Then. a Brahman has become my friend. but that he acted in a fortunate manner. She taught him." "That's all very nice. He always seems to be merely playing with out business-affairs. The merchant passed to duties of writing important letters and contracts on to him and got into the habit of discussing all important affairs with him. when he made losses. he was never subservient to the merchant. supple hand. He was not in Kamaswami's house for long. however small it was. But Siddhartha cared little about this. he is never afraid of failure. But he has that mysterious quality of those people to whom success comes all by itself. Twice a day. so this one turned out badly!" It seemed indeed. magic. But daily. whether this may be a good star of his birth. showed him the merchandise and storage-rooms. thoroughly starting with the basics.Siddhartha 26 Siddhartha thanked and accepted. let me bear that loss. Him. the rules of which he tried hard to learn precisely. Much he learned from her tender." The friend advised the merchant: "Give him from the business he conducts for you a third of the profits. "This Brahman. Kamaswami told him about his trade. "but in fact. every touch. look at this. and ate neither meat nor did he drink wine. If a loss has occurred. Here with Kamala was the worth and purpose of his present life. had its secret. one ought to think! Or might you have only travelled for your amusement?" . I have gotten to know many kinds of people. Wonderful hours he spent with the beautiful and smart artist. he is never upset by a loss. he'll become more zealous. and every day. Siddhartha stayed for several days in that village. her friend. shipping and trade. he laughed and said: "Well. Siddhartha got to know many new things. Clothes were brought to him. in calmness and equanimity. regarding love. nit with the business of Kamaswami. without being just as defeated as they have been victorious.

I have received kindness and trust. he replied: "Would you please not kid me with such jokes! What I've learned from you is how much a basket of fish costs and how much interests may be charged on loaned money. saw them suffering. my dear. was puzzled by him." Siddhartha laughed. though being happy and feeling joy at times. he listened curiously and happily. Besides from this. For what else? I have gotten to know people and places. I've neither harmed myself nor others by annoyance and hastiness. welcome was the debtor who sought another loan. my dear Kamaswami. and suffering because of deprivations which a Samana would not feel. you ought to be the one seeking to learn from me. of. I would have travelled back. pleasures. When Kamaswami came to him. He saw mankind going trough life in a childlike or animallike manner. many to cheat him. he saw them complaining about pain at which a Samana would only smile. I haven't learned to think from you. So. found amusement in them. When. many to draw some secret out of him. for an hour. towards the next person who would ask for him. And if I'll ever return there again. real life still passing him by and not touching him. when you will see: this Siddhartha is harming me. he made gifts. or rather they both ate other people's bread. But until then. Welcome was the merchant who offered him linen for sale. a dying. with his heart. of him doing lots of things which were only a game. and this entire game and the passion with which all people played this game occupied his thoughts just as much as the gods and Brahmans used to occupy them. and it earned him much more than he needed. worries. which he loved and also despised at the same time. he played with his business-deals. he hardly perceived it. whose businesses. and time and money would indeed have been lost. he let them cheat him a bit. He was open to everything. or a debtor seemed to be unable to pay. Siddhartha never listened to Kamaswami's worries and Kamaswami had many worries. However easily he succeeded in talking to all of them. many to appeal to his sympathy. And there were many who came to him. with the source of his being. Kamaswami could never convince his partner that it would be useful to utter a few words of worry or anger. to sleep badly.Siddhartha 27 "Surely. As a ball-player plays with his balls. many to get his advice. or for whatever purpose it might be. lamented quietly. he saw them scolding and insulting each other. and turned away from him. if I had been Kamaswami. and becoming gray for the sake of things which seemed to him to entirely unworthy of this price. He did not treat the rich foreign merchant any different than the servant who shaved him and the street-vendor whom he let cheat him out of some small change when buying bananas. He saw them toiling. or whether a shipment of merchandise seemed to have been lost. and don't harm yourself by scolding! If the day will come. in learning from all of them. he became aware of the strange life he was leading. deep in his chest. only as much as he considered indispensable. with the people around him. one day. Siddhartha ate his own bread. The business was good enough to provide him with the money for Kamala. And then. consented that he was a little bit right. welcome was the beggar who told him for one hour the story of his poverty and who was not half as poor as any given Samana. Siddhartha's interest and curiosity was only concerned with the people. tried to understand him. these people brought his way. let's be satisfied with one another. for money. These are your areas of expertise. He gave advice. and I will praise myself for not showing any hurry and displeasure at that time. Kamaswami held against him that he had learned everything he knew from him. he . watched them. all people's bread. had joy. many to do business with him. At times he felt. Look. I've learned. friendly people will receive me in a friendly and happy manner. But like this. crafts. "surely I have travelled for my amusement. being annoyed and in a hurry. he pitied. which admonished him quietly. and acts of foolishness used to be as alien and distant to him as the moon. in living with all of them. perhaps to buy an upcoming harvest. to complain about his worries or to reproach him concerning his business. then speak a word and Siddhartha will go on his own path." Indeed his soul was not with the trade. I have found friendship. for little pleasures. leave it as it is. quiet voice. as soon as I had seen that my purchase had been rendered impossible. to convince Siddhartha that he should eat his bread. Whether there was a business-deal going on which was in danger of failing. to have wrinkles on the forehead. my friend. for being slightly honoured. I've had a few good days." Futile were also the merchant's attempts. he was still aware that there was something which separated him from them and this separating factor was him being a Samana.

and wavers. Siddhartha hardly felt them fading away. He had become rich. of which I knew many. had tasted power. he said to her: "You are like me. and still has no refuge in himself. Siddhartha had lived the life of the world and of lust. are like a falling leaf. You are Kamala. embraced him: enjoyed his masterful skills. really to enjoy and to live instead of just standing by as a spectator. Among all the learned men and Samanas. And yet. had nothing to do with his life any more." she said. to which you can go at every hour of the day and be at home at yourself. one of the thirty or forty different games Kamala knew." Siddhartha said tiredly. forced him. The childlike people can. she played with Siddhartha." Siddhartha said nothing. that's their secret. a few. which he had killed off in hot years as a Samana. not in themselves they have teachings and a law. still the people of the world. Others have it. you are different from most people. more supple. It is that Gotama. no wind reaches them. they go on a fixed course. my dear. Kamala. are like stars. "that's not the reason why. many secrets." Kamala looked at him with a smile. there is a peace and refuge. practised the cult of lust. and yet all could have it. follow his instructions every hour. ran and ran invisibly. he who had learned from her how to make love. "I am like you. who is spreading that teachings. rejected him. when I'll be older. as I can also do." "Not all people are smart. She understood him better than Govinda used to understand him. For a long time. Years passed by. nothing else. took a long look at his face. And at several times he suddenly became scared on account of such thoughts and wished that he would also be gifted with the ability to participate in all of this childlike-naive occupations of the daytime with passion and with his heart. Kamala. "No. and a garden before the city by the . you're talking about him. It was still the art of thinking." said Siddhartha. "again. which had grown tired. You also do not love--how else could you practise love as a craft? Perhaps. you love nobody. and inside of you. gave her advice. received advice. Most people. which is blown and is turning around through the air. at his eyes. had awoken again. At some time. But again and again. there was one of this kind. Kamaswami is just as smart as I. You've learned my art well. The courtesan bent over him. Thousands of followers are listening to his teachings every day. she was more similar to him. learned the art of love. far away from him. "You are the best lover. in which more than in anything else giving and taking becomes one. he came back to beautiful Kamala.Siddhartha 28 was not with them. was knowledgeable of many forms of lust. people of our kind can't love. of waiting. nevertheless he had still remained in his heart for a long time a Samana. until he was defeated and rested exhausted by her side. His senses. had tasted lust. really to live. chatted with her. But others. though without being a part of it. more willing. I'd want to bear your child. who are small children with respect to their mind. Few people have this. being smart." SANSARA For a long time. and tumbles to the ground. and they played the game of love. the childlike people. of fasting." said Kamala. had realized this quite right. "Again. he had tasted riches. but they are all falling leaves. and yet you do not love me. you're having a Samana's thoughts. Isn't it so?" "It might very well be so. really to act." she said thoughtfully. enticed him. which guided his life. learned from her. in themselves they have their law and their course. I'll never be able to forget him. surrounded by the good life. for quite a while he possessed a house of his own and his own servants. Her body was flexible like that of a jaguar and like the bow of a hunter. You're stronger than others. a perfected one. "I ever saw. had remained alien to him as he was alien to them. The source ran somewhere. Siddhartha. you've remained a Samana. the exalted one. Once.

had slowly become a memory. which used to be near. with honours or money. which rich people have. which is neither body nor consciousness. this out of all things. when he lost a game of dice. even meat and poultry. but it turned slowly and hesitantly and was close to coming to a standstill. gets wrinkles. and starts to show threadbare spots here and there.Siddhartha 29 river. the wheel of differentiation for a long time. with women. . and to drink wine. slowly it filled his soul. It happened more and more often that. to bathe in perfumed waters. Many a part of this he still had. always he had watched them with some mockery. felt unable to think and tired. with plans or hopes. getting a bit denser every day. had been fleeting. secret knowledge of the self. to have himself carried about in a sedan-chair. spices and sweets. That high. that supple willingness to listen to the divine voice in his own heart. still turning. he stayed in bed for a long time. Like a veil. except Kamala. As a new dress becomes old in time. distant and quiet. which used to murmur within himself. some mocking disdain. filling it slowly and making it rot. after the separation from Govinda. And yet. the amount of passion in their joys and fears. He envied them for the one thing that was missing from him and that they had. to use his power over people. On the other hand. even fish. one after another. he had learned from Gotama. those features of discontent. He only noticed that this bright and reliable voice inside of him. But he did not learn this from them. When Kamaswami was ailing. once it has been set in motion. a bit murkier every month. but there was nobody close to him. to enjoy himself with a woman. the fearful but sweet happiness of being constantly in love. the importance they were able to attach to their lives. of sloth. to give orders to servants. Slowly. his mockery had become more tired. joy of thinking. when he was vexed by his worries as a merchant. will keep on turning for a long time and only slowly lose its vigour and come to a stop. as the harvest seasons and rainy seasons passed by. to sleep on a soft bed. to watch dancing girls. he learned from them out of all things the unpleasant ones. but it rarely laughed. those features which are so often found in the faces of rich people. thus Siddhartha's new life. his superiority had become more quiet. whenever they needed money or advice. Slowly the disease of the soul. lost colour and splendour as the years passed by. when he was annoyed. when he felt insulted. with the same disdain which a Samana constantly feels for the people of the world. much they had experienced. there was much they had learned. with their children. tiredness came over Siddhartha. It happened that he became angry and impatient. which had awoken in him at that time and had ever guided him in his best times. of his eternal entity. It happened that he laughed just too loud. a bit heavier every year. But still he had felt different from and superior to the others. already showing its ugliness here and there. many things he had learned from the Samanas. this joy of a child and this foolishness of a child. of sickliness. he envied them. Siddhartha had assumed something of the childlike people's ways for himself. that proud state of standing alone without teachings and without teachers. something of their childlikeness and of their fearfulness. bright state of being awake. envied them just the more. had grown old. of ill-humour. disappointment and disgust were waiting. in the morning after having had company the night before. of a lack of love. the holy source murmured. made it heavy. The people liked him. and hidden at bottom. slowly. the wheel of thinking. in those days after Gotama's sermon. He had learned to eat tenderly and carefully prepared food. among his growing riches. like humidity entering the dying stem of a tree. they came to him. gets stains. Just slowly and imperceptibly. made it tired. Siddhartha did not notice it. when Kamaswami bored him with his worries. Just as a potter's wheel. thus Siddhartha's soul had kept on turning the wheel of asceticism. Just slowly. Nevertheless. loses its beautiful colour in time. gets worn off at the seams. had remained within him for a long time afterwards: moderate living. the more similar he became to them. the world and sloth had entered Siddhartha's soul. had become silent. that tense expectation. he had learned to wear beautiful clothes. but one part after another had been submerged and had gathered dust. Siddhartha had learned to trade. and assumed. he had learned from his father the Brahman. which he himself despised. grabbed hold of him. His face was still smarter and more spiritual than others. hours of meditation. These people were all of the time in love with themselves. He had learned to play with dice and on a chess-board. like a thin mist. his senses had become alive. put it to sleep. was gathering wrinkles and stains. which he had experienced that one time at the height of his youth. which causes sloth and forgetfulness. which he had started after his separation from Govinda. Siddhartha had always watched it with mockery.

Never before. something like an elevated form of life in the midst of his saturated. sloth. Siddhartha had gotten into this final and most base of all dependencies. lost his patience when he was not payed on time. while he was worried about losing high stakes. lost money. in no other way he could demonstrate his disdain for wealth. lost again. fleeing into a numbing of his mind brought on by sex. more clearly and more mockingly. that terrible and petrifying fear. his heart full of misery which he thought he could not bear any longer. gray hairs among his black ones. Property. and riches also had finally captured him. an inscription of small lines. always get it to a slightly higher level. he continued fleeing. which he felt while he was rolling the dice. lost his disposition for giving away and loaning money to those who petitioned him. whenever he found his face in the mirror at the bedroom's wall to have aged and become more ugly. who gambled away tens of thousands at one roll of the dice and laughed at it. had already noticed. with an increasing rage and passion. which he at other times only joined with a smile and casually as a custom of the childlike people. how peaceful his walk had been. the merchants' false god. possessions. In this pointless cycle he ran. and finally also by that vice which he had used to despise and mock the most as the most foolish one of all vices: greed. It was since that time. and under her eyes and next to the corners of her mouth he had. biting and in tears. she wanted to squeeze the last sweet drop out of this vain. pursued the trade more zealously. repulsive taste of the wine. He. growing tired. lost a house in the country. here and there. perhaps soon. On a strange and devious way. won thousands. that fear he loved and sought to always renew it. lost his kindness towards beggars. He played the game due to a pain of his heart. I'll also follow that Buddha. fleeing into a new game. and full of concealed anxiety. Then. fear of the autumn. With a sigh. lukewarm. how closely lust was akin to death. talking. growing ill. by wine. something like an intoxication. covetousness. Then he had lain by her side. forced his debtors more strictly to pay. growing old. being tired and yet excited. Siddhartha had spent the night in his house with dancing girls and wine. it had become so strangely clear to Siddhartha. words behind which a sadness and tiredness lay hidden. just as Siddhartha himself. had drunk much wine and gone to bed a long time after midnight. by means of the game of dice. fleeting pleasure. few dared to take him on. she had aroused him. hating himself. and had tied him to her in the act of making love with painful fervour. Thus he gambled with high stakes and mercilessly. always increase it. that Siddhartha began to play the game for money and precious things. his mind was set on new riches. and Kamala had said thoughtful words. She had asked him to tell her about Gotama. how clear his eyes. had become a shackle and a burden. he wanted to continue squandering. which has no happy destination. losing and wasting his wretched money in the game brought him an angry joy. once more. and Kamala had sighed and had said: "One day. when he had stopped being a Samana in his heart. still unsaid. They had been sitting under the trees. tiredness from walking a long path. and had for a long time sought to sleep in vain. full of a disgust which he felt penetrating his entire body like the lukewarm. of slight grooves. he had to tell her about the exalted Buddha. perhaps not even conscious anxiety: fear of old age. mocking himself. because he wanted to continue gambling. they were no longer a game and trifles to him. an inscription reminiscent of autumn and old age. the just . He was a feared gambler. and concealed. close to weeping and despair. For a long time. whenever embarrassment and disgust came over him. dull life. Tiredness was written on Kamala's beautiful face. by lust. tiredness and the beginning of withering. That fear." But after this. and could not hear enough of him. He had spend the hours of the evening with Kamala. how still and beautiful his mouth. so high and audacious were his stakes. I'll give him my pleasure-garden for a gift and take my refuge in his teachings. and from there he fled back into the urge to pile up and obtain possessions. in her beautiful pleasure-garden. as clearly as never before. and Kamala's face had been close to him. the soul full of reluctance. fear of having to die. had acted as if he was superior to them towards the fellow-members of his caste. though this was no longer true. became more strict and more petty in his business. how kind his smile. Siddhartha lost his calmness when losses occurred. continue demonstrating his disdain of wealth. read a fearful inscription. as if. threw away thousands. And after each big loss. Then the time came when a dream warned him. for in this feeling alone he still felt something like happiness. who was only in his forties.Siddhartha 30 He had been captured by the world. occasionally dreaming at night about money! And whenever he woke up from this ugly spell. he had bid his farewell to her. lost jewelry. won again.

then again he had. By and by. He took it out. locked the gate. When was there ever a time when he had experienced happiness. felt a true bliss? Oh yes. Worthless. thinking of Gotama. For how long had he not heard this voice any more. had found for a few moments a half unconsciousness. who has eaten and drunk far too much. there the small bird was dead and lay stiff on the ground. the gods are awaiting you. when the ever rising. in the midst of the thirst. for how long had he reached no height any more. in the midst of the pain felt this very same thing: "Go on! Go on! You are called upon!" He had heard this voice when he had left his home and had chosen the life of a Samana. as if he had thrown away from himself all value and everything good by throwing out this dead bird. and in all this. he felt encompassed by a deep sadness. That entire day. you are destined for. came to an end in him. it was not necessary! The name of this game was Sansara. a comedy. in an immense burst of disgust. But more than by anything else. and their goals were not his. so he felt. twice. so it seemed to him. he had a dream: Kamala owned a small. when he had obtained praise from the Brahmans. rare singing bird in a golden cage. he had felt it in his heart: "There is a path in front of you. as an assistant in the offerings. nothing which was alive. he had tried hard and longed to become a man like those many. in the dispute with the learned ones. felt death in his heart and horror in his chest. he had felt it in his heart: "There is a path in front of the one who has distinguished himself in the recitation of the holy verses. In those moments. nothing which was in some way delicious or worth keeping he had left in his hands. Like when someone. by the smell of wine from his mouth. when every obtained knowledge only kindled new thirst in him. withered in him. he gathered his thoughts. a dance he would watch. that entire world of the Kamaswami-people had only been a game to him. Of this bird. he was disgusted by himself. or she him? Did they not play a game without an ending? Was it necessary to live for this? No. inside of him.Siddhartha 31 too sweet. without a high goal. who at other times always used to sing in the morning. he dreamt. had been valuable to him--but was she still thus? Did he still need her. when he wrestled in pain for the purpose of Brahman. when the night had fallen. something had died. Starting up from this dream. He dreamt: this bird had become mute. In his years as a boy. Did he have to leave them to become a Kamaswami? He still sat there. a game for children. the just too sweet scent of their hair and breasts. When. and also when he had gone away from him to the uncertain. thus this sleepless man wished to free himself of these pleasures. Shivers ran over his body. sat and sensed how everything died in him. after all. Alone he stood there and empty like a castaway on the shore. weighed it for a moment in his hand. thinking of Govinda. Siddhartha knew that the game was over. and in the same moment. he had slightly fallen asleep. and since this arose his attention. several times he had experienced such a thing. his life had been much more miserable and poorer than theirs. Only Kamala had been dear. Siddhartha went to the pleasure-garden he owned. sat down under a mango-tree. the just too soft smile of the dancing girls. without knowing it himself. and in his mind. and his heart hurt. as a young man. nor their worries. he sat under the mango-tree. dull music. upward fleeing. worthless and pointless was the way he had been going through life. for many long years. ten times--but for ever and ever over again? Then. without thirst. Not until the light of the morning and the beginning of the first activities in the street before his city-house. like those children. how even and dull was the manner in which his path had passed through life." Then. a hint of sleep." And again. thinking of his father. out in the street. by the flabby tiredness and listlessness of his skin. a game which was perhaps enjoyable to play once. that he could not play it any more. by his perfumed hair. these habits and all of this pointless life and himself. he once again went the entire path of his life. and then threw it away. starting with the first days he could remember. With a gloomy mind. content with small lustful pleasures and yet never satisfied! For all of these many years. he felt terribly shocked. . goal of all thinking had ripped him out of and up from the multitude of those seeking the same goal. and again when he had gone away from the Samanas to that perfected one. without elevation. vomits it back up again with agonising pain and is nevertheless glad about the relief. he has had a taste of it. he stepped in front of the cage and looked inside.

and no awakening from that! Was there still any kind of filth. Tiredness and hunger had weakened him. A frightening emptiness was reflected back at him by the water. And full he was. Kamala had no one look for him. to breathe out. A hang bent over the bank of the river. BY THE RIVER Siddhartha walked through the forest. Passionately he wished to know nothing about himself anymore. By this river he stopped. to sleep again. shook himself. to have rest. and knew nothing but that one thing. she was not astonished. that she had felt one more time to be so completely possessed and penetrated by him. and that he had tasted all of it. where she held a rare singing bird captive in a golden cage. He rose. he had not soiled himself with. and never came back. he felt strong hunger. He smiled tiredly. was it not as foolish game. answering to the terrible emptiness in his soul. she gazed after it. this also died in him. Kamaswami had people look for him. to spit out this stale wine. . of the table with the meals on it. full of the feeling of been sick of it. to put an end to this miserable and shameful life. there was nothing left but the deep. that he owned a garden? He also put an end to this. Dead was the singing bird. in my pleasure-garden. he thought: "Here I'm sitting under my mango-tree. a coconut-tree. sucked everything out of it until he was disgusted with it. she became aware that she was pregnant from the last time she was together with Siddhartha. to sleep with a woman again? Was this cycle not exhausted and brought to a conclusion for him? Siddhartha reached the large river in the forest. Siddhartha leaned against its trunk with his shoulder. to breathe in again and again. For a long time. Did she not always expect it? Was he not a Samana. Since he had been without food this day.Siddhartha 32 looking up. given him joy. she received no more visitors and kept her house locked. She opened the door of the cage. was it right. to be dead. In the same hour of the night. as he had lived it for many years until now. Dead was the bird in his heart. that there was no going back for him. left the city. when he had still been a young man and came from the town of Gotama." He smiled a little --was it really necessary. like a sponge sucks up water until it is full. full of misery. looked down and found himself to be entirely filled with the wish to let go and to drown in these waters. that this life. a pilgrim? And most of all. to eat again. wherever to. he had dreamt of. From this day on. hesitantly he stood at the bank. he caught sight of the stars. thinking that he had fallen into the hands of robbers. a dreariness of the soul he had not brought upon himself? Was it still at all possible to be alive? Was it possible. a ferryman had conducted him. For a long time. which ran and ran under him. painful yearning to shake off this whole desolate dream. of his chamber and bed. Deeply. she had felt this the last time they had been together. bid his farewell to the mango-tree. and she was happy. was over and done away with. he had sucked up disgust and death from all sides into his body. full of death. his farewell to the pleasure-garden. bring him forgetfulness and sleep. to which goal? No. there was nothing left in this world which could have attracted him. a man who was at home nowhere. was already far from the city. and whatever for should he walk on. and bid his farewell to these things. that he owned a mango-tree. in spite of all the pain of the loss. If there only was a lightning-bolt to strike him dead! If there only was a tiger a devour him! If there only was a wine. a sin or foolish act he had not committed. took the bird out and let it fly. But after some time. When she received the first news of Siddhartha's disappearance. he had been entangled in Sansara. that she had pulled him so affectionately to her heart for this last time. there were no more goals. the same river over which a long time ago. and looked down into the green water. given him comfort. Siddhartha left his garden. she went to the window. the flying bird. to feel hunger. When she was told that Siddhartha had disappeared. embraced the trunk with one arm. and thought of his house in the city. a poison which would numb his senses.

the perfected. By the foot of the coconut-tree. this depraved and rotten body. So this was how things were with him. with a slurred voice. knew the place where he lay. the holy "Om". He only knew that his previous life (in the first moment when he thought about it. out of remote areas of his soul. to throw it away. which he. this Siddhartha. under a coconut-tree. that this wish. he knew himself. joyful and curious. struck down by tiredness. But this was only a moment. Siddhartha collapsed. he had reached the end. the friend of his youth. but this Siddhartha was nevertheless transformed. but that by a river. strangely awake. he felt as if ten years had passed. Then. so doomed was he. previous incarnation. which he had forgotten. this dog Siddhartha. placed his head on the root of the tree and fell into a deep sleep. Siddhartha straightened up. and the past seemed to him as if it had been covered by a veil. flash. Govinda who had taken his refuge with the exalted Buddha. Quietly. had drowned and was reborn in a new body? But no. the old word which is the beginning and the end of all prayers of the Brahmans. he spoke the word Om to himself. like an early pre-birth of his present self)--that his previous life had been abandoned by him. he stared into the water. In deep tiredness. he too. that he had been able to seek death. opened his eyes. a syllable. a submergence and complete entering into Om. saw the reflection of his face and spit at it. into the nameless. Deep was his sleep and without dreams. without thinking. he has come to his senses. mumbling Om. Govinda had aged. so much he had lost his way and was forsaken by all knowledge. he slipped towards death. that. was strangely well rested. knew about all that is divine. When he woke up after many hours. He observed the man. that then he had fallen asleep and had now woken up and was looking at the world as a new man. There was nothing left for him. which roughly means "that what is perfect" or "the completion". he took his arm away from the trunk of the tree and turned a bit. Om! he spoke to himself: Om! and again he knew about Brahman. this past life seemed to him like a very old. spoke to himself. the smashing to bits of the form he hated! Let him be food for fishes. Siddhartha was deeply shocked. he had really died. his dormant spirit suddenly woke up and realized the foolishness of his actions. and he had not observed him for long when he recognised this monk as Govinda. It was a word. . the weird one. infinitely meaningless. With his eyes closed. all sobering realizations. except to smash the failure into which he had shaped his life. What a wonderful sleep had this been! Never before by sleep. when the Om entered his consciousness: he became aware of himself in his misery and in his error. knew about the indestructibility of life. the eccentric. had been able to grow in him: to find rest by annihilating his body! What all agony of these recent times. and he remembered where he was and how he got here. thus rejuvenated! Perhaps. a monk in a yellow robe with a shaven head.Siddhartha 33 Yes. then he saw a person sitting opposite to him. thus renewed. he had even intended to throw his life away. and it seemed to him as if his entire long sleep had been nothing but a long meditative recitation of Om. this wish of a child. this was brought on by this moment. a thinking of Om. saw with astonishment that there were trees and the sky above him. did not know where he was and who had brought him here. except to annihilate himself. let him be chopped to bits by the daemons! With a distorted face. he knew his hand and his feet. full of disgust and wretchedness. before the feet of mockingly laughing gods. out of past times of his now weary life. in order to let himself fall straight down. in order to finally drown. And in the moment when the sound of "Om" touched Siddhartha's ear. all desperation had not brought about. he had been thus refreshed. this weakened and abused soul! Let him be food for fishes and crocodiles. This was the great vomiting he had longed for: death. knew this self in his chest. the holy word Om on his lips. infinitely distant. sitting in the position of pondering. But it took him a long while for this. a sound stirred up. an unknown man. infinitely far away. who had neither hair on his head nor a beard. this lunatic. was renewed. for a long time he had not known such a sleep any more. speaking which he had fallen asleep. he heard the water quietly flowing.

oh sir. and don't comprehend any more how I couldn't recognise you right away. always be in good health. But when Govinda now. oh friend?" "I'm going nowhere. Siddhartha smiled. though I wouldn't have required any guard. May you. I who wanted to guard your sleep. opened his eyes and looked at him. you're wearing the shoes of a distinguished gentleman." said Siddhartha. I. "You're friendly. oh Siddhartha. Govinda. and from the school of the Brahmans. and have been on a pilgrimage together with several of us on this path. the Sakyamuni. Be welcome." Govinda exclaimed loudly. Siddhartha saw that Govinda did not recognise him. timidness. let me go to catch up with my brothers." answered Govinda. and your hair. We monks are always travelling. Therefore." "Farewell. forgive me. it is as it is with you. oh sir. is not a pilgrim's hair. Samana. "Permit me to ask. Govinda was happy to find him awake. for watching out over my sleep. I'm recognising you. sir. and from our walk to the Samanas. the Buddha. "However did you get here?" "You have been sleeping. And then." Govinda made the gesture of a salutation and said: "Farewell. live according to the rules if the teachings passed on to us. You've been the guard of my sleep. Siddhartha. I'm just travelling. sir. so it seems." "I'm going. whenever it is not the rainy season. am a follower of the exalted Gotama. and from the offerings. oh Govinda. to see you again. I have served you.Siddhartha 34 but still his face bore the same features." spoke Siddhartha. expressed zeal. searching. where snakes often are and the animals of the forest have their paths. "I know you." Govinda spoke: "You're saying: you're on a pilgrimage. faithfulness. Badly." said Siddhartha. and I believe in you. The monk stopped. accept alms. from your father's hut. he had been sitting here for a long time and been waiting for him to wake up. "I have been sleeping. I sought to wake you up. tiredness has overwhelmed me. not the hair of a . again I thank you for this. where are you going to?" Quoth Siddhartha: "With me too. I'm going nowhere. But now that you're awake." "You're Siddhartha." "I thank you." "It also gives me joy. though he did not know him. Now you may go then. sir. from where do you know my name?" Now. "It is not good to be sleeping in such places. Siddhartha. to see you again. apparently. you do not look like a pilgrim. when I saw you lying and sleeping in a place where it is dangerous to sleep. Now. Where are you going to. But you. move on. and since I saw that your sleep was very deep. my joy is great. friend. But." "I thank you. I have fallen asleep myself. with the fragrance of perfume. I'm on a pilgrimage. you followers of the exalted one. we always move from one place to another. You're wearing a rich man's garments. sensing his gaze. Samana. and from that hour when you took your refuge with the exalted one in the grove Jetavana. It is always like this. I stayed behind from my group and sat with you.

he did not really feel like it. "But few would go on a pilgrimage in such clothes. there is nothing I could bring about. you know it. Govinda. But now. for what fades most quickly. And how could he not have loved everybody and everything in this moment. now I'm starting again at the beginning . few in such shoes. he thought. since all these most easily perishing things have slipped from me again. I'm wearing them. that my hair is already half gray. and what I'll be tomorrow. so it seemed to him now. I don't know." "Right so. And now. After that. my dear. he gave him the salutation which one would use on a gentleman and went on his way. so he remembered. and I'm wearing my hair like the worldly and lustful people. now he had really become a childlike person. Siddhartha watched him leave." "You're on a pilgrimage. Remember. wearing such shoes. but hunger gave him much pain. today. nothing is mine. Thinking was hard on him. for the good life. and yet also with a smile. he had given them up. few with such hair. my dear Govinda. Govinda. Where is Siddhartha the Brahman? Where is Siddhartha the Samana? Where is Siddhartha the rich man? Non-eternal things change quickly. I'm travelling. for sensual lust. but he forced himself. in the busy. nor waiting. was this very thing that he loved everything. I don't know it just like you. now I'm standing here under the sun again just as I have been standing here a little child. filled with Om! The enchantment. I said: I'm on a pilgrimage. with doubt in his eyes. this fearful man. Never I have met such a pilgrim. Siddhartha. you have observed well. I'm wearing a rich man's clothes." 35 "I believe you. this faithful man. your keen eyes see everything. which had been his sickness before." said Govinda. and the times were long past when he had been tough against hunger." "You've lost your riches?" "I've lost them or they me. my dear: Not eternal is the world of appearances. and our hair and bodies themselves. he loved him still. Siddhartha thought about his situation. But I haven't said to you that I was a Samana. in the glorious hour after his wonderful sleep. How wondrous is this! Now. that he was not able to love anybody or anything. The sleep had strengthened him much. With a smiling face. they had abandoned him. And it was this very thing. not eternal. In those days. These had been his possession. laborious years of his youth. They somehow happened to slip away from me. his power and strength.Siddhartha Samana. for riches! His life had indeed been strange. And so it is: I'm on a pilgrimage. nothing else. for I have been one of them. Now. such a garment. what are you now?" "I don't know it. And now. anything but eternal are our garments and the style of our hair. none of them was his any more. nor thinking. that he was full of joyful love for everything he saw. you've met a pilgrim just like this. that I'm no longer young." "And now. he had learned these three feats. Siddhartha watched the leaving monk. With sadness. neither fasting. he had boasted of three three things to Kamala. being a pilgrim myself for many years. for by now he had not eaten for two days. he thought of that time. For the most wretched things. had been able to do three noble and undefeatable feats: fasting--waiting--thinking. The wheel of physical manifestations is turning quickly. so it seemed." Govinda looked at the friend of his youth for a long time. With a smiling face. that my strength is fading. because I have been a rich man. I have learned nothing. I have no abilities. his solid staff. which had happened inside of him in his sleep and by means of the Om. I was a rich man and am no rich man any more. you've seen this quite right.

to unlearn thinking again. "Things are going downhill with you!" he said to himself. that I have completely fled. I had to sin. to find Atman in me again. through so much vices. a hundred years ago. Like this. always moving on downhill. this path. to that foolish and dreary life! I praise you. my eyes smile to it. I felt the knowledge of the oneness of the world circling in me like my own blood. But what a path has this been! I had to pass through so much stupidity. I had only to do with gods and offerings. piled up money. that there is now an end to that hatred against myself. a piece of misery. of the gamblers! How did I hate myself for staying in this terrible world for so long! How did I hate myself. Let it go as it likes. this was why he laughed. of sloth. so he thought. I had only to do with asceticism. foolish world. filled his stomach. How did I hate this world of the rich. kindly he smiled at the river. Yes. and he also saw the river going downhill. so he felt. never again I will. which has done me so good? Or from the word Om. Was this not the river in which he had intended to drown himself. Wonderfully. the joyful source and voice in him was still alive after all. which I said? Or from the fact that I have escaped. to hear Om again. this was why he felt joy. to the thought of suicide. He had now. Wherever from. how good to breathe! There. listened curiously to his stomach. to have become free! How clean and beautiful is the air here. the bird in my chest has not died. completely tasted and spit out. worshipped the eternal in the Atman. he had to smile. have done something. wasted money. I've had to experience despair. when he hang over the rushing waters and was ready to destroy himself. in order to be able to experience divine grace. have made myself old and evil! No. in these recent times and days. For much longer. Wonderfully. as I used to like doing so much. But I also had to leave Buddha and the great knowledge. As I boy. made money. in past times. Where else might my path lead me to? It is foolish. where I ran away from. there everything smelled of ointments. to laugh about himself. and singing and being happy through it all. learned to please my senses. from a thinker into a childlike person? And yet. it moves in loops. devoured up to the point of desperation and death. But as a young man. no. Siddhartha. to be able to live again. he asked his heart. I had to spend many years losing my spirit. this path has been very good. or had he dreamed this? Wondrous indeed was my life. where from did you get this happiness? Might it come from that long. and yet. with thinking and meditation. learned to hunger. I went and learned the art of love with Kamala. tortured myself. this I like. I had to become a fool. which was rumbling with hunger. to be able to sleep properly and awake properly again. poisoned. through so many errors. wondrous detours it has taken. through so much disgust and disappointments and woe. if this had not happened: the moment of complete hopelessness and despair. wasted money. good sleep. and now he was again facing the world void and naked and stupid. of those who revel in fine food. But it was right so. delude myself into thinking that Siddhartha was wise! But this one thing I have done well. of spices. of wine. to laugh about this strange. But he could not feed sad about this. was searching for Brahman. perhaps it is going around in a circle. I want to to take it. soon afterwards. of excess. he even felt a great urge to laugh. have heard the bird in your chest singing and have followed it! Thus he praised himself. his fate had been strange! Things were going downhill with him. have deprive. that I am finally free again and am standing like a child under the sky? Oh how good is it to have fled. learned to love my stomach. suffered of heat and frost. he felt joy rolling like waves in his chest. He liked this well. insight came towards me in the form of the great Buddha's teachings. well upholstered hell. that most extreme moment. and let his soul die of thirst. and as he was saying it. just to become a child again and to be able to start over. you have once again had an idea. That he had felt this despair. this I must praise. I followed the penitents. As a youth. to forget the oneness. he happened to glance at the river. I've had to sink down to the most foolish one of all thoughts. that the bird. a piece of suffering. my heart says "Yes" to it. he could have stayed with Kamaswami. and laughed about it. it was good. lived in the forest. found joy in himself. for much longer he could have lived in this soft.Siddhartha 36 and as a child! Again. taught my body to become dead. after so many years of foolishness. and that he had not succumbed to it. this was why his face was smiling brightly under his hair which had . Isn't it just as if I had turned slowly and on a long detour from a man into a child. learned trading with Kamaswami. this deep disgust.

he wanted to listen to it. until Siddhartha the lustful. while he thought he would kill it by fasting and penance. shall also take its start there! Tenderly. And now I know it. he had been. he had wrestled with for so many years. a dice-gambler. not to leave it very soon. something which already for a long time had yearned to die. something else from within him had died. by this lovely river? Was it not due to this death.Siddhartha turned gray. too many sacrificial rules. always the priest or wise one. so it seemed to him. thought Siddhartha. which was back again after every killing. But the new Siddhartha felt a deep love for this rushing water. which one needs to know. he looked into the rushing river. something he did not know yet. the blue of the sky being depicted in it. Siddhartha had intended to drown himself. Into being a priest. listened gratefully to a buzzing bee. Had not this bird died in him. Good for me. his self had retreated. so without fear. he had to continue bearing these ugly years. always the smartest. prohibited joy. to know this!" For a long time. which today had finally come to its death. in my stomach. there it sat firmly and grew. he wanted to learn from it. here in the forest. to woman and money. It seemed to him. the new Siddhartha. But today he was young. so much doing and striving for that goal! Full of arrogance. his small. Therefore. in it the old. to much self-castigation. mortal was every physical form. and proud self. quiet bubbles of air floating on the reflecting surface. With a thousand eyes. listened with a smile to his stomach. with white ones. never before he had like a water so well as this one. as if the river had something special to tell him. the pointlessness of a dreary and wasted life up to the end. He had died. which was still awaiting him. had to become a merchant. in my heart. Was it not this what he used to intend to kill in his ardent years as a penitent? Was this not his self. bearing the disgust. He would also grow old. "to get a taste of everything for oneself. always the knowing and spiritual one. He who would understand this water and its secrets. Siddhartha the greedy could also die. which was newly awaking. the teachings. and it told him: Love this water! Stay near it! Learn from it! Oh yes. Now he saw it and saw that the secret voice had been right. that no teacher would ever have been able to bring about his salvation. which had now grown old and is dead--my present path. I have known it for a long time. he had to go out into the world. tired. He thought these thoughts. too many holy verses. with crystal ones. he looked into the rushing water. In this river. That lust for the world and riches do not belong to the good things. as it sang for joy. so rich in secrets. I have already learned as a child. my path had led me at that time into a new life. it is the same which I have crossed a long time ago on my way to the childlike people. and was full of joy. would also understand many other . that he was now like a child. into the crystal lines of its drawing. mortal was Siddhartha. Bright pearls he saw rising from the deep. desperate Siddhartha had drowned today. a drinker. Too much knowledge had held him back. had he not felt its death? No. and a greedy person. a new Siddhartha had woken up from the sleep. Therefore. with green ones. but in my eyes. my present new life. don't just know it in my memory. into this arrogance. listened to the bird. was a child. into the transparent green. so full of joy? Now Siddhartha also got some idea of why he had fought this self in vain as a Brahman. frightened. THE FERRYMAN By this river I want to stay. but I have experienced only now. which had defeated him again and again. with sky-blue ones. he is the one I want to go to. he pondered his transformation. always working the most. so full of trust. never before he had perceived the voice and the parable of the moving water thus strongly and beautifully. until the priest and Samana in him was dead. up to bitter despair. a friendly ferryman had guided me then. 37 "It is good. into this spirituality. the river looked at him. lose himself to lust and power. and decided for himself. how grateful was he to it! In his heart he heard the voice talking. Cheerfully. starting out from his hut. as a penitent. How did he love this water. how did it delight him. felt fear? Was it not this. always one step ahead of all others." he thought. he would also eventually have to die.

"Once before. I have been looked upon with distrust. was always at all times the same and yet new in every moment! Great be he who would grasp this. I have been looked upon today because of my clothes. I have no money to pay your fare. and was nevertheless always there. "Now I recognise you. the workings of hunger in his body became unbearable. This is nothing for people wearing fine clothes. a distant memory. sir. ferryman. Thus. the ferryman looked at the stranger. this was a long time ago. being astonished to see such an elegant man walking along and on foot. listened to the current. the man at the oar moved from side to side: "It is beautiful. The ferryman. ferryman." the passenger spoke. friend. and I was a Samana." For a long time. But isn't every life. so I hope. up the path by the bank. and you've been ferried across the river by me. took him into his boat and pushed it off the bank. you would soon stop enjoying it. Wouldn't you." "My name is Siddhartha. intent to continue travelling without clothes?" "Ah. be my guest today as well and sleep . and accept my clothes for it. Siddhartha rose. He saw: this water ran and ran. when you've last seen me. In a daze he walked on. searching. do it today as well." "And do you." the ferryman laughed. all secrets." "So be welcome. When he reached the ferry." "Ah. sir. like to accept these clothes. possibly more than twenty years ago. listened to the rumbling hunger in his body. upriver. once before you have ferried me across this water in your boat for the immaterial reward of a good deed. most of all I wouldn't want to continue travelling at all.Siddhartha things. divine voices. Behold. many secrets. which are a nuisance to me. Haven't you've been a Samana? I can't think of your name any more. and the same ferryman who had once transported the young Samana across the river. Siddhartha recognised him. and we parted like good friends. isn't every work beautiful?" "This may be true. "I'm not joking." he finally said. sir. he today only saw one. "Would you like to ferry me over?" he asked. "It must be beautiful to live by this water every day and to cruise on it. "It's a beautiful life you have chosen for yourself. But I envy you for yours. to give me an old loincloth and kept me with you as your assistant. the boat was just ready. or rather as your trainee." With a smile." "You're joking. "At one time. incessantly it ran. Siddhartha. Most of all I would like you. this one touched his soul. it is as you say. only felt some idea of it stirring. 38 But out of all secrets of the river. from me? For you must know. he had also aged very much. for I'll have to learn first how to handle the boat. understand this! He understood and grasped it not." Siddhartha laughed." You will. you've slept in my hut. My name is Vasudeva. stood in the boat.

and also ate with eager pleasure of the mango fruits. Gratefully. They travelled to seek money and business. "but not from me. and how he had felt such a love for the river after his slumber. was just listening. You'll learn it. If I was able to say and teach it. but like this I am only a ferryman. Siddhartha. I have learned nothing else. to confess to such a listener. Siddhartha. "let's go to sleep. his own suffering. I'm no learned man. See. And I also thank you for this. and Vasudeva pushed the oar with more strength. I have lived alone. I have no special skill in speaking. then Vasudeva said: "It is as I thought. to sink. All I'm able to do is to listen and to be godly. and the river was obstructing their path. how once before. you've already learned this from the water too. the river. he helped him to tie the boat to the stakes. Listening carefully. and of his deep fall." said Siddhartha. he let everything enter his mind. did not add his praise or rebuke. the ferryman asked him to enter the hut." "I thank you. for listening to me so well! These people are rare who know how to listen. Vasudeva offered him. Until late at night. I will also learn in this respect from you. But in the end of Siddhartha's tale. they have heard its voice. with his eyes closed. and the river has become sacred to them. The river has taught me to listen. and for weddings." "You will learn it. birthplace and childhood." Quoth Siddhartha after a long pause: "What other thing. "It is late. love for this man had stirred in his heart. It knows everything. there is space and food for both. and the ferryman's job was to get them quickly across that obstacle. The rich and elegant Siddhartha is becoming an oarsman's servant. on that last day of his time as a Samana. the speaker sensed how Vasudeva let his words enter his mind. awaited not a single one with impatience. That is good. from it you will learn it as well. her bed was next to mine. When they had reached the bank. what a happy fortune it is. and Siddhartha told the ferryman about where he originally came from and about his life. all that searching. my river has been nothing but an obstacle on their travels. Without him having spoken a word. Siddhartha sat and watched him. the ferryman listened with twice the attention. a few. with brawny arms. He worked calmly. as it has become sacred to me. he accepted Vasudeva's invitation. all that learning. Stay with me. I can't tell you that other thing. and remembered. to seek depth. and on pilgrimages. that it is good to strive downwards. his own search. Now. And I did not meet a single one who knew it as well as you did. for a long time. how he did not lose a single one. This was among the ferryman's virtues one of the greatest: like only a few. the river has stopped being an obstacle. all joy. everything can be learned from it. I have transported many. Afterwards. and a long silence had occurred. when he spoke of the tree by the river. to burry in his heart his own life. thousands. waiting. where you're coming from and why these beautiful clothes are such a nuisance to you." he said. it was almost the time of the sunset. they have listened to it. he knew how to listen. I might be a wise man. and Siddhartha ate with eager pleasure. "I thank you and accept. his eyes fixed in on the front of the boat." They had reached the middle of the river. all distress.Siddhartha 39 in my hut. Vasudeva listened with great attention. I used to have a wife. Vasudeva?" Vasudeva rose. It is your friend as well." ." spoke Vasudeva. entirely and completely absorbed by it. The river has spoken to you. the learned Brahman Siddhartha becomes a ferryman: this has also been told to you by the river. in order to overcome the current. or perhaps you know it already. Siddhartha felt. but she has died a long time ago. in that hour of despair. lasted his tale. Vasudeva. my friend. You'll learn that other thing from it as well. you shall live with me. See. I also have no special skill in thinking. Let's rest now. But when Siddhartha fell silent. after this. that is very good. of the holy Om. open. as he had seen it before his eyes today. oh friend. they sat on a log by the bank. offered him bread and water. But for some among thousands. it speaks to you as well. and to all of them. and it is my task to ferry people across the river. quiet. and tell me. four or five.

everything has existence and is present. without a wish. but the voice of life. and learned to mend the boat. but Vasudeva smiled at him brightly and nodded in confirmation. Often. very many voices? Hasn't it the voice of a king. "Did you. his smile became more similar to the ferryman's." he spoke. Most of all. isn't it: that the river is everywhere at once. with a waiting. and a thousand other voices more?" "So it is. brushed his hand over Siddhartha's shoulder. and it was also a river. few and at length thought about words. rarely. the river has many voices. of what is eternally taking shape." Siddhartha spoke with ecstasy. silently he nodded. he worked with Vasudeva in the rice-field. then said Siddhartha: "Isn't it so. opened soul. seeing the two ferrymen. I looked at my life. oh friend. and of a sighing man. "all voices of the creatures are in its voice. was not all suffering time. Vasudeva's face was smiling. In a friendly manner. But more than Vasudeva could teach him. gathered wood. at the waterfall. nothing will be. and the boy Siddhartha was only separated from the man Siddhartha and from the old man Siddhartha by a shadow. said nothing and both listened to the water. He learned to build an oar. this enlightenment had delighted him. Siddhartha succeeded in persuading him to speak. deeply. to pay close attention with a quiet heart. everything is.Siddhartha 40 Siddhartha stayed with the ferryman and learned to operate the boat. in the mountains. turned back to his work. thought of the same things." Vasudeva nodded. "did you too learn that secret from the river: that there is no time?" Vasudeva's face was filled with a bright smile. just as alike to a child's. the face and fate of whom had occupied . and of a bird of the night. was not everything hard. "And when I had learned it. not the shadow of the past. they sat in the evening together by the bank on the log." said Siddhartha. Also. he learned from it to listen. of one of their travellers. at the rapids. Oh. and his death and his return to Brahma was no future. Siddhartha's previous births were no past. without an opinion. everywhere at once. Vasudeva was no friend of words. Nothing was. plucked the fruit off the banana-trees. And it happened from time to time that both. and the days and months passed quickly. when you succeed in hearing all of its ten thousand voices at once?" Happily. "It is this what you mean. at the ferry. when the river had just increased its flow in the rainy season and made a powerful noise. "Yes. "what word it speaks. in the sea. he learned from it. Siddhartha. And this had been the very thing which Siddhartha had also been hearing. And once again." Siddhartha continued. of a conversation from the day before yesterday. thought they were brothers. not the shadow of the future?" "This it is. he bent over to Siddhartha and spoke the holy Om into his ear. at the source and at the mouth. and of a bull. became almost just as bright. and when there was nothing to do at the ferry. he was taught by the river. without passion. everything hostile in the world gone and overcome as soon as one had overcome time. the voice of what exists. he had spoken. and was joyful because of everything he learned. and of a woman giving birth." so he asked him at one time." "And do you know. he lived side by side with Vasudeva. when listening to the river. Many travellers. were not all forms of tormenting oneself and being afraid time. And time after time. just as alike to an old man's. and occasionally they exchanged some words. just as shining out of thousand small wrinkles. and that there is only the present time for it. as soon as time would have been put out of existence by one's thoughts? In ecstatic delight. not by something real. and to weave baskets. Incessantly. almost just as throughly glowing with bliss. and of a warrior. without judgement. which was no water to them.

he thought of him. both delighted about the same answer to the same question. when the river had been saying something good to them. desired to rest. the boy . at one time. It also happened that curious people came. of death. became disobedient and started whining. A long time ago. and another one. both thinking precisely the same thing. Kindly. Kamala also went to him. when so many went on a pilgrimage to the dying Buddha. monks came by on a pilgrimage. said to him. after having looked at the face of one of the ferrymen. on foot. and while the boy was chewing a banana. asked for comfort and advice. Kamala often had to take a rest with him. was among the friends and benefactors of the pilgrims. and they found neither sorcerers nor wise men. she had gone on her way due to the news of the near death of Gotama. the Buddha. he was accustomed to having his way against her. But suddenly. and remembered with a smile those words which he had once. could accept. who breathed what is divine. With her little son. who was holy and about to die. until a new flock of monks came along on their pilgrimage. had given her garden to the monks of Gotama as a gift. closed her eyes a bit. like being drawn on by a magic spell. and are gathering like ants in droves. for the news had spread the exalted one was deadly sick and would soon die his last human death. and rested. desired to eat. She. she was travelling by the river. they only found two friendly little old men. who had been told that there were two wise men. Then. Siddhartha thought in those days of the dying wise man. every path. her son. Kamala herself. had to comfort him. The years passed by. and by them the ferrymen were told that they were most hurriedly walking back to their great teacher. told about pains. when little Siddhartha once again forced his mother to rest. They had been. No. to where the great Buddha was awaiting his death. the exalted one. followers of Gotama. He did not comprehend why he had to to go on this exhausting and sad pilgrimage with his mother. Together with Siddhartha the boy. how did this concern the boy? The pilgrims were getting close to Vasudeva's ferry. though he was still unable to accept his teachings. And as people are flocking from everywhere and from all sides.Siddhartha 41 their thoughts. It happened occasionally that someone asked for permission to stay for a night with them to listen to the river. he could approve of any teachings. of their childhood. or holy men living by that ferry. to a stranger. proud and precocious words. started to tell the story of his life. There was something about this ferry and the two ferrymen which was transmitted to others. had taken her refuge in the teachings. whose voice he had also once heard. who were asking to be ferried across the river. she had to feed him. when they are going to war or to the coronation of a king. So what if he died. every goal. he remembered them. or sorcerers. with a smile. she had retired from her previous life. and nobody counted them. And the curious people laughed and were discussing how foolishly and gullibly the common people were spreading such empty rumours. she uttered a wailing scream. but they got no answers. whose holy face he had also once seen with respect. she crouched down on the ground. so it seemed to him. But he who had found. had to scold him. Often. whose voice had admonished nations and had awoken hundreds of thousands. in order to become one with the salvation. the great teacher. On one of these days. there was nothing standing between him and all the other thousand any more who lived in that what is eternal. and the monks as well as most of the other travellers and people walking through the land spoke of nothing else than of Gotama and his impending death. desired to go back home. but the boy had soon grown tired. who used to be the most beautiful of the courtesans. It was not long. The curious people asked many questions. who seemed to be mute and to have become a bit strange and gaga. It happened occasionally that a traveller. someone who truly wanted to find. there was no teaching a truly searching person. confessed evil things. as a young man. to an unknown place. and that they both in the same moment. looked at each other. in simple clothes. which many of the travellers felt. thus they flocked. where the huge event was to take place and the great perfected one of an era was to become one with the glory. had also become tired. saw his path to perfection before his eyes. For a long time he knew that there was nothing standing between Gotama and him any more.

Kamala returned to consciousness. but had already turned black and her body was swollen. attentively. there Kamala collapsed. "You have found peace?" . you're like him." she said. And with that singsong. and soon they all reached the hut. But you are like the young Samana. Slowly. Quickly. "She'll die. they now both ran along the path. It seemed like a dream to her. who stood at the ferry. his mind becoming one with her suffering. was only now and then uttering a sob and fell asleep. Alas. which he returned with a smile.Siddhartha 42 looked at her in fear and saw her face having grown pale from horror. Kamala's wound was washed. Hurriedly. and she also joined his loud screams for help." Siddhartha said quietly. waiting. Vasudeva nodded. and at the sight of the child's face. with a singing voice. quietly his eyes looked at hers. she lay on Siddhartha's bed in the hut and bent over her stood Siddhartha. the words came flowing to him. only interrupting it to kiss and hug his mother. the boy became calm. The boy wept. remembered the bite. my dear. Siddhartha. who used to love her so much. Kamala. But the boy started crying miserably. "You have achieved it?" she asked. "you've become gray. He looked up and first saw the boy's face. Her consciousness returned. and it's not you. by which Kamala had been bitten. Looking at him." Her eyes became confused and fell shut. She spoke with a heavy tongue. let him weep. "He's with you. and was not able to go any further. petted his hair. You are much more like him. than you were like him at that time when you had left me and Kamaswami. she was made to drink a healing potion." Kamala pointed to her boy and said: "Did you recognise him as well? He is your son. Siddhartha took him on his knees. from his past and childhood. and got near to the ferry. "You've become old. took the woman on his arms. and from under her dress. Quietly. she said: "Now I see that your eyes have changed as well. on her pale cheeks. Then he saw Kamala. which wondrously reminded him of something. the boy ran along. In the eyes. whom he instantly recognised. Once again. were Siddhartha stood by the stove and was just lighting the fire. like a warning to remember something he had forgotten. Siddhartha's eyes read the suffering on her mouth. in order to reach people. paralysed by the poison." said Siddhartha. and now he knew that it was his own son. who at one time came without clothes. carried her into the boat. over his friendly face ran the light of the stove's fire. Siddhartha gave him a look. black snake fled. he started to speak. Kamala felt it. Kamala looked into his eyes. realized her situation. he read it. until the sound reached Vasudeva's ears. though she lay unconscious in the ferryman's arms. with a smile. and the heart stirred in his chest. They've become completely different. a small. By what do I still recognise that you're Siddhartha? It's you. just slowly she. don't worry. old--could you still recognise me?" Siddhartha smiled: "Instantly. I have also grown old. whose face had been such a warning reminder to him. called timidly for the boy. my dear. Pain distorted her face. Vasudeva stood by the stove and cooked rice. a Brahman prayer came to his mind." Siddhartha said nothing. to me into the garden. he came walking. Siddhartha placed him on Vasudeva's bed. with dusty feet. I recognised you. she looked at her friend's face. when he had been a little boy himself. which he had learned a long time ago. her gaze sought his eyes.

filled himself with this sight." "You've experienced suffering. Without speaking. compare this mouth with a freshly cracked fig. the eternity of every moment. just as good. When the final pain filled her eyes and made them grow dim. Siddhartha. My son has been given to me. A lot it has told me." Siddhartha spoke in a whisper. when the final shiver ran through her limbs. and saw at the same time his face and hers being young. where their goat stood." she said. gloomy and shy. in the spring of his years. his finger closed her eyelids. But now. Vasudeva. with fiery eyes. whether the boy was sleeping. But Siddhartha did not eat." "Your son shall be welcome to me as well. more deeply than ever before. and Vasudeva lay himself down to sleep. the indestructibility of every life.Siddhartha He smiled and placed his hand on hers." While the boy was still asleep. For a long time. her old. they built the funeral pile. she looked at him. "I'm seeing it. he sat and looked at her peacefully dead face. Deeply he felt. he sat for many days by the hill of the dead. there is much to be done. But Siddhartha went outside and sat this night before the hut. but I see: no sadness has entered your heart. For a long time." "You have found it. THE SON Timid and weeping." he said. did not want to eat. which had become thin. tired mouth. and that it was good. with those lips. But occasionally. the feeling of eternity. met his fate with resistance . completely filled every aspect of his being. the two old men prepared beds of straw for themselves. just as white. I sat here. and he saw the life fading from her eyes. I too will find peace. "You haven't slept. in the tired wrinkles. with the thought of oneness. and the feeling of this both being present and at the same time real. let's get to work. to breathe his peace. just as quenched out. Kamala has died on the same bed. saw his own face lying in the same manner. In the stable. even before the sun could be seen. I was listening to the river. and he remembered." "No. deeply it has filled me with the healing thought. but the tongue no longer obeyed her will. Siddhartha. who have been rich and happy. my dear. the boy had attended his mother's funeral. gave no open look. For a long time. he rose. on which my wife had died a long time ago. in this hour. She wanted to tell this to him. he had listened to Siddhartha. in order to see the face of the perfected one. 43 Kamala never stopped looking into his eyes. stepped to the door of the hut and listened. that he used to. how should I be sad? I. with red lips. Vasudeva came out of the stable and walked over to his friend. Let us also build Kamala's funeral pile on the same hill on which I had then built my wife's funeral pile. She thought about her pilgrimage to Gotama. and she thought that she had now found him in his place. surrounded by the past. which wanted to take. listening to the river. touched and encircled by all times of his life at the same time. Early in the morning. have become even richer and happier now. did not open his heart. When he rose. he observed her mouth. read in the pale face. "I'm seeing it. who greeted him as his son and welcomed him at his place in Vasudeva's hut. "No. Pale. Vasudeva had prepared rice for him. he sat. as if she had seen the other one.

Siddhartha looked into his friendly face. I'm seeking to win his heart. and is shaking with laughter at out foolishness. For long months. Siddhartha waited for his son to understand him. err a lot. being disgusted and fed up with it. But he loved him. accustomed to finer food. the river shall also talk to him. his pain will be. don't give him orders. and the boy remained a stranger and in a gloomy disposition. then Siddhartha began to understand that his son had not brought him happiness and peace. when the boy had come to him. and he is also worrying me. He did not force him. "from a friendly heart. He has not. I don't do anything of this. it laughs at me. But the river laughs. and he preferred the suffering and worries of love over happiness and joy without the boy. "Pardon me. is worrying you. That young bird is accustomed to a different life. don't beat him. and don't you make it even harder on him with your . against his will. many times I have asked it. I asked the river. he honoured his mourning. oh friend. I praise you. that he could not love him like a father. to accept his love. did not pay his respect to the old men. my dear! See. But do we. Slowly. youth wants to join youth. a mother's boy. he did many a chore for him. after all. love stronger than force. did the work in the hut and the field. it laughs at you and me. and that he had grown up in the habits of rich people. your son is not in the place where he can prosper. to a different nest. Water stronger than rocks. he hoped to win him over. "Oh yes. stole from Vasudeva's fruit-trees. You don't force him. watching. when Siddhartha the younger had once again tormented his father very much with spite and an unsteadiness in his wishes and had broken both of his rice-bowls. Rich and happy. but suffering and worry. "How could I part with him?" he said quietly. with love and with friendly patience I intent to capture it. Very good. Vasudeva had again taken on the job of the ferryman all by himself. do much injustice. Tell me. you and me. in order to be with his son. I'm fighting for him. the old men had split the work. accustomed to giving orders to servants. like you." "I knew it. since he displayed a proud and stubbornly disobedient heart. and Siddhartha. he had to leave all this behind. he also saw and understood that the eleven-year-old was a pampered boy. you too should listen to it!" Troubled. I'm talking to you. Since young Siddhartha was in the hut." he said. wouldn't punish him? Don't you shackle him with your love? Don't you make him feel inferior every day. ran away from riches and the city. Vasudeva took in the evening his friend aside and talked to him. You too should ask the river. I'm seeing that you're in grief. people like this have to suffer a lot. Your son. Siddhartha understood that his son did not know him. For a long time. to a soft bed. he had called himself. he too is called upon. Vasudeva. waited and said nothing. what path to take. ashamed. to perhaps reciprocate it.Siddhartha and denial. I'm seeing that you are tormenting yourself." Vasudeva's smile flourished more warmly. he also is called upon. for long months. burden themselves with much sin. 44 Siddhartha spared him and let him do as he pleased. by friendly patience. because you know that "soft" is stronger than "hard". his heart is proud and hard. Siddhartha understood that the mourning. what pain to endure? Not a small one. But aren't you mistaken in thinking that you wouldn't force him. Vasudeva waited. what actions to perform. in the many wrinkles of which there was incessant cheerfulness. pampered child could not suddenly and willingly be content with a life among strangers and in poverty. One day. always picked the best piece of the meal for him. One day. Since time had passed on in the meantime. my dear: you're not taking control of your son's upbringing? You don't force him? You don't beat him? You don't punish him?" "No. did not want to do any work. he too is of the eternal life. Slowly. "Give me some more time. know what he is called upon to do. Water wants to join water. my dear.

. his own knowledge. whose hearts are old and quiet and beats in a different pace than his? Isn't forced. bring him into his mother's house. prayer. since his son was here." Siddhartha spoke sadly. Indeed. the silent war of patience. Quietly. to forget himself. friendly. from foolishness? Were his father's religious devotion. that story containing so many lessons. from sin. he had not already thought and known for himself. patient. Had he ever lost his heart so much to something. to live in a hut with two old banana-eaters. into this world? Won't he become exuberant. as it had seemed to him at that time. softly. thus blindly. a Brahman's son. had once said to him. who had no tender heart anyhow. lost to a love. "Often. had he ever loved any person thus. in the days of their youth. because you would like to keep him from suffering and pain and disappointment? But even if you would die ten times for him. my dear. But now. Siddhartha. from greed. and nevertheless he had also sensed an accusation in that line.Siddhartha kindness and patience? Don't you force him. could not sleep for a long time." Never before. and yet thus happily? Siddhartha could not heed his friend's advice. he asked: "What do you think should I do?" 45 Quoth Vasudeva: "Bring him into the city. Kindly. to commit foolish acts for the love of another person. to whom even rice is a delicacy. and was nevertheless in bliss. And when there aren't any around any more. he had never been able to lose or devote himself completely to another person. Vasudeva had told him nothing. suffered miserably. the arrogant and pampered boy. enriched by one thing. isn't he punished by all this?" Troubled. give him to them. he let him disregard him. the great distinction which set him apart from the childlike people. from soiling himself with life. the ferryman's smile lit up. he began the mute struggle of friendliness. his own search able to keep him safe? Which father. he could not give up the boy." she had said to him. but so that he shall be among other boys. from finding his path for himself? Would you think. stronger than the knowledge was his love for the boy. Now he too felt. because you love him. Vasudeva had spoken so many words. won't he lose himself to pleasure and power. and among girls. when the boy's face reminded him very much of Kamala. have you entirely forgotten that story. At one time. which teacher had been able to protect him from living his life for himself. late. loving another person. I have thought of this. Vasudeva also said nothing and waited. admonition? My dear. how shall I put him. stronger was his tenderness. you would not be able to take the slightest part of his destiny upon yourself. went troubled into the hut. suffered from it. whose thoughts can't be his. now he. was nevertheless renewed in one respect. "You cannot love. once in his lifetime. that story about Siddhartha. Siddhartha suddenly had to think of a line which Kamala a long time ago. But look. his teachers warnings. and he had agreed with her and had compared himself with a star. But this was a knowledge he could not act upon. Siddhartha thanked him. this strongest and strangest of all passions. not for the teachings' sake. his fear to lose him. He said nothing and waited. anybody might perhaps be spared from taking this path? That perhaps your little son would be spared. and in the world which is his own. never he had been able to do this. from burdening himself with guilt. had also become completely a childlike person. thus unsuccessfully. suffering for the sake of another person. bring him to a teacher. Have you never thought of this?" "You're seeing into my heart. daily. and this was. there'll still be servants around. He let the boy give him orders. my friend! Hear it laugh about it! Would you actually believe that you had committed your foolish acts in order to spare your son from committing them too? And could you in any way protect your son from Sansara? How could you? By means of teachings. while comparing the childlike people with falling leaves. thus sufferingly. he touched Siddhartha's arm and said: "Ask the river about it. knowing. from drinking the bitter drink for himself. won't he repeat all of his father's mistakes. which you once told me here on this very spot? Who has kept the Samana Siddhartha safe from Sansara. They were both masters of patience. having become a fool on account of love. won't he perhaps get entirely lost in Sansara?" Brightly. Siddhartha looked to the ground.

perhaps a saint. when what young Siddhartha had on his mind came bursting forth. Much more the boy would have liked it if he had been threatened by him. dark waters. But the next morning. "Get the brushwood for yourself!" he shouted foaming at the mouth. just to make you suffer. every insult with friendliness. don't forget that. He's doing what you've failed to do yourself. The boat had also disappeared. and he openly turned against his father. He'll perish. he felt at the same time. "I'm not your servant. I rather want to become a highway-robber and murderer. I do know. "A child can't go through the forest all alone. who kept him prisoner here in this miserable hut of his. and Vasudeva helped him to tied the canes together with ropes of grass. that it was Sansara. it was not worthless. came from the essence of his own being. He was a good man. you don't dare. which the boy has taken away. drifted far off their course. it was necessary. he was bored by him. He thought. He's taking care of himself. you shall let run along. he had disappeared. this blind love for his son. at which you'll soon laugh for yourself. just as devout. and he is right. Siddhartha saw it lying by the opposite bank. than to become like you! I hate you." said Siddhartha. the son let him commit his foolish acts. my friend. "Why did you take the axe along?" asked Siddhartha. who had been shivering with grief since those ranting speeches. this pain also had to be endured. I do know. this very thing was the hated trick of this old sneak. He was bored by this father. was a passion. I see you suffering. Vasudeva said: "It might have been possible that the oar of our boat got lost. Alas. This father had nothing which would have delighted him and nothing which he would have feared. Nevertheless. But him. pulled the raft upriver on the opposite bank. he is no child any more. and go to hell. he's taking his course. soft man. A day came. But the boy did not leave the hut. these foolish acts also had to be committed. you're not my father. that you won't hit me. every viciousness with kindness.Siddhartha 46 He did sense very well that this love. that you constantly want to punish me and put me down with your religious devotion and your indulgence. This pleasure also had to be atoned for. something very human. The latter had given him a task." said Vasudeva. the boy had made yesterday. perhaps a very devout man. he knows how to get around. listen up. We must build a raft. He's looking for the path to the city. in which the ferrymen kept those copper and silver coins which they received as a fare. "I must follow him. and for him to answer every naughtiness with a smile. The boy had ran away. he had told him to gather brushwood. Siddhartha. What had also disappeared was a small basket." "We will build a raft. all these there no attributes which could win the boy over. let him court for his affection. but you're suffering a pain at which one would like to laugh. clenched his fists. the boy would have thrown away or broken . woven out of bast of two colours. Then the boy ran away and only returned late at night. and if you've ten times been my mother's fornicator!" Rage and grief boiled over in him. let him humiliate himself every day by giving in to his moods. just as soft. and screamed in a powerful outburst his hatred and contempt into his father's face." Siddhartha did not answer. foamed at the father in a hundred savage and evil words. a murky source. a good. Through all this. just as wise! But I. if he had been abused by him. in stubborn disobedience and rage he stayed where he was. to get over the water. Vasudeva." But Siddhartha knew what his friend was thinking. thumped on the ground with his feet. "to get our boat back. this father. kind. You want me to become like you. He already held the axe in his hands and began to make a raft of bamboo. Then they crossed over.

no longer to save him. was once again old and tired. Instantly. the gamblers with the dice. or. then he smiled too. Many an hour he crouched. so he thought. gave one to the ferryman. Siddhartha lay down on his bed. He saw Kamaswami. and when after a while Vasudeva came to him. again he saw himself standing there. And he ran up to just outside of the city. And in fact. Nevertheless. Clearly. listening attentively. neither one spoke about him running away. pondering. Instead of the desired goal. looked at the monks. lived through all this once again. and he felt at the same time that this wound had not been given to him in order to turn the knife in it. bashful touch. For a long time. Either. this tender. the boy was far ahead and had already reached the city. if he should still be on his way. In the hut. one of them came to him and placed two bananas in front of him. made him sad. this one thing: waiting. which were as if they were filled with nothing but his smile. the orgies. And when he felt the wound burning. without seeing a path. saw the servants. fell into emptiness. near the city. From this petrified state. into the happy eyes. saw young Kamala walking among the high trees. neither one mentioned the boy's name. he felt the love for the run-away in his heart. listened to his heart. having patience. After this. just to perhaps see him one more time. picked them up.Siddhartha 47 the oar in order to get even and in order to keep them from following him. was once again healed by the holy Om. where he had seen her for the first time in her sedan-chair. felt once again the wish to annihilate himself. filled himself with Om. breathed Sansara. there was no oar left in the boat. that he could not help his son. young. experienced emptiness. felt something dying in his heart. Vasudeva did not stop him. When Siddhartha had already been walking through the forest for a long time. no goal. He sat lost in thought and waited. he stopped. neither one spoke about the wound. to offer . Vasudeva pointed to the bottom of the boat and looked at his friend with a smile. a bearded. felt once again disgust. waited for a voice. Siddhartha stood there and looked through the open gate into the garden. Deeply. at this hour. looking proudly and disdainfully back on his Brahmanism. beginning proudly and full of desire his worldly life. which had drawn him here following the runaway son. The monks in the garden saw him. listening to the story of his life. saw Kamala's song-bird in the cage. For a long time. listening. was not worried for his son. he sat down. which had made him go up to this place. that it had to become a blossom and had to shine. the hair full of dust. he silently went back into the forest with Vasudeva. who had followed him. into the small wrinkles. the thought occurred to him that his search was useless. and dust was gathering on his gray hair. saw no joy any more. he also found that he. receiving his first kiss from her. let himself fall. saw no images any more. he stood there. and since he crouched for many hours. the musicians. seeing monks in yellow robes walking among the beautiful trees. ate the other one himself. he recognised this touch. just to satisfy his desire. he would conceal himself from him. Now he saw the bananas lying in front of him. Siddhartha realised that his desire was foolish. he reached a wide road. Neither one talked about what had happened today. This he had learned by the river. did not shine yet. When. After having been standing by the gate of the garden for a long time. But Siddhartha bid his farewell. he silently spoke the Om. he stood there. he saw himself being served food and drink by Kamala. he ran without stopping. saw young Siddhartha in their place. in the dust of the road. and regained his senses. As he continued thinking. He started making a new oar. that he knew deep inside that he had neither perished nor was in any danger in the forest. That this wound did not blossom yet. there was now emptiness. that he was not allowed to cling him. the pursuer. as if he wanted to say: "Don't you see what your son is trying to tell you? Don't you see that he doesn't want to be followed?" But he did not say this in words. like a wound. Sadly. naked Samana. by the entrance of the beautiful pleasure-garden. The past rose up in his soul. And he sat and listened. The old man did not see him. he was awoken by a hand touching his shoulder. beating tiredly and sadly. to look for the run-away. returned home to the ferry. For a long time. He rose and greeted Vasudeva. on his part. And when he looked into Vasudeva's friendly face. which used to belong to Kamala. seeing images.

to think every moment. bearing infinitely much. but instead warmer. The blind love of a mother for her child. while living his life. their blind strength and tenacity. thus without reason he now thought. The river laughed. it laughed brightly and clearly at the old ferryman. slowly ripened in Siddhartha the realisation. he now looked upon people. a long time ago. just as animals too can. and in this reflected face there was something. and as he thought about it. the Brahman. when the wound burned violently. the knowledge. unrelenting performance of what is necessary. he bent over the water. Many a traveller Siddhartha had to ferry across the river who was accompanied by a son or a daughter. which he now suffered for his son? Had his father not long since died. small thing: the consciousness. oneness. less smart. was shining back at him from Vasudeva's old. desires for possession. foolish. 48 Differently than before. more curious. businessmen. Worthy of love and admiration were these people in their blind loyalty. Had his father not also suffered the same pain for him. the conscious thought of the oneness of all life. whether this knowledge. a single. and ridiculous aspects were no longer ridiculous to him. It resembled his father's face. even thieves and robbers have children and love them. . knowledge of the eternal perfection of the world. seem to be superior to humans in their tough. it was the dry season. had to put him above them except for one little thing. he found it: this face resembled another face. and he could love them for it. and he saw none of them without envying him. he saw life. strongly living. all except for me. longingly and bitterly Siddhartha thought of his son. after all. wild desire of a young. a secret art. what the goal of his long search was. he felt like them. thus similar to the childlike people he had become. got off the boat and was willing to go to the city and to look for his son. this flame would go out. Siddhartha stopped. it still seemed to him as if those childlike people were his brothers. driven by a yearning. In all other respects. When he ferried travellers of the ordinary kind. this thought was to be valued thus highly. Though he was near perfection and was bearing his final wound. The river flowed softly and quietly. Siddhartha ferried across the river. the indestructible. allowed the pain to gnaw at him. without thinking: "So many. less proud. there was nothing the knowledgeable one. They lacked nothing. which he used to know and love and also fear. what wisdom actually was. nurtured his love and tenderness in his heart. in order to hear even better. women. these people did not seem alien to him as they used to: he understood them. But the wound still burned. which was not guided by thoughts and insight. And Siddhartha even doubted in many an hour. he saw people living for their sake. even became worthy of veneration to him. all of these urges. It was nothing but a readiness of the soul. OM For a long time. tiny. that what is alive. the thought of oneness. conducting wars. their vanities. strongly prevailing urges and desires were now no childish notions for Siddhartha any more. Slowly this blossomed in him. blind pride of a conceited father for his only son. childlike people. all of these simple. saw them achieving infinitely much for their sake. Slowly blossomed. more involved. were often far superior to them. how he had bed his farewell to him. but solely by urges and wishes. had forced his father to let him go to the penitents." Thus simply. all of this childish stuff. the wound continued to burn. the thinker. but its voice sounded strange: it laughed! It laughed clearly. and are being loved by them. became lovable. whether it might not also perhaps be a childish idea of the thinking people. as a young man. which reminded him. how he had gone and had never come back. travelling.Siddhartha him a bowl of coconut-milk. to be able to feel and inhale the oneness. became understandable. each of their acts. so many thousands possess this sweetest of good fortunes--why don't I? Even bad people. vain woman for jewelry and admiring glances from men. the Brahman in each of their passions. childlike face: harmony. and he saw his face reflected in the quietly moving waters. an ability. in some moments. smiling. the worldly people were of equal rank to the wise men. but immensely strong. And he remembered how he. suffering infinitely much. committed all foolish acts of love. warriors. And one day. the stupid. he understood and shared their life. something he had forgotten. the blind. he already found him asleep. of the thinking and childlike people. Not by itself.

mourning for his son. slowly he started talking. He took Siddhartha's hand. {I think. in his heart. it should read "über" instead of "aber". even the most embarrassing parts. He no longer used the ferry-boat. lonely. Unchanged and flourishing was only the joy and the cheerful benevolence of his face. Vasudeva's listening gave Siddhartha a stronger sensation than ever before. lonely. tending towards despair. this realisation of Vasudeva's changed character took possession of him. came back at him from his counterpart. the boy. While he spoke. willing to walk to the city. the master of listening. he also being tied with the bondage of yearning to his distant son. the same pain was suffered over and over again. until it had cooled and become one with the river.Siddhartha alone. thinking of his father. singing in many voices. "You've heard it laugh. each one obsessed by the goal. spoke for a long time. "But you haven't heard everything. how the river had laughed. cheerfulness and victory were not yet shining from his suffering. that he was the eternal itself. understanding and knowledge. Let's listen. at him. who was listening to him. he sensed how his pain. greedily rushing along the burning course of his young wishes. that he was God himself. almost forever. his arms and hands as well. his fears flowed over to him. a strange and stupid matter. that he himself had almost reached the same state. that he was now seeing old Vasudeva as the people see the gods. he was able to say everything. Thorough all this. that this motionless listener was absorbing his confession into himself like a tree the rain. But Siddhartha want back into the boat and ferried back to the hut. this running around in a fateful circle? 49 The river laughed. everything could be said. which had not been suffered and solved up to its end. While he was still speaking. this repetition. to say everything. without having seen his son again? Did he not have to expect the same fate for himself? Was it not a comedy. his heart was still fighting his fate. When he had finished talking. He presented his wound. Siddhartha looked into the water. how he ferried across the water. the more he realised that everything was in order and natural. and the more he felt it and entered into it. he talked incessantly. that only he had not quite recognised it. still admitting and confessing. at that time. and once he had returned to the hut. smiled at the river. the wound was not blossoming yet. of his knowledge of the foolishness of such wishes. thinking of his son. he himself appeared. yes. and images appeared to him in the moving water: his father appeared. longingly it sang. he now told him of. Siddhartha sat down next to the old man. so it was. he started bidding his farewell to Vasudeva. He reported everything. laughed at by the river. Vasudeva turned his friendly eyes. . you'll hear more. Softly sounded the river." he said. each one suffering. led him to the seat by the bank." They listened. his eyes were starting to get weak. how his secret hope flowed over. And while Siddhartha stopped thinking of himself and his wound. sat down with him. which had grown slightly weak. Nevertheless. To show his wound to this listener was the same as bathing it in the river. each one heading for his goal. What they had never talked about. of his futile fight against them. He felt. Yes. The river sang with a voice of suffering. no longer a human being. everything he could tell. of his walk to the city. while Vasudeva was listening with a quiet face. that this motionless man was the river itself. shine at him. a childish run-away. of his envy at the sight of happy fathers. and not less tending towards laughing along at {???} himself and the entire world. of the burning wound. lonely as well. he felt hope. and not just his eyes. let his silent love and cheerfulness. his son appeared. and that this could not last. everything shown. that Vasudeva had already been like this for a long time.} Alas. everything came back. to show him everything. the less wondrous it became. Siddhartha felt more and more that this was no longer Vasudeva. at odds with himself. also told how he fled today. said nothing. he felt an undefeatable desire to open up to Vasudeva. Vasudeva was sitting in the hut and weaving a basket.

flowed on once again. Siddhartha listened. a stream. voices of joy and of suffering. everything was intertwined and connected. all of these waves and waters were hurrying. On his face flourished the cheerfulness of a knowledge. desiring. entangled a thousand times. his self had flown into the oneness. the sea. a thousand voices. suffering. Vasudeva's smile was shining. He was now nothing but a listener. not the ones of children from those of men. searching. Now it's enough. not the happy ones from the weeping ones. for the goal. For the goal. I've been waiting for this hour. and said: "I've been waiting for this hour. Siddhartha!" Siddhartha made a deep bow before him who bid his farewell. let me leave. being the river. which is in agreement with the flow of events. turned into a source. and brightly the same smile was now starting to shine on Siddhartha's face as well. suffering. And when Siddhartha was listening attentively to this river. the rapids. His wound blossomed. all that was good and evil. then the great song of the thousand voices consisted of a single word. turned into rain and poured down from the sky. floating radiantly over all the wrinkles of his old face. his suffering was shining. was the music of life. and every goal was followed by a new one. that he had now finished learning to listen. all voices. Brightly. full of suffering. with the current of life. when he did not tie his soul to any particular voice and submerged his self into it. he softly touched his shoulder with his hand. these many voices in the river. good and bad voices. as the Om was floating in the air over all the voices of the river. completely empty. The image of his father. the scream of rage and the moaning of the dying ones. his own image. it flowed towards its goal. completely concentrated on listening. But the longing voice had changed. but when he heard them all. all of this together was the world. which is no longer opposed by any will. It still resounded. the river was heading. laughing and sad ones. I've been Vasudeva the ferryman.Siddhartha longingly. Already. when he looked into Siddhartha's eyes and saw the cheerfulness of the knowledge shining in them. he felt. Often before. Brightly his smile was shining. And everything together. hut. towards goals. all suffering. . perceived the whole. longing. "Listen better!" Vasudeva whispered. he could no longer tell the many voices apart. the river. this song of a thousand voices. devoted to the flow. everything was one. in this careful and tender manner. When Vasudeva rose from the seat by the bank. stopped suffering. a river." Vasudeva's gaze asked again. full of sympathy for the pleasure of others. all pleasure. which was Om: the perfection. All of it together was the flow of events. all yearning. all goals. headed all. the image of his son merged. Kamala's image also appeared and was dispersed. for a long time. which knows perfection. when he neither listened to the suffering nor the laughter. the lake. headed forward once again. Now that it has come. the oneness. and other images. and the water turned into vapour and rose to the sky. lamentingly its voice sang. full of burning woe. Siddhartha saw it hurrying. and all goals were reached. and the river's voice sounded full of yearning. Siddhartha nodded. and they merged with each other. full of unsatisfiable desire. when he looked at his friend. "Do you hear. river. the lamentation of yearning and the laughter of the knowledgeable one. Farewell. 50 Siddhartha made an effort to listen better. For a long time. farewell. today it sounded new. full of sympathy for the pain of others. but other voices joined it. turned all into the river. "Do you hear?" Vasudeva's mute gaze asked. belonging to the oneness. farewell. a hundred voices. they all belonged together. Siddhartha stopped fighting his fate. In this hour. he had ever seen. he had heard all this. the waterfall. my dear. many goals. which consisted of him and his loved ones and of all people. and the image of Govinda.

"You'll go into the forests?" "I'm going into the forests." asked Govinda. You. "what do you mean by this?" Quoth Siddhartha: "A long time ago." he said quietly. He heard talk of an old ferryman." spoke Vasudeva with a bright smile. and when they got off the boat on the other side. this seems to be my destiny. that he is unable to find anything. smiling from his old eyes: "Do you call yourself a searcher. oh Govinda.--And so you've now become a ferryman?" . "When someone is searching. But finding means: being free. "but I haven't stopped searching. "Are you Siddhartha?" he asked with a timid voice. though he had lived his entire life by the rules. saw his steps full of peace. oh venerable one. and who was regarded as a wise man by many. which the courtesan Kamala had given to the followers of Gotama for a gift. as if he had been the object of a magic spell. I'm greeting you. having no goal. oh venerable one? Perhaps that you're searching far too much? That in all that searching." said Siddhartha. Never I'll stop searching." "I don't quite understand yet. oh venerable one. Govinda used to spend the time of rest between pilgrimages in the pleasure-grove. But. Aren't you too. have been searching. he said to the old man: "You're very good to us monks and pilgrims. He came to the river and asked the old man to ferry him over. You too. saw his head full of lustre.Siddhartha "I've known it. the monk looked into the ferryman's eyes. though you are already of an old in years and are wearing the robe of Gotama's monks?" "It's true. you've once before been at this river and have found a sleeping man by the river. you did not recognise the sleeping man. 51 With a bright smile. though he was also looked upon with veneration by the younger monks on account of his age and his modesty. GOVINDA Together with other monks. oh venerable one. ferryman. the restlessness and the searching still had not perished from his heart. he left. Would you like to tell me something. because he is obsessed by the goal." Astonished. "I wouldn't have recognised you this time as well! From my heart. you have already ferried many of us across the river. who lived one day's journey away by the river. oh honourable one?" Quoth Siddhartha: "What should I possibly have to tell you. I'm going into the oneness. striving for your goal. When Govinda went back on his way. so it seems to me. I'm happy to see you once again! You've changed a lot. are perhaps indeed a searcher. a searcher for the right path?" Quoth Siddhartha. being open. because. Siddhartha. eager to see the ferryman. which are directly in front of your eyes. my friend. and have sat down with him to guard his sleep. With deep joy. I'm old. from my heart. "then it might easily happen that the only thing his eyes still see is that what he searches for. saw his body full of light. he chose the path to the ferry. with deep solemnity he watched him leave. many years ago. there are many things you don't see. because he always thinks of nothing but the object of his search. to let anything enter his mind. Siddhartha watched him leaving." spoke Govinda. Searching means: having a goal. because he has a goal. Because. you don't find the time for finding?" "How come?" asked Govinda.

all lacks completeness. permit me to ask one more question. and a rich merchant was my teacher. have to wear many a robe. I've also learned from him. Siddhartha. This was what I. Govinda. not without hesitation. Be welcome. Once. has been my teacher." Quoth Siddhartha: "I've had thoughts. very grateful. but in times to come . again and again. my dear. but it cannot be expressed in words and taught. but which is my best thought. Wisdom which a wise man tries to pass on to someone always sounds like foolishness. between evil and good. as if time was something real. it's all one-sided. you love a bit to mock people. When the exalted Gotama spoke in his teachings of the world. a saint. I have learned here from this river and from my predecessor. travelling on foot. When in the next morning the time had come to start the day's journey." "Are you kidding?" asked Govinda. he was no thinker. A beautiful courtesan has been my teacher for a long time. I have found a thought. and insight. even a follower of Buddha. sometimes suspected. Vasudeva. then the gap which seems to be between the world and the eternity. A person or an act is never entirely Sansara or entirely Nirvana. but he knew what is necessary just as well as Gotama. which I have found: wisdom cannot be passed on. that I already as a young man. It can be found. Many questions he posed to the friend of his youth. even as a young man. certain insights. these words: "Before I'll continue on my path. Govinda. in those days when we lived with the penitents in the forest. all just one half. Govinda.Siddhartha 52 In a friendly manner. It does really seem like this. as one would feel life in one's heart. "A ferryman. you would delight my heart. a person is never entirely holy or entirely sinful. oneness. I'm also grateful to him. miracles can be performed with it. the ferryman Vasudeva. and some gamblers with dice. And if time is not real. many things Siddhartha had to tell him from his life. which you'll again regard as a joke or foolishness. Nevertheless. But haven't you found something by yourself. but it would be hard for me to convey them to you. which I am and which you are. But most of all. but not wisdom. It cannot be done differently. is never one-sided. Sometimes. have to change a lot." Govinda said: "Still. It says: The opposite of every truth is just as true! That's like this: any truth can only be expressed and put into words when it is one-sided." Govinda stayed the night in the hut and slept on the bed which used to be Vasudeva's bed. "I'm not kidding. started to distrust teachers and teachings and to turn my back to them. he was a perfect man. roundness. you follow. There have been many thoughts. Do you have a teaching? Do you have a faith. "Listen well. though you've found no teachings. I am one of those. into suffering and salvation. is also a deception. I have felt knowledge in me. what has driven me away from the teachers. and spend the night in my hut. he sat with me when I had fallen asleep in the forest. I have had many teachers since then. which helps you to live and to do right?" Quoth Siddhartha: "You know. I have stuck with this. between suffering and blissfulness. listen well! The sinner. Many people. what exists around us and inside of us. Govinda. for an hour or for an entire day. my dear Govinda. oh Siddhartha. there is no other way for him who wants to teach. my dear. Look. on the pilgrimage. Siddhartha laughed. because we are subject to deception. it can be lived. yes. into deception and truth. as it seems to me. or a knowledge. Knowledge can be conveyed. is a sinner. you still found certain thoughts." "How come?" asked Govinda timidly. yes. this is one of my thoughts. I'm telling you what I've found. it is possible to be carried by it. I have experienced this often and often again. which are your own and which help you to live? If you would like to tell me some of these. He was a very simple person. Time is not real. But the world itself. Everything is one-sided which can be thought with thoughts and said with words. my dear. he had to divide it into Sansara and Nirvana. I believe in you and know that you haven't followed a teacher. Govinda said.

all infants already have death. I would have said: This stone is just a stone. Sansara and Nirvana as well. In deep meditation. to do nothing but work for my benefit. It is a thought. but to leave it as it is and to love it and to enjoy being a part of it. and others like leaves. in the dryness or wetness of its surface. and this is this very fact which I like and regard as wonderful and worthy of worship. that love this very stone. everything has to be as it is. to be unable to ever harm me. though our capacity for thinking does not know how else to picture these things. sin like holiness." Quoth Govinda: "Not just a word. Govinda. Or perhaps what I meant was. and the river. he will reach the Nirvana. picked up a stone from the ground. gets distorted a bit. no smell. in order to stop comparing it to some world I wished. as soon as it is put into words. my loving agreement. are mere words. and all these things we are looking at and from which we can learn. vanity. in everyone the Buddha which is coming into being. it is also Buddha. is not imperfect. in order to learn how to give up all resistance. but rather because it is already and always everything-. There are stones which feel like oil or soap. But today I think: this stone is a stone. the possible. But I cannot love words. oh Govinda. "I did it without any specific intention. to be good for me. I needed lust." Siddhartha bent down. perhaps it are the many words. and also a tree or a piece of bark. everything is perfect. in you. are some of the thoughts which have come into my mind.and it is this very fact. in the Brahman." he said playing with it. Perhaps it are these which keep you from finding peace. but because it might be able to become also a human being and a spirit in the cycle of transformations. There is no thing which would be Nirvana. it is perfect in every moment. each one is Brahman. in the sound it makes when I knock at it. everything is Brahman. they have no hardness. after a certain time. Govinda. everything always becomes a bit different. The world. I do not venerate and love it because it could turn into this or that. you have to worship in him. is Nirvana. I can love a stone. It is not possible for any person to see how far another one has already progressed on his path. my friend. in the hardness. there is the possibility to put time out of existence. and will turn from soil into a plant or animal or human being. no edges. he is not in the process of developing. there is just the word Nirvana. a bit silly--yes. I have experienced on my body and on my soul that I needed sin very much. and will. therefore I also grant it importance. teachings are no good for me. wisdom like foolishness. Thus. they have nothing but words. in the gray. death is to me like life. "Why have you told me this about the stone?" he asked hesitantly after a pause. no colours. all dying people the eternal life. I also very much agree with this.Siddhartha 53 he will be Brahma again. is oily or juicy. everything only requires my consent. all sin already carries the divine forgiveness in itself. Therefore. that this what is one man's treasure and wisdom always sounds like foolishness to another person. This are things. The words are not good for the secret meaning." Govinda listened silently. that it appears to me now and today as a stone. within the sinner is now and today already the future Buddha.--These. it is worthless. and weighed it in his hand. but simultaneously and just as much it is a stone. that it is a stone. his future is already all there. perhaps turn into soil. this is why I love it and see worth and purpose in each of its veins and cavities. in the yellow. my friend Govinda. or on a slow path towards perfection: no. and needed the most shameful despair. will be Buddha--and now see: these "times to come" are a deception. it is also god. the robber is waiting. in order to learn how to love the world. and things can be loved. in the robber and dice-gambler. Therefore. and there everything is good. the desire for possessions. the Buddha is waiting. I imagined. No. all small children already have the old person in themselves." . and will be as if it was simultaneous. the hidden Buddha. and this is also very good. it is also animal. "This here. I would perhaps have thought in the past. I see whatever exists as good. it belongs to the world of the Maja. only my willingness. "is a stone. Because salvation and virtue as well. no softness. is. others like sand. no taste. and I like it a lot.--But let me speak no more of this. and every one is special and prays the Om in its own way. In the past. some kind of perfection I had made up. to see all life which was. are only a parable! The sinner is not on his way to become a Buddha.

in their meaninglessness. Govinda. to be able to look upon it and me and all beings with love and admiration and great respect. drawn by love. his skin and his hair. "But this very thing was discovered by the exalted one to be a deception. in his life." For a long time. he. But different from his thoughts seemed to me Siddhartha's hands and feet. for instance. To thoroughly understand the world. he learned from it. seems to me to be the most important thing of all. this contradiction is a deception. May his teachings be strange. For this very reason. out of every part of him shines a purity. more comprehensible. his walk. I prefer the thing over the words. foolish. This is what makes them so dear and worthy of veneration for me: they are like me. he once again bowed to Siddhartha." spoke Siddhartha. to teach them! Even with him. actually something real. Never again. nothing else." "This I understand. laborious life only to help them. a holy man. even with your great teacher. not to hate it and me. only because he had believed in the river. it might be so." spoke Govinda." (But secretly he thought to himself: This Siddhartha is a bizarre person. So differently sound the exalted one's pure teachings.Siddhartha 54 Siddhartha continued: "A thought. clearer. without teachers. to use a long. sympathy. How should he not know love. clemency. a seeming contradiction with Gotama's words. not all have been instantly understandable to me. every beetle was just as divine and knows just as much and can teach just as much as the worshipped river. "I know it. after our exalted Gotama has become one with the Nirvana. after all I would then also be an illusion. who has for many years simply believed in the river. Siddhartha. his forehead. every bird. he expresses bizarre thoughts." "I know it. Not in his speech. not in his thoughts. Then spoke Govinda. a man has been my predecessor and teacher. I thank you. "I do not care very much about. his breath. out of his gaze and his hand. more on the gestures of his hand than his opinions. I distrust in words so much. while bowing for a farewell: "I thank you. I can love them. But I'm only interested in being able to love the world." said Siddhartha. who has discovered all elements of human existence in their transitoriness. To be honest. shines a calmness. I have found to be like this. never since then have I met a person of whom I felt: this is a holy man! Only him. And this is now a teaching you will laugh about: love. for telling me some of your thoughts. this Siddhartha. I know that I am in agreement with Gotama. the river seemed to be a god to him. and thus they are always like me. oh Govinda. his smile shone golden. Therefore. which I have seen in no other person since the final death of our exalted teacher. and I wish you to have calm days. And behold. only in his actions. just an image and illusion? Your stone. He had noticed that the river's spoke to him. for many years he did not know that every wind. may his words sound foolish. for I know. he knew everything. to explain it. something which has existence? Isn't it just a deception of the Maja. Here on this ferry-boat. without books. his smile. This being as it may. I see his greatness. with this we are right in the middle of the thicket of opinions. knew more than you and me.are they actually a reality?" "This too. his teachings sound foolish. to despise it. purer. shines a cheerfulness and mildness and holiness. I also have no high opinion of thoughts. not to despise it. Deeply he bowed to him who was calmly sitting. every cloud. tolerance. They are partially strange thoughts. and there was a conflict in his heart. your tree. my dear: I don't differentiate much between thoughts and words. nothing strange. your river-. it educated and taught him. Let the things be illusions or not. his eyes. but not love. I must confess to you. For I cannot deny. He commands benevolence. or silly is contained in them. his greeting. I have a better opinion of things. place more importance on his acts and life than on his speeches. the two old men said nothing. he forbade us to tie our heart in love to earthly things. But when this holy man went into the forests." Govinda said: "But is that what you call `things'. may be the thing great thinkers do.) As Govinda thought like this. in the dispute about words. and yet loved people thus much. my words of love are in a contradiction. .

and they were all constantly covered by something thin. and which were still all Siddhartha. a flowing river of faces. Not knowing any more whether time existed. this smile of simultaneousness above the thousand births and deaths. . saw Agni--he saw all of these figures and faces in a thousand relationships with one another. which had just been the scene of all manifestations. the perfected ones are smiling. of birds--he saw gods. kneeling and his head being chopped off by the executioner with one blow of his sword--he saw the bodies of men and women. Govinda stared at his face. Govinda knew. cold. a carp. each one helping the other. I see. which I can understand! Give me something to be with me on my path. and this mask was smiling. red and full of wrinkles.Siddhartha 55 "Siddhartha. he saw him plunging a knife into the body of another person--he saw. the injury of which tasted sweet. many. thousand-fold smile of Gotama. which all constantly changed and renewed themselves. hating it. give me something on my way which I can grasp. distorted from crying--he saw the face of a murderer. oh honourable one. this criminal in bondage. Govinda!" But while Govinda with astonishment. and the eternal search was visible in his look. being enchanted and dissolved in his innermost self. void-. each one was a will to die. of crocodiles. all existence. bent down closely to him and touched his forehead with his lips. and yet none of them died. a long sequence. Tell me. a me and a you. While his thoughts were still dwelling on Siddhartha's wondrous words. which he had just kissed. of hundreds. generated themselves." he spoke. Siddhartha saw it and smiled. was always re-born. naked in positions and cramps of frenzied love--he saw corpses stretched out. flowed. all transformations. without individuality of its own. this smile of the mask. "Bent down to me!" he whispered quietly in Govinda's ear. while even a certain contempt for the words of his friend was fighting in him against an immense love and veneration. often dark. giving re-birth to it. of bulls. the face of a dying fish. He saw the face of a fish. perhaps benevolent. this smile of Siddhartha was precisely the same. after under its surface the depth of the thousandfoldness had closed up again. saw Krishna. a shell or mold or mask of water. feeling in his innermost self as if he had been wounded by a divine arrow. that you have found peace. It it often hard. he smiled silently. perhaps very benevolently. loving it. one more word. in this very same moment touched with his lips. with fear. even closer! Very close! Kiss my forehead. this happened to him: He no longer saw the face of his friend Siddhartha. and yet drawn by great love and expectation. and this mask was Siddhartha's smiling face. this smile of oneness above the flowing forms. instead he saw other faces. which all came and disappeared. the exalted one. motionless. floated along and merged with each other. quiet smile. And. with yearning. beloved. of thousands. but yet existing." Siddhartha said nothing and looked at him with the ever unchanged. and yet all seemed to be there simultaneously. something miraculous happened to him. not knowing any more whether there existed a Siddhartha. without any time having passed between the one and the other face--and all of these figures and faces rested. eternal not-finding. of elephants. perhaps mocking. Govinda. The face was unchanged. "Bend down to me! Like this. which he. received evermore a new face. a Gotama. each one only transformed. precisely as he used to smile. impenetrable. delicate. like a thin glass or ice. wise.he saw the heads of animals. with an infinitely painfully opened mouth. perhaps very mockingly. It is unlikely for one of us to see the other again in this incarnation. while he was still struggling in vain and with reluctance to think away time. whether the vision had lasted a second or a hundred years. Like this. I confess that I haven't found it. Govinda still stood for a little while bent over Siddhartha's quiet face. Siddhartha. of boars. was precisely of the same kind as the quiet. my path. in the same second. like a transparent skin. a passionately painful confession of transitoriness. smiled quietly and softly. the Buddha. as he had seen it himself with great respect a hundred times. with fading eyes--he saw the face of a new-born child. obeyed his words. destroying it. to imagine Nirvana and Sansara as one. Govinda saw it like this. suffering. "we have become old men.

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