together with Govinda, his friend, the son of a Brahmin(5).Govinda
wanted to follow, as his friend, his companion, as his servant, his
spearman,his shadow. But he, Siddhartha, did not delight himself, he was
no pleasure to himself. he had begun to feel that the love of his father and
the love of his mother and even the love of his friend Govinda would not
forever after delight him, soothe him, satisfy and suffice him(6).
Siddhartha spoke to Govinda, saying: "Tomorrow morning, my friend,
Siddhartha will go to the shramanas. He will become a shramana(9).
Siddhartha had as single goal before him, one and only one: to become
empty, empty of thirst, empty of desire, empty of dreams, empty of joy
and pain.To die away from himself, no longer to be I, to find the peace of
the emptied heart, by thinking away from the self to stand open to the
miraculous: this was his goal(13). Siddhartha learned a great deal among
the shramanas, he learned to walk many paths away from the I. By his
side lived Govinda, his shadow, walking the same path, submitting
himself to the same exertions. Siddharth spoke:"it does not seem that
way to me, my friend. What i have learned up to this day with the
shramanas, this, o Govinda, I could have learned more quickly and
simply: In any tavern in brothel district, my friend, among men who haul
freight and play dice I could have learned it"(15). On this same day
Siddhartha let the eldest of the shramanas know of his decision, that he
wanted to leave(21).
And when they arrived in Savatthi, scarcely had they come to the first
house, before whose door they stood begging for food, than they were
offered food, and accepted it(23). "Govinda, my friend, now you have
taken the step, now you have chosen the path.Always, o Govinda, you
have been my friend, always you have walked one step behind me. See,
now you have become a man and you yourself are choosing your path.
May you walk it to the end, o my friend. May you find release!"(26).
"Tomorrow, o Govinda, I shall leave you"(27). This is the reason on
account of which I intend to continue my journey - not to seek out some
other, better instruction, for I know there is none, rather to leave all
teachings and all teachers and alone attain my goal or else die(30). He
has robbed me, the Buddha, Siddhartha thought, he has robbed me, and
yet he has given me a greater gift.He has given me the gift of Siddhartha,
my self(31).
When Siddhartha left the grove, in which the Buddha, the Perfect One,
remained, in which Govinda remained, then he felt that the life he had
lived until the time also remained behind him in the grove, separate from
him(33). In the school of myself I want to learn, that is where I want to be
a pupil, I want to get to know myself, the secret that is Siddhartha(34). But
he, Siddhartha, where did he fit in? Whose life would he share? Whose
language would he speak? He felt: This had been the last shudder of
awakening, the final convulsion of birth. And instantly he set out again,
starting to walk quickly and impatiently, no longer toward home, no longer
to his father, no longer back(36).
Siddhartha learned something new on every step of his path, for the
world was transformed, and his heart was spellbound(39). Siddhartha,
too, felt longing, felt the root of his sex moving; but since he had never yet
touched a woman, he hesitated a moment, just as his hands were on the
verge of grasping her. This same day, before evening he reached a city,
and he was glad because he desired human company(43). But it remains
for Siddhartha to return when he was what he still lacks: clothing, shoes,
money. "Dear Kamala, advise me: where shall I go to most quickly find
those three things?"(47).
Siddhartha went to see the merchant Kamaswami, he was shown into a
prosperous residence; servants conducted him between valuable
tapestries into a chamber, where he awaited the master of the house(53).
"I can think. I can wait. I can fast"(54). For today, I invite you to be my
guest and take up residence in this house. Siddhartha thanked him and
accepted, and now lived in the house of the businessman(55)."It may well
be so," Siddhartha said wearily. "I am like you. You do not love either -
how could you practice love as an art otherwise? People of our kind may
not be able to love. Child people can love; that is their secret"(60).
His senses, which he had mortified during his fervent shramana years,
were awake again, he had tasted wealth, tasted lust, tasted power;
nonetheless, for a long time in his heart he had remained a shramana, the
wise Kamala correctly recognized this. People liked him, they came to
him when they needed money or advice, but no one was close to him, no
one but Kamala(61). When he lost, Siddhartha lost his composure, he lost
patience with those default, lost his good will toward beggars, lost his
desire to give and lend money to those who came asking. He, became
more stringent and petty in his business dealings, and from time to time
at night he dreamed of money!(64).
Siddhartha roamed the forest,already far away from the city, with but one
thought in mind, that he could no longer return, that the life he had been
leading for many years was over and done, savored and sucked dry even
to revulsion. Passionately he wished to know nothing more of himself, to
have peace, to be dead. Siddhartha arrived at the great river in the forest,
at the same river across which once, when he was still a young man
leaving Gautama's city, a ferryman had carried him(69). Grimacing, he
stared into the water, saw his face mirrored and spat at it(70). Siddhartha
spoke: "It is the same with me, Friend, as with you.I am not going
anywhere.I am just underway.I am on a pilgrimage"(73). The new
Siddhartha, however, felt a deep love for this flowing water, and himself
resolved not to leave it again so soon(79).
By this river I want to remain, Siddhartha thought, the same one I came
to when I was on my way to the child people, back than a friendly ferryman
took me across, to him I want to go, from outside his hut my path once led to
a new life, which has now grown old and died - may my current path, my current
new life issue from there also(81). "Ferryman, it would suit me best if you would
give me an old apron and keep me with you as your assistant, or rather as your
apprentice, because first I need to learn how to handle the boat"(82)."Welcome,
then, Siddhartha. My name is Vasudeva. I hope yo will be my guest again today,
and that you will sleep in my hut, and tell me where you come from, and why your
lovely clothes have become a burden to you"(83). On one of these days, when so
many were making pilgrimage to the dying Buddha, Kamala, once the most beautiful of
all the courtesans, was also on a pilgrimage to him. A small black adder, which had
bitten Kamala, escaped from under her dress(88). Kamala pointed to her boy and said:
"Did you recognize him too? He is your son"(89)."She will die," Siddhartha said gently(90).
Shy and weeping, the boy had witnessed his mother's burial; dark and shy he had
listened to Siddhartha, who greeted him as his son and welcomed him to live with them
in Vasudeva's hut. Slowly he saw and also understood that this eleven-year-old was a
spoiled child. a mother's boy who had grown up accustomed to wealth, accustomed
to fine cooking, a soft bed, accustomed to ordering servants around(93). But the next
morning he was gone(98).
Siddhartha had to transport many a traveler who had a son
or a daughter along
across the river, and there was not one he regarded without envy,
without thinking(101).But the wound still burned, passionately and bitterly
Siddhartha thought of his son, nursing the love and affectation in his heart,
allowing the pain to feed on itself, committing all the follies of
love(102). And if Siddhartha listened attentively to this river, to this song
of a thousand voices, if he did not listen to the pain or the laughter, if he
did not bind his soul to any one voice and enter into it with his I, but
rather listened to all, the entirety, perceiving the unity, then the great song
of the thousand voices consisted of one single word, and the word was OM; perfection
(106). When Govinda returned to the road, he chose the path to the ferry,
eager to see this ferryman. Siddhartha spoke, smiling out of his old
eyes:"Do you call your-self a seeker, o Venerable One, you who are
already advanced in years, and who wear the robe of the monks of
Guatama(109). "Bend over to me!" he whispered softly into
Govinda's ear."Bend down to me here! Here, even closer! Come closer still!
Kiss me on the forehead, Govinda!"(116). He longer saw the face of his
friend Siddhartha; instead he saw other faces, many, a long series, a
streaming river of faces, of hundreds. All of which came and went past, and yet
all of which simultaneously appeared to be there, all of which continually
transformed and renewed themselves, and yet all of which were Siddhartha (117).
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