Siddhartha

“But where was this Self, this innermost? It was not flesh or bone, it was not thought or consciousness. That was what the wise men taught. Where, then, was it? To press towards the Self, towards Atman—was there another way that was worth seeking?” 

Siddhartha has many questions about Atman (the soul) and its whereabouts, its nature, and how to reach it. None of the wise men he knows have reached it or been able to answer him. These are the questions that make of him a seeker and drive him to start his quest.

“‘Will you go on standing and waiting until it is day, noon, evening?’

‘I will stand and wait.’

‘You will grow tired, Siddhartha.’

‘I will grow tired.’

‘You will fall asleep, Siddhartha.’

‘I will not fall asleep.’

‘You will die, Siddhartha.’

‘I will die.’

‘And would you rather die than obey your father?’

‘Siddhartha has always obeyed his father.’

‘So you will give up your project?’

‘Siddhartha will do what his father tells him.’” 

When Siddhartha tells his father he wants to leave home and join the Samanas, his father is unhappy and forbids it. Siddhartha stays standing still with his arms folded until daybreak. This dialogue between Siddhartha and his father show the strength of Siddhartha’s resolve and his determined personality. After this exchange, his father feels his son has already left and tells him to go.

“Siddhartha had one single goal—to become empty, to become empty of thirst, desire, dreams, pleasure and sorrow- to let the Self die.”

In an effort to deny the physical world and all its sensations—and therefore to deny the Self—Siddhartha learns the behaviors of the Samanas. He fasts, suffers heat and cold, and gives up his worldly goods. He is single-minded in his quest.

“Along these and other paths did he learn to travel. He lost his Self a thousand times and for days on end he dwelt in non-being. But although the paths took him away from Self, in the end they always led back to it. Although Siddhartha fled from the Self a thousand times, dwelt in nothing, dwelt in animal and stone, the return was inevitable; the hour was inevitable when he would again find himself in sunshine or moonlight, in shadow or in rain, and was again Self and Siddhartha, again felt the torment of the onerous life cycle.” 

Siddhartha embraces asceticism, but he cannot fully escape the physical world. The inevitable cycle of life and sensory stimuli bring him back to the real world. His efforts are in vain, and he starts to question whether he and Govinda are any closer to their goal of enlightenment.

“There is, my friend, only a knowledge—that is everywhere, that is Atman, that is me and you, that is in every creature, and I am beginning to believe that this knowledge has no worse enemy than the man of knowledge, than learning.” 

Siddhartha explains to Govinda that he has learned nothing from teachers and religions. He has read and listened to all that the Brahmins, the Vedas, and the Samanas have to say, and yet he still thirsts for knowledge. Govinda is upset by his statement, and the two stay with the Samanas for several more years. However, Siddhartha reiterates that he has learned little from them.

“But he looked attentively at Gotama’s head, at his shoulders, at his feet, at his still, downward-hanging hand, and it seemed to him that in every joint of every finger of his hand there was knowledge: they spoke, breathed, radiated truth. This man, this Buddha, was truly a holy man to his fingertips. Never had Siddhartha esteemed a man so much, never had he loved a man so much.” 

Siddhartha and Govinda leave the Samanas to look for Gotama Buddha, despite Siddhartha’s misgivings about gurus and teachings. He does not wish to hear the Buddha’s words, but on seeing him, he perceives his holiness and state of enlightenment. Obtaining a smile like that of the Buddha becomes the physical expression of Siddhartha’s spiritual goal. Siddhartha feels love for the Illustrious One, an emotion that he is unable to feel or recognize in himself in his relationships with ordinary people.

“You have done so by seeking in your own way, through thought, through meditation, through knowledge, through enlightenment. You have learned nothing through teachings and so, O Illustrious One, I think that nobody finds salvation through teachings. To nobody, O Illustrious One, can you communicate in words and teachings what happened to you in the hour of your enlightenment.” 

Before leaving the Buddha and community of followers, Siddhartha explains to Gotama that he thinks even the Buddha cannot teach anyone salvation: every seeker must find it by himself. Siddhartha expresses his intention to go and do that, alone. The Buddha dismisses him and warns him against too much cleverness.

“The Buddha has robbed me, thought Siddhartha. He has robbed me, yet he has given me something of greater value. He has robbed me of my friend, who believed in me and now believes in him: he was my shadow and is now Gotama’s shadow. But he has given to me Siddhartha, myself.” 

As Siddhartha leaves the Buddha’s grove, he reflects on Govinda’s loyalty and his need for a teacher to follow. Siddhartha is grateful to Buddha for freeing him from the need for a teacher and giving him the confidence to continue his quest alone. Consistent with the themes of his journey, Siddhartha hopes to achieve enlightenment through experience rather than doctrine.

“He had been homeless for years and had not felt like this. Now he did feel it. Previously, when in deepest meditation, he was still his father’s son, he was still a Brahmin of high standing, a religious man. Now he was only Siddhartha, the awakened: otherwise nothing else. He breathed in deeply and for a moment he shuddered. Nobody was so alone as he.” 

Alone in nature, Siddhartha reflects on what he has experienced up to now. He concludes that it is impossible to flee from the Self; instead, one must learn about oneself. Looking around, he feels unity with the natural environment and perceives the meaning it holds. He feels awakened and reborn. He suddenly realizes he is very alone and feels despair, yet he is determined to move onward on his journey, not backward to his father’s house.

“The world was beautiful when looked at in this way—without any seeking, so simple, so childlike. The moon and the stars were beautiful, the brook, the shore, the forest and rock, the goat and the golden beetle, the flower and butterfly were beautiful. It was beautiful and pleasant to go through the world like that, so childlike, so concerned with the immediate, without any distrust.” 

After his moment of awakening, Siddhartha passes through nature enthralled at every sight and sound, his senses newly aware. He rejects the self-denial of the ascetic Samanas and the purely acquired wisdom of the other holy groups. He decides that the information received by the senses must be acknowledged. Moreover, he concludes that he must listen to thought, the senses, and his inner voice.

“I have learned that from the river too: everything comes back. You too Samana, will come back. Now farewell, may your friendship be my payment! May you think of me when you sacrifice to the gods!” 

After explaining that one can learn much from a river, Vasudeva cheerfully takes leave of Siddhartha. He does so without being paid and says that he knows Siddhartha will repay him some day. The ferryman’s prescient words foreshadow the importance of his relationship with Siddhartha and the role of the river in the latter part of Siddhartha’s journey.

“I am already beginning to learn from you. I already learned something yesterday. Already I have got rid of my beard, I have combed and oiled my hair. There is not much more that is lacking, most excellent lady: fine clothes, fine shoes and money in my purse. Siddhartha has undertaken to achieve more difficult things than these trifles and has attained them. Why should I not attain what I decided to undertake yesterday?—to be your friend and to learn the pleasures of love from you. You will find me an apt pupil Kamala.” 

After Siddhartha charms his way into Kamala’s grove, the two flirt and tease each other about what each can offer the other and the terms of their future relationship. Siddhartha shows his typical wit and determination, which impress the courtesan. Here, Siddhartha displays his willingness to change his lifestyle completely from his previous asceticism, and to learn much more about the realm of the senses.

“If a man has nothing to eat, fasting is the most intelligent thing he can do. If, for instance, Siddhartha had not learnt how to fast, he would have had to seek some kind of work today, either with you, or elsewhere, for hunger would have driven him. But as it is, Siddhartha can wait calmly. He is not impatient, he is not in need, he can ward off hunger for a long time and laugh at it. Therefore, fasting is useful, sir.” 

On meeting the merchant Kamuswami, Siddhartha impresses him with his verbal logic, detailing how the skills he learned with the Samanas are useful in all walks of life. Following this, he shows he can write, and the merchant offers him a place in his house. Soon after, Kamuswami offers Siddhartha a role in his business—as an equal, not an employee. Siddhartha has easily gained what he set out to achieve on entering the city and immerses himself in life there.

“His heart was not indeed in business. It was useful in order to bring him money for Kamala, and it brought him more than he really needed. Moreover, Siddhartha’s sympathy and curiosity lay only with people, whose work, troubles, pleasures and follies were more unknown and remote from him than the moon.”

Successful in business, yet considering it a game and never taking it seriously, Siddhartha places much more importance on what he is experiencing with Kamala. In his business dealings and encounters, he meets many people and is fascinated by their daily lives yet remains detached from them. He fails to feel as they do, and he observes them from a distance, while experiencing envy and wistfulness at what he is missing.

“Perhaps people like us cannot love. Ordinary people can—that is their secret.”

After Kamala tells Siddhartha he is the best lover she has ever had and that she will have his child one day, he tells her neither of them can love. This moment foreshadows his later discovery of how to love through his experience as the father of Kamala’s son. Siddhartha’s reference to ordinary people indicates his growing awareness that to fully experience life, one must be able to feel and behave as they do, which he is as yet unable to do.

“Just as the potter’s wheel, once set into motion, still turns for a long time and then turns only slowly and stops, so did the wheel of the ascetic, the wheel of thinking, the wheel of discrimination still revolve for a long time in Siddhartha’s soul; it still revolved, but slowly and hesitatingly, and it had nearly come to a standstill.” 

After years of living in the city, Siddhartha retains some of the habits of the ascetic Samanas: meditation and moderation. However, he starts to lose the freshness and alertness that came from his awakening before entering the city. At the same time, he feels no closer to the ordinary people. Siddhartha feels his soul is heavy and tired, while his senses are stimulated. This is the beginning of his descent into Sansara.

“In vain did he try to sleep. His heart was so full of misery, he felt he could no longer endure it. He was full of nausea which overpowered him like a distasteful wine, or music that was too sweet or superficial, or like the too sweet smile of the dancers or the too sweet perfume of their hair or breasts. But above all he was nauseated with himself.” 

Now completely immersed in the life of the rich, Siddhartha hoards money, gambles, and drinks, having become selfish and lazy. Here, Siddhartha reaches the stage of self-disgust and ennui. He has just spent the evening with Kamala, who asks him about Gotama Buddha and declares that she will follow him. She then makes love to him fiercely, and afterward he notices her aging face. Fear of old age and death fill his heart and lead to misery.

“How long was it now since he had heard this voice, since he had soared to any heights? How flat and desolate his path had been! How many long years he had spent without any lofty goal, without any thirst, without any exaltation, content with small pleasures and never really satisfied! Without knowing it, he had endeavoured all these years to be like all these other people, like these children, and yet his life had been much more wretched and poorer than theirs, for their aims were not his, not their sorrows his.”

Siddhartha sits alone and reflects on his path so far and where it has led him. He recalls his younger self: spiritual, striving, and driven to seek. He recognizes his current state as being in Sansara and then vows that this game must end. He turns away from his material possessions, from Kamala, and from the city.

“A chilly emptiness in the water reflected the terrible emptiness in his soul. Yes, he was at the end. There was nothing more for him but to efface himself, to destroy the unsuccessful structure of his life, to throw it away, mocked at by the gods. That was the deed that he longed to commit, to destroy the form which he hated!” 

Siddhartha leaves the city and returns to the river, where he contemplates suicide. The river’s power is again revealed here, in that it both reflects his state of mind and manages to save him. It offers him the sound Om, which he feels comes from his soul. Recognizing his folly, he is shocked, then reminded of the divine. Finally, he sleeps. Here too, Siddhartha mentions his “form,” a reference to the Self that has become more important than the sacred during his time in the city.

“He had died and a new Siddhartha had awakened from his sleep. He also would grow old and die. Siddhartha was transitory, all forms were transitory, but today he was young, he was a child—the new Siddhartha—and he was very happy.” 

After a long reflection on his time in the city among the ordinary people and what it taught him about himself, Siddhartha realizes that he had to experience vice, disillusionment, and sorrow and to reach the point of suicide, to learn for himself about these things. Now, he rejoices in his escape from that existence and his new, childlike reawakening. He starts to recognize the transitory, flowing nature of life and appreciates the river with its similar qualities. He decides to stay by the river.

“As time went on his smile began to resemble the ferryman’s, was almost equally radiant, almost equally full of happiness, equally lighting up through a thousand little wrinkles, equally childish, equally senile. Many travellers, when seeing both ferrymen together, took them for brothers. Often they sat together on the tree trunk by the river. They both listened silently to the water, which to them was not just water, but the voice of life, the voice of Being, of perpetual Becoming.” 

After a while living with and working beside Vasudeva, Siddhartha learns from the ferryman and the river to listen, to be calm and to reflect. He and the ferryman gain fame as wise men, and the river as a place of solace. The important symbols of the river and the smile combine here. This period of calm and happiness will soon be disrupted, however, by the arrival of Siddhartha’s son.

“But now, since his son was there, he, Siddhartha, had become completely like one of the people, through sorrow, through loving. He was madly in love, a fool because of love. Now he also experienced belatedly, for once in his life, the strongest and strangest passion: he suffered tremendously through it and yet was uplifted, in some way renewed and richer.”

While looking after his son after Kamala’s death, Siddhartha protects and dotes on him, despite the boy’s recalcitrance and indifference. Siddhartha is devoted to him and terrified of losing him, although he knows he must let the boy go away and fulfil his own destiny, as Siddhartha did. He is finally able to experience love in the same way as the ordinary people, and he is grateful for this and the lesson he is learning, which will complete his understanding of the world.

“He could no longer distinguish the different voices—the merry voice from the weeping voice, the childish voice from the manly voice. They all belonged to each other: the lament of those who yearn, the laughter of the wise, the cry of indignation and groan of the dying. They were all interwoven and interlocked, entwined in a thousand ways. And all the voices, all the goals, all the yearnings, all the sorrows, all the pleasures, all the good and evil, all of them together was the world. All of them together was the stream of events, the music of life.” 

Beside the river, Vasudeva urges Siddhartha to listen better, and when he does, he perceives the unity of life through the sounds of the river. The voice becomes “Om-perfection.” This moment is the pinnacle of Siddhartha’s understanding, and the goal of his quest is achieved. He has found salvation and is serene. Vasudeva knows his job is done and leaves.