Siddhartha

ascetics, the skinny Samanas, and offered them th

s grew slowly on his parched fingers and a dry, shaggy beard grew on his chin. His glance turned to ice when he encountered women; his mouth twitched with contempt, when he walked through a city of nicely dressed people. He saw merchants trading, princes hunting, mourners wailing for their dead, whores offering themselves, physicians trying to help the s

elf any more, to find tranquility with an emptied heard, to be open to miracles in unselfish thoughts, that was his goal. Once all of my self was overcome and had died, on

hair the water was dripping over freezing shoulders, over freezing hips and legs, and the penitent stood there, until he could not feel the cold in his shoulders and legs any more, until they were silent, until they were quiet. Silently, he c

eathes, learned to stop breathing. He learned, beginning with the breath, to calm the beat of

ul slipped inside the body, was the dead jackal, lay on the banks, got bloated, stank, decayed, was dismembered by hyaenas, was skinned by vultures, turned into a skeleton, turned to dust, was blown across the fields. And Siddhartha's soul returned, had died, had decayed, was scattered as dust, had tasted the gloomy intoxication of the cycle, awaited in new thirst like a hunter in the gap, where he could escape

mind to be void of all conceptions. These and other ways he learned to go, a thousand times he left his self, for hours and days he remained in the non-self. But though the ways led away from the self, their end nevertheless always led back to the self. Though Siddhartha fled from the self a thousand times, sta

hey rarely spoke to one another, than the service and the exercises required. Occasionally

one day while begging this way, "how do you

great Samana, Siddhartha. Quickly, you've learned every exercise, often the

Samanas, up to this day, this, oh Govinda, I could have learned more quickly and by simpler means. In every taver

have learned meditation, holding your breath, insensitivity

s against the pain and the pointlessness of life. The same escape, the same short numbing is what the driver of an ox-cart finds in the inn, drinking a few bowls of rice-wine or fermented coconut-milk. Then he won't feel his self any more, then he won't feel the pains of

kard. It's true that a drinker numbs his senses, it's true that he briefly escapes and rests, but he'll return from the de

find only a short numbing of the senses in my exercises and meditations and that I am just as far remov

others and teachers, Siddhartha began to speak and said: "What now, oh Govinda, might we be on the right path? Might we get closer to

much to learn. We are not going around in circles, we are moving u

would you think, is our oldest

dest one might be abou

and will fast, and will meditate. But we will not reach the nirvana, he won't and we won't. Oh Govinda, I believe out of all the Samanas out there, perhaps not a single one, no

so many learned men, among so many Brahmans, among so many austere and venerable Samanas, among so many

, I have always been full of questions. I have asked the Brahmans, year after year, and I have asked the holy Vedas, year after year, and I have asked the devote Samanas, year after year. Perhaps, oh Govinda, it had been just as well, had been just as smart and just as profitable, if I had asked the hornbill-bird or the chimpanzee. It took me a long time and am not finished learning th

fear in my heart. And just consider: what would become of the sanctity of prayer, what of the venerability of the Brahmans' caste, what of the holiness of the Samanas,

verse to himself, a ve

s himself in the meditation of Atman, unexpres

bout the words which Govinda had said to him

ould remain of all that which seemed to us to be holy? Wh

Gotama by name, the exalted one, the Buddha, he had overcome the suffering of the world in himself and had halted the cycle of rebirths. He was said to wander through the land, teaching, surrounded by disciples

the Brahmans spoke of it and in the forest, the Samanas; again and again, the name of Gotama, the Bu

would get on their way as soon as possible, to seek the wise man, the helper, just like this this myth ran through the land, that fragrant myth of Gotama, the Buddha, the wise man of the family of Sakya. He possessed, so the believers said, the highest enlightenment, he remembered his previous lives, he had reached the nirvana and never returned into the cycle, was never again s

ere a messenger seemed to call out, comforting, mild, full of noble promises. Everywhere where the rumour of Buddha was heard, everywhere in the lands of India, the young men listened

laden with doubt. They rarely talked about it, because the oldest one of the Samanas did not like this myth. He had heard that this alleged Buddha used

seen the Buddha with his own eyes and has heard him teach. Verily, this made my chest ache when I breathed, and thought to myself: If only I would too, if only we both would too, Siddhartha and

and seventy years of age and to keep on practising those feats and exercises, which are becoming a Samana. But behold, I had not known Govinda wel

t also developed a desire, an eagerness, to hear these teachings? And have you not

ly. If you only remembered the other thing as well, you've heard from me, which is that I have grown distrustful and tired against teachings and learning, and that my faith in words, which are

should this be possible? How should the Gotama's teachings, even befo

we already now received thanks to the Gotama, consisted in him calling us away from the Samanas!

him. He informed the oldest one with all the courtesy and modesty becoming to a younger one and a student. But t

his mouth close to Govinda's ear and whispered to him: "Now, I

ever he demanded him to do. The old man became mute, his eyes became motionless, his will was paralysed, his arms were hanging down; without power, he had fallen victim to Siddhartha's spell. But Siddhartha's thoughts brought the Samana under their control, he ha

as than I knew. It is hard, it is very hard to cast a spell on an old Samana.

d Siddhartha. "Let old Samanas be con