Siddhartha Page #3

								


After the usual time of the exercise in meditation had passed, Govinda rose.  The evening had come, it was time to perform the evening's ablution. He called Siddhartha's name.  Siddhartha did not answer.  Siddhartha sat there lost in thought, his eyes were rigidly focused towards a very distant target, the tip of his tongue was protruding a little between the teeth, he seemed not to breathe.  Thus sat he, wrapped up in contemplation, thinking Om, his soul sent after the Brahman as an arrow.

Once, Samanas had travelled through Siddhartha's town, ascetics on a pilgrimage, three skinny, withered men, neither old nor young, with dusty and bloody shoulders, almost naked, scorched by the sun, surrounded by loneliness, strangers and enemies to the world, strangers and lank jackals in the realm of humans.  Behind them blew a hot scent of quiet passion, of destructive service, of merciless self-denial.

In the evening, after the hour of contemplation, Siddhartha spoke to Govinda:  "Early tomorrow morning, my friend, Siddhartha will go to the Samanas.  He will become a Samana."

Govinda turned pale, when he heard these words and read the decision in the motionless face of his friend, unstoppable like the arrow shot from the bow.  Soon and with the first glance, Govinda realized:  Now it is beginning, now Siddhartha is taking his own way, now his fate is beginning to sprout, and with his, my own.  And he turned pale like a dry banana-skin.

"O Siddhartha," he exclaimed, "will your father permit you to do that?"

Siddhartha looked over as if he was just waking up.  Arrow-fast he read in Govinda's soul, read the fear, read the submission.

"O Govinda," he spoke quietly, "let's not waste words.  Tomorrow, at daybreak I will begin the life of the Samanas.  Speak no more of it."

Siddhartha entered the chamber, where his father was sitting on a mat of bast, and stepped behind his father and remained standing there, until his father felt that someone was standing behind him.  Quoth the Brahman:  "Is that you, Siddhartha?  Then say what you came to say."

Quoth Siddhartha: "With your permission, my father.  I came to tell you that it is my longing to leave your house tomorrow and go to the ascetics.  My desire is to become a Samana.  May my father not oppose this."

The Brahman fell silent, and remained silent for so long that the stars in the small window wandered and changed their relative positions, 'ere the silence was broken.  Silent and motionless stood the son with his arms folded, silent and motionless sat the father on the mat, and the stars traced their paths in the sky.  Then spoke the father:  "Not proper it is for a Brahman to speak harsh and angry words.  But indignation is in my heart.  I wish not to hear this request for a second time from your mouth."

Slowly, the Brahman rose; Siddhartha stood silently, his arms folded.

"What are you waiting for?" asked the father.

Quoth Siddhartha:  "You know what."

Indignant, the father left the chamber; indignant, he went to his bed and lay down.
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